No Such Thing As Normal

The train was small with an engine, one box car, one passenger car and the all famous little red caboose. The antique train had been placed in the city park as an artifact. A reminder of times gone by. A fence surrounded the train to help protect it from vandalism. Shelly's class was one of the first to visit the train on a field trip.

She sat in the very last seat of the passenger car and stared out the window to the playground not far away where at least two dozen children ran and played in the warm May sunshine. She felt special. Her grandfather had been on the crew selected to place the antique train in it's current location, but as she watched the other children she couldn't help but wonder if those children had a better life than hers.

Mrs. Sanders, her homeroom teacher, touched her shoulder pulling her away from the daydreaming that occupied her mind most of the time. "It's time for the picnic. Let's move out in a single file line with our mouths closed."

Shelly didn't require a reminder to be quiet. She never opened her mouth anyway. Her teeth were crooked, especially the one in the front. Her older brother, Doyle, knocked out her baby tooth years ago. When she was three or four years old, he chased her around the house, terrorizing her like he often did. She tripped over the brown wooden coffee table in the middle of the baby poop green wallpapered living room and landed face first on the knobby corner. A sharp pain filled her mouth as blood splattered everywhere. Blood covered the fake velvet flowery couch and yellowish gold shag carpet. Her favorite dress, the one that made her feel like Shirley Temple, a short pink ruffly dress she loved, was now stained with bright red blood.

"Now look what you've done!" Her mother said with that look on her face that clearly said you were in really big trouble. Mother had been styling the wig perched a top one of those freaky hard styrofoam looking heads on the bathroom counter. Faster than lightning the brush in Mom's hand swiftly swatted her behind several times. It stung. Shelly tasted the salty tears that ran down her cheeks onto her lips. It hadn't been her fault, but she got the spanking anyway.

She was snaggled toothed in the front until she was seven years old. When her adult tooth finally grew in, it was crooked. Like punishment, it stuck out much farther than her other front tooth. She felt like a freak, more freakish than the ugly hard styrofoam head that held her mother's wigs for a decade. She hated for anyone to see her crooked teeth, especially the ridged edged bulging front tooth that made her feel like she had buck teeth, so she kept her mouth closed. Even then, she wasn't sure that tooth didn't make her lips poke out even when she tightly closed them together.

Back to reality, she stood from her seat and waited her turn to walk in a single file line off the train. The other girls were all so pretty. Many had ringlets curls like Shirley Temple, but no matter how long Shelly wore her mother's hard plastic rollers pinned down with bobby pins, her curls fell out in less than hour. Most of the other girls wore expensive brands from the department stores at the mall. Most of Shelly's clothes were handed down from her older sister and older cousins, like the outfit she wore that day. She wore a pair of plaid pants with wide bottoms and a button down yellow rounded neck top that was really a little too big for her but it matched the pants and a pair of well worn brown sandals. She hated the sandals. She hated for anyone to see her toes. She had curvy toenails inherited from her father. The other girls sported designer denim pants, t-shirts and shiny new pairs of sparkling jelly sandals. Their perfect little toenails painted in pastel pinks made her feel jealous and out of place. She made sure to get in line to get off the train in the very back of the line so no one would look at her.

The children she watched playing at the playground earlier now sat at wooden picnic tables under the pavilion eating whatever sack lunches were sent by their parents that morning. It was her class's turn to play on the playground. She didn't like to play with anyone else. She liked to play alone. Actually she didn't really even like to play, she would rather sit in the grass and read, write or daydream. Some of the children teamed together to play dodge ball. It always seemed like the athletic kids formed one team while the not so athletic, less popular kids, many of them wearing thick lens glasses, formed the other. It was divided in such a way that it was always apparent which team was going to win the game. Some of the kids jumped on the merry-go-round. The fastest runners made it to the half dozen swings first. Some of the kids hovered around the slide talking and laughing, while a few braved chance of being burned by the hot metal, heated in the late morning sun, and climbed the ladder to slide down. Shelly didn't want to do any of these things. She sat in a patch of nearby grass and watched the others until it was her class's turn to eat lunch under the pavilion.

The time passed slowly for her. Without a book, paper or pencil to entertain her mind, she spent the next hour watching the children she believed to be normal interacting on the playground while the teachers gathered together under a nearby tree supervising, which basically meant they sipped on Tab from aluminum cans and gossiped about the teachers not present. She liked to listen to adults talk, it was always far more interesting than kids talking, except when her father talked.

