that they would find them when they got back.
When they got back, An waited anxiously while the five chosen Valentines found their surprises in their desks. One of them, a girl who always had a box of tissue on her desk as well as one of those neat pens with four different colors, upon finding the card, crumpled it up and threw it in the wastepaper basket. She looked at An. “Gross, who’d want a card from you?” Then when the person who sat behind this young lady arrived and found her card, the young lady said to her, “rip it up, it’s from An.” An did not even look when the others came in, she only sat quietly in her desk in excruciating humiliation, wishing that the teacher would just come in and start the lesson.
Once or twice, people were nice to her. There was one boy, who was indeed among all those who tormented and teased her. But one day, he actually walked home with her and was almost nice to her, except that after they got to her house, he made her promise never to tell anyone that he walked her home. Thereafter, he never spoke to her again, and of course continued to berate her along with everyone else. The fact that he had once showed her a modicum of friendliness made it all the worse for An since she knew what was possible, but what would inevitably never be.
The memories that now walked through An’s hopeful mind didn’t feel like anything to her now. They seemed far away in time. She was hoping to replace them with other memories.
Once, she was offered by the other neighbourhood kids to join their exclusive club. She was thrilled to be invited up to their tree fort for an initiation, during which she was told that since her family had the most money, and lived in the biggest house on the block, that she would be the financial provider for the club, buying candy, chocolate bars and pop for everyone. When her parents would not give her the money, An never went back to the club.
Somehow or other, everyone on the neighbourhood block had found out and adopted the custom An thought would only take place at school: An germs. If anyone accidentally touched An, he or she would have to go wash up or no one else would go near. Or they would start a game of tag, with someone being the brave one to touch An, and they would pass around the germs by touching each other and running from whoever was ‘it’. An would watch in dismay that she was being seen this way, and in delight that she was somehow being included.
A drop of cold water fell from the sky onto An’s blonde head. She put her yellow hat back on. She was finally beginning to feel hopeless about the red-haired girl ever showing up. Part of her knew all along that she would never come, that this wasn’t real. But she had wanted it to be real.
She now imagined more realistic scenarios as to why no one was coming, such as someone else at school finding out about their weekend liaison, and taking the red-haired girl aside to tell her to stay away.
Maybe they were all right. Maybe it really was a dumb way to spell An.
The little girl’s heart sank into her knees, and she did not want to get up to go. Paralyzed momentarily by her disappointment, defeat gripped her and she was motionless. She looked across the park and started crying, feeling great heaves in her stomach, but suppressing them because she didn’t want anyone to know what was happening to her, not the adults who were unaware of her unpopularity and shielded from it by their age, not the other children in the park who didn’t know her but watched, not her mother who never said anything but stroked her hair at the wrong time, and not the pigeons who had nothing to worry about because creatures like An didn’t exist in their world. Soon enough, she herself would forget her feelings with a lack of effort that adults like the pigeon man had become incapable of.
Drops quickened and became rain. Water fell onto her pretty yellow hat, the hat she had worn especially because she thought that the red-haired girl would like it since she herself had yellow mittens. Rain went through An’s hat and made straight the curls on her head. Water ran down her face and onto her clothes making them stick to her. One of the containers of food was still open and the egg sandwiches had become soggy. Water was everywhere. The grass under her bottom got wet. Soon An was soaked.
She got up and began walking home, no longer able to suppress her sobs as she walked. Almost out of the park, she tripped on some wet, slippery grass. She got up again, her dress dirty. Carrying the spoiled food and sobbing, she trudged home with her nose running.
Later that night in bed, An lay quietly. The red-haired girl might come back to school, laugh at An, and tell the other kids that she had tricked An, and the other kids would all laugh. There seemed to be something that everyone else knew that she did not.
School and the red-haired girl began to seem far away finally, because the next day, her father had promised to take her to New York City for two days. They would be coming home on Monday and she wouldn’t have to go back to school until Tuesday. They were driving and it would take four hours which did not bother her because she would be with her father, who she sometimes didn’t see enough since he was away on business trips so often. He loved her in a way that felt good. He didn’t stroke An’s hair at the wrong times or fidget nervously while watching her. An felt like a princess when she was with him. Thinking of tomorrow did much to cheer her spirits, and she drifted happily off to sleep, effortlessly forgetting the day.
When she awoke, she started packing immediately. What should she bring? A nice pair of pyjamas, some bubble bath, three sets of clothes, some dolls and some cards, and her favourite teddy bear. And of course her bathing suit because the hotel they would be staying in would have a pool - her father promised! She packed them all snugly and neatly into her suitcase, even though her father said to only bring a duffel bag. But she had not had a chance to use her suitcase before.
After packing, she got dressed, grabbed her suitcase and ran downstairs. “Here I am daddy!” she said excitedly. But An’s father looked a little solemn for her liking. “I’m sorry honey, but I won’t be able to take you with me after all. I found out this morning that I have stay for four days instead of two and I’ll be much busier than I thought. I won’t have enough time to pay attention to you. I’d have to bring you to all my meetings and you’d be in the way”
An was shattered. “But I don’t mind being in the way, I’ll come anyway, I’ll be quiet!”
“I’m sorry sweetie, it’s just not a good time to come, and you’d miss too much school,” he said. “I promise we’ll do it soon. I have to go now.” An followed him outside to the car, squirming out from under her silent mother’s hair stroking. He opened the car door and put his briefcase in. “We’ll have a better time when I can bring you and not be so busy.”
“But I wanted to go THIS time,” she returned, her voice quivering.
“I’m sorry An. I’ll see you in a few days.” He kissed her, got into the car, closed the door and started the engine. As he backed out of the driveway, An began to cry, still holding her suitcase. She banged on the windows of the car, following it all the way down the driveway. The car turned onto the street and began moving. An ran after it. “Please Daddy! Wait! Stop! Please!” The car got away from her but she kept running, crying harder and harder, uselessly running after the car and ignoring her mother’s pleas to come back inside.
Then her suitcase flung itself open and all of her princess clothes that she had excitedly taken the time to choose went flying through the air and landed on the side of the dirty street. She fell down among her clothes and dolls and sat on the side of the road crying, her teddy bear lying in the middle of the street.
Soon, cars drove by and over her teddy bear, either not noticing or not caring. She watched through watery eyes. The last car was full of teenagers. An heard laughter as they drove by but didn’t know if it was at her or not. Even anonymous cars seemed to know about her. After fetching her clothes, her mother picked her up, stroked her hair and brought her inside. The next day, An felt fine.
On the last day of school, An’s teacher was giving out all the report cards. T
he teacher called out each student’s name and the child would go to the front of the class to receive their report card.
“Marcel,” An heard the teacher speak soberly, as all could have heard a pin drop in the still classroom, “you will enter into the fifth grade.” Marcel came up to the front of the classroom and received his report card. “Marjorie, you will go to the fifth grade.” The happy girl did the same as her predecessor.
In grade two, An’s class had been separated into two camps: the turtles and the stars. The turtles were slower, not as smart and didn’t excel like the stars did. The stars were the best students. Halfway through grade two, one day, the teacher had the stars doing something or other with boxes of cardboard letters, while she worked on reading with the turtles. An was reading aloud, as the teacher had requested. An’s reading was fast and good, and she felt it and she knew that the teacher felt it. An knew it. She kept reading, knowing she was excelling. Suddenly, the teacher stopped An. She went to the cabinet and took out a box of cardboard letters. One of the kids beside An whispered to her “you’re going to be a star!” An shook her head, unable to accept it, “that’s impossible.” But