Chapter Text
The first time they met was at DisneyLand of all places. The happiest, most magical place on earth. Except for six year old Melissa King that couldn’t be further from the truth. Her family had been gifted the trip, courtesy of their grandmother, at the end of January. Just in there for their mother’s birthday, and after all of the chaos from the holidays had finally died down, but just before the excitement of Valentine’s Day was about to enter the park. The park was as quiet as DisneyLand could be. Everything seemed to be lining up for the perfect King family getaway.
However, the off-season is the off-season for a reason. It started with the rain, but that wasn’t what upset Mel. In fact, she quite enjoyed it. She enjoyed watching the water fall down and pool into puddles and onto leaves. She felt happy that the plants were getting water to drink, and that the fish had enough water to swim in. She asked questions to her parents, inquiring about the rainiest places in the world and explaining to them the water cycle, something she had just finished learning about at school. She didn’t particularly like getting wet, but she knew the rain was good for the earth, and so that was enough for her.
In the midst of the rain, they soon found that about a third of the rides were closed for maintenance. Including the spinning teacups, the ride Mel was most excited for. She loved how she felt after spinning. That dizzy feeling, for just a split second, had her feeling like she was floating. She loved feeling like she had magical powers. She often would wonder what she would do if she became a superhero in real life. She couldn’t tell if she would love it or hate it. Regardless, there would be no floaty feelings on this trip.
The final straw came when she just couldn’t win that purple dolphin stuffy. It was a skee-ball type game. The more points you scored, the faster your dolphin moved across the board, and the first one to reach the end won. Sounds simple enough, surely Mel could win. The first round was just the four of them. Mel tried as hard as she could, but ultimately her sister, Becca, had won. She picked a blue dolphin. Mel was happy for her sister, and she was happy at the thought of them having matching dolphins to play with at home.
Becca decided she was done with the game, so she and their dad went off to find a snack. However, Mel was determined to win and begged their mom to stay.
Round after round, Mel played, and Mel lost. She just couldn’t roll them fast enough. Once coming second, usually coming last, Mel was becoming more and more discouraged. The more frustrated she became, the more everything seemed to build on top of each other. The sounds became louder and started ringing in her head. The wet air became heavier and felt more intense on her skin. The carnival lights were flashing brighter and faster. Everything was just more.
Finally, on what felt like her 50th or even 100th round (in reality it was her fifth), it was just her against this one other boy, who looked to be about twelve years old.
Mel was confident that after all this practice, she could win against one person. The lights buzzed to start, the balls came clacking down the tube, and the game was on.
She tried. She tried so hard. But each playful whistle was a foghorn in her head. Each raindrop that touched her hit like a cold brick. Halfway through the round, she risked one quick glance sideways. He wasn’t grinning or gloating like the other kids had. He just looked so steady. Focused. Confident
It was just too much, and soon enough the boy had won. Mel didn’t even wait to see what prize he picked. She broke down crying, and her mom quickly picked her up and carried her to a nearby bench. Mel curled into her mom and just cried. Not just because she lost the game, but because the weight of each minor disappointment had finally become too much, and she just didn’t know what to do. So she cried.
Her quiet sobs were interrupted by a gentle tap on her shoulder. Normally, when Mel was overwhelmed like this, her mom was the only one who could touch her without making things worse. However, this hand, too small to be her parents’ and too big to be Becca’s, felt just right. It didn’t startle her, but rather made her stop just long enough to sit up and wipe the tears from her eyes. It was the boy. His jet-black hair collected raindrops on top of gelled spikes, and his bright blue eyes were filled with concern, care, and compassion.
“You looked really sad when you lost,” he said, in a voice that was calmer and more grounded than most twelve-year-olds seemed able to speak in. “Would you like my prize? I picked purple for you because it matched your glasses and T-shirt.”
Mel did a quick, quiet sniffle before accepting the prized plush. “Thank you,” she said softly, still feeling overwhelmed by everything else, but oddly connected to this moment.
“You’re welcome,” said the boy without second thought. “I hope you feel better.” He smiled before running down the path, disappearing into the crowd.
“Mommy, I’m tired. Can I go take a nap?” Mel asked. Her mom nodded, and they walked back hand in hand to the hotel. After they got back, it was a matter of minutes before Mel was asleep, her beloved purple dolphin cuddled up tightly. For years to come, Mel would keep that purple dolphin close to her, constantly being inspired by the kindness of the black-haired boy.