It was hot. From my place on the stoop, I could see steam rising from the burning, black asphalt of the street. Sitting outside in the heat was better than sitting in the apartment in the heat. In fact, anything was better than sitting in the apartment. Even three floors away my ears still couldn’t escape baby Eva’s crying. She hadn’t stopped since she’d been born. Mama said she has colic; whatever that is, I hope she gets rid of it soon. From the open window, I could hear Mama “shhh-shhh-shhing” Eva. She let out another wail and I decided I couldn’t even sit here and listen to it any longer.
I was allowed to go out on my own, just as I stayed on our street so Mama could watch me from the window. I doubted she would be watching now though, she hadn’t been paying much attention to me since Eva had been born. With my hands stuffed in my pockets I kicked a pebble while walking down the street. With each step forward, I observed my shoes. They were worn; I could feel the start of a hole on the sole, the only part Mama couldn’t fix with a needle and thread. B-rr-ring! B-rr-ring!
“On your left!” A voice called from behind me. I stepped to the side as a boy zoomed past me on a bicycle, a girl followed directly behind him. The ends of the pink ribbon that held the girl’s perfect curly-q-curls together danced as the wind blew through her hair. I sat down on the nearest stoop and watched them. They were older than me; probably sixteen or seventeen. They got off their bikes on the corner and the boy grabbed the girl’s hand, pulling her into the 5 & 10. I stood to walk again, but paused because the girl came back out of the store. She reached into her bike basket, pulled out a handbag and returned to the cool air conditioning inside. The store’s doorbell rang and I took that as my cue to continue walking. I kept moving until I reached the store’s big front windows. I stopped and put my hands up to the cool glass, with my hands getting a small relief from the heat, I peered in, remembering the last time I’d been inside.
*
The bell rang as I opened the door. Pop didn’t want me to work, Mama said it was about his pride, but because we had been short on rent last month, we had to pay extra this time around, leaving little for food.
“What your Pop don’t know won’t hurt him.” Mama had said as she tried to comb the bird’s nest that used to be my hair. I’d been to school, but wasn’t too good at it. So Mama made me practice what to say, so that hopefully I’d sound intelligent. She’d even had me put on my Sunday clothes, saying they’d help me make a good impression if my English didn’t; my Sunday clothes were the nicest ones I had and by nice, I meant the ones with the least amount of holes. I wasn’t allowed to wear them except to go to church, for fear I’d make the holes worse. It was a Tuesday, and wearing them now, I knew we were desperate.
It was early, so the store was empty except for a stout man who stood behind the counter at the soda fountain. We watched each other, neither of us saying anything until I reached the counter. He leaned forward, elbows on the countertop, and asked “What can I do ya for, miss?”
“I was wondering if you had some odd jobs that needed doing, sir.” Not the exact thing Mama had told me to say, but close enough. He squinted at me, his Adam’s apple bounced up and down as he swallowed.
“How old are ya?”
“Twelve, sir, but I’ll be thirteen next month.” I was eleven, going to be twelve in three months. I’d said lying was a sin, but Mama said starving her children was worse, so God would understand. The man sighed. Maybe he believed me, maybe he didn’t, but he gave me a job anyway. I’d already wiped the counter was sweeping the floors when the bell rang and a woman walked in. I was bent over, collecting what I’d swept as she walked past me, eyeing me as if I was the dog-doo that just wouldn’t come off of her shoe. I don’t think I was supposed to hear what she said next, but then again maybe I was since she wasn’t exactly whispering.
“What is that kid doing in here?” She spat “that kid” like it was a cuss word.
“She was looking for some work. She don’t mean any trouble.” The man whispered back.
“She was looking for work? Do we look like a charity? All work is ours. This is a business! I mean look at her, her clothes are ripped, she’s dirty and she smells. She probably doesn’t even know what a bath is. If people see her in here they won’t come back. How are we supposed to make money with no customers? You let her in, you take care of it.” Her heels clacked on the checkerboard floor and a door slammed. I was frozen mid-sweep, the broom in one hand and dustpan in the other. My stomach flipped and my eyes stung as they filled with tears, I kept staring at the floor, for fear that if I blinked, the tears would fall. I heard the counter lift and the man’s heavy footsteps as he walked over to me. He took the broom and dustpan out of my hands. I stood up, but kept my gaze pointed at the floor.
“Look, I gave you all the work we had. There’s nothing else we can offer you.” He put a hand on my back and led me to the door. Once we were outside and away from the woman, he bent to my level.
“We’re not in the position to hire anyone, but take this for your troubles.” He slipped some coins in my hand before going back into the store. I closed my fingers around the coins, clutching them with all my might. I feared that if I loosened my grip on the coins, they would drop from my being, along with my tears. When I got home, I handed the coins right to Mama. My hand felt funny now that it was unfolded. Examining it, I could see the nickels’ distinct marks imprinted into my palm.
