BY CONNIE COOK
Copyright is held by the author.
“SHOW AND TELL day at school.”
Mother smiles at me. “What will you bring?”
“I don’t know.”
She tilts her head. “What have the other kids brought so far? What’s popular in grade four?”
“Electronic games. A hockey stick. Ballet slippers. A homemade candy machine. That was the best one so far.”
“Is it about what you’d like to show people, or about what other kids want to see?”
I’m nine years old and not the most popular boy in fourth grade. Most of the boys don’t like me. I don’t like the same things they do. The girls like me sometimes. Do I want to talk about something that makes me happy or do I want to fit in? I can’t decide which.
On the day I’m to present something I search my bedroom.
Mother is already outside. “Rowan, time for school! I’m starting the car! Hurry!”
I grab the hairbrush and the yellow and green little pony – the one whose mane is silky smooth from all my hours of brushing. Katerina.
“That?” Mother frowns when I get in the car. “Not the dragon kite or the skateboard Uncle Steve gave you?”
I shake my head. “This is what I want to show and tell people about.”
Her mouth thins into a straight line. When we get to the school she cruises by and heads out of town.
“Where are we going? You passed the school.”
“Let’s take a day off. Let’s go to the beach one last day before the snow flies. We’ll get french fries for lunch and skip rocks on the water.”
“I’ll lose my Show and Tell day. If you’re away on your day to present, you miss your turn. I wanted everyone to see Katarina.”
“Those kids in your class wouldn’t know a good pony presentation if they fell over one. You and I know she’s the best. You can present to me. I’ll be the grade four class.”
“It’s not the same.”
I shrug. Maybe it’s OK though. Something tells me James and Kiernan wouldn’t like Katerina. And the girls are funny about that stuff. If the boys make fun of something, they pretend they don’t know me. All in all, the Katerina presentation may not have gone well, like the sparkly nail polish I wore one day. The boys laughed and the girls said it was the wrong colour – no one wears the sparkly stuff anymore.
At the seashore we get out of the car. Mother sits on a big rock. Waves lap at the shoreline. The air is fresh. Seagulls fly overhead and a large turtle rests on the grass.
Mother smiles at me. “I’m ready.” She folds her hands in her lap. “And what did you bring for Show and Tell today, Rowan?”
I hold the little pony in one hand and with the other I slowly run the brush through her silky mane.
I begin. “Katerina. My favourite.”
***
Connie Cook is a semi-retired social worker who now works on a casual basis at a library. She has been writing forever. She has a BA as well as a Certificate in Creative Writing from the University of Toronto. Connie has had stories published in anthologies, wrote a column for a weekly newspaper, and has won awards in Literary Lapses and the Alice Munro Festival of the Short Story. She has 3 grown children and 5 grandchildren.
Lovely sensitive story of a really understanding mom….my heart hurts for what lies ahead for this sweet boy …thank you for reminder to be accepting …well done …we need our compassion centres to be tweaked with fine writing like this piece
Connie! You put me right in the moment, and your story grabbed my attention from the first word till the very last. Thank you for a great read.
Thank you, Connie, for expressing my thoughts so clearly and tenderly. I know a boy like Rowan. He lives across the road from me. His nail polish is a bit chipped and worn these days. He is fourteen now and having a rough go of it. My heart goes out to Rowan and to his mom, as it does to the boy across the road. I hope they both make it.