First Day Of School (sequel)

The next thing I could remember and I really wished it had all been a bad dream. Was that i turned around from chanting “sorry you hear”, to accepting the “Sorry you hear ” for myself. Okay! Okay !! I know it sounds funny but i just couldn’t  keep it together  anymore. 

My head were on my folded arms over  the locker.Their hands were now on my head, including the girl crying beside me. I had actually started sobbing so hard, she felt touched and stopped her crying to console me.

Me, I refused to be consoled, it’s like the more they tried, the more I cried. Choi! I can never forget that day, even the white kids came over to console me. The proprietress was amazed and then curious about the reason for my crying. After her failed effort to get me to talk, I guess that was when she put a call through to my Dad’s office.

The crying and sobbing moved in a rhythmic tempo. When I think of my mum and home, I will resume the crying. It got so bad that everybody stopped consoling me and left back to their seat.

With the exception of one person, one person didn’t give up on consoling me. The person’s impression on me was so strong, it made me stop crying. I plucked up the courage and raised my head to see the face of the person. From the foot wear I knew the person was white and a girl and had this strange garlic/onion fresh smell.

And lo! The nicest and most humane face I ever saw, she had the look of a cherub. Our eyes locked for a bit and in my eyes she saw my gratitude plus all those other things Dad pretended not to see. I saw in her own eyes genuine concern and compassion. The look was fast but intense enough to create a bond, a new understanding, a new friendship, a different world and a different me.

She was of Indian descent and as I later found out also the only child of the proprietress. If I had not seen the other “white kids” before now, I would say she was a little angel. My very own little guardian angel and morale booster.

So, that was how my first day of school phobia ended. From that persistence, that reassuring voice, that I will never give up on you stance. From a total stranger, who saw beyond race and colour unlike her Mum…

Finally, Dad came shortly after break time trying to cajole me into telling him what went down in school. My eyes were all puffy and bloodshot I refused to say anything, before the whole emotions come flooding back. I was quiet all through the drive home and was mad at him for taking me to that place called school.

The familiar faces at home was very reassuring and  boy was I glad. But the event at school was too fresh and I was ashamed to tell them what triggered my emotions. I later did and got laughed at for it but was commended by Mum for my compassionate heart.

My parents suggested that I rest the next day which I declined. “ Daddy I will go to school I will be fine” .Truth be told, I wanted to confirm if all that happened was not a dream. I needed to see that nice girl, I don’t know what I will tell her, but let me just see her…

That’s how at my young age I became the protagonist of the movie of my life with this Indian girl, both of us sharing puppy love. Disliked and picked on by the mother, tormented by girl bullies: who always had my lunch box, frustrated by another kid: who always wanted to ride in my place on the swing. But she was always there, always got my back until she left for her country for further studies.