11 years ago
Lynne
Hannah was eating her breakfast as Lynne ironed their daughter's new school uniform.
"No second-hand school clothes for our little girl," Dan said proudly as he walked into the kitchen to eat breakfast. He ruffled Hannah's hair. Lynne and Hannah hadn't seen much of Dan over the last couple of weeks and she'd had to explain to Hannah, that he'd been busy doing overtime to pay for her new school uniform and supplies.
"You're not having anything?" Dan asked her, as she now set about polishing a small pair of black shoes.
"No, I can't stomach it," she replied. Lynne was sure she was more nervous than Hannah was. Having turned six the previous week, today was Hannah's first day at school. The education system for the Flawed ran from aged six to fourteen. From six and twelve, the students learned how to read and write and gained basic numeracy skills. Then between the ages of thirteen and fourteen, the students were given vocational training to prepare them for the world of work. Which was a joke really considering the level of unemployment in the Flawed sectors.
Educating the Flawed was an ongoing hot potato for the Top-5. On one side there were those who thought that educating the less fortunate and teaching them to read and do basic maths would benefit the more fortunate by providing them with better services and goods. The other side, the more popular, vocal side of the argument saw the education of the Flawed as a waste of money and resources. As a result of this fundamental disagreement, very little funding was available to the schools, teaching staff were poorly trained and the teaching facilities were inadequate. The curriculum was largely craft-based and all students were taught how to work with a range of material and carry out basic home and motor vehicle repairs. Lessons in cookery, repairing clothes and basic domestic care were also taught. Any trinkets and jewellery made were sold in the posh stores in the Top-5 sector for ridiculously large sums of money, incidentally none of which ever made its way back to the hard-working Flawed students.
"Hannah, come on sweetie, eat up," Lynne encouraged.
"Mummy, have you seen Mr Bear? I can't find him and he wants to go to school with me today," her daughter asked.
"No honey I haven't, but he can't be far. Finish your breakfast and we will have a look for him."
Lynne placed the shoes on the doormat and picked up the hairbrush off the table. "Which colour ribbon would you like today?" she asked her daughter.
"The yellow one please, Mummy."
Lynne began to brush Hannah's hair.
"Mummy, what if I get lost and nobody likes me," Hannah asked, her voice small and full of concern.
"Hannah, your teacher is going to show you where you need to go and the children will love you, I'm sure."
"But that lady in the shops the other day didn't like me did she. She kept staring at me mummy and she tried to touch my hair. She was scary," Hannah reminded her Mother.
"What, you never told me about that," Dan said.
"It was nothing." Lynne dismissed the topic with a wave of her hand. But deep down, she still felt very uncomfortable about the incident and it wasn't the first time it had happened either. Wherever they went, Hannah seemed to attract attention, especially her hair. It seemed to incite jealously in some mothers and many a time, she'd heard them whisper snide comments behind her back. Lynne tied a bow in the yellow ribbon and hoped she wouldn't have to deal with any of that nonsense today.
"Come on Hannah, put your coat and shoes on, we had better be leaving. Give your Papa a big hug."
"Bye, bye, Papa Bum-Bum," Hannah said, with a giggle.
Dan picked up his little girl and squeezed her tightly. "Have a great day, honey."
Hannah
The school was a mile and a half walk from their house. Unseasonably warm, Hannah skipped along the path saying hello to everyone that passed and petting every dog. When they reached the school, her mother led her to Mrs Smith's classroom and she knocked on the door.
"Come in".
Her mother opened the door, and Hannah ducked behind her mother as thirty little faces turned towards them.
"Ah, you must be Hannah?" said the kindly looking lady, seated behind the desk at the front. She was a large-framed lady with a ruddy, round face. "Come in my dear, let's have a look at you."
Hannah crept out from behind her mother. The lady stood up and walked towards Hannah and held out her hand, which Hannah took. The teacher shook it gently.
"My name is Mrs Smith and I will be your teacher. Do you think you would like to sit down over there?" She pointed to a spare seat next to a little girl with curly blonde hair. The little girl looked over at Hannah, gave a shy smile which Hannah returned.
"You can go now mummy, don't worry about me, I'll be alright," Hannah said, turning to look back at her mother.
Her mother dabbed at her eyes with a handkerchief. "Okay, sweetheart, you have a great day and I'll be outside at three to pick you up".
Hannah walked over to the table where the little blonde girl sat. She pulled out the chair and sat down and looked around her in awe. She didn't see the cracks in the walls, the water stains on the broken ceiling tiles or the badly worn carpet. What Hannah saw was something altogether lovelier; magical in fact. Every wall was crammed full with children's drawings and some of the window panes had been painted with bright primary colours which let the sunlight fall into the room as if a rainbow had decided to visit there for the day. In the corner of the room was a castle made from old cardboard boxes, tape and black marker pen. She couldn't wait to play in there.
Hi, I'm Emma." the little girl whispered to Hannah. "I like your bow."
"Thanks, my mummy says I can only wear it on special occasions."
"Okay class, take a piece of paper and a pencil from your drawer. We are going to practice writing our names," Mrs Smith instructed. Hannah watched Emma lift the desk top to find her equipment. Hannah looked down into her desk to find two pencils, one pen, eight crayons, and some lined and some plain paper. Hannah was delighted as she had never had her own stationary set before. Selecting the red pencil she carefully picked up a sheet of paper and closed down the lid.
