Nausea Induced Prayer
I'm in the fifth grade this year and my classroom is in a small dark box, filled with pale antlike children and one agonizingly slow teacher. There's a black bubble shaped window in the box that looks out on to a dead bush and distorts it's tall thin shape into a short flat blob. I spend most of my day staring out at that pathetic bush, except for one hour between 10:30 and 11:30 when me and three other kids walk out of our box, past the bubble shaped window that reverses on the outside and distorts my short fat body into a tall thin shape, past the bathrooms that smell like the notorious vomiter has been in there again, and into a different box. This one is identical to mine except there's no bubble shaped window and the kids in this class are all a year older than me.
I was placed in sixth grade English because of some test I don't remember taking. I guess it was honorable because when my teacher announced it at the beginning of the year she had the four of us who were chosen walk to the front of the class and stand there. She explained to the rest of the class that we had excelled on the English placement test. The only English test I could remember was one that we took last year in fourth grade. It required that we wrote about something that we thought was memorable. At first I made up a story that I saw a guy who was pumped full of drugs get pumped full of bullets from 10 machine guns by 10 cops and he still didn't fall to the ground, until one of the cops ran over and gave him a solid kick in the head. The funny thing is , I though that whoever graded the thing would think I was either lying or nuts. I started over on the other side with ten minutes remaining. I made up a more stupid but believable story, about a trip to my grandma's house.
When the teacher called out my name, as one of the chosen, the class gave me a halfhearted clap and I turned a shade of rose. It made me feel like somehow I must have cheated and everyone knew it. Mostly because I'm one of the stupidest kids in class, besides these two boys that live in the sticks, have lice in their hair, chase me at recess and chew tobacco at school that they accidentally swallow and then puke back up leaving red gunk all over the carpet. I remember wishing Seth was there. He doesn't think Im a stupid cheater. He's a new kid at my school. He has short hair and really long bangs. I call them skater bangs because he wears the same shirt everyday that says skate or die. Everyone makes fun of him, but I like him. He was the only kid that didn't laugh at me when we learned the state capitals. That day the teacher called out my name and gave me the name of a state. I was supposed to give the correct Capital before anyone could go out for recess. I only knew Richmond Virginia because I have a friend named Virginia who lives in a huge pink house. All of the kids were moaning and groaning after the teacher had gone through about 20 of the 52 states, and I made no sign of giving the correct answer. I was concentrating on Virginia, Virginia, big house, expensive rich, rich, Virginia, Richmond, Virginia. By the time she said Virginia I could barely squeeze the word Richmond out from between my lips. When it finally came all of the kids cheered and ran outside for recess. I dragged myself out with them and the only kid that wasn't snickering at me was Seth.
He would have been proud of me the day I stood in front of class with the smart kids. At least someone would have been because I'm not. I hate it in that English class. The first day I walked in there I could feel all of the kids staring at my shoelaces because everytime I took a step they would flop around and make a loud ticking noise against my plastic shoes. I would have looked OK, maybe even good if it hadn't been for those stupid laces. I walked carefully to the back of class trying to control the tick, tick bulging white eyes tick, tick, tick giant grins tick, tick tick tick, muffled laughter, the tick, tick. I sat down in the last empty seat sandwiched between a bushy blond haired kid and Hanna Banna, the most popular girl in the sixth grade, maybe even the whole school. One time I overheard two girls saying that she had used Seth as a pillow durring a movie. I guess I couldn't blame him because she's perfect in every way. I wondered if she ever blew her nose or picked at a scab. I tried to keep constant watch over her out of the corner of my eye, hoping to catch her in the act, but Bushy Blonde kept leaning forward and looking at her. She would quickly swing her head around and catch him, then they would both giggle and shake back into their chairs. I felt like they were looking and laughing at me. They stopped jiggling around once the teachers mouth started to move.
That's all it ever did, I never heard one word come out. She was like a grinning silent mime without the white face paint to hide her ugliness. The kids were paralized as they watched her lips twist and tighten to exaggerate the words she was trying to form on them. I too was paralized except for my hand which i was running wildly through my long hair. My fingers kept getting stuck in the snarled mess at the ends. Each time they were trapped I would yank them out hard pulling my hair out with them. Only my eyes moved as I watched the broken strands slowly drift down and make a nest of hair on the floor. This activity made me dizzy and I found myself wishing for a bubble shaped window in the box. I looked around at the four walls with no windows, not even a crack, and my body reacted like it did when I saw my puppy get smashed and dragged by a giant moving van. My hands wee trembling, my heart racing, my breathing difficult and nothing seemed real. When the nausea set in I walked to the drinking fountain in the back of the room hoping to relieve myself with a sip of water.
On my way back to my desk, I suddenly remembered my hamster, who was faster than a cockroach caught in the light and had run away. A few days after his disappearance, I went to my mom in tears and told her I had looked everywhere for him. I had even propped up a box with food under it that would fall down and trap him if he happened to venture inside. She said, very simply and seriously, " If you don't know who to turn to you can always ask God for help."
I sat back at my desk still sweating, twitching and overcome with nausea and for the first time since my hamster's strange dissapearance, my moms advice struck me like a stray soccer ball in the face. I prayed like a born again Christian. "Dear Heavenly Father who art in Heaven," I silently started, "Pless bless me so that I don't puke in class today," and finished with, "I say these things in the name of Jesus Christ amen." For a few minutes it seemed to be working until a wave of nausea rushed over me. I started my prayer over, only it was shorter this time. "Dear Heavenly Father, please don't let me puke, in the name of Jesus Christ Amen." The time between each prayer shrank until I was just repeating it over and over again until I had it down to a science. "Dear Heavenly Father, please don't let me puke, amen." I believed that God would never let me puke during a prayer, so I continued, not even allowing myself the time it took to swallow. This dried my throat out like wood without Pledge and I was forced to jump up and dash to the sink for just enough water to coat my throat. I passed a kid who broke through the silence and said, "Hey, you're water happy, you know that?" I almost stopped to ponder what he meant by this, but it's irreverant to pray while you're walking so I hurried back to my seat. For the second half of class I felt like a prisoner awaiting execution. I prayed insistently and watched each second on the clock tick by. The minute hand had touched the thirty and the teacher finally uttered her first four audible words. "You're excused for recess." Bewildered I walked out with a rush of kids around me. I thought to myself, what happened today, nothing could get that bad.
But it got worse. My school days were much like the first for about five months. Up until three days ago, when as usual I sat down in class between the laughter of Bushy Blonde and Hanna Banna for another hour long procession of nausea induced prayer. About halfway through class and halfway through a prayer, without warning, I dry heaved. Hanna Banna looked over at me to see what disgusting thing I was doing now and I lost all control over my body. I released five months of pent up vomit in her face and all down her dress. The last thing I remember was a wide mouth and loud shreek. I woke up in the nurse's office where my mom was waiting to escort me home.
Upon waking up this morning I knew I had worn out my excuse for being too sick to attend school, even though it has only been three days since I put up quite a show in the classroom. With claims of a severe headache, I pleaded with my mom to alow me one more day at home, feeling like certain death inevitably awaited me at the classroom door. Where later this morning I somehow ended up and was greeted not by certain death, but by a suddenly warm and friendly teacher who announced, "Well look who it is, we thought you were never coming back!" To my surprise, besides this little outburst, everything was exactly the same; except for one thing, not even Seth would look at me.
Email: villavillacola@mindspring.com
