Strange Girl

     The girl who sat in the back corner of the class was a strange one. Aggie hadn’t even noticed her until two months of the school year had passed, when the girl had slinked into the classroom ten minutes late and had gotten a reproving glare from Mrs. Flint.

     She was very skinny even for a girl of nine, and her skin was almost grey, with freckles covering her cheeks and arms. When she walked she shuffled, as if scared to lift her feet from the ground, lest she should just float up into the air. Her hands were small and clutched the school books firmly, so that the grey skin turned even paler at her fingertips. Most of her face was covered from Aggie’s view by the long blond hair that fell over her face. It was not neat, this hair, and it seemed dirty and unwashed. From the twists and tangles of the locks one could tell that it had not been combed often, or perhaps even at all. Still there was a certain hidden shine about it, something that made Aggie think that if the hair had been properly set it would have radiated like some majestic golden silk.

     The girl shuffled quickly past the desks and Aggie could smell a whiff of grass as she passed by. But the smell left as the girl found her seat, and Aggie forgot about her again as the day continued. Then, nearly a month later, another strange event happened that forced the girl back into existence.

     It was reading time and all the students were grouped together with their assigned reading levels, all except for the girl, who sat alone. She had not been placed in any group because Mrs. Flint had said her reading level was too low, and so while the other students were reading their thick chapter books, the girl was working with her teacher to sound out some of the longer words.

     Aggie’s group was closest to the girl, so she could hear it quite clearly when Mrs. Flint reprimanded the girl with a sigh.

     “No, Mona, it’s pronounced experience, see? Ex-peer-ee-ense.” the girl tried again with no avail. “Alright, we’ll try again later. And please keep your hair out of your face, Mona. It’s becoming a nuisance when you don’t clip it back, especially during reading time,”

     And with those last words the teacher turned away from the girl and went to observe her other students and Aggie’s attention turned back to her own book. The girl, too, tried to keep focused, but she seemed to be thinking deeply about something. After a while, her eyes left the pages on her desk and instead trained themselves onto Mrs. Flint, watching her as she advanced from group to group.

     Aggie was so enthralled by the childish story she was reading that even she did not notice when the girl silently crept out of her chair and, eyeing the occupied Mrs. Flint, approached the teacher’s desk, reaching towards the forbidden yellow adult scissors.

Aggie only looked up when she heard the cry from Mrs. Flint.

     “No, Mona, don’t!” but by that time the act was already done. There, on the floor spread out like a carpet of golden hay, was Mona’s hair, cut away with one fatal blow.

     The girl set the scissors down on the table slowly and, as the class watched in awe, shuffled back to her desk and resumed her reading. All that remained on the girl’s head was a thin layer of yellow strands over her scalp and small tufts around her forehead where her bangs had once been, but she seemed content and not the least bit remorseful. Mrs. Flint stood there in the middle of the classroom like a stone, unsure of what to say or do. But after a short period of indecision, she walked over to the front of the class, threw away the scattered yellow hair, and locked away the adult scissors in the highest cabinet she could find.  She collapsed into her rolling teachers chair with a large sigh just as the recess bell rang.

     The other kids shut their books with a snap, toppling over each other as the raced to get to the door; it was crucial to be one of the first out into the recess court in order to get a chance at grabbing one of the special red bouncy balls. Aggie, however, closed her small chapter book ever so slowly, her ears pricked in expectation of what she knew was soon to occur.

     “Mona, please come to my desk,” Mrs. Flint called just as the strange girl was slinking through the door. She stopped where she was and shuffled back to the teacher’s table, her eyes dim and emotionless, like an empty black void.

     Aggie’s hair bristled, wondering with excitement what the teacher would say, what she would do. She pretended to be putting her things away on her desk, but she moved so minutely that a full five seconds passed before she was able to lift her notebook off of the wooden surface.

     “Aggie, it’s recess time,” Mrs. Flint reminded, and her voice shattered all hopes of eavesdropping on the anticipated conversation.

With a sigh Aggie lifted herself from the chair and left the room, only to find two other girls from her class waiting by the door. One was short and fairly stout, with red hair that curled about her cheeks. The other had a sharp nose and chin, with long black hair done up in shining plaits.

     “Well?” said the stout one. “Did you hear what she said?”

     “Not a word,” Aggie groaned as she followed them out to the recess court.

     “What a weirdo, don’t you think? I mean just last week I saw her come in to class with the most dirtiest clothes on, mud stains and everything. Mrs. Flint just didn’t notice cause she sits all the way in the back and hardly even says a word,”

     “I heard she’s dumb,” declared the girl with the braids “like real dumb. Doesn’t even know how to read or write or anything,”

     “Oh come one Joanna, she’s in the fourth grade,” Aggie insisted, “she must know how to read and write some,”

     Joanna huffed and raised her chin nearly as high as her nose. “Well she’s weird anyway,”

     By the time the girls got onto the black pavement where all the other children were screaming and playing, the only balls left in the bin was an old tennis ball with a hole in it and flat basketball that looked more like a Frisbee. And so the three sat on the rusty benches with their head in their hands, watching their classmates play and wishing that they had thought of sending someone out to reserve a ball instead.

     Mona did not join them at recess, nor was she in class when they got back, and the frantic rumors whispered through everyone’s ears and spread like a raging wildfire. But by the end of the school day that fire had been quite quenched, so the Aggie had more important things to think of on her walk home (such as the prevalence of cooties and Erica’s brand new cell phone) than that strange little girl whom she hardly ever saw.   

Author's Note

very rough draft but still tell me what you think

Reviews

[Coyote Poetry]

You have my attention. You create a interesting story. The girl had my attention. Now I need to know the why, who, when and where? I like the flow of the story. I would like to read more. A very strong chapter.
Coyote