A stitch in time

A stitch in time, saves nine. 

That’s what I told her when she complained about the new clothing being tatty looking. She didn’t laugh. She looked childishly annoyed. Everyone poked fun at her. All the time. Why was she the object of their attention? She cradled herself and rocked on the floor. Fluffy bunny (her favourite toy) had been lost in the confusion of the visitors. They were the ones wearing the awful new clothing! At the age of fifteen, she was holding onto childhood by the skin of her teeth. She didn’t even have a boyfriend. She played games by herself as the visitors laughed at the impromptu party. Tamara shuffled cards, played solitaire. Was up to the fifth round when a stranger opened her door. 

“Oh!” They swayed on their feet. Smiling slightly. 

“This is my room.” Tamara turned her back to ignore them.

“I was looking for the toilet.” He smiled hopefully.

“Try down the hall.” She muttered.

“Okay, thanks little lady!” He walked off.

“Don’t let your shreds catch…” Tamara said as softly as she could. If she got into trouble again, she would not be allowed to go to the waterski park in the holidays.

Tamara was in Year Ten at high school. She had two years until she finally left school. Besides the maths, she enjoyed science labs. Her maturity was yet to dawn upon her entirely. But at least she wasn’t like the girls who got pregnant. Or who ran off with their boyfriend to Sydney. Or who had to work for their family in their restaurant. She wondered what it was like to work instead of go to school. She thought about being a scientist, working on things in the laboratory. She was on a train to school the next morning at 8:16am. So bored. A few classmates sat near, but she never talked to them. 

Instead, she read. Nothing interesting either. Just maths and science stuff. She wasn’t interested in trying to flirt with the guys on the train or at school. It wasn’t that she was ugly. She had long brown straight hair. She always wore it in a neat bun. Everything was perfect about her presentation, and she knew it. The guys knew not to approach her. She just turned to ignore them as she did with the lost man at her parents’ party. Once they got to their station, the mostly noisy teenagers disembarked. No friends nigel! Someone yelled at her. She ignored them too. Got to school after a few minutes’ walk. It was the same routine. Why couldn’t those silly kids realise that she didn’t care about them? They didn’t have much going for them, she decided, if they couldn’t think properly. They would be stuck between adulthood and teenagerhood when they were 35 and old as the hills!

Tamara just wanted to sit in the science lab and think. She opened the door and found a clean workbench. Put her bag down on the floor. And then her eyes glazed over. She sat perfectly still. Focussed upon her thoughts. She sat like that for an unknown time. The first bell rang, jolting her out of her thinktank. She stood and picked up her bag at the same time. Headed out the door. To her surprise, everyone looked like they were on pause. Weird. What would she do about it? She was the only person moving in the whole school of 1500 students. 1499 not moving. How long had they all been like that? She had tuned out any and all sound when thinking, so she did not notice when the roaring down the corridors had suddenly stopped. Tamara went back into the lab. She waited for someone to walk into the large room. It was one of those double rooms with long benches. It had supplies on the sides of the room in cupboards, marked with taped on words. Bunsen burners, tripods, heat mats… all the things that could create an experiment. Usually some basic chemical reaction. There was an emergency shower and eye bath in case of stupidity. If you followed the steps shown on the board then you never had an issue. Some people were just too dumb. No-one walked in yet. Good. It gave her more time to think alone. She was not sure of how to deal with the frozen people in the halls. How come she was not frozen herself? She walked to the door again and peeked out. The people were no longer frozen. Someone knocked on the door. In a way it was a great relief to Tamara that someone else was there too. Even when they said, “Oh hey teacher. Can you mark my assessment?!” Tamara didn’t laugh. She wasn’t impressed by those who didn’t have enough acuity to work things out for themselves. It wasn’t until she sat down at the bench again that she realised she was wearing something different. It was not her school uniform! She was in a woman’s clothes. How did that happen? Tamara excelled logically, but this was something that defied logic. Some students traipsed in and stared at her sitting at the bench. “Umm, that’s my seat miss.” 

“It is not your seat! I came in early and have been here for over half an hour!”

“Okay Miss Tamara! Sorry!”

“Hang on, why are you calling me that, like I’m a teacher?”

“Because you are the teacher!”

She thinks she’s a student! Was whispered around the class. Tamara could not comprehend this. “I am not a teacher! I’m only 15!” 

“Miss Tamara, do you feel alright?! Should we contact the nurse?”

Tamara couldn’t just turn and ignore them now. So, she stood up, walked to the front and said, “turn to page 54 of your workbook.”

“That’s more like you, miss!”

Tamara had to solve this. She had no idea where to start. Perhaps if she wrote down what had happened, in chronological order, it would begin to make sense?