Her father wasn't interesting, he was usually mean. He was another reason why she didn't want to make friends with anyone. If anyone came to her house to stay overnight she had to worry about him coming home drunk like he often did. When he arrived in the middle of the night intoxicated, is when she mostly listened to the adult talk, but it was scary with words she didn't always understand the meaning. The teachers talking wasn't anything like when her father yelled at her mother accusing her of things using colorful language there was no way her mother could have possibly done. The teachers mostly talked about who was getting married to who, who was sick in the hospital or what unpopular rule the current principal had recently created. It wasn't the same kind of adult talk she was accustomed to at home. The talk at home scared her a lot.

The teacher finally appeared from her hovered gossip group and gathered the class to eat lunch at the pavilion. She made sure to get in the back of the line like always, so no one would look at her with her one buck tooth, curvy toe nails, out of date clothes and worn leather sandals. Not to mention the emerging pimples on her forehead and new budding breasts beneath her thin yellow shirt. Mother had told her to wear a bra, but it was so uncomfortable. It felt like a tight bandage squeezing her body. She hated it and sneaked off the school bare chested beneath her shirt often. Her older sister often shook her head at her when she noticed as they rode to school on the bus. Now, glancing down at the obvious bumps growing when the breeze blew, she realized Mother and her sister were right. She should have worn the tormenting contraption to school.

She sat down at an empty table away from the popular group of kids. They never invited her over. It didn't matter she guessed, she didn't like them anyway. She couldn't participate in the latest conversation about the softball game they won over the weekend or the pool party they all attended Sunday afternoon. Instead she sat down all alone to eat her lunch.

She opened her brown paper sack. Everyone else carried cute lunch boxes, some with Strawberry Shortcake, Cabbage Patch dolls and super heroes for the boys. The other kids all looked surprised when they discovered what had been packed in their lunches. Fancy ham sandwiches wrapped in clear wrap, small bags of potato chips, oreo cookies, fruit roll ups and with a matching thermos full of lemonade or cool-aid on ice. She wasn't surprised when she opened the brown paper sack she had packed for herself. An aluminum foil wrapped, also known as tin foil as Mother called it, peanutbutter sandwich and an aluminum foil wrapped can drink she had begged Mother to pick up at the store. The drink was barely cold now but it was wet and she was thirsty from the almost noon time sun. She slowly ate about half of her sandwich in silence wishing the day would be over so she could just go home and be alone in her room to lay her bed, listen to the radio and read or write.

As she ate, she felt a pang in her stomach. It hurt like nothing she had ever felt before. She didn't want to be sick, not here with everyone around. She tried to ignore it but it kept coming and coming, lasting longer each time until she finally wrapped the remaining half of her half stale sandwich back in the foil and stood from her seat. She slowly made her way with her head town towards the teacher sitting not far from the popular kids table.

She whispered as quietly as she could, "I need to use the bathroom."

"Right now?" The teacher asked in a loud voice that made Shelly feel uncomfortable.

"Its an emergency," she whispered trying to hold back the tears threatening to fall any moment.

"It's over there," she said loudly again and pointed with an outstretched arm Shelly was sure every other kid noticed, "Make sure you look both ways crossing the street."

She was sure her face was bright red as she turned to walk to the bathroom. She didn't turn around to look but she just knew the other kids must be staring at her awkwardness as she walked alone to the restroom in the small brick building across the street.

The bathroom had a heavy door that was difficult to pull open. The concrete floor was damp and something smelled foul. She held her breathe as she rushed behind the first swinging door and latched it closed. When she pulled down her pants, she saw red again, the same color as the day she lost her lost her tooth. This time it was wasn't splattered on her shirt though.

Her heart began to race. It felt like it would bust right out of her chest. She had to stop holding her breath from the stench and take a gasp of air. The smell of the foul bathroom combined with the unquavering stabbing in her stomach made her feel overwhelmingly sick to her stomach. She tasted the peanutbutter as it and stale bread mixed with carbonation rose to her throat. She couldn't stop the feeling no matter how deeply she breathed. She gagged and her lunch landed in front of her on the floor. It splattered all over the swinging wooden stall door and splattered back on to her pants. She wondered if she was going to die. She felt like she was surely going to die. She sat in that stinky park bathroom and cried all alone.

