At my school there was a girl an orphan. She lived with her gran, a very old and devout woman. Every Sunday they walked together to the Anglican church just past my house, both gaunt and fragile, wrapped in white kerchiefs. Rumour had it that her gran forbade her to watch television, eat sweets, or laugh out loud, lest the Devil get a foothold, and she made her wash her face with icecold water.
The other pupils teased her. She would stare at us with a dull, adultlike gaze and say, Lord, have mercy on them; they know not what they do. Nobody befriended her; they thought she was a bit mad. They called her Emily.
Back in my childhood, the school canteen hardly served anything tasty. But on Fridays we got a hot roll with tea, or a sausage wrapped in pastry with a mug of cocoa and a small chocolate bar. One day, while some boys were giving Emily a hard time, one of them shoved her. She crashed into me, I knocked over the tray, and the cocoa and chocolate melted all over two senior pupils.
Watch out, they warned.
Lets go, I said, grabbing Emilys hand, and we bolted for our classroom.
It felt as if a troop of marauding cowboys and a herd of cattle were chasing us, yelling all the way. The last two lessons were maths. Behind the glass door two hulking silhouettes lingered. Occasionally the door cracked open and two heads peeked in, then whispered to each other. I knew what lay ahead a proper investigation, a hearing and, as the classics would have it, a verdict.
First things to slip out of the class unnoticed. I know a hatch that leads to the attic; we can hide there till dark and then make a run for home, I whispered.
No, Emily replied. Well go out like proper girls quietly and with dignity.
But Emily, theyll theyll
What? What will they do? Pour yoghurt over our heads? Beat us up? What?
Well.
Even if they give us a beating, itll be just one. If we dont go, well live in fear every day.
We left the classroom with the rest of the class, just as proper girls should modestly. Two senior boys leaned against the wall.
Hey, little ones, lost something? one said, holding my Mickey Mousebrand wallet with ten pounds inside enough for the pool and the art studio.
Here, he tossed it into my hand, and dont run off again.
I walked home, swinging my schoolbag, thinking how wonderful life felt. Everything had turned out alright, and I was glad to have such a new friend.
Let me call my mum; shell ring your gran, ask for permission and we can watch cartoons at my place. Or is that a problem?
Emily rolled her eyes.
Come on, lets grab the waferandcondensedmilk biscuits Gran baked today.
We stayed friends for many years, until life finally scattered us across different continents. Yet I always remember that one moment.
Jumping from the diving board into the blue pool was terrifying, but it only scared me once. Trying something new is always a bit scary. Whats the worst that could happen? Theyll call me a fool? Maybe once. And then Ill remind myself of that every day.
Fear is frightening the first time, and again if you keep dwelling on it. You beat it once, or it lives on in you day after day. The choice is yours.
