2005-06-06
playing with boys3
We had a lot of bad kids in our class. That's what the teachers said. They hired a teacher's aid who was supposed to watch over us. Mostly, she sat in the back, thumbing romance novels while we pelted each other with Playdough. It smelled like something good to eat, but instead, it tasted like ink. I know because I tried it, along with hibiscus flowers, so floppy and red, and dried cat food. I figured there was some reason Suki went crazy for it.
The teacher's assistant didn't see the group of boys ganging up on me. I don't remember what we were supposed to be doing. Four of them pushed me down and sat on top of me, one for each arm and leg. They yanked at my corduroys and slipped their hands inside. I tried to push them off but they were too heavy. Facedown on the floor, I felt like I was trying to breathe under a rock. Someone's salty hand clamped over my mouth. I was afraid to scream and let the whole class see my bare bottom.
This happened in the back of the room under a table, the type used in art rooms. Finally, the teacher's assistant pried them off me. I felt like I had done something bad. I didn't tell anyone because I thought I would get in trouble. Later, in high-school, I mentioned it to Mama for the first time. I asked if the teacher had ever mentioned this. She said no.
f-i-n at 11:38 a.m.