Time passed. She knew she had been gone way too long. She wondered if maybe they just forgot about her and she had missed the bus to ride back to school. She imagined walking miles and miles home alone from the park, but there was no way she could walk out of this bathroom now. All the other kids would see her blood stained pants, she was sure it must be showing on the back side when she was walked. Vomit splattered all down her pant's legs and smelled disgusting, like something dead for several days. She didn't know what she was going to do, but she knew what she wasn't going to do. She wasn't walking back out of this bathroom looking this way.

She didn't know how much time had passed but she was sure it was a very long time before she heard the heavy bathroom door creak and close. She closed her eyes and prayed it wasn't the girls from the popular table.

"Shelly, are you in here?" Ms. Sanders voice was even louder than it had been at the picnic table.

At first she couldn't make herself speak. She opened her mouth, but no sound would emerge. Ms. Sanders didn't give up though. She must have seen her ugly feet with curvy toe nails and old sandals beneath the stall door.

"Shelly, what's going on in there?"

"I'm sick," she finally managed to squeak out.

"Unlatch the door," Ms. Sanders said as she tried to open it.

"I can't," Shelly answered between sobs.

Ms. Sanders couldn't have missed the obvious vomit in a puddle on the floor slowly spreading from beneath the door and into the open part of the room.

"Open the door. I see your sick. It's okay, just open it," Ms. Sanders voice had changed. It was now soft and full of concern. Shelly managed to calm down and unhook the latch so Ms. Sanders could see her.

Just as Shelly unhooked the latch, the squeak and moan of the heavy bathroom door rang through the room. The familiar sound of the popular girls giggling immediately caused panic in Shelly's heart.

"Get out now!" Ms. Sanders demanded. At first Shelly panicked and thought she was going to make her come out in front of everyone, but quickly realized she was sending the other girls away. They quickly obeyed the stern voice and the bathroom was quiet again.

"Shelly, pull your pants up and come out so I can get this cleaned up. We will call your mom as soon as we get back to school so she can pick you up."

"I can't get up...." she sobbed, "I'm bleeding. Am I going to die?"

Ms. Sanders looked down at Shelly's underwear then looked back up into her eyes. She placed her hand on Shelly's chin and gently lifted her head to look up at her. "Honey you aren't dying. You're growing up."

Shelly was confused. Grown ups bleed and puke in the bathroom? If that's true, she didn't want any part of being a grown up. No wonder her parents seemed so unhappy if this is what happens when you reach adulthood.

Ms. Sanders continued explaining, "All girls go through this at some point. It means your turning into a young lady."

"I don't want to be a lady, if this is what it means," Shelly said still sobbing.

"Oh honey, you won't do this all the time. It happens once a month, but it won't always be this bad. You're going to be a beautiful young lady."

"I'm not beautiful! I don't want this. Why can't I just be normal like everyone else?"

Ms. Sanders wrapped her arms around Shelly in that foul smelling bathroom as she squatted on the toilet with blood and vomit stained pants to the floor. "Sweetheart, you are a very beautiful girl. So beautiful you make everyone else jealous. And I have something very important to tell you that I never want you to forget, ever."

"What?" Shelly asked beginning to calm down and catch her breath.

"First, stay right here. I'm going to get another teacher to go to the park office and call your mom to come get you from here. I'll be back to help you clean up in a minute."

Ms. Sanders left the bathroom. Shelly heard her threaten the apparent line of girls waiting outside to come in, not to go inside. When she came back, she helped Shelly clean up. She showed her how to make do in an emergency female situation. She quickly worked to clean the bathroom disaster while Shelly washed her face and rinsed out her mouth.

"Ms. Sanders?" Shelly asked when she finished cleaning herself up at the sink.

"Yes?" Ms. Sanders answered from her knelt down position cleaning the floor.

"What important thing were you going to tell me?"

Ms. Sanders stood and wrapped her arms around Shelly before she spoke, "I want you to always remember that there is absolutely no such thing as normal. No one is normal. Everyone has problems. Just because you don't know what they are doesn't mean they don't exist. You are as normal as every other person. Don't ever forget that."

"Are you sure?" Shelly asked.

"I promise. There is no such thing as normal