Here I am. Standing beside my suitcase on the side of the road, in front of a plot of land with a mailbox on it. And… that’s it. That’s my home. I spent my last Simoleons to get here, and buy this land. I was given a small “stipend” when I was kicked out of the Foster Care system at 18. I mean, sure they also gave me the rest of stuff my Foster Parents had had in “storage” for me… which included this box I’m holding. I haven’t had the guts to open it yet. It’s addressed in a kid’s handwriting “FOR FUTURE ME” with sloppy instructions to never open before I’m an adult. Which.. I guess I technically am now. Peering up and down the street, I wonder who my neighbors are. Will they be nice? Will they be rude? Will they be those crazy neighbors you hear tell of?

The street is silent. There are no people in sight. There’s also nothing to DO. Nothing to eat. Nowhere to take a shower or pee… and nowhere to sleep. Wait. perhaps that bench over there will work for sleeping. Sighing, I look back at the box in my hand. It’s not a very BIG box… and there’s definitely something with some weight to it inside it.

With a complete lack of ideas for what to do, I rip open the top of the box… and a yellowed envelope falls out. Surprised, I reach down to grab it before it flies away. Again, it’s addressed to “FUTURE ME.”

Rolling my eyes, I rip open the envelope and start reading.

Dear Future Self:

I'm supposed to write a letter to me. For when I'm older and I open this Time Capsule. But I don't know what to say. Life pretty much sucks. Things were bad enough with just Mom and I, back when I was a kid. All I had then were stories of my Dad, how he was this big Military Hero or something. But since I never met him, I'll never really know. All I have is this medal I was given out of my mother's effects when I entered the Foster Care system. I'm told it was a link to my father. But that's another story... and I don't know if I even believe it. I'll leave the medal in the capsule. Maybe future me can deal with it. 

I guess I should back up. Yes, it was just Mom and I. Dad gone on "missions" all the time. Then Mom got THE LETTER. That's what I'll call it. It was the notice we got in the mail from the military that Dad had gone missing. "Missing in Action," is what they called it. Hell on earth is what I call it. Mom spiraled out of control, and started taking pills to calm down. Then a few more pills. Then pills she wasn't even supposed to be taking. And all the while, I was supposed to just shut up about it. I wasn't even supposed to SEE what she was doing. I'm not even sure I really even knew what she was up to. 

In the end, it didn't matter. One day after school, officers and a social worker showed up to pick me up. All they could tell me was that my Mother had overdosed. She was dead and gone, and I had to go somewhere else. Somewhere SAFE. But... it wasn't safe. Immediately upon getting to the Foster Care home ... the other kids saw my face. My real face. It's called Vitiligo. It's always just been a part of me. But yes, it looks different. Mom always looked past it. But apparently my new brother and sisters DID see it. And they didn't like it.

As time went on, there were more people who saw it. More people who had opinions on how silly I looked. I looked for ways to hide it. Makeup seemed the easiest. So I started wearing crazy eyeshadow to distract people. It helped. Sometimes. But only with new people. The people at "home," the people who mattered... they never stopped. The hate never stops. Day by day, every time I go home, it's all I hear about. That I'm DIFFERENT. That I look STUPID. That I'll never be like anyone else, and that nobody is ever going to REALLY by my friend. 

I guess, in a way, it's true. Maybe all I need is me. I guess I don't need friends to tell me who I am. I'll figure it out on my own.

Anyway. Back to this letter. I hope, for your sake, future me... that you've found a friend by now. If not. DO IT. People can be scary, but maybe they can be kind, too. Maybe you'll be brave enough by then to do what I couldn't. Find Dad. Use this medal. And... live your.... OUR best life. I know you can. I know WE can. Someday.

Percy

For a while, I just stand there, staring at the letter, feeling all the hurt come rushing back for a short while. I had forgotten about that day in English class. The stupid Time Capsule. Remembering the weight to the package, I looked back in the box to find the mentioned medal. It’s tarnished now. It had been tarnished when they gave it to me. so I guess it’s no difference. Somewhere out there, this was proof I had had a Dad once. The letter said to find him. To be brave.

