Emily Hates Kindergarden

“Emmy, don’t forget your blanket sweetie!” The four year old girl turned around to obediently get her blanket from the car and closed the door behind her. She waited for her mother to get out of the car, walk to the passenger side and take her hand. Emily never crossed the parking lot without holding a grownup’s hand. That was one of the big ‘don’t dos.’

“Can Mommy get a bye-bye kiss?” Emily’s mother asked when they got to the door of the Open Hands Montessori School. Monsieur Bill was playing his guitar welcoming the children to another wonderful day; after lunch he talked to the children in French and German and at times they would answer in the correct respective language. Emily liked Monsieur Bill, but he didn’t seem to see her. Most of the teachers didn’t seem to see her, for that matter, or the other kids. School was a very lonely place for Emily. She hated school.

She went to her classroom and put her bag and blanket into her cubby, then sat at her spot at the table and waited for Miss. Prichard and her classmates to join her. Emily didn’t want to join everybody outside. The kids were in the playground getting a few minutes of playtime in before they had to report to class and the teachers were supervising. This was the one part of the day that Emily had peace and quiet.

Much to Emily’s relief, the first one to join her was Miss. Prichard whose smile melted away as she walked into the room and saw the small dark child. “Oh good morning Emily, how are we today?” The voice sounded bright and sunny but the teacher’s eyes were overcast with hostility. The child answered with a small, “I’m okay,” and continued to stare at her hands.

The next to enter the room where the Poole triplets: Donnie, Ronnie, and Connie. They all had very pale skin, blonde hair, and dull, dead blue eyes. They were mean. “Hey Emily, you forgot to take a bath last night. Your skin is still dirty,” Ronnie taunted her. They all cackled together at the joke. Emily focused on her hands while the teacher prepared for class as if she didn’t hear the slur being hurled at the child. Emily was either invisible at the school or she was victimized.

Emily had endured this treatment all year. Her parents put her in the school because of its curriculum and reputation. Neither one of them had any reservation about Emily being the only African-American child in the school, or that there were no people of color in the school either. No other children or teachers. The principal assured her parents that their daughter was in good hands, and she meant it. She just underestimated the rest of the school.

Emily didn’t know the words to tell her parents about how she was made to feel at Open Hands. After a while she stopped crying and telling them that she didn’t want to go back to the school. They would drill her with questions about why, which to the child seemed like they were angry with her for saying she didn’t want to go. In reality, they were afraid. The thought that they entrusted their child with the wrong people was every African-American parent’s nightmare. They wanted the best for their child and were willing to pay for it, but they didn’t want their child to pay.

Misreading her parents’ reaction of fear as anger, Emily stopped crying at home, which was the only safe place she had to cry. On the up side, some weekends the little family would go visit Great Aunt Babe who lived on the other side of Jackson. Emily loved Aunt Babe, who was as wise as she was old. She loved Aunt Babe’s soft cottony hair and the feel of dark skin against her own when they touched cheeks during one of Babe’s super hugs. Best of all Great Aunt Babe understood Emily.

Emily told Babe that everyone in her school was mean, and the elderly woman understood immediately. “Those damn fools! Well let them be mean to ya baby, Ol Babe will be here to be as nice as they can be mean. Huh? Yes she can!” She comfort of Babe’s hugs was more than enough to heal Emily’s heart.

Babe also gave Emily valuable advice, like not to cry in front of any of ‘those people’ because that is what they wanted to see. If you don’t react for them, they will leave you alone. “But Aunt Babe, what if they don’t?” The woman took in a deep breath and sighed, “Then you need to run away, baby, run the hell away.”

With all the comfort that Great Aunt Babe gave Emily, the fates saw fit to take the old woman away from the child. She had a heart attack, her second one, and was dying in a horrible, smelly hospital room. Emily came to visit Babe with her parents one last time. While the grown ups were talking to each other Emily and Babe had their moment.

