The girl with the curls

My parents gave me the nickname Goldilocks because of my long blonde curls—curls neither of them had. My real name is Jane, but honestly, I much prefer Goldilocks. It felt special, unique.

My sister Mary was always jealous of my hair. She had the same straight, dark hair as our parents, nothing eye-catching or remarkable in comparison to mine.

Not to brag or anything, but I’ve always been the favorite daughter. I mean, it’s not my fault I inherited the better genes. The small town we lived in started calling me Goldilocks too, and though it was just a nickname, it stuck with me more than Jane ever did. Somehow, it just felt like *me*.

Growing up, my sister and I loved going into the woods—a local pastime that had been a tradition even for our parents when they were kids. We didn’t even have to ask permission; our parents simply trusted us.

There was one rule, though, and I couldn’t stand it. “

You can only go into the woods if you’re together.”

My sister liked that rule. I hated it. We were night and day in terms of personality. Where my skin was pale as cream, hers had a soft tan from spending all summer outdoors. I loved bold blues and reds; she preferred yellows and greens. My eyes were blue, shining like the sky; hers were a muted green like moss. I was lanky and thin; she was on the heavier side (which I didn’t hesitate to remind her of, much to her annoyance).

I’ll admit, calling her things like “Piggy” or “Porky” upset her, but I was just speaking my mind. Our parents always scolded me for that. It seemed like the *only* thing they ever scolded me for.

A bit unfair, in my opinion. Mary is older than me by just eleven months—barely anything!

She should know by now how to take a joke instead of whining like a baby. Grow up!

Our family of four—my parents, Mary, and I—live in a cozy little cottage near town. Even though Mary didn’t appreciate my teasing (who knew being honest could be labeled “mean”?), she still tagged along with me on our adventures in the woods.

But we approached nature differently: I was all about exploring; she loved sitting around and sketching what she saw. Drawing animals and plants over and over? Ugh, boring! How could she enjoy spending hours staring at twigs and leaves?

One afternoon in the woods, Mary was busy sketching again while I wandered nearby, restless as usual. At one point, I couldn’t help but blurt out:

“Must be boring drawing the same things over and over again, right Mary?”

She glared at me from the ground where she’d been sitting cross-legged with her sketchpad.

“Just because you’re too dumb to notice anything interesting in the world around you doesn’t mean the rest of us can’t enjoy it," she snapped.

Her words annoyed me, but whatever. Mary had hated calling me Goldilocks ever since the nickname caught on, mostly because our parents never gave her one. Boo-hoo.

“Oh please," I shot back smugly. "At least I’m actually exploring the world while you sit there on your fat butt with that dumb sketchbook."

Her glare intensified as she retorted, “People explore the world in different ways! You don’t get that because you’re insufferably shallow. One day, you’ll see.”

Mary had turned 13 last week and suddenly acted like she was so much wiser than me. Oh please.

“Whatever,” I said dismissively as I stood up, brushing dirt off my skirt. "I’m done being with you; at least I’m going to have fun."

“You’ll get lost or end up in trouble,” she warned calmly.

"Whatever, Porky!” I called back with a laugh.

“Don’t call me that!" Mary snapped, her voice rising sharply. “Our parents hate when you make fun of my weight! And you know we’re supposed to stick together!”

“Shut up, Pig," I teased again. “

Jane! That’s not nice! Just because I’m a little bigger doesn’t mean you have to rub it in my face!”

“LOL,” I smirked. “Got to you again, Mary Pig-face.”

“I’m happy being myself," she returned firmly. ”But don’t think you’re invincible just because you act all high and mighty!”

I tuned her out completely by that point, running off toward the deeper parts of the woods without looking back. Rules and warnings didn’t matter—I wanted freedom!

Forget sticking together or staying safe; this time, I was going to explore every hidden corner of these woods without anyone holding me back.

Finally… adventure!