Young Truth

I can hear Mrs. Arber tapping something against her desk. My eyes flick up and focus on a blue pen like the ones they use to teach the older kids cursive with. It beats against a pink card with a love heart on it. Sarah the student teacher leans over saying softly to Mrs Arber,

“What are going to write?”

The tapping stops, I don’t think I am meant to be listening. Mum tells me off sometimes but it’s hard not to hear when it’s in the same room. The teacher’s desk is right next to mine too so it’s not my fault. I look down at my work and start re-reading the letters in my head over when I hear Mrs. Aber’s quiet response,

“It’s hard; everything I think of seems so contrived. How do I say that I love him with all that’s going on? How do I make him know that its the truth, that I mean it?”

They are talking about love, I’m not sure what CON-TRI-VED means, but it must have something to do with love because there is little hearts on the back of the card too. I start thinking about all the people I love and would like to write a card for when I glance across at Lucy sitting next to me and she coughs.

My gaze wonders over her face, I can see the mark on her cheek; round but with points at the end and red. The skin looks funny in that area too like its dripping. Kind of like when I melted the crayons in front of the heater at home. Her soft blond hair is slipping from her hair band and starting to cover the mark on her face but I like looking at it so I keep watching. I like its shape and how it reminds me of my favourite football at home. Mum says that if you have something nice to say that you should say it, I know we are meant to be in quiet working time but...

“Lucy” I whisper. Her eyes like big blue pools glance up at me, I also notice Mrs Arber’s eyes swing over and focus on our table too. “Lucy, I like the big mark on your face,” I see her brows pinch together above her eyes and the corner of her mouth twitch up creating a soft curl of a smile under her curtain of hair now hiding most of her face.

Mrs Arber stands up and steps behind me.

“Christopher.”

“Yes Mrs Arber?”

“Please follow me.”

I’m not sure what’s happened, I can tell by her tone I’m in trouble though. I reluctantly scrape my chair back across the classroom carpet and hop down. Walking a step behind I keep my head down and watch my shoes. I practice my lefts and rights as I walk, left in front of right, right in front of left.

Once through the door and into the hallway Mrs. Arber whirls around and her eyes lock onto my face,

“Christopher, do you understand what a disfigurement is?”

I shrug my shoulders, DIS – FIG – URE – MENT. I haven’t heard that word before; I whisper a “no”.

Mrs Arber breaths slowly in and out whilst watching me, she is making me nervous. It feels like when mum is about to yell at me,

“Lucy has what is called a disfigurement Christopher, it’s a scar or a mark someone can have that is after an injury or they can be born with it. It’s something that people notice and can affect the way they are treated often not in a nice way. Lucy’s injury to her face was because of an accident and making fun of it like I heard you can hurt a person’s feelings.”

I didn’t know it was from an accident, I wonder how much it hurt to have an accident on your face. I only look at it and think of how nice she is and how fun football is. It doesn't make me do anything mean though, nothing that would hurt her feelings.

I can feel my eyebrows drawing together, my hands are clasping in front of me and the nervous feeling grows in my stomach. I don’t understand why we are talking about Lucy’s face so eventually I slowly murmur back,

“But I like her face.”

I see Mrs Arber’s lips purse together and the crinkles between her eyebrows get deeper. She looks confused and asks me slowly;

“Christopher when you told Lucy you liked the mark on her face what did you mean, truthfully?”

I say back quickly without thinking,

“I like the mark on her face; it makes her pretty because it looks like a football.”

Mrs Arber’s mouth spreads and her eyebrows relax but she still looks very serious. Kneeling down she says,

“So when you said you liked it you were telling the truth not trying to tease her about it”

I nod rapidly, up and down, up and down, reminding myself of the pen tapping the desk. I then blurt out,

“I wouldn’t want to tease Lucy; she said she would be my girlfriend next week, I love her. I especially like the mark on her face and mum said when you have something nice to say about someone you should tell them.”

Mrs. Arber stares at me for a few seconds like she is stuck. Finally her smile widens and she softly apologises to me saying she made a mistake and not to worry. Her hand lightly leads me back inside by my shoulder and to my desk. The smile fades and she looks thoughtful as she sits back down.

I look down at my hands then at the paper on my desk with the letters I have carefully written on and wonder what Mrs Arber thought I meant when I said I liked Lucy’s face.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Mrs. Arber’s pen make slow, smooth movements as it writes across the card with the hearts on the front and back. I can see the letters as they slowly extend across the page and I start to read them,

When I say I love you I mean it with the honesty of a 7 year old Child.