Lisa reluctantly placed her right thumb in her mouth. She was crying even harder now.
“All right, Lisa,” Mrs. Cook barked. “We are playing a tennis match, and I’m up forty–love. I’m serving for the match. What are you going to do, Lisa?”
Lisa stopped crying, took her thumb out of her mouth, and thought. She remembered the tennis her father had taught her. And then something happened way down deep inside of Lisa. She found her courage. The courage to stand up to Mrs. Cook.
“Lisa, what are you going to do?” repeated Mrs. Cook.
“Nothing,” replied Lisa. “You just double-faulted.”
The class laughed, and Mrs. Cook frowned.
“OK, the score is now forty–fifteen, Lisa,” Mrs. Cook said. “What happens now?”
“You serve, and I return it down the line for a winner,” says Lisa. “The score is now forty–thirty.”
“I now serve an ace and win the match,” says Mrs. Cook. “As I always say, crybabies never win.”
“But winners sometimes cry,” says Lisa. “Therefore, winners can be crybabies, too.”
“But you will always be a loser because of your flattened nose,” said Mrs. Cook.
“People who make fun of the way other people look are the biggest losers of all,” said Lisa. “Game, set, match.”
As Lisa walked back to her desk, she noticed that many of her classmates were smiling at her. Lisa learned that day that a nose is not just a nose. And a teacher is not just a teacher.
Chapter Sixteen
The Eyes
Lisa awoke to the same anxious feelings and nervous stomach she had on any other school day. Yet something was different this morning. Lisa remembered her courage, and some of her anxious thoughts went away. Lisa put on her school clothes as if she were preparing for battle. Her gold sweater and pleated gold miniskirt became the tunic of a Roman warrior. Her gold kneesocks and brown leather loafers became the leather sandals of a Roman warrior. And her navy peacoat became the breastplate and shield of a Roman warrior.
“If I have the courage to stand up to Mrs. Cook,” thought Lisa, “then I have the courage to stand up to the mean boys.”
Lisa remained strong during homeroom and the first two classes. Yet when it was time to go outside for recess, Lisa began to get scared. Her navy peacoat no longer felt like the breastplate and shield of a Roman warrior. It was just a coat, and a flimsy one at that. When Lisa went outside, Will and David were waiting for her.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Nosy,” said Will. “Lose any more tennis matches?”
“You’re just a big loser, Miss Flattened Nose,” said David.
Lisa began to breathe hard, and a wave of nausea overcame her. She looked around for help, but she saw no one who would help her. Mrs. Duke occupied her usual spot on a far-off bench talking to another teacher. Lisa had two choices. She could do nothing and remain scared, or she could summon her courage and stand up to the bullies. Lisa began to replace her feelings of self-doubt with feelings of self-confidence. Her courage returned, and she decided to confront the bullies.
Lisa repeated her mantra from the day before.
“People who make fun of the way other people look are the biggest losers of all,” said Lisa.
“Are you calling me a loser?” asked Will.
Lisa swallowed hard. The scary feelings were returning.
“Yes,” said Lisa timidly.
“Why, you little runt,” said Will. “See how you like this.”
Will ran up to Lisa and pushed her from behind. Lisa fell forward into the dirt with her palms bracing her fall. A rock tore a gash in her left knee, and blood began trickling down her leg onto her kneesock. Cathy ran over to Lisa and helped her to her feet.
“If you tell,” said Will, “I will hurt you even more next time.”
“I won’t tell,” cried Lisa.
Lisa’s courage was gone, and in its place was pure fear.
When recess was over, Lisa tried to hide her bloody knee from Mrs. Duke to no avail.
“Lisa, what happened to your knee?” asked Mrs. Duke.
“I accidentally tripped and fell on a rock,” said Lisa.
Lisa had just lied to Mrs. Duke. Lisa knew that it was wrong to lie, but this lie protected her from the bullies.
“Besides,” reasoned Lisa to herself, “I told a half-truth—I did fall on a rock. I just didn’t accidentally trip—Will intentionally pushed me to the ground. But Mrs. Duke doesn’t need to know about Will—that will be my scary secret.”
