She sat there, her knee propped up on the edge of her chair, her skirt pulled back so she could see every tiny pore, scrape and scar. Recently cut hair not a problem since it was too short to get in her way. Her eight year old eyes lost in a reverie so deep and so intense that she did not notice the pair of silk stockinged legs to her left.
The teacher stared down at this odd little child who had just cut her long curls off in favor of a pixie cut and whose mother was so distraught she came to school to find out if something had happened there. Miss Miller had only been teaching third grade for four years, but this one had been the biggest challenge so far. Three children in one row, who challenged every resource she had. She was beginning to wonder if there was something about this part of the room, but of course that was ridiculous. It must be something to do with last names starting with P. Perhaps they were all sent here to drive her insane.
Tapping the little girl sharply on her short fly away curls got no response, so she rapped harder and two big eyes looked up at her. Glaring down, she simply waited, saying nothing.
“Do you think there are universes inside of me? I mean maybe I am only an atom in some huge giant’s knee and he can’t see me either.”
Rolling her eyes, the teacher glanced over at the pictures of the solar system each child had made. They were neatly pinned to the bulletin board, a collection of elliptical circles with little colored balls glued to each one.
“I think you should put your legs under your desk and get out your reading book.”
“But maybe our solar system is only a big atom.” Began the girl.
“And maybe you would like to stay after school and make up for all this time you are wasting.”
In the trash that day was a tissue, crumpled and crushed, damp with tears carrying thoughts that didn't fit inside a teacher's head.
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