“Do you know what a haint is?” Emily shook her head no. She had never heard of the word or anything close to it. Babe’s eyebrows shot up toward her hairline, “No! Well it’s a ghost, but a special kind of ghost. In our family we have haints that follow us and protect us. They can’t grant wishes or give us presents at Christmastime, but they make sure we all are safe. And that is something, huh?” Babe and Emily both nodded their heads ‘yes.’

Babe held Emily hand and said, “ I am gonna give you the haint,” Babe was talking to the girl but looking towards the doorway. Emily looked over there was well but didn’t see anyone or anything. “The haint is going to take care of you and protect you, you hear me girl?” Emily nodded yes. “Good, Ol Babe, she is gonna make sure you are well taken care of for the rest of your days.”

The visit ended with Emily having to settle with a weak hug from Babe, “I love love you Aunt Babe.” Emily said with tears starting to flow down her checks.

“I love love you too, baby.”

A few weeks went by after Aunt Babe had gone up to heaven. Things went on as usual, except now Emily didn’t have her weekend visits with the brightest light she had ever known. The Poole triplets tormented her, and sometimes she cried. The teachers ignored her and the torments she endured. Everyday the four year old girl went through the gauntlet at Open Hands, and she became a little stronger everyday.

The other children in Emily’s class where not as mean as the Poole kids, but they were not nice to her either. They tried not to talk to her or touch her, mostly because Connie told them if they touch a black person they would ‘catch it.’ Emily became the racial equivalent to cooties.

If the kids were not enjoying the Poole’s tormenting Emily, they were ignoring her. No one wanted to hold her hand, no one wanted to share crayons with her. The only reason she had kids sitting with her at the table was because of assigned seating. They had to sit next to her, but every now and then they made sure she and the rest of the room know that they didn’t want to be near her. This was Emily’s life at school as she became accustomed to it until one magical day.

Emily made it to school and followed her usual routine. She sat at her place at the table, focused on her hands and waited. Then the new kid walked in. Emily could feel him walk into the room and she looked up and saw him. His skin was pale, paler than the Poole kids. His hair and eyes were dark, but that was it. The average person who would lay eyes on the child could only describe his hair and eye color as dark. He wore the school uniform, but he didn’t have a blanket or backpack. The boy was there, but seemed to be just barely there.

He made his way to the table and sat next to Emily. The boy willingly sat down next to her. The two children sat silently for a few moments. Emily didn’t know what to say. This new white kid could be as mean as the others, so it was best that she didn’t invite trouble by saying anything to him. “My name is Christopher.”

Christopher talked with a slight lisp, and the manner of his speech was flat, almost monotoned. “I’m Emily,” she didn’t know what to expect him to do next. She stared at the boy as if he were a creature from another planet. He didn’t spit at her, throw anything at her, but he didn’t smile at her either. There was nothing really friendly about him. “I am glad I finally got to meet you Emily,” and with that the boy faced forward and said nothing else. Emily followed suit but stared at her hands.

The classroom began to fill up with kids and Miss. Prichard. Every person that walked into the room seem startled to see Christopher. The boy whose seat Christopher took tentatively approached him and almost tapped in on the shoulder to tell him he was in the wrong seat, that it was his seat. He quickly changed his mind when Christopher’s head slowly turned towards him and his eyes landed on the child’s face. The boy quickly withdrew his hand and left to stand next to the teacher’s desk where he felt safe.

Miss. Prichard’s reaction to the new kid was about the same. “Little man,” the children were all little men and ladies to her, “What is your name? Are you in the right classroom?” When Christopher turned his gaze to her, she took a step back. She took a breath in and tried to assert her authority again. “That is not your assigned seat, little man.”

“Yes it is,” was the reply in a loud, calm, monotone voice. “I now sit here.” Miss. Prichard told the displaced boy to sit at another table and he was, ironically enough, upset with the seating change. Emily, for reasons not fully known to herself, began to feel a little more relaxed. Her shoulders slipped down as her muscles felt confident to let them go.

The Poole triplets saw the new kid, but much like everyone else they regarded except their parent, they didn’t take notice of him like everyone else did. They didn’t avoid him but they didn’t engage him either. Maybe that is why they began to pick on Emily the the manner that they did.