Lisa’s lie served as a shield of double protection—it protected Will from getting into trouble, and it also protected Lisa from getting hurt by Will.
“Well, go in the bathroom and clean yourself up,” said Mrs. Duke.
“Yes, ma’am,” said Lisa.
Lisa limped to the girls’ bathroom and began sobbing uncontrollably. Her tears mixed with the dried blood on her knee, causing the wound to burn. She wet a paper towel and began wiping the blood from her knee. Yet she could not wipe the lie that she had told Mrs. Duke from her mind. That lie would be a constant reminder of the bullies and the time her courage failed her.
The playground became the “hateground” to Lisa. Will and David hated her, and she began to hate them. Lisa also began to feel sorry for herself. And a bad seed was sown.
“Why is everybody always picking on me?” thought Lisa. “Why, it’s time I started picking on somebody else. Then the bullies will start teasing that person and leave me alone.”
And that “somebody else” took the form of Clara Martin. Like Lisa, Clara also had a physical disability. Unlike Lisa, Clara was able to hide her disability and avoid teasing from the bullies.
“It’s time for Clara to pay the price for her weak eyes,” thought Lisa vindictively.
Clara Martin was a homely looking girl. Everything about her was plain. She wore plain dresses and shoes. She had plain mousy brown hair that was always parted on the side and held in place with a plain brown barrette. All of her features were plain with one notable exception. Clara Martin had unusual eyes. Her eyes were too small for the rest of her face.
The reason Clara’s eyes were too small was because Clara was born that way. Her eyes were green, and they slanted toward her nose not unlike the eyes of someone from Asia. Her eyes oozed yellow fluid, which formed crusty particles encircling her lids. Clara’s vision was extremely poor, and she hid her unusual eyes behind very thick glasses.
Lisa knew of Clara’s eyes because they were not unlike her own nose. Yet instead of feeling empathy for Clara, Lisa felt jealous of Clara because Clara wasn’t bullied like she was. So Lisa decided to even the score by teasing Clara. The teasing began at recess the following day.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Four Eyes out for a stroll,” Lisa yelled.
Will and David turned to look at Lisa as she pointed to Clara.
“How many fingers am I holding up, Clarabelle, or do you need stronger glasses?” asked Lisa.
Will and David began to laugh while Clara began to cry.
“Oh, look,” yelled Lisa, “her eyes do work—she’s crying real tears.”
“Mind your own business, Miss Smushed Nose,” yelled Clara.
Lisa was stunned. Clara was now teasing her. Lisa immediately put her hand over her nose.
“You can dish it out, but you can’t take it, Miss Nosy,” said Clara.
Lisa couldn’t believe her eyes. Will and David had stopped laughing at Clara and were now laughing at her. Her plan had backfired. Now she had three classmates teasing her. Lisa had learned her lesson. She would not tease Clara anymore. But the damage had already been done. Clara no longer trusted Lisa. Lisa would have to regain Clara’s trust.
In P.E. class later that day, Mrs. Cook let the students play dodgeball. Lisa dreaded this game, which Will and David called “Smushed Nose–ball” because Will and David always aimed the ball at Lisa’s nose. A bloody nose sometimes resulted, but Lisa protected Will and David from blame by saying it was ju
st an ordinary nosebleed. But on this day Will and David had more than one target.
Will was wielding a dodgeball in his beefy hands. Lisa was shaking like a leaf and running across the circle as fast as her legs would carry her. But Clara was unaware that Will had his sights set on her. She stood frozen in his headlights, blinking her slanted, thickly encrusted eyes in disbelief.
“Dodgeball is Lisa’s enemy, not mine,” Clara thought.
Yet when Clara saw Will take aim at her glasses, she screamed in horror. Her poor vision dulled her reflexes, and the ball hit Clara squarely in the face, breaking her heavy glasses in twain and knocking Clara off her feet.
Lisa ran to Clara, picked up her cleft glasses, and helped her stand again.
“It’s all right, Clara,” Lisa said while wiping the grass and blood from her tear-stained face. “This is all my fault—I’m so sorry that I teased you.”
“You didn’t hurt me—Will did,” said Clara.
