Vicky

Vicky

Tim grabbed the chains holding the swing's sling seat to the framework of galvanized poles and tried to decide how to hang himself from it. His grandma said, "Sticks and stones may break your bones, but words will never harm you." She was wrong. Words hurt. If he were like Mr. Spock on Star Trek, people could say all the mean things they wanted because Vulcans didn't have emotions. But he wasn't Spock.

He pictured the other kids finding his dead body when they came out for recess. Maybe then they would realize they should have been nicer. No, they'd probably laugh at him. Principal Greene would have the custodian take him down, and then he'd call his grandma. She would cry. He didn't want her to cry.  

The red rubber ball from the kickball game rolled under his swing. "Hey, punkin' head, throw that back to us." He hated the name Punkin' Head. Scott McCarge started calling him Punkin' Head because of his red hair and freckles. What could he do about that? He bent down to pick up the ball, but Barry Young, the boy who sat behind him, pushed him back on the swing and grabbed it from under him.

"Stay away, booger eater. We don't want any of your snot on the ball."  

Tim watched Barry run back to the game and sat back on the swing. They saw him pick his nose and eat it, which was another thing to make fun of him for. Then he got hacked for not getting his homework done. After that, they called him stupid. Reading was too hard. It took him so long that he never got his homework finished.

All of this was his fault. The teacher wouldn't have spanked him for not being able to read. They said all he had to do was try harder. Try harder? He thought he was. I guess he was just stupid.

A girl with crooked plastic rim glasses and a pink sweater sat on the swing beside him.

"You got a TV that needs fixing? Cause if you do, my dad fixes them."

Tim looked at her black, short, messy hair and stained clothes. Part of a white scar showed by her left ear.

"Our TV works, but we only get one channel. What's the scar from?"

"Dad said Mom had a car wreck, and my brain got hurt. Mom died. I was in the hospital for a long time."  

"I'm sorry about your mom."

The girl tried to get the swing to move but couldn't. "Mom died, but Dad fixes TVs. Would you push me?"

Tim kicked off, started pumping, and swung past her. "You don't know how to swing?" he asked, watching her try to mimic his motions.

Her head followed him as he swung past. "I can do good with a push. Give me a push, and I'll swing with you."

Tim looked at Barry and the kids playing on the kickball diamond. This girl was talking to him and hadn't called him any names. He dragged his feet to stop. "Okay, I'll push you." He pulled back on the chains of her swing and pushed her until she could keep herself going.

"See! I need a little help, but I'm good once I start. Get back on your swing so we can do it together."

She was smiling.

Tim found himself smiling, too. He settled in the swing beside her and matched her speed. "What's your name?"

"Vicky. My dad fixes TVs. What's yours?"

"You already told me about your dad. I'm Tim."

"Does your dad fix TVs?"

"No, my dad left before I was born."

"My Mon died, but Dad and I do good. Thanks for pushing me."

It felt nice having someone to talk to. "Sure."

The chains squeaked from low to high as they went back and forth.

"Most boys won't push me. How old are you? I'm thirteen."

"Thirteen? I'm eight. What grade are you in?"

Vicky's blue eyes blinked. "Fourth. What grade are you?"

"I'm in Fourth, too. Why are you so old?"

"Dad says my brain was hurt in the wreck.  He says he's lucky to have me. I help him fix TVs sometimes. I like Star Trek."

Tim nodded. "Me too. I like Spock. He doesn’t have any emotions."

Vicky stared at the school. "Who's your teacher?"

 "Mrs. Armitage. Who is yours?"

She stopped pumping and slowed. "Mrs. Moore. She got wooden shoes on her honeymoon."

Tim pictured a Dutch girl in clogs like those he'd seen in cartoons. "Why does she have wooden shoes?"

Vicky's feet dragged, and she stopped. "I don't know. I guess she wanted them. I don't think I want wooden shoes. Do you live with your mom?"

