November 10th 2003
"Now Jason will slide down so he could make a short cut to catch Cassie " I say, sitting with Mrs. Montoya for the sixth day, playing this game that I created on the fourth day of recess. Seeing the boy with a shaved head, doing as I predicted, "See."
She had her leg over the other, with her arms folded across her chest- scoping out another student for me to observe, "Okay what about Henry"
Out to the playground, I looked- scanning through a sea of kids matching his physical features with the boy who stood at the pole, ready to slide down. I look under the pole, seeing Emma being chased by Gus and decided my prediction, "Gus is trying to chase Emma under the pole so Henry could slide down the pole to catch her"
(AN: damn so many poles mentioned in that paragraph haha😂)
We wait a moment and watched it happen. Mrs. Montoya turns her head- laying her eyes on me, "You're such a smart little girl"
What would my mom say? I gave it a moment of thought, "Thank you, Mrs. Montoya" sounding robotic as possible.
"Amelia can I ask you something?"
No, but being the fact that I'm only six years old I have the excuse to reply vaguely so I nodded my head. Hate it when adults do this.
"Why did you move here?"
Now, here it goes- adult stuff that I shouldn't be involved in, "My mom loves the ocean"
Lie, she wouldn't go near the water.
"And what else?"
I shrug my shoulder, shooting the question back in her direction, "Why do you live here?"
Giving emphasis on the pronoun, and looked in her direction- waiting for her response. In the meantime, I noticed her name tag has changed, Ms. Montoya. Officially divorce, but like that's my business.
"I've lived here my whole life" she replies. Good to know, I guess... It's not like I wanted to know that in the first place.
I turn my head back in the direction of the playground, and here came Emma, at full speed running toward us, and before I could brace myself, she slammed into my side and took a seat.
"Times Gus, times!" She squealed, kicking her feet out, hitting into Gus's chest, which in result landed him on the ground but that didn't stop him. He got up and tackled Emma with such a (playful) aggression that Ms. Montoya mistaken it for brutality, how would you know Amelia? My conscience said, You've never been chased.
Gus! Stop it! You'll hurt her"
Gus removed himself from Emma and stood up, "Scoot over Flemma" he says, pushing her in my direction.
"Sit by Amelia" she whines.
"No, she has cooties"
Cooties? What are cooties?
For the duration of the day, my mind wrapped around this mysterious word. Where does it originate? What does it mean? Why wouldn't he sit beside me?
After getting my homework done, I went to my bookshelf and pulled out a dictionary, taking its weight into my arms and walked it over to my desk. Into my bag, I pulled out a paper and grabbed my pencil, pronouncing the word cooties, out loud.
At first, I wrote it with a K and after a few minutes of staring at it, I earsed it and replaced with a C.
Coot...ees. Or so I believe it's written like that?
So off I went, searching for the word- using the guide words, going page after page with such determination. Until finally:
cootie1
[koo-tee]
noun plural coot·ies. Informal.
-a louse, especially one affecting humans, as the body louse, head louse, or pubic louse.
-a child's term for an imaginary germ or disease that one can catch by touching a person who is disliked or socially avoided:
The girls at camp thought the boys had cooties.
The words, germ, disease, and disliked stayed within my mental, closing the dictionary and went down to the dining room, picking at my vegetables.
"Amelia, eat" my mom demanded. Maybe, if I don't eat my vegetables I won't have cooties...
"Amelia!" My mom shouted, so I take some to my lips and kept my eyes down as my parents started a minor argument.
"She's a child Nora" I heard my dad. Yeah, a child with cooties.
After helping my mom clear the table, I was excused from the kitchen, "I'll be up soon Amelia"
"Yes mom" I reply and went up the stairs, counting out the steps with the word, Cooties.
Cooties, cooties, cooties, cooties, cooties, cooties, coo-
"I'll be there this Friday," I hear my dad's voice coming from his home office, so I crept to the door- peering through, seeing him on the phone, turned away in his spinning chair, "I know you miss Amelia, but Nora would never allow me to take her anywhere"
It had to be Jessica, my former nanny in Boston. I wish she was here, maybe we could go to the aquarium and she could tell me how to prevent cooties...
I continue down the hall to my room, and went into my nightly routine- changing my clothes, then stood in my bathroom brushing out my hair and teeth, with such aggression, maybe doing this will stop the cooties. Then I open the cabinet behind the mirror, taking out the bottle of the oily substance, quickly formulating this idea that maybe this is the cooties!
