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the devil trades in fear.
[mom]
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There's a girl in the third row. I notice her from where I'm sitting in the back, one leg crossed over the other, trying not to check my text messages. It's my second day tutoring at this junior high, and already I'm getting that feeling, the what-am-I-doing-again feeling, the one I get when I accidentally use the kind of yeast that doesn't rise.-
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The teacher is reading aloud from The Outsiders, trying not to roll her eyes when the kids giggle at the drinking references. The girl is sitting a few seats back from her. Her legs are sticking out weird. I crane my neck around the kid in front of me, but I can't see. I give up and go back to ignoring my phone and the no-rise yeast feeling.
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It's not until the girl stands up and walks to the trash can that I see her legs are artificial from the knee down. For some reason they're too short, her thirteen-year-old girl torso perched atop shins that don't match. Her hips seem unglued from their sockets, and she lurches across the room in fits and starts, utterly oblivious to my embarassment. She throws away a wad of paper, turns around and looks my direction. I stare at my hands.
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The class period wears on, and I eventually migrate to her desk. She's bent over a brainstorming web with another girl, both scribbling away. I ask if they're okay, or if they need any help.
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Her partner glances up with the deer-in-the-headlights look I'm becoming so well acquainted with, but the girl gives me a measured look and says no, thanks. I ask her name, and she tells me, and it's a beautiful name, but what gets my attention is her voice, the grace and intelligence there. She tosses her hair over her shoulder and chats with me for a minute, utterly confident, smart and funny. Then she goes back to work. I wander off, dazed.
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At the end of the class period I end up back in my seat, where I started. She asks her deskmate to drop off the worksheets, starts packing her bag, alone in a sea of idle chatter. Already so far beyond it, like she wasn't even there anymore. And me, sitting in the back, waiting for the bell to ring, surprised she made her own grace. It makes me wonder if I ever really left junior high.