"I know how to write my name," Emma boasted and set to work. Hannah looked down at the little girl's handwriting. "See look how good I am?" she stated. Hannah thought the jumble of badly drawn letters was all wrong, but being a very polite little girl she smiled and said they looked great.
"You won't be able to do this very well because you're new and you won't know how to do it?" Emma boasted.
Hannah was a little annoyed by this, but stayed quiet not wanting to upset her new friend. She picked up her pencil and wrote her name slowly, just as her mother had shown her. At home Hannah liked nothing better than to read, write and draw. Her mummy was always telling her how clever she was especially since she had recently started to do joined-up writing. Hannah finished the last h with a little flourish at the end of her name and turned to her new friend to see what she thought. Emma looked down at the page and didn't give Hannah the smile she thought she would? Instead the little girl screamed out at the top of her lungs.
"Mrs Smith, Hannah pinched me," Emma whined rubbing her fake injury and balling out loud.
"I, I, didn't" stuttered Hannah, shocked and upset.
"Now dear, that isn't how we behave at school is it?" Mrs Smith said as she walked over to Hannah.
"But really I didn't. I showed her my writing and then she made up a lie." Hannah had been told by her parents to always tell the truth. Mrs Smith looked down at Hannah's page and gasped at what she saw.
"Where did you get that piece of paper from? Who wrote your name? You should not be bringing in work from home and trying to pass it off as your own," the teacher said so abruptly, Hannah felt her tummy go all fluttery and she squirmed uncomfortably in her chair.
"I didn't bring it from home Miss. I just wrote it."
"No, she didn't," said Emma, "I see her, I see her take it out of her pocket and pretend. She's the liar and she pinched me."
Before Hannah could reply, Mrs Smith laughed out loud and looked at Hannah in not a very nice way. The kind lady who she'd met when they first arrived was not the lady now towering over her.
"Hannah, you are to apologise to Emma for pinching her and you are to apologise to me for lying. Right now."
For the first time in her safe, sheltered little life, Hannah felt scared. She knew she hadn't done anything wrong. Sometimes she made up little fibs to entertain her parents. Like when she had told her father Papa she wouldn't bump down the stairs on her bottom anymore, or the time she said she was too tired to walk, so could ride on his strong tall shoulders. But she never told real lies- the proper bite your tongue, stick a finger in your eye kind of lie. But while Hannah might only have just turned six, she was mature enough to know that protesting her innocence in this situation wasn't going to get her anywhere.
"I'm sorry Emma for pinching you and I am sorry Mrs Smith for lying to you," she said with a wobble in her voice. She made small fists with her hands fighting away the upset she was feeling.
"Very well Hannah, we accept your apologies. But be sure never to do it again," Mrs Smith warned her.
Hannah instinctively knew from that point on to be cautious in class, never to excel at anything even when she knew she could add up better, jump higher, run faster, sing sweeter, spell better than the rest of her fellow students. But even that didn't seem to be enough. Everywhere she went she was met with suspicion. Her mother told her they were jealous because Hannah was a little different to the rest of them. Hannah had no idea what that difference was. She had only ever known life as a Flawed. She didn't see the scarred, marked faces, the twisted limbs, the speech impediments. They were just children, like her, except for some reason they didn't like her. Well except for Shane that is.
About two weeks into school, Hannah was not having a good time, but seeing how concerned her mother was about her she continued to pretend everything was fine and that she'd made loads of nice friends. The truth was that Hannah was lonely, miserable and being bullied. That day, having had to sing very quietly in her music lesson so that no one could hear her voice, she went to the canteen to get her lunch. This was her most hated time of the day. It wasn't the food that she didn't like, it was having to queue up alone and eat by herself. Approaching the counter, she picked up her tray and got in line, which wasn't moving very quickly at all! She could hear giggling and whispering behind her and knew it was aimed at her. Not daring to turn around and face them, she stood rigidly, waiting. The next thing she knew someone had grabbed her pony tail and was pulling it hard. She shook her head wildly trying to move out of the way, while everyone around her laughed and pointed at her. Hannah began crying from the pain, the humiliation and worst of all she wet herself. The boy who had been holding her pony tail, released it and shouted, pee-pee face, in her ear. Just then she heard a loud shout and people in the queue behind her went flying. The nasty, hair-pulling boy was punched to the floor. Standing in front of her now was a fierce little boy with a large birthmark on his angry, little face. Hannah was terrified waiting for yet more bullying. But then something amazing happened. The angry little boy smiled at her.
"Come on, you can share my sandwiches. My mum put extra cheese in them and they are really, really nice. Okay, so not as nice as ham or roast chicken but they are pretty good. I have an apple too," he rambled whilst trying to catch his breath.
Hannah was amazed. It was the first and nicest thing anyone had ever said to her at school.
"Okay, if you like," she replied.
"Brilliant."
"Ooh look, little miss perfect has a boyfriend," shouted Emma, who had also been standing behind her in the queue.
Shane turned to look at them and raised all the strength and courage a little six-year old boy could muster. "You leave my best friend alone. You hear me. Cos if any of you losers hurt my best friend again, I will kick you in the knee and jump on your head."