The Late Girl

"Bring something that's special to you, bring something that holds a significance that only you can see and understand at the same time. Bring something that resembles you as an individual being, as your own person. The size doesn't matter, nor does the shape or origin. The only thing that matters is that object's history with you, your history with it."

In the playground, everything was noisy. Feet dragging across the gravel, the jump ropes hitting the tarmac at timely intervals. There were voices talking about their object, their item of choice, something that meant something to them and only them. Most girls had brought worn teddy bears with mismatching button eyes or sewn patches where limbs should've been. Some girls had brought baby blankets and were cradling them as though they were babies themselves. A couple girls had brought their first dresses. One girl had brought her new puppy and another had brought her very old frog.

The boys had been somewhat more creative but only because of their disregard for the rules of health and safety. One boy had brought a cat that had been a stray until he found it two weeks earlier. The cat was particularly vicious and scratched anyone who came within a foot of its personal space. Two boys had brought basketballs that had been signed by various basketball players. One boy had brought a steel hockey stick that was more of a trophy than anything. His father had made it for him when he played in an international hockey match against England. One boy had brought a spacesuit that he'd found in the dumpster and forced his mother to clean. He was proudly parading around in his spacesuit, regardless of how many germs or diseases were lingering on the fabric. Another boy had brought in his pet snake and it was a rather large snake too. The snake, although it did nothing but sit lazily in its cage, sometimes slithering this way or that, had drawn in quite a crowd.

When the bell rang, everyone picked up their precious items and formed orderly lines. For the past couple of weeks, everyone had been looking forward to this day. It was time for presentations. Each person would stand in front of their class and present the item that they had brought into school today.

She was late again and she hurried in through the school gates just as her classmates were filing into the small redbrick building. She was holding a cardboard box, plain and white on the outside with nothing remotely remarkable about it. She slipped into the line, hoping no one had noticed her lateness. The girls behind her eyed her box and whispered about her lack of imagination.

Given that the class was so small, there was usually lots of space for one to lean on the desks, lie on the desks and even hide underneath the desks. Today, however, the desk space was taken up by all the special objects. The large snake, lying in its cage, watching the students with mild curiosity. The basketballs, whose owners had even brought special sits for their prized possessions to sit on. The numerous worn teddy bears, eyeing one another with looks of jealousy or perhaps that effect was simply created by the mismatching eyes.

Each student was going to take a turn to make his or her presentation. The teacher stood at the front of the class with a clipboard in hand. The presentations were going to go in alphabetical order; therefore there would be no arguments between children who wanted to do presentations before or after their friends.

"Abbott?" The teacher called out, eyes scanning the room.

"Yes, Miss," a shy voice called out. Hannah Abbott brushed her blonde bangs out of her eyes and repeated herself, "I'm here, Miss."

The teacher nodded and ticked Hannah off of the list.

The girl who had been late sat at the back of the class, fingers fidgeting nervously. No one was sitting next to her although she hardly found this odd. There were twenty-four people in her class, thirteen boys and eleven girls, meaning that one of the girls was always left on her own, given how the desks were in pairs. And usually she would've sat next to the thirteenth boy but he was late too and she doubted that he would make it to school before lunchtime.

Her stomach turned itself inside out and flipped over repeatedly until she felt as though she might vomit. Public speaking had never been her forte, as she had always preferred to observe and listen or take part in other activities that required little other than imagination and the thinking process.

On the table sat her cardboard box, plain and white and totally unremarkable but it wasn't the box that was special, it was what was inside of the box that was special. She could remember before when she had tried, a large number of times, to reform to the likings of society.

"Johnson?"

"Yes, Miss."

She was worried that her special object wasn't special enough. Perhaps it held the wrong type of meaning. Maybe it was as unremarkable as the cardboard box that she was keeping it in. Perhaps the scrawled letters on the underside meant nothing and perhaps the story behind them meant even less. Maybe no one would care that her special item played a key role in her transformation. It would be quite possible that no one would care that she had spent the majority of her life trying to be someone she couldn't be and that this special item helped her transform into herself.

"Walker?"

Due to the fact that she was elsewhere, daydreaming about the gradual transformation into her own person and the looks of awe from her classmates when she told them the story, she did not reply.

"Walker?"

The boy in front of her turned around and poked her arm. "Miss just called out your name."

"Oh, yes, Miss," she called out, cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. Several girls turned around, hoping or expecting to see a plausible reason for her delayed response. Upon seeing nothing, they scowled and turned away.

"Whitby?"

