Blind-sided

THE CUTTING EDGE

 

I am what my 'friends' say.  I am mean, critical, nasty but so are they for telling me what I already know. What they don't seem to see is I have attributes too. I am not a liar, borrower, a tattle tale. When I casually (and meaning well) told Wendy that her hair looked stringy and a good haircut would improve it, that was the truth. It  was one of the times she came close to slapping me and stopped in the nick of time. With a haughty better-than-thou look on her angry face, she turned away and said, 'Who asked you?' Since then if we happen to see each other going to a movie or the store for our moms one of us crosses the street and I make sure she is the one to go.

 

Thursday last, Dotty stopped me at our classroom door after recess. 'You know what?' she asked. I made a clever retort, 'What?' 'You hurt Wendy. She told me she never wants to talk to you again. You had a lot of nerve telling her her hair was ugly and she should shave it off.' My anger flared, I felt hot all over. 'Dotty, I said no such thing. I only suggested she get a haircut and besides, who asked you to be Wendy's spokesman? She's got a mouth of her own and it can be darn bitchy.'

 

Dotty turned her stuck-up nose towards the ceiling, went to her desk and buried her head in the day's lesson, History of Greece. As I passed her, I gave Dotty an easy nudge. 'We're doing England today. You have the wrong book.' She inhaled deeply, told me she knew it, just wanted to look up something about Athens. I saw thru her lie but let her hold on to the book on Greece until Miss Swarthouse told her she is only allowed one book at a time and she should be studying about London not Athens. 'You got me in trouble, Buzz, Buzz off.'

 

Ruth used to be a friend of mine. When I heard rumors about her, I only wanted the truth and asked her if she and her mother are sure her father is her father. My god, she got upset. 'What are you talking about, Buzz? Of course, we know who my father is. He has always been my father, and my brother's father too! Defending myself, I let her know that Mrs. Burke, her Mom's close friend, told my mom, that you are adopted.' A pow wow began. Ruth called me dirty names, spit on me. I wanted to hit her, make her open her eyes to finding the truth, but no, I just wiped off my face and went home.

 

I could smell where my mother was without looking. She was in the kitchen, chopping onions. 'Mom, I have to ask you an important question and I want a truthful answer.' Buzz, haven't I always taught you to tell the truth?' 'I thought so, Mom, but this truth I really have to know about. Did Mrs. Burke honestly, truly tell you Ruth doesn't know who her father is and that she is adopted?' Mom looked at me as though I had said the 'F' word, wiped her hands, grabbed me by my shoulders and shook me hard. 'Buzz, yes, that is what my friend Mrs. Burke told me.' 'But Mom, you have hurt Ruth, her mom, dad and even her brother.What proof do you have that Ruth is adopted?' Mom's onioned eyes cried by themselves.

 

Mom went to Ruth's house that evening to try to explain, to apologize.
She told me the family sat around the table and let her speak, talk her heart out then asked her to leave, not visit again and keep me away from Ruth. In the morning Mom found a white square box on our doorstep, brought it inside and looked at what was in it together. On crushed newspapers was a silver colored toy dagger that had ketchup on it.

 

Mom and I got the message loud and clear.