The world can be a cruel place. When the people you love most are ripped away from you for no apparent reason, and you spend hours screaming, "Why?" you understand the cruelty. I guess you never understand until you get to this point; at least, I didn't.

I remember it like it was yesterday. In early July of 2004, my dad's farm in Eufala, Alabama was foreclosed on, so my family abandoned the slow-paced south for the sunny beaches of Clearwater, Florida. My dad bought us a small house and worked at a law firm with his brother.

I had a great time that summer. My pre-school days were filled with sand castles and sunsets on the beach. Then the fall rolled around.

I begged my mom not to make me go to school, but I went, nonetheless. I remember walking into the Kindergarten classroom with my cowgirl boots and a sassy attitude. When my teacher asked me what my name was I said in my thick country accent, "Skylar, but everyone calls me Sky."

"What's wrong with her voice?" a dark-haired boy was pointing at me and leading the rest of the class in laughter. The teacher reprimanded them, saying something along the lines of, "You shouldn't laugh at someone because of their differences. We should embrace everyone's uniqueness!" I didn't think this was enough and made a mental note to deal with him later.

Later that day at recess, he was mocking my accent. I marched right up to his little band of friends and demanded, "What'd ya'll think you're doin'?" Then her repeated me, using an over-exaggerated accent. Furious kindergartener anger overcame me and I shoved the boy as hard as I could, watching in triumph as he fell to the ground. His friends seemed scared- one of them ran to tell the teacher- but the boy looked at me in awe.

After a visit to the principal, a call to my parents, and an apology to the boy, all was resolved. The next day, however, everyone had a new respect- and fear- for the "country girl," especially the dark-headed boy. His name is Jason, and we've been best friends ever since.

A lot has changed since then. Jason, or Jace as I call him, and I are 16 now. He is tall and muscular with medium length, dark brown, wavy hair. He has dark brown eyes which make you feel as though he can see past the person you are pretending to be and see who you truly are. Jace is also captain of our high school's football team, yet is one of the kindest, humblest people you can meet.

I haven't changed too much. I am still short- barely 5'1" and my strawberry blonde hair reaches mid-back. My sky blue eyes for which I was named are still the same bright blue. I have a scar on the right side of my jaw from when Jason dared me to jump out of the big tree in my backyard- my face hit a branch on the way down and I had to get six stitches. I haven't climbed a tree since.

Jason, I don't know what happened, but know that I won't give up.