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“Here, let me help you with that,” I offered as I caught some of the items before they hit the floor.

“Thanks,” she mumbled as she dug out a twisted metal headband and slipped it on, pulling back her bangs to reveal chubby cheeks and hazel eyes that held something older than fourth grade.

“Where are you girls headed?”

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“I bet you have an amazing mom,” I agreed. This conversation was making me a little nervous. I did not want to tread on dangerous territory so I laid my head back and took out my novel.

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“I think I’ll read for awhile,” I added with a smile and nod toward my book.

“Okay.”

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“I didn’t have any friends this year. No one liked me at my new school.”

My hear fluttered at this announcement. “I am so sorry.”

“They all called me California Girl. They said I thought I was cooler than anyone else because I grew up in California. It wasn’t true. They don’t even know me on the inside.” My heart ached immediately for this emerging young woman. A child so filled with pain that she couldn’t help but let it spill into the laps of strangers on a plane.

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“Some days they would wait for me after school and want me to fight them. I hated it.” She leaned her head to the left and rested it against the window.

“Did you?” asked Middle Seat tearing into a sleeve of Fig Newtons.

Nimetazepam For Sale, “No, my mom said I’m too good for that. But they would call me things like ho, and bitch, and the F word.”

“Oh my goodness!” I gasped. Continuing to be shocked by the revelations of my seat mates, I searched for the right thing to say. “I didn’t even know those words when I was your age.”

“Well, I’ve known the word prostitute since I was four,” Middle Seat stated.

“You have?”

“My mom used that word when she yelled at my dad all the time. When he left, she finally told me what it meant.” She turned to Window Seat and stated plainly, “You are NOT a prostitute. I’ll tell you that much.”

We all nodded our heads in agreement.

“I read a lot. I love books,” the Window Seat said.

“Me, too,” I said.

“I could take ‘em or leave ‘em,” Middle Seat started another puzzle.

“You know,” I said, “Let me tell you a little something about words.” Window Seat raised her defeated brown eyes and looked into mine. “Words are like mirrors. They reflect what is on the inside of the person who chooses them, Nimetazepam For Sale. Not the person they are spoken to.”

Her eyes glistened. She inhaled sharply. “You’re the new girl,” I continued, “They don’t know what’s in your heart. If they did, I bet they would say words like courage, and strength. It’s hard to start your life over in a new town.”

She slowly nodded as she listened.

“Any coward can hide behind ugly, powerful words and pretend that they are mighty. I think your mom is right. You’re too good for that.”

We all sat in silence for a long time. Window Seat looked out the window, Middle Seat opened a bag of M&M’s, and I picked up my book.

“Want a few?” she asked me as she shook the bright yellow bag in front of me. “They have peanuts.”

“Sure.” She poured a few in my outstretched palm.

“You know what I think about those bullies?”

“What?”

“They can go to H-E-Double toothpicks. Do you know what that means?”

“You bet I do.”

Tags: book tour, Bullies, Bullying, Halfway to Each Other, Moments That Matter, mothers and daughters, Susan Pohlman, Traveling for the Book

Traveling for the Book | Susan | September 2, 2010 7:47 pm

8 Comments

By Dana Keller, September 2, 2010 @ 8:10 pm

I love the way you capture moments, Susan. I’ve had so many interesting interactions on airplanes, I’ve always thought I should write a book about them! I don’t stop to write them down, though. Guess I need to start carrying a trusty iPad with me
By Diane, September 2, 2010 @ 9:30 pm

Susan, that story just warmed my heart. Thanks for sharing.
By Susan, September 3, 2010 @ 7:33 am

Thanks, Dana. I have always been intrigued by how much these unexpected interactions in our lives reveal so much about humanity.
By Susan, September 3, 2010 @ 7:34 am

And thank you for stopping by and sharing it with me!
By Lynn, September 3, 2010 @ 1:16 pm

Love it!
By Windy Lynn Harris, September 20, 2010 @ 6:53 am

Fabulous. Just fabulous.
By Nancy Landry, September 23, 2010 @ 6:33 pm

Thank you, Susan. When I hear stories that tug at my heart like that, it makes me wonder if Window Seat’s mom knows how hard it was for her. We all like to think that our kids are shining stars, but we can never know.

When my son and daughter were in first grade, my son was in a sports program after school, so my daughter and I would sit on the grass watching them. Suddenly all the kids from the school’s after care program came rushing out on to the playground laughing and giggling as they headed for the playground. There may have been a couple of “teachers” but they were talking to each other and keeping an eye out for scraped knees or rough play. They didn’t notice the little boy sitting under the tree all by himself. He was hugging his knees and had his head down. My daughter knew him and I had seen him before, so we went over to him and started talking to him. He began to perk up a bit; he was just feeling lonely. I would like to think that we cheered him up a little that day. When my son was done, we had to leave, but I wonder about that little boy’s mom. People rave about that after care program and I wondered if she did, too. When she picked him up that afternoon at five or six, I am sure the “teachers” said he had a good afternoon. I wonder if she had any idea.

The following year, my son and daughter changed schools. It was a school within a school, a group of highly gifted students in their own classrooms in the midst of an urban school whose regular students struggled every day. There wasn’t much interaction between the two groups. My kids made friends within their own group and I helped out in the classroom enough to think that everything was fine. In fifth grade, my son made the junior varsity basketball team and even played in some varsity games with the eighth graders. We were proud of him although it was kind of scary to play away games at other urban schools where the kids looked much older and much tougher.

We knew needed to switch them out of there. I thought we had done it just in time. It wasn’t until two or three years later that my son finally told me how hard that last year had been. If only I had known, I would have switched them sooner.

In your story, I wonder how Window Seat did the next year at school. Your words to her were beautiful. I hope she kept the image of words as mirrors. I know I will.
By Susan, September 24, 2010 @ 7:34 am

Hi Nancy! Thanks for stopping by~
The whole issue of bullying is so heartbreaking and complex. I will never forget that plane ride or those two girls, one escaping into books to ease her pain and the other into food. Here I was thinking that I would “protect” them from the world during that flight, and the world had already seeped into their young souls and caused all sorts of disarray. As adults we must remain hypervigilant and speak for those who sit alone, under trees, knees to chin. From her comments, Window Seat’s mother definitely knew what was going on and was supporting her daughter, but her emotional pain surpassed what a mother could soothe.
Susan