*
Looking into the store now, I could see the boy and girl sitting in the back of the store, at the soda fountain. The girl’s pink poodle skirt flowed down beneath her, covering the stool and giving off the illusion that she was floating on air. She had her elbow propped up on the counter, her head resting on her hand and her eyes rested on the boy in front of her. She didn’t break her gaze, whatever the boy was talking about, she seemed really fascinated. My heart quickened as the woman from before came out from the door in the back. She went behind the counter and stood where the man used to be perched. She didn’t look at all like she did before. Her face wasn’t scrunched up and her arms weren’t crossed. She walked over to the couple and I got nervous for them, but the woman didn’t give the girl that disgusted-unwanted-look she had given me. In fact, she greeted the girl with a smile. They exchanged a few words, and didn’t argue or yell like I had expected. They were laughing instead. The two shared a cheerful moment. The happiness never leaving either of their faces. I watched in awe. Why was this girl different than I was? Why did she get sweetness and approval when I got the exact opposite?
I figured I should go before the woman saw me, so I turned around quickly knocking over the girl’s pink bike. I bent to pick it up before anyone noticed, but something shined in my eye, giving me a moment of blindness. As I up righted the bike, I saw it on the ground. Not knowing what it was, I picked it up to study it. It was small, round, and a shiny silver. Etched around the edge was rose design and in the center were the letters J.A.P. I noticed a latch on the edge and fiddled with the gadget until it opened. Inside, was a mirror. Looking into it, I got the answers to my questions; I saw why I was different. There was sweat and dirt on my face and knots in my greasy brown hair. They were like my own personal stamps that read UNFORTUNATE, PITIABLE, and REJECT to anyone who saw me.
The bell to the store rang, I snapped the contraption shut, and stuffed it into my pocket before anyone saw. The girl and the boy came out and went to get on their bikes. As the girl mounted her bike, she looked right at me. It was the first time I saw her face. She had pretty ice-blue eyes and pearly-white teeth, her cheeks a delicate rose and blonde curls that fell perfectly across her shoulders. They were her stamps that read THRIVING, APPEALING, and APPROVE. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t like her. She smiled at me, awkwardly, before riding off. I flipped the silver mirror over in my pocket, tracing over the roses with my finger and thinking I should do the right thing, call after her to give it back. But I didn’t.
I stole it instead.
I started to walk back towards home. Once the boy and girl were out of sight, I took the stolen mirror out of my pocket and looked at it. Along with stealing the mirror, I also stole some hope. Hope to one day be able to look into the mirror and see what the girl saw. Hope to see beauty, hope to see happiness, hope to see ACCEPTED stamped across my forehead.
I was allowed to go out on my own, just as I stayed on our street so Mama could watch me from the window. I doubted she would be watching now though, she hadn’t been paying much attention to me since Eva had been born. With my hands stuffed in my pockets I kicked a pebble while walking down the street. With each step forward, I observed my shoes. They were worn; I could feel the start of a hole on the sole, the only part Mama couldn’t fix with a needle and thread. B-rr-ring! B-rr-ring!
“On your left!” A voice called from behind me. I stepped to the side as a boy zoomed past me on a bicycle, a girl followed directly behind him. The ends of the pink ribbon that held the girl’s perfect curly-q-curls together danced as the wind blew through her hair. I sat down on the nearest stoop and watched them. They were older than me; probably sixteen or seventeen. They got off their bikes on the corner and the boy grabbed the girl’s hand, pulling her into the 5 & 10. I stood to walk again, but paused because the girl came back out of the store. She reached into her bike basket, pulled out a handbag and returned to the cool air conditioning inside. The store’s doorbell rang and I took that as my cue to continue walking. I kept moving until I reached the store’s big front windows. I stopped and put my hands up to the cool glass, with my hands getting a small relief from the heat, I peered in, remembering the last time I’d been inside.
*
The bell rang as I opened the door. Pop didn’t want me to work, Mama said it was about his pride, but because we had been short on rent last month, we had to pay extra this time around, leaving little for food.
“What your Pop don’t know won’t hurt him.” Mama had said as she tried to comb the bird’s nest that used to be my hair. I’d been to school, but wasn’t too good at it. So Mama made me practice what to say, so that hopefully I’d sound intelligent. She’d even had me put on my Sunday clothes, saying they’d help me make a good impression if my English didn’t; my Sunday clothes were the nicest ones I had and by nice, I meant the ones with the least amount of holes. I wasn’t allowed to wear them except to go to church, for fear I’d make the holes worse. It was a Tuesday, and wearing them now, I knew we were desperate.
It was early, so the store was empty except for a stout man who stood behind the counter at the soda fountain. We watched each other, neither of us saying anything until I reached the counter. He leaned forward, elbows on the countertop, and asked “What can I do ya for, miss?”
