My mom took a picture of me with my sign before I left for school that morning, telling me that it was so she could show ‘my dark angel when he arrived.’
She was always going on about this dark angel that was supposed to show up, and it always made me feel safe.
Like someone was looking out for me, even when it felt like I was all alone. I liked the idea that I had a guardian angel of some kind, and I couldn’t wait to see what he thought of my flower sign when he finally did come to meet me for real.
After some pictures and some whispered words of encouragement from my mom, I started my journey to school.
I made sure to get to class early so I could keep my flower sign covered up with the tarp my father had lent me. I didn’t want anyone to see it before the grand reveal.
I waited anxiously for my turn as Mrs. Rodrigues seemed to call every other student in the class before me.
The longer I waited, the more excited I got. Idefinitelyhad the most impressive project. Most kids had brought in an action figure or a stuffed animal to illustrate their dreams for their futures. Kenny Samuels brought in his dad’s old football helmet, telling everyone he was going to be an NFL star one day, and it took everything in me not to roll my eyes.
Finally,it was my turn. As soon as Mrs. Rodrigues called my name, the class started whispering and snickering to each other. Despite the burn in my cheeks, I forced myself to ignore them and lugged up my flower sign, making sure it stayed covered until I was at the front of the class.
Once I had it propped up and ready, I whipped away the tarp and beamed at my work. It looked just as perfect as it had that morning in the kitchen, and I reveled in the silence that fell over the class as they took in the flower sign.
Turning to face them with a big smile, I opened my mouth to tell them all about my plans to become a florist when Kenny suddenly burst out laughing.
I frowned.
Several of my classmates actually looked shocked and impressed with my flower sign, but Kenny’s reaction seemed to have stolen the attention of the class.
Everyone looked away from my work to that big dumb bully as he wiped tears from his eyes.
“What’s so funny!?” I snapped, and Kenny snorted.
“Nothing, Fairview. I just didn’t know you were both an undertaker and afaggot.”
The class gasped, and my frown deepened.
Faggot?
I wasn’t familiar with that word, but the sick, twisting feeling in my gut told me it wasn’t a nice thing to say about someone.
“Mr. Samuels! That kind of language is not tolerated in this class!” Mrs. Rodrigues sounded absolutely appalled.
All the other kids were joining Kenny now, jeering and calling me that word that made my tummy churn. One kid even threw an eraser at me, and I barely had time to duck out of the way.
It hit my flower sign, and panic tore through me. Not wanting the increasingly rowdy class to ruin all my hard work, I scrambled to pick up my sign and get it back to my desk.
However, as I rushed through the aisles, Clarissa stuck out her foot and tripped me. I went downhard.
Horror rolled through me as I fell in what felt like slow motion. My body crushed the sign beneath me, and Ifelt itas the heavy board crushed all my flowers into smithereens.
There was a roaring in my ears, and I shakily got to my feet, pulling the board back to assess the damage.
The sign was completely ruined.
Hoursof hard work and meticulous arranging were gone in seconds. Laughter and more jeers bubbled up around me, and tears burned behind my eyes as Mrs. Rodriguez tried to get the class back under control.
Undertaker!
Faggot!
Freak!
I sniffed as I lost the battle against my tears, and I wiped my nose with the back of my wrist just as the bell rang.