Her mind began to wander again, disregarding the trouble that this lack of attentiveness could get her into.

She could remember her mother's face when she showed her what she'd bought from the garage sale at the village hall.

"I thought that you were going to buy the feather boa, the pink one with the sparkly tassels."

Her mother's reply had made it evident what she thought of her daughter's purchase. It was dirty, it was old, it was weird but that was why she liked it. It was out of the ordinary and it had history, it had character. It represented what she wanted to be.

The presentations were starting and she forced herself to pay attention instead of wandering into her own private wonderland.

Hannah Abbott was holding a white dress with a pink, frilly hem and puffy sleeves. It had pink buttons and a netted pink underskirt. To sum it up in two words, one would say, 'white' and 'pink'.

The dress was a flower girl dress, one that Hannah had worn when she was the flower girl for her aunt's wedding. She'd been only five. The story wasn't very interesting and much less captivating though the way Hannah never once faltered was admirable.

Next, Davey Adams stood up in front of the class and showed off his custom guitar. A few of the boys paid attention whilst the rest of the class talked about their own items with whomever they were sitting next to.

And so the presentations continued until half past ten o'clock when the bell rang, signalling that it was time for recess. Most people filed out of the classroom and headed for the playground whilst some of the 'cooler' kids hung out around the back of the building. The only people who remained were the Rowan twins (the boys with the basketballs) and Late Girl.

"Where's Jake?" Chris asked Late Girl, leaning over the back of his chair and gesturing towards the empty chair next to hers.

She shrugged her shoulders. "He's going to be late today."

Chris' brother, Miles, leant over the back of his chair too. "What's in your box?"

"Or is that your presentation?" Chris asked, smirking.

Out of the two, Miles was her favoured brother because Chris had a blatant disregard for the feelings of anyone who wasn't a blood-relative.

"I can't tell you what's in my box. You'll have to wait until my presentation."

"Doesn't matter," said Chris, "It's probably something crap anyway. I know it's nowhere near as cool as our basketballs. I bet you've never even been to a basketball match."

"I'm not into sports but I have. Once."

"Whatever."

Through the corner of her eye she watched the empty seat as though she was waiting for the late boy to materialise in it, special object in hand. She knew that Jake was late because he had no special object. He had concluded that nothing in his life was special, something that was obviously untrue.

Even though there were still ten minutes left of recess, a few more people walked into the classroom.

"What's in your box?" Asked Thomas Woodrow.

"Probably some emo or goth shit." Another boy said.

"It's not," she said defensively, trying her best not to look hurt.

"Or lesbian crap. Maybe it's her razorblade, you know, the one she uses to slit her wrists." Three of the boys who had just entered imitated the action of slitting one's wrists, mocking her. She pulled her sleeves down automatically, looking down at the table.

"Let's see if she's got any emo scars!" Said Chris Rowan. He grabbed one of her arms and pulled the sleeve up. There wasn't anything there.

"Must've already healed up," one boy commented. Truth was, they had already healed up, months ago.

A prejudiced conversation ensued between the boys and they discussed their hate for 'chav's, 'emo's and 'goth's. Occasionally they turned around and asked Late Girl a question about being 'emo'. She never answered.

Recess ended and the remainder of the class filed back in and took their usual seats. A few of the girls swapped because they had a rota, one that allowed all them to sit next to each other at least once each day.

The next person to make their presentation was Isabel Jones. She was one of the girls who had brought in a baby blanket. Her presentation was completely uninteresting but her friends clapped at the end of it anyway.

By the time that lunchtime had come around, Late Girl's box had become something of extreme interest to everyone in the class. At least three people every minute turned around to glance at it and make a mental guess as to what it could be.

In the lunch hall Lauren called her over and asked her to sit with the 'cool' kids. This had happened a few times but very, very few. Without argument she sat down in between Hannah and Izzy.

She found that the conversation on the table was beyond boring and she simply nodded whenever someone looked at her.

When they were let out for recess after lunch, Late Girl was very surprised when Lauren linked her arm with hers and asked if she wanted to play Cops & Robbers with them. She said that only the 'coolest' people in their class were allowed to be Robbers. Late Girl declined, claiming that she wasn't feeling very well. Much to her astonishment, Lauren told her to get better soon and even suggested that she see the school nurse.

Late Girl wandered away and sat underneath the willow tree near the school gates, watching the other children play. She had always thought that when she reached year six, and became one of the oldest people in her school, that she would be happier, that more people would respect her.

