One Face Same As Any Other

Mother was right. I should have covered my face. The teachers all stare but are too polite to comment or to ask. Were I older, I would know they are assuming that my parents have done this? Were I older, perhaps, the pity in their eyes would not bring such anger to my heart. Were I older, the sneering looks of the children around me would not send such daggers into me.

I know that my whole world has changed and I still don't truly know why. The wounds on my face shall heal, but the scars may never fade away. I shall always be seen this way, as the hideous freak. If they only knew how this had come to pass, I know they would be more disturbed by my altered appearance. For now, they pity me when there should be no pity. I don't want their pity any more than I feel I deserve their disdain. My face is now scarred, now different, but it is a face like any other.

Silence reigns until it is time for recess. As we make our way quietly through the hallway behind the teacher, I feel the tension in me rise. I know that this is where things always come to a head. This is where the battles of childhood are lost and won. The door opens and the cool breeze brings with it the rich smells of dirt and grass. Our feet are on the gravel. I am wary now as I walk toward the swing set. I can feel so many eyes watching me. I can do nothing in this moment, but wait for their outpouring of response.

Tabitha, my best friend, is the first to approach. Her dark curls bounce around her round face. She gently nibbles on her bottom lip as she always does when she is nervous. She doesn't say anything, just reaches out to touch my face. I wince away from the contact.

"Bella, what happened?" the first words and, suddenly, we are surrounded.

Forty curious eyes are focused on me. Forty curious ears are waiting for my response. Suddenly, I feel more frightened than I ever have in my life. I don't want to tell them the truth. Even if it were just Tabitha, my dearest friend, I would not feel I could tell her the truth. It all seems so unreal, and something about the tone of my voice makes me feel it is unwise to air the truth. My tongue goes dry, but I must force out words to appease all of the listening ears.

"I was playing in the kitchen floor and I bumped the table. A vase fell off near my head and shattered and some of the glass bounced back and hit my face," I reply.

The playground is full of "ohs", but now interest has waned. My story was not exciting enough to merit more attention. Now most of them are bustling off to their game. Tabitha puts her arm around me for a moment and then sits on the swing next to me. We begin swinging, trying to keep up with each other at first and then trying to push ourselves higher. I love the feel of the upward climb, watching the clouds come toward me. In this moment, I can forget that my world has changed.

As quickly as I forget, I must be reminded. One of the little boys has hit upon some idea and throws a rock straight at my face. As I soar upward it misses and strikes me in the shoulder with enough force to surprise me, throwing me off balance and knocking me from the swing. I fall forward, unable to stop my face from being driven into the sawdust below the swings. Then the tears come again as my nose erupts in pain and I feel the blood rushing down my lips and chin.

The teacher is at my side in seconds, lifting me up. She offers me a handkerchief and tells me to apply pressure while she purposefully makes her way toward the circle of boys who quickly disband. I can not hear what she says, but I do hear one word: 'different'. My heart aches, my mind reels.

Later as I am sitting in the principal's office, I listen as he talks to my father on the phone. I can only hear his side of the conversation as he responds loudly and defensively, but I know that my world is going to change more than even I had expected.

"Yes, sir. We're very sorry about what happened."

"She does seem quite upset."

"Oh, well, of course, if that is what you want. We'll get the paperwork together, but I think that such a drastic change may not be good for her."

"Nothing I can do to change your mind then?"

"Well, she is a bright girl, we'll miss having her around."

"Yes, yes, I'll let you tell her. Goodbye, sir."

The handset clicks with finality into the cradle and then he looks up at me.

"Well, Bella, I hope you feel better. You have to accept the fact that you're different now. Not many people will understand you as I do."

Something about his smile seems fake as he addresses me. Alarms seem to be going off in my head. He steps around the desk and approaches me. The world seems darker around him all of a sudden like it is rotting away. Something my father says to me returns and I feel my eyes widen with horror. This is what he was warning me about, but this is my principal. This can't be right. This can not be right at all.