‘Well, I certainly have the “Brave” in spades right now,’ I thought to myself, looking wryly up and down the street. I shoved the medal in my pocket, and tossed the letter and box in the nearest trash can. Nothing I could do about the medal yet. I couldn’t even afford to get a cab to the Police Station. If there was one in this tiny town. I wasn’t sure. It hadn’t been exactly the first thing I looked for when I was looking for a place to move to with my last Simoleons. I had been looking for something far away. Somewhere that nobody knew me, and I could start fresh. Without the bullying that comes with people seeing my REAL face. Most new people don’t even notice it anymore. I’ve gotten pretty good with makeup and distracting the eye away from it. And maybe… just maybe… if they don’t know it’s there to begin with, they’ll be NICE about it when they DO see it??

Swallowing nervously, I shove the feelings of inadequacy down. Down deep. Because.. I’m done with them. From now on I’m just me. And ME can be brave. I look around again, past the bench. There’s a grill in that little park.. – and a little picnic table. Perhaps…?? I peek down the hill. Sure enough, there’s a little stream with a fishing spot. Grinning, I grab the collapsible fishing pole I had thought to buy with my initial supplies, and head down for the fishing spot. I think I just found lunch.

Two hours later… I was still hoping to find lunch. I’d found some weeds. A couple of plumbing parts. But nothing that works for food. I was determined, however… so I cast another line.

A dark-skinned woman walked around the corner, carrying a fishing pole, too. Feeling self-conscious, I concentrated on my fishing line. It didn’t stop her from saying anything, though… and I jumped a little when she did.

“Hi!” she called cheerily. “I’m Lillie. I haven’t seen you around here before, you new?”

I took a deep breath. My first neighbor. I could do this. “Hey. Name’s Percy. I just moved into that empty lot up the hill.”

“Oh? Planning to build a big fancy house?” Lillie said, and her silvery laughter filled the little fishing hollow. Trying very hard to appear non-chalant, I peered over at her, taking a closer look. She was stunning. In all the ways I would never be. With skin that was a beautiful chocolate shade, and seemingly flawless, she was clearly unafraid of showing off her looks. The high-cut dress and sneakers, however… that was a whole choice. Stifling a giggle, I finally realized she was still waiting for an answer.

“As if. I have exactly zero Simoleons, a tarnished old Military medal, a suitcase of clothes, and this dang fishing pole to my name.” Which brought my mind back to the fishing thing. My stomach was starting to rumble. And weeds weren’t going to cut it. Frowning, I jiggled my fishing pole. “I was hoping this would be lunch, but I’m not very good at Fishing yet,” I confessed.

“Oh!!” She replied, sounding taken aback, “Starting all over, then?” She pulled her line in and walked a to my side. “Here. hold it this way. And stop wiggling so much. You’re scaring your lunch.” Then, she walked away on up the hill with another silvery laugh.

Sure enough, a few moments later, a small silver fish bit on my liine, and I reeled it in as patiently as I could. Unafraid of trying new things, I jogged up the hill, and lit the grill. After scaling the fish with my pocketknife, and cleaning it like the survival guide book had taught, I carefully laid my tiny fish on the hot grill. Within minutes, the smell had me drooling. Carefully, I pulled little Fishy off the grill, and wandered to the picnic table to eat my bounty.

I was still hungry by the time I finished eating the bits of meat off the bone… but it was something. And it was also energy. Taking this boon, I decided to do a collecting run around my new neighborhood.

Some rocks…

Some frogs… and I had enough to sell to afford me a cab to the local park. I hid my suitcase under an aloe plant, and, thinking I might find me some more collectibles there, I used my meagre funds for that cab. I ignored his side-eye look, and climbed out of the cab with my fishing pole. Then, I used the last of my patience and energy to catch another fish in the park’s frog pond (hopefully that wasn’t against rules.. I mean, at least nobody stopped me??)…. and then spent the time to clean it with my pocketknife.

Heading to the park grill, I roasted my (slightly bigger) fish… and greedily ate it while it was probably still too hot to eat.

After eating, I looked around. There were still, mysteriously, kids without parents playing on the monkey bars. Where, I wondered… were their parents? Sighing and looking longingly at the bench next to the playground. I guess I was going to have to find a quieter place to sleep. Forlornly, I stumbled back through the park paths until I found a quiet bench up on a hill beside some boarded-up old mine or something.

Gratefully, I collapsed onto the bench, my stink cloud following me. Trying not to smell myself, I got as comfortable as I could, and closed my eyes. Almost immediately, I drifted off into an exhausted sleep. Tomorrow – would indeed be a new experience. Time to get used to these benches.