The Child That Never Was (NaNoWriMo 2014)

Chapter Four

I watched as six year old me ran into the bathroom, slamming the stall door shut tight behind me.  I stood against the stall, kicking my foot to the other side.  Why did I have to be so lame?  I wasn’t able to control what happened next; I began sobbing.  I didn’t want anyone to see me, no one to hear me.  All I wanted was to be left alone.  I could no longer defy the grounds of reality, trying to pretend that I fit in place.  That I actually have friends.

It took a few minutes but suddenly there was a knock on the stall door.  “Go away,” I had groaned.

“Mikayla, please open the door,” a woman’s voice sighed.  I had unlocked the door and found Ms. Greper, the art teacher, looking at me, apologetically. 

“Mikayla, are you okay?”

I shook my head.  “Fine.”

“You don’t sound fine,” she had said.

“Well, I am.”  I turned to the bathroom sink and began to wash my hands, hoping that she would just leave me alone and walk out of the bathroom, no longer questioning me.  However, that didn’t seem to be the case.  She put her hand on my shoulder.

“Ashlee Wince isn’t a very nice person, Mikayla.  She never has been, and it’s not just to you.  She treats everyone the same way.  Even me,” Ms. Greper said, slowly.

I shook my head.  “But you’re a teacher.”

“That doesn’t make any difference to her.  She treats everyone the same way,” Ms. Greper continued.  “But we have to pretend like it doesn’t affect us.  If she sees us hurt, then she will feel the slightest bit of power, and that will make her want to hurt us again and again.  We can’t let her get to us like that.”

“Why are you here, Ms. Greper?  Did Mr. Mallark send you in here to deal with me?  If so, you mind as well leave, I’ll get over it,” I sighed.  I love how my homeroom teacher, Mr. Mallark, never took even the slightest bit of interest in his students.  He constantly just handed us off to other teachers, having them deal with us.

“No, I was about to walk into the classroom and I saw the whole thing happen.  You ran right past me on the way to the bathroom.  I figured that you couldn’t deal with this alone, so I came to help you.  Mikayla, don’t block people out who are trying to help you.  That’s how you lose friendships and vitality,” Ms. Greper smiled.

I had only shrugged my shoulders.  “I don’t have any friends to lose.”  When Ms. Greper gave me a questioning look, I expanded.  “Ashlee had turned the whole class against me when I started school in third grade.”

Ms. Greper nodded.  “You do well in Art class.  I mean, you real have a knack for it.  Do you enjoy it?”

“It’s my favorite class,” I had told her.

“Class?  Honey, Art isn’t just a class.  It isn’t something that you go to do once a week.  If you really enjoy Art, then you can practice it outside of class, and make your own things up,” she laughed.  After a moment’s thought, she smiled.  “How about you come with me for a moment?  I’ll show you some of the artwork that I have produced during my free time.”  So we walked out of the bathroom and to the Art room where she had shown me a whole bunch of pastel paintings, watercolor art, charcoal drawings- every type of art imaginable was all right there.

“Why don’t you start your own portfolio?”

I gave her a strange look.  “A what?”