You remember meeting Bette Porter.

One day, when you were five, your father started taking you on walks through the park around the time your mother would come home. You thought it was because your mother talked too much. You didn’t understand that she didn’t know that your father liked silence more than noise. He’d made it clear to you time and time again, so surely your mother should have known after having been together with him for that long?

You remember seeing a group of boys playing soccer and being surprised when you noticed that one of them was a girl. You tried not to look at her. You’d been taught that staring is impolite, so you looked from the corner of your eyes.

The first few times, her face and her clothes were dirty. You didn’t mind. She fascinated you. You’d never met a girl who played soccer. You were sure that your parents wouldn’t have allowed it if it were you – the boyish clothes, the dirt, the wildness of it all. You knew that she looked at you and it made you blush a little that a special girl like her would notice you. At first, she was running around when you walked by. Over time, she already expected you and she was on the look-out. Her clothes were less and less dirty.

One day, you couldn’t help yourself. You turned your head and you looked at her. You tried to smile, but you hadn’t had much practice in your short life. Your parents always told you to get a grip on yourself when you smiled too much or laughed too loudly.

Another day, and again you couldn’t stop yourself. You had to talk to this girl. You tried to find a reason for going to her, to sell the story to your father. To your surprise, he sighed in defeat and nudged you, his eyes conveying his message: just go to her.

You felt nervous when you first talked to her. She simply wasn’t anything like any of your friends. She simply wasn’t anything like you.

"Hi, I’m Tina Kennard."

She didn’t answer you and you wondered if you did anything wrong – or if anything was wrong with her. An older guy introduced her as Bette Porter. You cocked your head, a curious smile on your face, but then your father called you back. You waved at her and ran back to him.