Donnie started by throwing blocks at her. He never hit her with the projectiles but he didn’t stop throwing things either. When he ran out he just walked over to retrieve the weapons and started over again. The second time he came back to reload, Christopher’s strange gaze caught Donnie’s eye. He was going to throw it block at the weird kid, and went as far as taking aim, but he stopped. Christopher blinked his eyes and Donnie dropped the blocks and sat down.

“Why didn’t the teacher stop him?” Christopher asked Emily, who replied, “She never does.” He blinked his eyes again and seemed to process the information. All day long went on in that fashion, but then Emily had to go to the bathroom.

It was located at the back of the room and it didn’t have a lock on the door, because why would kindergarteners need a lock on door to the bathroom. Emily was used to going by herself after the teacher reluctant granted her permission to go. She was almost done when the door slammed open. It was the Pooles jeering at her, making noises she had never heard before and saying things she had never heard before. She waited for Miss. Prichard to tell them Pooles to leave her alone and sit down, but she didn’t. It was as if there was a force field around the bathroom that rendered the four children invisible and soundless.

Emily had to leave, she wiped and the triplets caterwauled at her. When she stood up to pull up her undies and pants and they yelled even louder. She had never been so frightened or embarrassed like this in her life before, nor would she ever be again. She washed her hands and tried to go back to her seat.

Donnie put out his foot to trip her, Ronnie pushed her, and she fell face forward on the floor. Connie yelled to the class, “That dumb nigger wiped her butt with her bare hand,” she didn’t, “And she didn’t wash her hands!” Emily did wash her hands and since the door was wide open depriving her of her privacy the whole of the classroom knew it. The children laughed at her anyway. Miss. Prichard admonished the children for being too loud. “Emily, now you know this would not have happened if you had closed the door behind you, right? Now go sit down.” Miss. Prichard got a sick satisfaction from twisting the knife while pushing it in. She turned to return to her own desk and almost bumped into the Christopher who seemed to appeared behind her out of nowhere. She was visibly startled by the strange boy; she side stepped him and walked past.

Christopher went to Emily and took her hand to help her stand up. The chattering of the other children dissipated as the children looked at the two in awe. Then he helped her straighten her clothes and fixed the ribbons around her two Afro puffs. Emily was just as shocked as the other children. “Are you my friend?” She made eye contact with the boy and this time he didn’t frightened her. When he looked at her and smiled back.

At lunch the two children sat together silently. Emily ate the soup and grilled cheese sandwich. There were apple slices, which she didn’t like so she offered those to Christopher who shook his head no to the offer. In fact he didn’t eat lunch. They sat in the cafeteria at a table together. No one else sat with them, but every person who saw them notice. Monsiuer Bill said, “Ah! Nice to see you made a friend Mademoiselle Emily, finally!” As he walked away, he tripped over his own feet and hit the floor. No one laughed except for Christopher.

The next few days were different for Emily. When she got to the classroom, her new friend was waiting for her. They smiled at each other and she ran to her seat to join him. She put her hand on his shoulder, mostly to make sure he was really there, and to welcome him. She pulled some candy left over from Halloween out of her backpack and gave it to him. “I saved the good ones for you, try it!”

Christopher carefully unwrapped the small piece of processed sugar and popped it in his mouth. A few seconds later a warm-ish smile crawled across his pale face, which for a pulse seemed to be not so pale. As usual, the classroom slowly filled up but silently. There was no chatter from the other children, and they all made damn sure they didn’t make eye contact with the new kid. Every child felt ill at ease in the room except the two pals. Then the principal walked into the room.

She told the children that Miss. Prichard was not going to be able to be their teacher for a while; she was in a car wreck while she was driving home. What the children weren’t told was that she waited for hours for someone to call 911 even though there were plenty of witnesses who saw the wreck happen. She fell into a coma and almost bled out. The doctors were surprised that she survived the night, but were still not optimistic about her recovering full use of her legs, or if she would ever regain consciousness.

