Pathenol Ethyl Ester McKay
It was all new to her. She walked down the empty hall, lagging behind the teacher as she looked around. There was a shelf the length of the hall, the space below it divided into lockers, and windows up above. Standing on tip-toe, she tried to see out the window. Frustrated, she dropped her bag, turned back on, placed her hands on the shelf and jumped. She ended up sitting on top, amongst the many schoolbags.
The teacher turned at the noise. “Pathenol, what are you doing? Get down,” she said sharply.
“I just wanted to look out the window,” she said quietly, playing with one of her braids.
“Well get down please, we have no time for looking out the window.”
She sighed before jumping down. Landing lightly on the ground, she picked up her bag and followed, counting the classrooms as she passed. The seventh classroom was hers.
The teacher knocked on the door and, without waiting for a reply she opened it and entered. Pathenol followed her and stood behind her as she talked with the other teacher. She stared at her new shoes for a minute before daring to look around at the classroom. There were six tables, each a different colour. Several kids were sitting around each table and all of them were looking directly at her. Seeing this, she quickly directed her gaze back at her shoes. She felt her face go red.
A couple of minutes passed before the first teacher left and Pathenol felt a hand on her shoulder. Looking up she saw a blonde woman smiling down at her.
“Hi Pathenol,” she said, crouching down so their eyes were level, “I’m Miss Hibbley, your new teacher.”
“Hello Miss Hibbley,” she said, managing to return the smile.
“I’ll introduce you to the class and then you can tell them about yourself, ok?”
Pathenol nodded, her heart beating faster, mouth going dry.
Miss Hibbley straightened up and address the class. “We have a new student joining us, her name is Pathenol and she is going to tell us a little bit about herself.”
Pathenol looked up, focused on a colourful drawing on the wall and spoke to it. “My name is Pathenol Ethyl Ester Mckay.” She heard some sniggers, and her face turned redder. “I-I am eight and a half years old and I live with my Aunt and Uncle. I have been home schooled since I was five, so this is my first time at school.”
“Thank you Pathenol,” Miss Hibbley said. “Take a seat next to Erin, over there,” she said, pointing to a girl with long dark hair, sitting at the yellow table.
She walked quickly over to the yellow table, grateful to be able to sit down.
“Hi Pathenol” Erin said, smiling at her.
The boy across the table sniggered, “don’t you mean Panadol?”
“Hey Panadol,” the boy next to him said, before bursting out laughing.
Pathenol sank into her seat and wished she wasn’t there.
The school bus made its way out from the city centre, stopping every so often to let a student off. Pathenol sat by the window, her bag beside her to stop anyone sitting there. She stared out, glad that they were leaving the busy streets behind and heading out to the farm where she lived.
The bus slowly emptied and she was the last on the bus when it finally pulled up outside her house. She walked quickly off the bus, then ran up the path to her Aunt, who was waiting at the front door.
“How was your first day?” she asked.
“I hate my name.” she said, before finally letting the tears she had held back all day escape from her eyes.
Pathenol sat across from her Aunt, cardling her cup of milo and hating her school things she had been so excited about the day before.
“I want to change my name,” she said for the third time.
Her Aunt sighed again, “Pathenol, I know you hate your name, but your mother thought it was absolutely beautiful and she gave you your name because she loved you very much.”
“If she really loved me she would have given me a better name,” Pathenol muttered.
The effect was instantaneous, her aunt stood up so quickly her chair fell backwards, clattering to the floor. Her hands firmly planted on the table she glowered down at Pathenol. “Don’t you ever, ever say that about your mother again. She loved you more than herself and I’m not going to let you change your name, ever,” she said, her volume rising with each word.
“Ok, ok,” Pathenol said, cowering in her seat. “But I still don’t like my name.”
Her Aunt’s expression softened. She picked up her chair and sat back down before replying. “You can't change your name Pathenol. When you know why I won't let you, you won't want to change your name anyway.”
“Why can't you tell me now?"
"Because you're too young Pathenol, I'll tell you when you're ready."
Pathenol sighed. "I hate being too young."
