----- Part 3: Chatting and Half-Truths -----
-- Written by: “Irene Naridza”
IA PICS MADE BY HOTPOT: https://hotpot.ai/art-generator
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“Why were you suspended from school, Nadia?” Jenifer asked while we practiced leg stretching angles. I froze for a moment and had to grab the barre to keep my balance. I looked around the ballet studio. Jenifer, Olga, and I were in a section slightly apart from the other girls.
Madame Melody was giving them instructions to
improve their technique. Especially to Lizbeth, she’s bit clumsy. I turned my
gaze back to Jenifer, trying not to show my nervousness.
“I was… playing with a
baseball. I threw it too hard… and broke the principal’s most prized trophy.” I replied, swallowing hard when they
weren’t looking. I’m such an idiot; I was so focused on stretching my leg to 45
degrees that I wasn’t paying attention to the girls’ conversation about school.
I accidentally let it slip that I were suspended.
“But that was in
September. I’m back now.” I added as I continued the exercise. “That
was when ballet classes started.” Olga noted, realizing how long the
suspension had been. “Didn’t these classes start
in July?” Jenifer asked.
“Those were summer
classes. They ended in August with the event in the backyard. My mom convinced
yours to let you take these classes too. Remember?” her cousin corrected her. “Oh, right. I’m so absent-minded. Math classes do that to
me.” she said with a nervous giggle. That was strange, but she’s
right. Math is exhausting.
“So, did you get an
extra month of vacation?” Jenifer asked. “Of course not. They gave
me tons of homework to make up for the time.” Just remembering it is a nightmare. “The day I went back, my backpack was so heavy. It got lighter as I
turned in my folders to each teacher.” I finished stretching my left
leg and put it down, feeling my muscles burn.
“You know, when I put the
folder on the biology teacher’s desk, he held his head in his hands and ran
out, shouting that he was going to quit because they didn’t pay him enough.” The girls and I let out a giggle. “I
think It was because he had to grade all that in less than a week.”
I started stretching my right leg vertically,
distracting myself and letting my words slip. “I
hope they had to sacrifice all their free or family time that week while
grading that mountain of homework.” I
said before I could stop myself.
The girls looked at me strangely. “Why are you so mean?”
Jenifer asked, frowning. “Well… it’s quite
a long story.” I messed up. “Come on,
tell us.” Olga encouraged me. I
couldn’t tell them the whole truth, but I didn’t want to lie and make the lie
even bigger… I know what to do!
“Before my suspension,
I had some guy friends I played soccer with.” I’ll tell them just part of the truth. “But
when I came back… they were rough… they made fun of my appearance… my hair.” They called me effeminate because I kept my long,
well-groomed hair in a ponytail. “I thought it
was one of their usual jokes. We used to mess with each other, but this felt
different.” They said it while looking me up and down.
“At least they let me
talk to them. We talked about the ‘Super Bolívar’ series.” We did, but the boys kept
interrupting me. “You like Super Bolívar? WE DO
TOO.” Jenifer said loudly before Olga hushed her.
“Sorry… Did you know
it’s an adaptation of a comic by the same name?” she whispered. “A comic? That sounds awesome.” This is
incredible. I’d love to read them. “What
happened next with your friends?” Olga
brought us back to the conversation. I had to focus. Comics can wait.
“During recess, I
wanted to play soccer with them, but they didn’t let me.” Since I’d been gone, they’d found
another guy to play with. Apparently, he was better than me. “I ended up joining a group of boys I didn’t know, but at
least that way, I could still be in the game.” That was a bad decision.
“They kept tackling me
and taking the ball from me with a lot of force.” They were playing like animals. “Did you used to play like that with them before?” Jenifer
asked. The truth is, yes, we did. I think something changed in me. “Yes, but getting back into the rhythm was hard, and they
didn’t want to lower the intensity.” Madame
Melody looked at us from across the studio and nodded in approval. We were
making progress with the exercises.
That small joy faded when I remembered that
when I asked the boys to slow down, they got angry and said, ‘If you can’t play
like a man, go paint your nails with the little girls.’ I should have left
after that.
“I tried to keep
playing, but they intentionally kicked my ankle, and I couldn’t help but
collapse in tears.” While stretching my right leg, I touched my ankle and accidentally felt
that small bump that didn’t hurt as much anymore. The kick left a small scar,
now hidden by my white tights.
“How rude!” Jenifer said. “Yeah. That was an assault. Did you tell the teachers?” Olga was also indignant. “That’s when the worst part happened.” I said angrily. “Limping,
I tried to tell the teachers. What did they say?” The girls looked at me expectantly.
“‘If you’re so
delicate, don’t play with them, and problem solved’” I mimicked the middle age inspector’s
deep voice. Thanks to the honey candies that sharpen my voice, the imitation
was more funny than pathetic.
“How insensitive!” they said in unison. “When the inspector
said that, all the teachers, without looking up from their work, just said,
‘uh-huh.’” Even if I tried, I couldn’t imitate that collective
grunt.
“You’re right. I hope
they spent hours grading those assignments.” Jenifer said while checking her
posture in the mirror. “I don’t think that made
them reflect. But I do think it ruined their week.” Olga objected. I
not picky. Either answer worked for me.
“When I got home, Mom
saw the scar. It was still red and had a bruise around it.” Olga paled, and Jenifer flinched. “She used her nurse skills; she cleaned the wound with
alcohol and some yellow stuff, then bandaged it.” I remember she gave me a painkiller because I
couldn’t stop moving.
“Didn’t she complain
to the school?” I tried to focus on the ballet exercise before answering. “She took a couple of pictures of the wound, and we went
to the school, but the principal refused to take responsibility because I
wasn’t in pain while walking anymore.” That
answer disappointed the girls as much as it did me.
“At least now you know
who not to hang out with.” Olga commented. “Aren’t there other girls
you could play soccer with?” Jenifer
asked while stretching her right leg effortlessly. There were, but they weren’t
very friendly. When I was crying on the ground from the kick, they watched from
the adjacent field, raising an eyebrow like I was some kind of freak.
“They’re very closed
off in their groups.” The day after the kick, I stopped talking to my former friends. When I
tried to start conversations with girls, they would stop talking, look away,
and one of them would say, “Girl talk, get lost.” Oh no, I said that out loud.
“I mean, that’s what
they said when I tried to approach them. They think they’re superior.” I tried to correct myself, though
the girls didn’t notice anything strange. “There
are girls like that at our school too. The popular ones think they’re untouchable
and that you have to ‘earn’ their friendship.” Olga said with clear
disgust.
I looked back at my right leg, stretched at 45
degrees. That was an achievement that made me smile. I was making progress. The
bells signaling the end of class caught me off guard. We all sat on the floor
to rest our muscles for a few minutes.
At least here I have them, Olga and Jenifer.
But they aren’t interested in soccer, they are interested in ballet. “I think for now I’ll focus more on ballet and some of my
other hobbies.” I answer.
“Maybe reading would
be a good idea.” Olga suggests. “Super Bolivar comics are
a good option.” Jenifer says
excitedly. “Yeah, I think I’ll check it out.” I think there were a couple numbers in the school
library. I’ll check it out on Monday.
To Be Continued…
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