The principal then told the children that she would serve as a substitute until they could find someone to permanently teach the class. She then told the children to take the crayons and make get better pictures for Miss. Prichard. Christopher stood up and reached toward the center of the table to snatch the crayons up and slapped them in front of Emily who was at first surprised, then became elated. She never had a turn with the crayons before. When her table mates asked her to share, Christopher simply looked at them and said, “No,” in the most definite way.

The principal heard the exchange and went to the table to see what was going on. The children complained that Christopher would not share. In response he handed a crayon to Emily, while staring the principal dead in the eyes which unnerved her. “See children, he is sharing.” Then she went to the desk and sat down.

Emily didn’t make a picture for the missing teacher. She drew her, Aunt Babe, and Christopher having a picnic on a blanket with the sun smiling down on them. Everyone in the picture was smiling and there was even a smiling cake, too. The picture was for Christopher to take home so he wouldn’t miss Emily over the weekend.

On the following Monday the Poole children came to the classroom on a mission to make Emily sorry. Neither one knew why, they just knew she needed to hurt. Emily of course had no idea what they wanting to do, but Christopher did. He was there already when Emily got there, and after she sat down he put his tiny hand on her shoulder.

“If anyone even thinks bad at you, they will hurt. The more the bad, the more the hurt.” Emily was confused but she was glad her friend, her only friend, was with her.

Ronnie, the leader of the trio, stalked into the classroom and yelled, “Hey Em, you are the color of doo doo you nigg….” The boy tripped. The boy’s head smashed against the corner of the table in the front of the room. A crimson river ran down his left eye and cheek as he screamed at the top of his lungs. Donnie and Connie ran to his side as the principal ran into the room.

An ambulance came to take the boy to the hospital. The last thing Ronnie saw as he was being wheeled out of the room was the smirk on the face of the new kid and those dark, dark eyes. Ronnie cried all the way to the hospital.

Donnie and Connie went sent to the office to wait for their parent to take them to the hospital to see their fallen sibling. For the rest of the children in the classroom the day went on as usual but in a more somber manner than before. All eyes were on Emily and the new kid, who were having a great day.

For the rest of the week, the Poole children were not in school. Apparently Donnie contracted a bad case of salmonella from something he ate on the first day and he had to be hospitalized. No one remembers what the child ate, but there were murmurs going around the children’s ward that Department of Human Services had been be called based on how unkempt the children appeared. Donnie had a habit of stealing food from Emily’s tray during lunch.

Mid-week rolled by and the last standing sibling was also admitted for emergency care. Connie’s father was not big on supervising her children and this didn’t change when she had one child out of a hospital bed. The circumstances surrounding Connie are still unclear.

Connie, apparently slipped out from under her father’s supervision and wondered around the hospital. The girl managed to find an open door that just so happened to contain medication, and that door was supposed to be locked. It was the type of lock that required a key-card to open it and it automatically locked once the door closed. There was no question that the locked worked based on how Connie was found.

She had taken pills, some sort of opiates. No one could explain how she managed to get that particular bottle down from the top shelf in the room, but she had. She had taken enough pills to overdose and by the time she was discovered she had slipped into a coma. Not one person who was on shift could explain how the child was able to gain access to the drugs.

Hospital Administrators along with members of the hospital’s legal team reviewed the footage taken by the surveillance cameras. They saw the girl wondering around the floor of the hospital; they saw her steal food meant for one of the patients from the cart and eat it as if she had not had a meal in days; they saw her play with one of the elevator doors by letting it hit her hand and springing back open; and they saw her enter an open door. That open door was where the drugs were. The legal team advised that it appeared that the child must have stolen a key card to gain access to the drugs and she might have been told to do it by her father. It was just a thought, just in case.

Meanwhile. . . . . .

Emily and Christopher had a great week. They got first dibs at the crayons during color time, no one made fun of Emily anymore, and she was free to use the potty without fear of invasion. Christopher appeared to be having fun too, but it was hard for the average on looker to tell. There was also the issue that not one staff member at Open Hands noticed that the child was never enrolled at the school.

The child was strange. He seldom smiled or showed any emotion but one, he had a definite look of love in his eyes when he looked at his one and only school friend. When she was happy, he was happy. When she wasn’t happy, god help the ones responsible.