“But I hurt your feelings, and that’s just as bad,” said Lisa.
Clara’s injury gave Lisa even more courage that day on the playground.
“Why, it’s two against one,” Lisa yelled to Will.
Lisa then grabbed the dodgeball in her tiny, doll-like hands. She looked Will square in the eye, like David wielding his tiny slingshot at Goliath, and she threw that ball with Superman-like strength.
The throw caught Will off guard. He had been laughing at Lisa and Clara and didn’t know what hit him. But hit him it did—right in the groin. He moaned in agony. Lisa screamed with delight and started jumping up and down.
Dumbstruck by what had just happened Clara looked fuzzily at Will’s painful wincing and then at Lisa’s jumping. The dodgeball circle of hate began to collapse as the students, one by one, began to crowd around Clara and Lisa, each child clapping and smiling.
“You did it, Lisa,” yelled Cathy with delight. “You finally hit him—he can’t hurt you anymore.”
A truce was reached between Lisa and Clara that day—a separate peace treaty signed by blood sisters. Sisters who shared scars that no one else could see—those horrible scars the size of football fields that destroyed a little bit of themselves each day. Lisa and Clara’s bloody scars paled in comparison to their emotional scars, which hurt whenever the mean boys teased them.
Lisa escorted Clara to their next class, where Miss Loomis wiped the blood from Clara’s face. Clara told Miss Loomis what Will did to her. The principal’s office called Clara’s mother, who said she would bring Clara another pair of glasses. The principal’s office also called Will’s parents, who said they would buy Clara a new pair of glasses.
Yet Clara didn’t need her glasses on the playground that day. Clara and Lisa shared a “second” sight—all insight, foresight, and hindsight merged in a special vision. A “smushed” nose and encrusted eyes belied the black, gaping holes inside. Ordinary vision underlooked these dark recesses. Yet each time Clara and Lisa stood up to the bullies, the black, gaping holes began to shrink. Courage replaced fear. Two tiny voices, steadfast and true, could stand up to the bullies’ threats. Teamwork strengthened resolve. Lisa would never sacrifice another student to the bullies’ fiefdom. Strength lay in sisterhood, not solipsism.
Yes, Lisa and Clara were different from the others in their grade. Yet they didn’t need to leap tall buildings in a single bound. They weren’t faster than speeding bullets. They weren’t stronger than locomotives.
Lisa and Clara didn’t need Superman’s X-ray vision. They were blind, but now they see.
Chapter Seventeen
The Valentine
Anew girl joined Lisa’s class in February. Her name was Karen Avery, and her father was fighting overseas in the Vietnamese War. Lisa frequently watched the war on television, and it made her sad to see the United States soldiers injured or killed in the war. Yet Lisa had never known an actual person related to a U.S. soldier in Vietnam until she met Karen.
Karen had bright red hair and freckles. She wore a silver ladybug locket around her neck. When Karen pulled back the ladybug’s two wings, a photograph of Karen’s father in his military uniform emerged. Karen wore this locket every day.
Karen was an only child and lived with her mother in Lisa’s neighborhood. Although Karen’s father was stationed at Montgomery’s Maxwell Air Force Base, Karen’s mother chose to live off base so that Karen could attend a Montgomery public school.
Lisa and Karen became fast friends. Lisa loved to hear stories of Karen’s growing up near military bases all over the country, and Karen loved to hear stories of Lisa’s growing up with two brothers and a sister. Lisa visited Karen during the first week in February, and Karen visited Lisa during the second week in February.
“Tell me the story of Harold and Trixie again, Lisa,” said Karen. “I can’t believe that dog was that big!”
“Trixie is a standard schnauzer, and she is almost as tall as a Shetland pony. Now you tell me the story of living in California, Karen,” said Lisa. “Did you really go to school with Negroes?”
“People in California don’t use the word ‘Negro’ anymore—they say ‘black,’” said Karen. “Yes, there were three black students in my class in California—two girls and one boy. The girls were nice, but the boy was mean. He was always making fun of my white skin and my red hair and freckles.”
“I know all about mean boys,” said Lisa.
“You do?” asked Karen.
