Did that old hag even understand my love for the level 100 Pikachu Pokémon Card? If someone had vandalized or stolen the pack of Pokémon cards, I would have understood the Morning Glory cashier if she had accused me of stealing the cards. But setting off a stink bomb in a tightly packed Morning Glory? Not my style. How could it have been me? I was only seven years old at the time, and what I considered unfair was that I didn't even know the stupid thing would explode if someone touched it. It all started on a normal day much like today...

It was a sunny day, and my mother and I were headed towards Morning Glory to buy anything I really wanted because I had gotten a perfect score on a math test in school. At the time, the newfangled fad was Pokémon cards for kids under ten. Kids around the age of seven would lust over a Charizard and beg for a Pikachu. In short, I basically burnt money buying Pokémon cards. Anyway, when we arrived at Morning Glory, I immediately rushed over to the trading card section and drooled over the new and expensive trading deck encased in a luscious metal case, while eyeing my mother if it was okay to buy this. She then took a glance at what it was and how much it cost and refused.

"$25 for this puny deck of cards with a drawing on one side? Absolutely no way. Find something else. And if you really want this card, then just print it off the Internet or just draw it at home."



"But-"



"No buts. And are you talking back to me, young man?"



"No..." I mumbled dismally. I then walked around the store, in hope of something else that would catch my eye. Finding nothing, I walked over to the saleslady and tapped her on the leg. She looked around, and seeing nobody, turned back around and returned to whatever she was doing.



"HEY! LADY! DOWN HERE!"



She winced at the sudden shrill yell emitted by me, and looked down.



"What. Do. You. Want?" She growled, gritting her teeth.



"Is there anything that kids my age find interesting?"



"No, just get lost and let me return to my work, will you?" She groaned.

Feeling hurt, I looked at the ground and walked away. This perfect day had turned into one of the worst days in my life. I walked around the store and found my mother. I tugged at her pant leg, informing her that I wanted to leave.



"Yea, hon, wait just one second." My mother muttered to me, reading a magazine.



Well, it was really turning out to be a superb day, wasn't it? And just when I thought things couldn't get any worse, these teenagers slipped out the back door, silently throwing me a miniscule silver packet at me. As I examined it carefully, I realized with panic that the packet was slowly but surely inflating. Panicking, I chucked it as far as away from me as possible. KABOOM! Everyone froze in the middle of what they were doing, and slowly turned to face the silver packet.

"WHO DID THIS?!?!? IT WAS YOU, WASN'T IT?" The saleslady shrieked, pointing a finger at me.



"N-no, I promise! It wasn't me! I swear! It was some older kids!" I stuttered, tears filling my eyes.

"I SAW THAT! YOUR THROWING THE PACKET! DO YOU THINK THAT THIS IS SOME KIND OF PLAYGROUND?"

"No! Please! Believe me! I didn't do it!" I cried, beginning to sob.

I looked over to my mother, hoping that she would defend me. But instead, she shook her head in disappointment. She then paid the saleslady ten dollars and grabbed my arm and marched me out of there.

As we were leaving, the cashier yelled, "DON'T YOU EVER COME BACK HERE! YOU HEAR ME? NEVER AGAIN!"


•••

I then realized that segregation could be really cruel, no matter if it is because of one's gender, religion, age, or race. In my situation, it was because I was the youngest one in that store; therefore the most immature.

"You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view... until you climb inside his skin and walk around in it." Atticus Finch, from To Kill a Mockingbird.