Cracked glasses

She was staring down at her math book, trying to fight out the answers the fraction problems in her head when the bell rang for recess, causing her to jump. As the other kids raced for the door, running to get the best soccer balls and a good spot on the field, she slipped a book out from under her desk and followed sedately at the back of the class, trying to be far enough behind everyone else that maybe they wouldn’t notice her.

Everyone was already settled when she walked onto the playground. The girls were on one end playing foursquare and hopscotch and some other kids were on the field with the soccer balls. Most were settled in between, but it didn’t really matter to her what the other kids did as long as they left her alone.

Plopping under the old oak tree on the edge of the playground, she lay the book across her knees, pushed her glasses up from the bridge of her nose and smiled as the book fell open with a soft, familiar crack, the spine naturally opening to the well-loved, favorite place. The story she’d read hundreds of times, the one she knew by heart. To be fair, she knew all of them by heart, but this was her favorite.

She traced her fingers along the words as she began to read.

Once upon a time, it said, in ornate golden letters. She let her fingers trace across the swirls and loops of the design, let her eyes rest on the lace and gold and elegant lines of Cinderella’s dresses. The book she held had belonged to her mother. Although she did not know where her mother had gotten it, the book was old and the story it told was not the sugared Disney version seen in the movies. The ball lasted three nights and each night Cinderella was able to evade the prince as she ran home, barely hiding her dresses, which grew in magnificence with each ball.

She grinned and shuddered at the same time as the evil stepsisters cut off first toe and then heel, mutilating their huge, ugly feet to fit them inside the tiny delicate shoe. And she smiled truly as the prince found his true bride.

“And they lived happily ever after,” she whispered, shutting the book just as the bell rang, signifying the end of recess. It had been good today. The other kids had left her alone. She shouldn’t have expected it to last.

When the bell rang at three o’clock, she packed up her things slowly, carefully placing each book and folder inside her backpack. She clutched the book of fairy tales to her chest and walked out of the room several minutes after the other kids had already left. She hoped they’d be gone and that she could walk home in piece.

The playground was almost empty. Except for a few little kids on the swings, it was abandoned. Swiftly, she walked past the playground and into the neighborhood, hoping to get home as soon as possible. It was only a twenty minute walk, on a good day and if she could make it without running into anyone else, then so much the better.

She had gone a few blocks and had thought she was in the clear when she heard the voice behind her.

“Hey there, Four-eyes!”

Gina’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“Hey Four-eyes, where ya goin’ so fast?”

That was Jenna. Which meant that the entire group was standing behind her. Slowly, she turned around to face all four of them, standing lined up on the sidewalk behind her.

“Please leave me alone,” she said quietly, pressing the book to her chest like a shield. “I just want to get home as soon as possible.”

“What’s the rush, Four-eyes?”

That was Lina.

“Yeah, don’t ya wanna stop and play with us?”

The last was from Tina. Or at least she thought it was Tina. They all kind of dressed the same and it was getting harder to tell them apart.

But it was definitely Gina who walked up to her and grabbed the book out of her hands, running backward a few steps before she could react.

“Whatcha got there?” she asked, flipping through the aged pages.

“The baby’s got a baby book full of fairy tales.”

Gina’s voice dripped poison as she held the book open for her cronies to look at.

“Awww. Does the baby need to get home to get her diaper changed?”

That was Lina, she thought.

“Give me my book back!”

She charged Gina, trying to grab it out of her hands, but couldn’t do it before the book got tossed to another pair of hands.

She watched in terror and humiliation as the book flew through the air, passing from person to person like a Frisbee. She got to be monkey in the middle.

“Maybe the baby should ask the little fairies to help her get her book back,” one of them yelled, tossed the book in the air yet again.

She did believe in fairies. She hoped to meet one someday, but she wasn’t about to admit it to these goons. Her cheeks grew red and she pushed her glasses up once more. She had tolerated enough. Ignoring the book for a moment, she charged Gina, knocking her onto the ground. She shoved Gina into the dirt but the other girl only smiled through crooked teeth.

“It looks like the baby wants to fight,” she called to her friends.

Before she had time to think about it, all four of them were on top of her, shoving her into the dirt and punching. They couldn’t punch very hard, but it still hurt. After a few minutes, she found herself on the ground, bruised and still angry.

They tossed the book into the dirt beside her as they walked away.

“We didn’t want your stupid baby book anyway,” Gina called over her should as they went home.

She got up, took stock of her bruises and dusted herself off. It could be worse, she told herself. At least she still had her book. She picked it up to make sure it wasn’t damaged, but no pages were torn. She wiped it off using a corner of her skirt and gingerly put it in her backpack.

It was only when she was walking home again that she noticed her glasses were broken. The right lens was fine but the left was cracked in the center, with spidery veins running out into the edges. It looked like a strange, glass spider web. She could still see out of it, although she didn’t enjoy the view much. Her mother wouldn’t be happy when she got home. She would need new glasses again. That would make the third pair this year. She sighed and kept walking.