Tim lowered his feet and stopped. "No, with my grandma. My mom couldn't care for me, so Grandma Ruthie said she would. I haven't seen Mom for a long time."

Vicky removed her glasses. Her eyes crossed as she examined the nosepiece. "It feels good to take them off, but I can't see." She extended the mottled brown plastic-framed eyewear. "Check if there's something pointy on the part that goes on my nose—it hurts."

Tim felt the smooth plastic arch and looked through them. "I don't feel anything. Wow. You have a strong prescription like my grandma's. Your lenses are dirty, too." He breathed on the glasses and wiped them with his shirt. "Your eyes must be pretty bad." He handed them back.

"I guess. Here, I'll show you my scar." Vicky parted her hair. "It goes from the back of my head and comes out in front."

Tim followed the white line with his eyes." That's big! I bet it hurt a lot."

Vicky nodded. "I had a bandage on for a long time. I almost died."

The red ball bounced toward them, and Barry Young yelled. "Don't touch it, punkin!" He and Scott ran over. Barry scooped it up while Scott pointed at Vicky. "Hey, bloody pants, found a boyfriend."

Vicky's face turned white. "It was an accident. I didn't know I would get my period!"

The boys pointed and yelled, "Punkin' head and bloody pants." They laughed, ran back to the game, and pointed at them.

Tim noticed Vicky follow the boys with her eyes. "Why do they have to be so mean?"

"My Grandma says they're bullies. She says I should ignore them."

"That's what Dad says, too." Vicky's face wrinkled. "I'm not going to be mean to people 'cause I know how it feels."

Tim looked at Vicky. "What's a period?"

"It's what a girl gets when she is older."

"Does it hurt?"

"Sometimes, but I don't want to talk about it."

The bell rang, and the children migrated toward the school building. Tim waited for her to get up and walked with her. "Do you want to meet here next recess? I'll help you learn how to pump so you don't need a push."

"Okay. But I go home for lunch."

"Me too," said Tim. "Where do you live?"

She pointed down the street. "That way."

"That's the way I go, too! Could I walk with you?"

"Okay."

We'll meet in front of the school. If I get there first, I'll wait for you."

Vicky smiled and nodded. "And if I get there first, I'll wait for you, too."

Tim walked her to the door of Mrs. Moore's classroom. "I'll see you later, Vicky."

She smiled. "I'll see you at lunch, okay."

He went to Mrs. Armitage's room and sat at his desk.

Barry walked past and sat at the one behind him. He leaned forward and chanted. "Punkin' and bloody pants. Punkin' and bloody pants."

 He and Scott laughed. 

The teacher closed the door. Tim leaned back and whispered. "Why are you making fun of Vicky? Her mom was killed in a car crash, and her brain got hurt. She has a big scar and almost died. Making fun of her is stupid."

Tim turned to the front of the room, and Barry and Scott made kissing sounds.

Mrs. Armitage glanced up from the attendance book. "Barry, Scott, why are you making those noises?"

They didn't say anything.

Tim saw her put her pencil down.

"A little bird told me you were making fun of a girl at recess. Would you like me to send a note home to your parents and tell them what you were doing?"

Both answered. "No, Mrs. Armitage."

She concentrated back on the book, and Barry thumped Tim in the back of the head.

Janice Preston stuck her hand in the air and wiggled it like a lamppost in a hurricane. "Mrs. Armitage! Barry hit Tim on the head."

The teacher put her pencil down and rose slowly to her feet. "Barry, I want you and Scott to go to the principal's office." She wrote a note, folded it over, and held it out. "Give this to his secretary."

Both boys stood, and Barry took the note. Mrs. Armitage pointed to the door.

Tim wasn't used to people being nice to him and looked at Janice, but she didn't look back.

Tim and his grandma moved at the end of the year and left Vicky. On their way out of town, they stopped at the store.  Janice Preston, the girl who told Mrs. Armitage Barry hit him, pushed an older girl in a wheelchair while her mom pushed a shopping cart. She looked at him but didn't say anything.