A couple of the younger kids ran to the willow tree. One of them was her little sister. They were both playing with their special objects. Both of their special objects were stuffed animals. One was a lion that looked as though it had seen its fair share of playtimes and the other was a dog with a neck so thin that one knew that the child it belonged to never let it go.

"You're such a loner."

"Thank you," Late Girl replied dully. "You're late. Very late."

"At least I'm not always late, Late Girl," Jake replied, sitting down next to her.

Almost everyone called her the ‘Late Girl' because she never made it to school on time because her little sister had a tantrum every single morning about not wanting to go to school. The boys also called her the 'Late Girl' because she was a late bloomer. It was something of a mean joke, making fun of the fact that she was not as developed as the other girls.

"What's in your box?" Asked Jake.

"My presentation."

"Oh, yeah, the secret one that only you know about. Why didn't you just leave it inside?"

"I don't want someone opening it." She paused. "What's your presentation?"

Jake was holding a small box. It was nicer than Late Girl's box. It was made out of wood and it had been polished many times. There was a floral design on the front and some words in Latin that very few people could understand.

Amicitia causa labor, tamen illic est haud via ex labor vacuus amicitia.

Lunchtime recess soon ended and the students went back to their classrooms. Late Girl and Jake sat at the back of their class, as always, having private conversations about the things that they shared in common and even more private arguments about the things that set them apart.

"Bartowski."

Jake stood up and carried his box to the front of the class. He walked with an air of confidence, almost arrogance.

"So, this box is my presentation. It's kinda cool. My gran gave it to me. It's for putting pictures in. Here, pass it around. It's got some words in Latin on the front. For those of you who don't know Latin, it means, 'friendship causes hardship, but there is no way out of hardship without friendship'."

At this point, Lauren and Izzy exclaimed how 'cute' that was and Jake laughed.

"That box is pretty special to me, I guess, because inside, there's a picture of me with my two best friends. That's Candace and my sister. I don't like all the things they do and we argue sometimes but at least they put up with me and laugh at my jokes, even when they're not funny."

The girls at the front gave Jake his box back.

"Short but acceptable, thank you Jake." The teacher scribbled down a grade in her book before shouting out the next name.

"Walker."

It was her turn to show her item to the class. She stood up nervously and walked to the front of the class slowly, carrying her cardboard box. Everyone watched her expectantly, hoping for her to pull something amazing out of the box.

"This is... this my presentation about an object that's special to me," the words were barely audible and anything but clear.

"I heard that it was a pink poodle," one girl whispered. Several other girls' eyes lit up.

She opened the box and pulled out a stool. It was an elephant stool. There were two miniature tusks sticking out of the front, one on either side of the wooden trunk. An elephant had been carved onto the top of the stool, along with words in a language that she didn't understand. Each leg was an elephant's leg.

"I bought this stool from the garage sale at the village hall a couple of years ago. It was handcrafted in Africa and it even has some African words carved into it but I don't know what they mean.

"This stool means something to me because it symbolizes who I am and who I wanted to be for a very long time. When I bought it, the stool was dirty and old and it looked kind of weird. I thought that it was great because it was unique and someone had put a lot of effort into making it. I thought it was pretty cool.

"In the days after I first bought it I sat on it all the time because I thought it was awesome. When I used my computer, I sat on it. When I ate my dinner, I sat on it. When I watched TV, I sat on it. I used to watch the music channels to try and become more familiar with the music that was on the charts. Then one night, I was watching one of those channels where people send in their own videos and a song came on that I really liked even though I'd never heard it before. It wasn't anything on the charts and I doubted that it would ever even come close but I liked it so I wrote the name of the song and the band on the underside of the stool."

She let her classmates pass the stool around to have a look at the stool.

"The name of the song was Our Lady of Sorrows and the name of the band was My Chemical Romance."

At this point, Chris Rowan snickered and whispered to the boys in front of him, "They're an emo band."

"I like this song because to me, it's about friendship. If you've got your friends then it doesn't matter what other people say about you because you know that your friends will always be there to look out for you. My favourite line is,

How wrong we were to think that immortality meant never dying.

To me, that's saying that if you help other people, even if it's just by being their friend, you create a ripple effect and you have a positive impact on the world, no matter how small and in doing that, you immortalise yourself."

She paused. The elephant stool had made its way back to her and she picked it up and put it back into its plain and white cardboard box. Her classmates were clapping, genuinely clapping. The adrenaline and her heart pumping forcefully against her ribcage was almost enough to make her sick.

"Th-that's it... that's the end."