“I was wondering if you had some odd jobs that needed doing, sir.” Not the exact thing Mama had told me to say, but close enough. He squinted at me, his Adam’s apple bounced up and down as he swallowed.
“How old are ya?”
“Twelve, sir, but I’ll be thirteen next month.” I was eleven, going to be twelve in three months. I’d said lying was a sin, but Mama said starving her children was worse, so God would understand. The man sighed. Maybe he believed me, maybe he didn’t, but he gave me a job anyway. I’d already wiped the counter was sweeping the floors when the bell rang and a woman walked in. I was bent over, collecting what I’d swept as she walked past me, eyeing me as if I was the dog-doo that just wouldn’t come off of her shoe. I don’t think I was supposed to hear what she said next, but then again maybe I was since she wasn’t exactly whispering.
“What is that kid doing in here?” She spat “that kid” like it was a cuss word.
“She was looking for some work. She don’t mean any trouble.” The man whispered back.
“She was looking for work? Do we look like a charity? All work is ours. This is a business! I mean look at her, her clothes are ripped, she’s dirty and she smells. She probably doesn’t even know what a bath is. If people see her in here they won’t come back. How are we supposed to make money with no customers? You let her in, you take care of it.” Her heels clacked on the checkerboard floor and a door slammed. I was frozen mid-sweep, the broom in one hand and dustpan in the other. My stomach flipped and my eyes stung as they filled with tears, I kept staring at the floor, for fear that if I blinked, the tears would fall. I heard the counter lift and the man’s heavy footsteps as he walked over to me. He took the broom and dustpan out of my hands. I stood up, but kept my gaze pointed at the floor.
“Look, I gave you all the work we had. There’s nothing else we can offer you.” He put a hand on my back and led me to the door. Once we were outside and away from the woman, he bent to my level.
“We’re not in the position to hire anyone, but take this for your troubles.” He slipped some coins in my hand before going back into the store. I closed my fingers around the coins, clutching them with all my might. I feared that if I loosened my grip on the coins, they would drop from my being, along with my tears. When I got home, I handed the coins right to Mama. My hand felt funny now that it was unfolded. Examining it, I could see the nickels’ distinct marks imprinted into my palm.
*
Looking into the store now, I could see the boy and girl sitting in the back of the store, at the soda fountain. The girl’s pink poodle skirt flowed down beneath her, covering the stool and giving off the illusion that she was floating on air. She had her elbow propped up on the counter, her head resting on her hand and her eyes rested on the boy in front of her. She didn’t break her gaze, whatever the boy was talking about, she seemed really fascinated. My heart quickened as the woman from before came out from the door in the back. She went behind the counter and stood where the man used to be perched. She didn’t look at all like she did before. Her face wasn’t scrunched up and her arms weren’t crossed. She walked over to the couple and I got nervous for them, but the woman didn’t give the girl that disgusted-unwanted-look she had given me. In fact, she greeted the girl with a smile. They exchanged a few words, and didn’t argue or yell like I had expected. They were laughing instead. The two shared a cheerful moment. The happiness never leaving either of their faces. I watched in awe. Why was this girl different than I was? Why did she get sweetness and approval when I got the exact opposite?
I figured I should go before the woman saw me, so I turned around quickly knocking over the girl’s pink bike. I bent to pick it up before anyone noticed, but something shined in my eye, giving me a moment of blindness. As I up righted the bike, I saw it on the ground. Not knowing what it was, I picked it up to study it. It was small, round, and a shiny silver. Etched around the edge was rose design and in the center were the letters J.A.P. I noticed a latch on the edge and fiddled with the gadget until it opened. Inside, was a mirror. Looking into it, I got the answers to my questions; I saw why I was different. There was sweat and dirt on my face and knots in my greasy brown hair. They were like my own personal stamps that read UNFORTUNATE, PITIABLE, and REJECT to anyone who saw me.
The bell to the store rang, I snapped the contraption shut, and stuffed it into my pocket before anyone saw. The girl and the boy came out and went to get on their bikes. As the girl mounted her bike, she looked right at me. It was the first time I saw her face. She had pretty ice-blue eyes and pearly-white teeth, her cheeks a delicate rose and blonde curls that fell perfectly across her shoulders. They were her stamps that read THRIVING, APPEALING, and APPROVE. I didn’t know why, but I didn’t like her. She smiled at me, awkwardly, before riding off. I flipped the silver mirror over in my pocket, tracing over the roses with my finger and thinking I should do the right thing, call after her to give it back. But I didn’t.
I stole it instead.
I started to walk back towards home. Once the boy and girl were out of sight, I took the stolen mirror out of my pocket and looked at it. Along with stealing the mirror, I also stole some hope. Hope to one day be able to look into the mirror and see what the girl saw. Hope to see beauty, hope to see happiness, hope to see ACCEPTED stamped across my forehead.
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