Lisa paused and took a deep breath. She began to get that sinking feeling in the pit of her stomach.
“If I tell Karen my secret and why Will and David are mean to me, then she might not like me anymore,” thought Lisa. “I haven’t even told Cathy my secret.”
“What’s wrong, Lisa?” asked Karen. “You know that I like you, no matter what.”
Lisa looked deep inside and found her courage again. She would trust Karen with her secret.
“Karen,” said Lisa, “I was born with a hole in the roof of my mouth and a hole in my upper lip.”
“But you don’t have those holes now,” said Karen.
“I know. When I was a baby, I had two surgeries to close those holes. That’s why my nose is flattened on one side and why I have scars from my nose to my lip.”
“I can hardly tell, Lisa,” said Karen. “I think that you look great.”
“Thanks, Karen,” said Lisa, “that means a lot to me.”
“But what about the mean boys?” asked Karen.
“Will and David are the mean boys,” said Lisa. “They make fun of my nose on the playground. They’ve been on their best behavior recently, but I’m sure you will see their true colors before long.”
“Guess what, Lisa,” said Karen.
“What?” asked Lisa apprehensively.
“Since you told me your secret, I like you even more!” exclaimed Karen.
Lisa grinned from ear to ear.
On the playground the next day, Karen saw the true colors of Will and David. It was a cold, wintry day, and Lisa and Karen were huddled together to keep warm. Will and David approached the girls.
“Well, if it isn’t Miss Smushed Nose,” said Will. “Is your new friend gonna protect you?”
“Yes, she is,” said Karen.
“I’m not scared of you, Miss Red Head,” said Will.
“Well, my father is a soldier, and he can make you behave,” said Karen.
“Your father could be dead, for all you know,” said Will.
“Yeah, dead,” said David.
“You take that back,” cried Karen. “My father is alive, and if he were here, he would skin you alive.”
“Oh, I’m so scared,” said Will in a baby voice. “For all you know your father could be a coward.”
“Yeah, the Cowardly Lion,” said David.
“Stop it,” cried Lisa. “Karen’s father is a hero.”
“Yeah, a hero like that sissy Underdog,” said Will.
“Leave Underdog out of this,” said Lisa. “Will and David, you
owe Karen an apology.”
“No truce, no apology,” said Will.
“No apology, no retreat,” said Lisa.
The playground was becoming a battleground. A war was being waged between Lisa and Karen and Will and David. There were no soldiers to fight for either side—just four children as the harbingers of good and evil.
The playground war became the Civil War in Miss Newell’s class. The class was studying Lincoln’s birthday, and Miss Newell had a special reason to celebrate.
“Attention, class,” said Miss Newell in her sweet voice. “I have a special assignment for you today.”
“Oh, no,” moaned Will.
“Now, now, my sweet, sweet children,” cooed Miss Newell. “You will write a one-page essay on why the death of Abraham Lincoln was for the best.”
“This sounds hard,” said David.
“It won’t be hard if you listen to me,” yelled Miss Newell in her mean voice.
“Isn’t it President Lincoln?” said Lisa.
“It’s Abraham Lincoln in my class,” said Miss Newell in her mean voice. “The man should never have been president.”
“Honest Abe,” said David.
“Not in my class,” yelled mean Miss Newell.
The sweet Miss Newell now surfaced.
“Now, children, sweet, sweet children,” purred Miss Newell. “It’s so easy—Lincoln caused the Civil War, so his death reunited the country. As I’ve said before, every cloud has a silver lining.”
“But President Lincoln did a great thing for this country,” said Karen. “He freed the slaves.”
“Now, now, the plantation life was a happy life,” said Miss Newell sweetly.
“That’s not true,” said Karen.
“Well, it looks like we have another color-blind student in the class,” said mean Miss Newell. “You’re in fine company because Abraham Lincoln was as color-blind as a bat. Now do you see why his death was a good thing?”
Karen answered, “There’s nothing wrong with my eyesight.”
“Oh, yes there is, sugar,” replied the sickeningly sweet Miss Newell. “You can’t see the difference between your own skin color and a Negro’s skin color. Why, you just love Negroes, you Yankee girl!”
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