Previous Challenge Entry (Level 4 – Masters)
Topic: Friend (11/02/17)
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TITLE: The New Girl | Previous Challenge Entry
By Sylvia Young
11/08/17 -
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We got along well because we were so similar: we were all married to nice men, lived in a middle-class neighborhood and had the same views on parenting.
“What do you make of that outfit?” Jane asked suddenly, her voice low.
Approaching the school was a mom I hadn't seen before. She wore leopard-print leggings, high cut boots, a slouch hat pulled low over her brow and a pair of oversized sunglasses even though it wasn't sunny. She staggered slightly as though drunk and while her clothes weren't dirty and didn't have holes in them, it was easy to tell they were cheap and old.
“Does she have kids here?” Marge asked, looking, but not looking, at the woman.
I shrugged. “I doubt it. She doesn't really look much like a mom.” My conscience stung even before the words were out of my mouth. “I mean, I've never seen her here.”
The woman stopped a slight distance away from us, away from everyone, and pulled out her phone, ignoring us all.
“I guess this is her first day here,” I said, searching for something neutral to say.
“Mommy!” my daughter shrieked, flying out of the building. “Guess what we did today?”
As I listened to the litany of activities, I noticed a sullen girl walking over to the woman my friends and I had been gossiping about. I forced myself to watch as they trudged down the street towards the low-rent houses.
“Are you listening?” Melanie demanded.
“Hmm? Of course, dear. Fractions with chocolate bars.”
Satisfied that I had been paying attention, Mel started talking about what she and her friends had done at recess.
“Was there a new student in school today?” I interrupted.
Melanie wrinkled her nose a little. “Yeah, but she wasn't very friendly and she smelled funny. None of us wanted to play with her.”
My heart sank.
“She might be sad about something,” I said carefully. “You never know what another person's life is like. Please be nice to her.” Again my words stung, but for another reason this time.
Sighing, Melanie asked, “Do I have to?”
I was about to say yes, but different words came out of my mouth.
“No. You can ignore her because she's different. You can talk about her behind her back and not include her in anything.”
My daughter's face paled. “I don't want to do that Mom!” she exclaimed. “That's mean!”
“Yes, it is mean,” I choked out.“Very mean.”
Melanie kept staring at me. Finally, she said quietly, “She does have nice hair. Nobody else in our class has that color."
It's the same as her mother's, I thought.
“And the picture she drew in art class was amazing!”
The subject changed, but the woman and her daughter lingered in my mind for the rest of the evening.
At bedtime, I included the new mom in my prayers. “Show me what to do,” I whispered. “Help me to be more like You.”
I'd been going to church my whole life, so I knew what it meant to be like Jesus, and it wasn't walking around with a halo and pretending to be perfect.
The next morning, I hung back from the entrance where my friends stood chatting. Just before the bell rang, I spotted the new mom hurrying her daughter toward the school. She gave her a quick kiss and turned to go home, but I jogged after her.
“Good morning,” I called out. “New here?”
The woman turned to look at me, surprised written on her face.
“Uh, yeah. My daughter just started.”
“Our girls have the same teacher,” I chirped, falling in step with her.
“Um, Mrs. White?”
“Yep! She's a great. Your daughter will love her.”
“I hope so,” she sighed. “She hates school.”
“Aw, don't they all?” I laughed. “I remember I did.”
A tiny smile peeked out from behind her mass of curly hair. It really was beautiful. “Yeah, me too.”
“My name is Sarah,” I offered.
For a moment, the woman didn't speak, but her lips pressed together and swallowed hard.
“Uh, I'm Michelle.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said with a bright smile. “Maybe our girls will be friends.”
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