"Amelia?" I hear my mom voice enter my bed room and seeing her reflection appear behind me, then taking the bottle from my hand, "Let's get this on your face, and off to bed"
No! But I couldn't tell her that, so off her hand went... taking a cotton swap to my face, rubbing in the cooties.
"Amelia! Stop moving, look forward"
As you can tell, I made the little effort to rebel- but being as I am, combined with my mom's forced nature, the oily substance plastered my face as I crawled into bed.
And when my mom's inspection came to a close, she switched off the light- and left the room. I reopen my eyes and looked at the ceiling, reliving the moment Gus said, "She has cooties" and faintly hearing my parents arguing a few rooms down- but that was typical, the ordinary, the usual. And most importantly, none of my concern, for now that is.
And so I fell asleep, with this very conclusion:
According to Gustav Ahr, I Amelia C Rose Cambridge has cooties. But like we all knew, tomorrow is a new day, for a new conclusion.
--
What could be done about this?
That was the question I woke up with, and it played in my mind for hours. Sitting in class, looking to where Gus sat- seeing that he was the type of student to jitter around, raising his hand- even at times when Ms. Newman didn't ask a question. Then I widen my perspective, looking at my classmates as a whole, does everyone think I have cooties?
Then my eyes landed on Eddie's elbow that looked perfectly relaxed in front of me, if I had cooties, would his elbow be in my face? No, he would've been at the edge of his seat, far as possible. Or would that word be nonexistent when a situation is convenient to them? What I mean is, would Eddie Walon say I have cooties somewhere else? Like the playground, for example.
I had to test that theory, so there I stood (after lunch)- inches away from the handle bar, staring into the red piece of metal.
"Go Amelia!" I heard Ms. Montoya yell, proud to see that I've chosen to "play". I turn my head away and roll my eyes forward, feeling my heart begin to thud against my chest as I push away the worst possible scenarios in my head, which all involved blood and the sound of bones crushing. Very R-rated I know (being that I'm six with so much restrictions), but it's what I've seen on this movie Jessica showed me.
"Amelia!" I heard Emma's voice, coming up behind me, "You're going to play?"
I nodded my head, and just like that... she grabbed my hand, pulling me after her- going up the stairs.
"What do you want to play?" She asked once we stood at the top, I see a few kids from my class run pass us. Our matching green eyes met and I shrug, "Whatever you want to play"
"Cool, come on- let's go pick on Henry and Jason" she yanks my hand across the little bridge to the second portion of the playground.
"Hey you can't catch us" Emma hollers to the boys below us, holding tightly onto my hand. It just so happens that Gus and Eddie were with them.
"Why you playing with her? She has cooties!" yelled Eddie.
"Your the one with the cooties!" Emma shot back, in my defense.
"She's the one who sits on the bench with Teacher, so she does have cooties" he replies, making the boy behind him laugh. Well, I'm also the girl you sit with, taking up the space with your huge elbow. But I couldn't say that, I lacked the courage and with that experiment coming to a close my vision changed to a blur of water. Tears, to be exact.
"Cooties is crying, cooties is crying" chanted Eddie, having the boys join along- except for Gus who's expression matched Emma's... who's expression matched Mrs. Ahr's at church.
I could sense the... pity, and so I ran away, concluding my theory with this experiment- hiding myself under a slide, bringing my knees to my face and covering my head with my arms. Forgetting about posture.
Crying- like this was new, and it took me back to the time my mom argued her point about how public school kids are more likely to experience bullying.
And yes, that's what this was. Bullying, at its finest hour and Gus started it- right when he said coo- No! It all started when he called me Eww, and shoving me to the floor.
The crying started to come out uncontrollably when I felt a tap on my shoulder, I look up thinking it might be Emma or Ms. Montayo but instead I got the hellboy- himself, in his purest form...
"Are you okay?" Gus asked. Who are you to care? You bully, you meany, you stupid November baby! But like always I couldn't say those things. . . But then again, why not? He's the one who's making me cry.
So I take what my dad would usually mutter under his breath, and voiced my anger with a fist of pebbles thrown it in his direction, "You make me feel like hell!"
More hell than counting to 50 every morning, more hell than Tuesday and Sunday night church sessions... more hell than hell itself.
But hey- with my luck, this had to happen.
🐥
AN to Peep: said you would live forever!!! Told me that shit in 2015 and here you are- gone. 😔💔🌹
👆just a segment, I'll put at the end of each chapter because I be sad af... or feeling too much as I write about him.