I'll try (no doubt fail) to keep this brief, sticking to why Faith's reaction resonates with me.
My grandmother wanted me to be more girly, and when she had an excuse she dressed me like a doll. I was also under doctor's orders to gain weight (not that I had an eating disorder) which included less tomboyish activities on my part, but she did not enforce this on me much (she did not spoil me, however, and I felt the wrath of her belt more than once over other stuff). Though I remained physically active, and I also wanted a skateboard (ever since I saw The Crow at age 11) which she discouraged (through trying to get me into horseback riding instead, which I went along with, but still wanted the skateboard), I felt kind of bad about failing to live up to her expectations.
Then she took me up to the Texas Rose Festival in Tyler where a lot happened. She left me alone for awhile, but I wouldn't find out what she did until the following week on my birthday.
I did not get birthday parties from my parents, but Granny threw me one as I turned 14. She'd bought me a skateboard while in Tyler which is why she'd left me alone at the festival while she got it for me.
This meant a lot to me. She loved me even though I wasn't everything she wanted me to be (which is more than many, including kids, get). This was unconditional love and acceptance manifest that was tangible every time I touched or used it.
That skateboard meant everything to me, though I wasn't consciously yet aware of why. Once while riding it I fell off and it went into a wet ditch full of painful bull nettles and yellow jackets. I actually took off my shirt (not advised anywhere, especially in the Bible Belt, but I didn't see anyone around) and braves the stings of the plants and yellow jackets to get my skateboard back, which I had to be treated for when I got back. It was worth it. Leaving it behind was unthinkable. (ETA: I took off my shirt to cover up my face as yellow jackets have a tendency to go for eyes and mouth.)
When I was 15, I was living with my mom again and ended up running away (living on the streets). I took the skateboard that I'd gotten good with (speaking of which, that was when I got the street name of "thrasher" because of that--though I haven't been into that for well over a decade now, I just chose my username to match an email address, which was also based on laziness, and I keep thinking I should change it because of that), but one day I woke up to find my skateboard gone.
I sobbed (which I rarely did, even when mopping blood off my face from a vicious beating I barely cried). It was like someone stole my grandmother from me. In a way it was worse because whoever stole it could not conceive of its value and probably didn't get more than $10 worth of drugs for it if even that.
I'd get another skateboard a couple of years later, I even earned the money and bought it myself, but no skateboard could ever replace the one I got on my 14th birthday.
And that's why I feel for Faith when she stares longingly at the knife given to her by the Mayor.
