Page 25 of Property of Scythe
“If I’m a good girl and I don’t cry, can I have a sucker?”
I’ve got a plastic jar that sits on my desk. It’s for prizes and rewarding the kids for good behavior, being helpful, or assisting a classmate in need. They love looking at it each day to see if I’ve added anything new. I bought suckers from Mystic Emporium and dumped some of them inside this morning. Mila must have noticed.
“You sure can. Sit still for me. Okay?”
She’s been swinging her legs as I kneel in front of her, but now she stops. “Okay.”
I wipe away the excess blood first and then use an alcohol pad to clean the area.
Mila winces. “Ouch.”
“Sorry, sweetie. I’m almost done.”
The injury isn’t bad. It’s just a minor abrasion and will heal quickly. I apply antibacterial ointment and cover the wound with a bandage.
Mila gasps. “It’s Elsa!”
“It is! I thought you’d like it.”
Mila jumps off her chair and throws her arms around my neck. “I love you, Ms. Bishop.”
Gah. My heart. “Me too.” I really do care about her. It’s only the second week of school, but she’s my favorite kid in theclass. I try not to make that obvious, but since no one else is around, I’m not worried anyone will overhear.
“I wish you were my Mommy.”
I freeze.
“I don’t have one. She left when I was a baby.”
Oh, God. This poor little girl. Who would abandon her like that?
“I’m sorry, Mila. She’s the one who’s missing out because you’re a special girl.”
Mila steps back, blinking at me. “You think I’m special?”
“Yes. And smart, pretty, and a big helper.”
Her smile is wide as Mila swipes under her eyes, removing any trace of her tears. “Can I have a sucker now?”
“Of course.” I open the lid and let her pick.
Mila chooses a red one and walks to her desk, sitting down as she unwraps it. I organize papers on my desk and act busy, but my thoughts are replaying our conversation, wondering what happened and why Mila’s mother left.
My heart aches for her. She’s so young. A little girl needs a mother. I can’t imagine growing up without mine.
Once the rest of the kids return from recess, I get them started on a new project, watching as they use scissors, glue, and crayons to ensure no one has any accidents. At seven and eight years old, most of them don’t have issues since they practiced in Kindergarten and first grade.
The afternoon flies by, and soon parents begin arriving to pick up their kids. The Vice Principal, Mr. Hatfield, takes the bus riders so the teachers can remain in the classrooms. I like this arrangement since it makes me available to parents in case there are any questions or issues. So far, I’ve had none.
But I do have to talk to Scythe. I know the instant he arrives. There’s just something about his presence. It’s commanding, powerful, and immediately pulls my attention from whateverI’m doing. I’m attuned to him in a way I don’t understand. It’s more than attraction, but I’ve yet to figure it out.
He nods in greeting and walks toward Mila, watching her play. I need to get his attention, so I finish my conversation with another parent and then join him.
“Hi, Scythe.”
“Hey, Lottie. Did Mila have a good day?”
“She scraped her knee at recess, but I cleaned it and gave her an Elsa band-aid. She’ll probably tell you about it.”
