Seven years ago

The door closed, with the bell ringing in unison as both Dorothy and her father left the bakery. The sound of motors driving by gently filled the air of Chicago, as well as the thin black smog that expunged from the exhausts. Groups of people walked past the pair on the busy sidewalks, with ambient chatter joining the sound of the cars. The city was in full swing during this time, nearly every worker was clocking off during this part of the day and school had been out long enough for the streets to be filled with children as well.

Dorothy held a pork roll in her hand, the usual food she would get after piano practice, it was the silver lining of the day for a hobby she couldn’t care less about. Despite her father’s insistence to get a croissant or something that would fit the appetite of a sparrow, Dorothy declined, plumping for the usual.

She was dressed in her usual attire, a jet-black sundress with lace embroidery lining the hem and arms of the dress. It was one of Dorothy’s favorite things to wear, much to the dismay of her mother unfortunately as she wished Dorothy would dress in “Prettier” colours. Things like pinks, whites, yellows. Dorothy only thought they looked hideous, and she would be absolutely humiliated if she were forced to wear one in public. Though that was unlikely, many meltdowns from Dorothy, when she was younger, ensured her parents would never make her wear something she didn’t approve of.

“Are you finding you're getting better with your rehearsals?” asked her father. The older man was a tall, slender figure with his trademark suit and fancy hat that made him fit in with every other male his age, if he was feeling different, he may even add a pocket square to his suit but nothing more, he practically looked the same every day. Dorothy didn’t respond to her father, instead focusing on her snack as she couldn’t be bothered to reply. Her father made a small noise to get her attention and looked down upon her.

“Well?” he said, expecting an answer from the young girl.

“Dunno, I guess so,” she replied half-heartedly, with her father giving a frustrated sigh in response.

“Dorothy, you’ll never improve at anything unless you put your mind to it, do you not like playing the piano?” he asked concernedly

“Not really,” with even less effort than her last reply

“That's a shame, your mother is quite fond of it, she still plays the same songs today on our piano that she did when I met her,” the man said, reminiscing slightly.

“Yeah…I know,” She said, not properly listening.

“Well, what else would you like to try, we’ve tried dancing, cooking, even some other instruments and you don't seem to like anything,” said her father as if he was in one of his business meetings. Dorothy instead didn’t reply, genuinely unsure about the question herself and burnt out from all the activities she had been put through, as her parents attempted for her to make friends and be more social in general, two things Dorothy was very poor at, even she had to admit that.

The slight smog of the city’s smoke wafted through the busy streets as the two of them walked through busy alleys, before making their usual route by the docks, a shortcut they always took on their way home from the city center.

The docks were a little more grungy, not as well maintained or pretty as the city center’s streets, but that was to be expected considering it was really only fishermen and dock workers who worked there, and if you took one look at them you could see how the docks got into that state, Dorothy was convinced half of them didn't even speak English. Surprisingly though, Dorothy actually found she enjoyed the atmosphere, it was her favorite part of the walk back excluding when she got her snack.

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Her father began to press her further with questions, “What about your schoolwork, how are you finding it?”

“It's fine,”

“How about friends? Have you made some?”

“No, not really,” her father sighed audibly from the low-effort responses he was receiving, yet continued to push further.

“Did you at least try Dorothy?” She didn’t respond, again, with no real answer to give and a lack of care for the topic, she found it difficult to speak to her dad, instead, continuing to focus on her snack.

“Dorothy!” he said firmly before stopping and waiting for her to stop with him, the sound of the gentle waves crashing against the dock borders and the chirps of seagulls was all that could be heard from the following, damaging silence. She stopped and looked up at him with a slight bit of shock on her face, common for Dorothy to exude when her father raised his voice unexpectedly, in response her father knelt down to get on a better level with her, to speak to his daughter's eye to eye.

Dorothy, despite her naturally sad face, had a bit of shock and fear in her expression as her father knelt down and took on a more serious tone. She stood completely still and stiff as a board as her father met her eye and spoke to her.

“Dorothy, I don't say all of this to be mean or because I want you to do these things I tell you. I’m putting you through activities so you can find something you love, so you can meet people that care about you, and so you can live the best and happiest life you can,” he said with a delicate and gentle, yet firm tone.

Dorothy listened as best as she could, slowly changing from an uncaring attitude to one that tried to understand what her father was telling her and listened as best as she could.

“I know it might be difficult to make friends, it might even be a little scary, but if you never end up pushing past your fears, then you may end up regretting the things you never did. I know you might not fully understand what I’m trying to say, Dorothy, it’s completely understandable since you're so young…but I do care about you and what you want, does that make sense?” he asked calmly. Dorothy only gave a quick nod, as her face took on a submissive expression, slightly intimidated by her father’s serious tone and emotion.

Her father then took on a small smile, gave her a quick pat on her small shoulder, and rose.

“Good to hear, let’s get back on our way then, hm?” Dorothy nodded and followed her father as they began to walk again. Dorothy had taken in most of what her father had said but had not understood it very well.

She got that her father and mother wanted her to make friends, however, she just didn’t see the point. She found other girls her age annoying, interested in things she wasn't and it made it hard to relate to them. All the activities she was put through, she couldn’t understand, even when her father explained why. It all just felt like chores to her that she had to do on top of her schoolwork.

It was becoming increasingly difficult for Dorothy to be happy in life as it felt as if all her spaces were telling her that she was wrong for not liking the things she didn't like to do, that there may be something wrong with her if she couldn’t make friends with other club members or students. It was almost as if she had nowhere to go to properly express herself, though, considering her age, her concerns for life would most likely be brushed off by adults and simply be labeled as something she would eventually grow out of, falling into the mold that every other girl would.

Though. There was one thing she became increasingly more interested in trying, something that she always passed on her way back from school or clubs, and something that lit this fire in her that she had never felt, something that gave her a strange sense of anxiety and excitement at the same time. But…how could she bring up fighting with her father or her mother? It was a sport she only saw boys compete in, it wasn’t girly like everything else Dorothy was put up to, they would absolutely say no.

However, despite this, Dorothy’s feelings for the sport never wavered, despite never taking it up once. It was something she was willing to try no matter what, she had this feeling that it would be…different from everything else she was encouraged by her parents to participate in. She wasn't sure how she would convince her parents to let her start going to classes, perhaps she would need to sneak out to them…but Dorothy didn’t care about any potential consequences.

I’m going to find a way. The young girl thought to herself.