A Complexity of Smiles

A special child who believes in angels.

 

For two weeks now, I have been trying to figure out if people are laughing with me or at me. Every Monday and Thursday, I meet with Miss Clark, the school psychologist, to discuss my new choice of school attire. We have met four times so far and Miss Clark often smiles and laughs during our sessions, but I am not sure if even why Miss Clark. I nervously cross and uncross my feet as I sit in the cold metal chair. Usually I make jokes and treat the whole subject in a funny manner, but today I am not feeling so funny.

 

From the corner of my eye, I see Miss Clark push her glasses further back on her nose and asks, “How are you feeling today, Heaven?” She always begins with this question.

 

I stare at my white high-heeled shoes, noticing that the cotton balls I had glued on are no longer white. They have a gray cast to them, and most of them are no longer puffy and soft like clouds. They have flattened and shredded most of their cotton and some have fallen off entirely.

 

“Feeling heavenly again today?”

 

I answer, “Yes”, as I notice that my tights no longer look that white either. The sparkles I glued upon them are itchy for some reason today. They itched me when I put them on, on the bus ride to school, in class, and they are itch me now.

 

Miss Clark's eyes travel from my cloud shoes to my sparkling tights and she asks, “What heavenly things have the sparkles brought for you today?”

 

“Nothing has happened as of yet today,” I answer, but then Miss Clark raises her eyebrows and tilts her head, so I quickly add, “But something will happen soon.”

 

“You have told me that you notice the magic right away as soon as you put on any part of your outfit. Is there something different about today?”

 

I look away from her and out the window. I try to think of some funny or smart answer, but I am not feeling very smart or funny today. Without looking at her, I say, “I don't have my wings today, so I think the magic is not working.”

 

“I noticed your wings were missing. Has something happened to them?”

 

For the past two weeks, I had been trying to convince Miss Clark and everyone else at school of what I knew to be true: that I had been chosen to be an angel in training to bring happiness to Sandybrook Elementary School by making people laugh. I told a lot of jokes, laughed throughout the day, and smiled at everyone.

 

“I think the angels took them back to write a new message on them.”

 

“Do you know what the new message is going to be?”

 

“Laughing should be nice and not mean.”

 

“We have been talking about the difference between your classmates laughing with you and laughing at you. Your new message makes me think that you have started to see the difference?”

 

“Yes.”

 

“That's very good, Heaven. Mrs. Dooling, your special education teacher, your other teachers, and your parents have talked to you about how you are different from other children. You are on the Autism spectrum and you also have a very high IQ. This is not a bad thing. It just means you are different and special, and we are only trying to help you understand that because of these two conditions you have, that sometimes, even many times, what you think is not what other children and adults think and may not be exactly true. We are just trying to help you, and today, I am very happy because you have made a wonderful step to understanding your differences with others.”

 

I could tell by her tone that this is one of those incidents that adults expect eye contact and a nod. I nod, but I don't dare look into Miss Clark's eyes. I know if I do she will look like the one who was different, and I do not have my wings to protect me.

 

“Okay, we will continue to talk about this subject in our meetings, but tomorrow I am going to introduce a new topic. We are going to start talking about your idea of magic being something that is real. I will help you realize how for other people magic is for pretending and that it is not real. We will start with talking about this magically idea of yours of being an angel. Okay?”

 

“Okay.”

 

“Good!”

 

I looked at Miss Clark's smile under her nose. Smiles were confusing. With children, it could mean they were being mean to me, but with adults I had learned it meant that were pleased with something I had done. My mother had smiled last night when I let her put my wings in a special box to put away as a keepsake she said.

 

Miss Clark was still smiling. She was waiting for me to smile back, but I could not. I only smile when I am happy.

 

I leave her office thinking about what my new wings would say: I am angel in training whose job is to remind everyone of the importance of love. I also know that my tights would stop itching me when my wings went back

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

Please let me know if you noticed any verb tenses mistakes.

Reviews

[Felix]

I like this. I could almost imagine the smiles. I've gotten alot of them myself. I didn't see any verb mistakes^^ ( then again I could have been mistaken too.)