Stars and Turtles

by Michael McLaughlin

Stars and Turtles

  by

  Michael McLaughlin

  Published by

  Michael McLaughlin

  Stars and Turtles

  Copyright 2011 by Michael McLaughlin

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. It may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you are reading this book and did not

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  Stars and Turtles

  The little girl with the yellow hat went to the park, accompanied by her mother. The girl’s name was An. It had been her decision to spell it with one N. There originally was a second N, making her name Ann, but one day, she had the idea of omitting the second N, so that the name would be uniquely hers. Her parents discussed it together and thought it was a bit odd, especially for a 9 year old, but decided to acquiesce happily, knowing that at one point, she would want to switch it back.

  An and her mother stood in the middle of the park on this cool summer day. An appeared happy and expectant. Last week at school, she had finally gotten the courage up and asked the red-haired girl who sat in front of her in the same row, if she would like to come on a picnic the following Saturday. An was thrilled when the red-haired girl said yes. An had been asking her to do things with her for weeks, but the red-haired girl seemed to always be doing something or other, and was always too busy to spend any time with An.

  So finally, An could boast to herself and to the rest of the world, that she had a real, honest to goodness friend. After Saturday, at night time, she would be able to remember the time they would have together, and she would not have such a sad time falling asleep. She would have someone to whisper her secrets to at school on the sly and then giggle while others wondered what they were saying. She would spend the weekends and holidays with someone other than her mother, or her dolls, or her lonely bed.

  On Monday, the red-haired girl would talk to her during recess, and An would not have to daydream on the grass while watching all the other kids pushing each other back and forth on the swings, pushing each other out of the way to get to the swings, and sometimes fighting over the swings. An would not push her friend or fight with her.

  The red-haired girl would play with her and would tell everyone else how much fun she had with An, and maybe all the other kids would finally begin to like An, instead of ignoring her, teasing her or throwing things at her. Then, An would finally achieve a life where she would be happy, and be a part of everyone and everything that she always saw going on around herself.

  She could finally be normal instead of abnormal and weird. All the other kids always called her weird, and stupid and ugly. She hated to think it, but some of the kids were uglier than she was, so why were they calling her ugly? And why did it all seem to be so true?

  An wanted everything for the picnic to be perfect. When she had pretend tea-parties with her dolls, she would dress nicely, dress the dolls nicely, mind her manners and make everything as perfect as possible. Those days had all been practice. Today was real. An had gotten her mother to make egg salad sandwiches, which An had secretly remembered seeing the red-haired girl eating for lunch more than once. An and her mother brought little chocolate cupcakes, and An wanted to make something with her own hands so she had made lemonade herself, from scratch, and stored it in a thermos which her mother had bought her specifically for the occasion. An had always seen the other kids at school drinking from thermoses but she had never had one.

  So there they were: An and her mother eagerly awaiting the arrival of the red-haired girl. They began to put out the food on a thick blanket. An had had to argue with her mother to use this blanket, which was the one from her own bed, but An didn’t want an old ugly blanket.

  The wind began to get stronger and An and her mother had to put rocks at each corner of the blanket to hold it down. Even a little of the food began to blow about in bits and chunks. After four heavy rocks were secured for the blanket, the food containers covered and the blanket seemed basically stable, mother and daughter sat down on the less impressive looking rug of food and waited.

  An looked across the park towards the city canal, and across that towards the tall buildings. Her friend lived in one of those buildings. At night, An had looked out of her window at the building that the red-haired girl lived in. An had wished that the red-haired girl would be her friend. And now, as she looked at the building, the red-haired girl was most likely coming down the elevator to be with her. An’s mouth dropped open a bit, and she smiled. Her mother sat fidgeting, looking up and hoping that the clouds above were not going to turn black and dump water all over the day.

  After they had waited a few more minutes, and An’s mother noticed a look of weary impatience set into An’s eyes, she put her hand on her daughter’s blonde curls and stroked her hair, looking at An, who was still watching the building, with a hopeful expression that gradually turned wistful. Both of them waited.

  An hour later, as her mother prepared to pack everything up, An said “maybe she’s just late, or maybe she forgot which park we’re supposed to be in. It’s too bad I don’t have her phone number. I could call her and see what’s gone wrong.”

  “I’m sorry sweetie, we’ve waited long enough.” Her mother started packing away the food. “Don’t pack the food yet Mom. Please! She’s going to show up you know! We just haven’t waited long enough!”

  Her mother continued to pack and was almost finished. “We’ve waited too long dear. Don’t be upset. She’s probably not here because it looks like it’s going to rain. We should go home before it does.”

  “No! I want to wait here until she comes, or at least until I’m sure she’s not. I’ve got to stay here as long as there’s still a chance!”

  “Oh no dear, you’re coming with me. It’s going to rain. Come home and we’ll eat the food inside and have our own picnic, just the two of us.”

  “Can I wait here alone then? And if she doesn’t come in an hour, then I’ll come home? We only live three blocks away. I’ll be safe.

  An’s mother looked at her. The corners of her mouth dropped down. “All right, but don’t stay out here too long. And don’t be upset if she doesn’t come.”

  “Okay Mom, I won’t. But I might come back with her, because you’ve got all the food.”

  “Okay, I’ll leave the food, but I’m taking the blanket because it’s your good blanket and I won’t have it ruined by any rain. And if she’s come or not, the minute it starts raining, I want you home immediately.”

  “Okay,” she said. And then her mother walked slowly away, no longer fidgeting, but with her head bowed down, looking at the ground and grass, and then at the cracks on the sidewalk when she was out of the park. An watched her and wished she would look straight ahead.

  An waited. Her thoughts meandered.

  She thought about the time she had barely been six years old and had taken it upon herself to go into the skipping business. She remembered writing her own sign: “Ten cents ta skipp” it read. She placed it on the fence in front of her driveway, hoping that some other little girl would come and pay her a dime to skip rope. An attached one end of the rubber skipping rope to the fence and waited. She was excited, because maybe someone would actually skip with her because it was a business, and not An. Then she would be doing something with someone. Another girl from the neighbourhood came up and saw the sign, and said she would be right back with some other girls to skip. She returned from around the corner with two other girls.

  “Ten cents to skip with YOU,” one of them said derisively, what a STUPID idea.”

  “Yeah,” someone else
said, who’d wanna skip with YOU?”

  They all laughed as they ripped her precious skipping rope off the fence and ran off with it, leaving An in tears. An then trudged her way back inside, sniffing and crying quietly so that the other girls would not know. Alone in her room, all she could think of was how pretty all the girls had looked.

  An looked throughout the park. She saw an old man feeding pigeons. He smiled at her. He was always alone. She and her mother sometimes sat with him and talked. He was nice. She wanted to go up and talk to him, perhaps share her food with him and the pigeons. He was always there, always alone and An always liked talking to him. But he was an adult. Not many adults wanted to talk to him and no children wanted to talk to An. She continued waiting for the red-haired girl. She wanted to be nice to the pigeon man. She loved being nice to people.

  Two years ago, on Valentine’s day, she had her mother buy her a pack of Valentine’s cards. She then addressed them to some of the kids in her class that she liked the most, the ones she most wished were her friends. She was too embarrassed and scared to give them to her would-be friends in person, so during recess, she slipped the cards into their desks so