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Written by: “Irene Naridza”
IA PIC MADE BY HOTPOT: https://hotpot.ai/art-generator
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School has been the usual. Impossible math
class, history class where we learn that before the year 2000 this country was
a mess, social studies class where we learn that all South American countries
are a mess, literature class —which has become my favorite— drawing
class that I like, biology class where we talk about intestines or the
reproduction of living beings, and PE, which is the most uncomfortable of all.
That last one is where I earned that stupid
nickname ‘Fem Nathan’ But if I think about it, it’s a little weird.
While my classmates are tall, have broad shoulders, and already show signs of a
beard, I’m still the same height and build as last year. Not to mention my long
hair.
A few days ago in PE, we had to climb a rope tied to the gym ceiling beams. The teacher made us compete against each other. He put me up against a slim girl, probably because of my height. And I lost.
I couldn’t climb very high before I slipped and
fell straight onto the mats, which in theory were supposed to cushion the fall.
Though it still hurt. That idiot Darwin wouldn’t stop laughing about it all
week. The girls weren’t very kind either. The one I competed against was really
happy to have beaten me.
The worst part is that this has become the
norm. Last Monday, we had the shot-put task. That’s the one where we have to
throw a heavy metal ball as far as possible using a technique where you hold it
next to your neck before throwing it. What’s the point of that, anyway?
The only time I saw someone use that move in
real life was during the riots last year. The fire and looting were terrible,
but they only lasted a few hours. A masked guy threw a rock at the riot police
using that same technique. I didn’t see what happened next because my mom
quickly turned off the TV.
The next day, almost everything was back to
normal. But I overheard on the bus that some universities temporarily closed
because half their students had stopped showing up. It was strange. HOWEVER.
The teacher gave me the girls’ shot-put weight.
He said I could get injured if I tried the boys’ one. Right, because 9 pounds of
steel falling on my foot wouldn’t hurt me.
I threw it using the official technique and
managed around 13 feet. That actually exceeded my expectations —I thought
I’d trip and fall on my face or something— Ballet classes have helped keep
me in shape in certain areas like stretching for warm-ups, which I do fine. The
distance runs don’t feel too heavy anymore.
Darwin, the jerk who used to be my friend,
threw the shot far past the line the teacher had drawn on the ground. That
earned him cheers and applause. This world is kind of unfair.
“Not bad on agility, but try practicing with lighter weights.” the teacher
told me, with a poker face. Then he turned back to Darwin with a huge smile. “If you keep
practicing, you’ll go far.” he said.
My classmates wouldn’t stop whispering about
how ridiculous it was that I scored lower than some of the girls on the ranking
sheet. They didn’t care that I was standing right next to them. They said
things like, “I’ve never seen such a weak boy.” and “When the exams come, whoever gets him as an opponent is
going to pass easily.” That last one came from the girl I outran in
the long-distance race, but who beat me in shot put.
I couldn’t take their whispers out in the
courtyard. That’s how I ended up in the library. A place I rarely visited
before my suspension. No one’s allowed to make noise here. The librarian’s kind
of grumpy, which actually worked in my favor. It’s a safe place, and not as
boring as I once thought.
Most of the literature available is made up of
thick books, hard to read because of the old-fashioned language, and honestly
pretty dull. They’re considered national treasures because they were written by
local authors. Seriously, has no one written a halfway decent book since the
last century? Even a lazy knockoff of something exciting would’ve been great.
Even the literature teacher admitted those
books aren’t appropriated for getting us into the habit of reading. That’s why
she lets us read other stuff when we have to write book reports. Something
awesome is that she even accepts comic book summaries.
Last time, I wrote a report on ‘Super Bolivar’
Luckily, the library had a few issues, but not the full collection. Thanks to
my job selling hot chocolate with bread, I was able to save up and buy the rest
from a bookstore owned by one of Mom’s friends. It’s a really nice place. The
report itself, though, was another story.
I expected a happy ending, but I wasn’t ready
for what I read. Simon Bolivar’s story didn’t end well. His dream of The Gran
Colombia failed. The countries he helped free wanted to go their own way. That
was far from the supernation Bolivar had envisioned. Understandable, really. We
should all be able to choose our own path.
He spent his final days bedridden with
tuberculosis, forgotten, and delusional. The worst part was his final words; “I have plowed the sea.” referring to his
fight to free South America from the grip of Spain. That was just too harsh of
an ending.
When I talked about it with Olga and Jennifer,
they said they were devastated too. Olga said the saddest part wasn’t the comic
itself but that it was based entirely on Bolivar’s real history.
That’s the problem with reality. It’s harsh and
unforgiving toward people who try to do good or simply do the right thing.
Sometimes the opposite happens; people with bad intentions rise to the top,
even when they don’t hide their cruelty. And the worst part is, they don’t
always get there alone.
The worst kind of world is one where evil rule with
a society that supports and validates it. I don’t want to be part of that
group. I’d like to make a difference. Even if I’m the only one. I think it
would still be worth it.
“WHEEEEEEEEEEEEEE-OOOH!” That was the siren announcing the end of recess.
I put the book back on the shelf before heading
out. “See you.” I say to the library supervisor. It’s freezing in
the hallway. To the left are the classrooms, and to the right, the railing.
Since it’s the third floor, you can see the small buildings and houses
surrounding the school.
The wind is harsh too. One of the girls who had
been in the library shivered from the cold. It’s not the best time of year to
be wearing socks and a skirt. Mom’s gotten into the habit of making sure I wear
my tights — between few other girl clothes — I don’t mind anymore. It’s
better than freezing, and besides, you can’t see them under my pants.
At first, I thought they were just regular
navy-blue tights, but the other day, while doing laundry, I noticed the tag had
the Ministry of Education’s logo. Since it’s a public school, the Ministry
provides the uniforms, but they assign them based on student data.
I don’t think they’re allowed to give a girl’s
uniform to a boy. Because if they were... Mom would make sure I wore it every
single day.
To Be
Continued…
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If you find any misspellings or a dead link, please let me know ------------
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Link English Caption in Deviant Art:
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Link Spanish Story in Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1538963519-la-ni%C3%B1a-de-mam%C3%A1-parte-6-una-realidad-injusta
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Link English Story in Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/1538965925-mommy%27s-girl-part-6-unfair-reality
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Link English Caption in Blogger:
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Link Spanish Caption in Blogger: https://irenenaridzastorycaptions.blogspot.com/2025/05/una-realidad-injusta-la-ninia-de-mama.html
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