I am twelve. I have reddish blond pigtails, a retainer, big front teeth my orthodontist says I will grow into. He made me feel bad when he said I was in the ugly duckling stage. I wanted him to fix, really fix my teeth. I read the story when I was six, my Dad read it to me when I was three. I know what an ugly duckling is. It isn’t nice to be called names.
Especially that name when you know that is what you are.
I have glasses. I have to wear them at school. My teacher makes me. She makes me sit at the front. I don’t want to be in front. The side, the back – anywhere but the front.
I got up from my front row desk, walked over to her at her desk and told her “You are very sick.”
I think she thought I was being rude or nasty. I put my arms around her. She felt stiff. I told her it was okay, we all get sick one day. Her sickness just came early. I touched her face, told her it will be fast and not to worry.
I handed her tissues as her eyes filled, we have to carry tissues in our breast pocket at school. I felt bad.
I took my glasses off. I always see better without them. I closed my eyes, my arms still around her.
“I will miss you when you go.” Tears dripped down my face. I tasted salt.
My teacher went kind of soft and put her arms around me.
“Thank you.” She whispered close to my ear. I hugged her more.
I am an Indigo Child. And that means...
"But," she interrupted me, "It's indolent. You are an indolent child. Look it up -- it will help you with your essay: And I'm not going anywhere until you finish it."
As I stepped back, she thanked me again with a firmer voice. Then she took my hand, un-clenched my fingers, and took back the pearl necklace I had removed from her during the hug. "First my purse, then my cellphone, now this," she said, shaking her head. "You're the one who is sick."
Opening: Wilkins MacQueen.....Continuation: ril