Photo Prompt: Skateboarder

Friday night at the local park. The policeman approaches our group and raises his voice. “Stop this nonsense,” he snarls, grabbing me by the scruff of the neck. As I let out a squeak, he focuses in on my face and recoils, horrified. I am a girl. Sure doesn’t look like it, does it? Well, that’s what my mother says, at least. Can’t a girl cut her hair short? Can’t a girl put on a few pounds and wear a thick watch? No, no. And that’s why I don’t go to church anymore. And that’s why I cry at night.