I'm next to this girl, for half a moment. She is 13, or 14 and is in a rush. She is maybe 5 feet tall, and all elbows, knees and feet, a textbook example of the lanky, gangly teenager. She has dark jeans, and a red t-shirt with her school logo on it, an exaggerated pirate that would totally be racist if pirates were a race. I'm standing in a middle school office doorway as she stumble-runs by me and bursts into the nurse's room.
This aggressive pace is not to the receptionist's liking, and she lets the girl know with a sharp command, "Walk!" Appropriately enough the receptionist looks like the type of lady who would be yelling at kids to walk. She has firmly pressed lips looking white from loss of blood flow, a severe precise hair cut, and an oxford collared shirt buttoned entirely up, with a goddamn cameo securely fastened at the top button. The girl looks panicked, more than is usual even for a chastised kid. She hovers in the nurse's door, while I feel more and more awkward. More scary witch secretary talk, "The nurse isn't here... what do you need." It isn't really questioning.
The girl dances, in and out of the door, looking worriedly at me of all things. I do my best to become an unnoticeable piece of office furniture. Finally, she breaks out of her loop and scurries towards the nurse. I do my best to eavesdrop, and wind up feeling creepier than I ever have when I overhear the word "...pad...."
The child/witch relationship transforms immediately. I watch them go from a sinister authority figure and tiny subordinate child thing to beloved confederates. They both smile in tandem, and a hug is hugged.
Both, of course, turn to glare at my creepy self, but I have already turned around. I feel odd, I've witnessed a coming of age moment and it was beautiful, but if I ever tell anyone I saw it they will think I am a total goon.
Better go tell the internet.
This aggressive pace is not to the receptionist's liking, and she lets the girl know with a sharp command, "Walk!" Appropriately enough the receptionist looks like the type of lady who would be yelling at kids to walk. She has firmly pressed lips looking white from loss of blood flow, a severe precise hair cut, and an oxford collared shirt buttoned entirely up, with a goddamn cameo securely fastened at the top button. The girl looks panicked, more than is usual even for a chastised kid. She hovers in the nurse's door, while I feel more and more awkward. More scary witch secretary talk, "The nurse isn't here... what do you need." It isn't really questioning.
The girl dances, in and out of the door, looking worriedly at me of all things. I do my best to become an unnoticeable piece of office furniture. Finally, she breaks out of her loop and scurries towards the nurse. I do my best to eavesdrop, and wind up feeling creepier than I ever have when I overhear the word "...pad...."
The child/witch relationship transforms immediately. I watch them go from a sinister authority figure and tiny subordinate child thing to beloved confederates. They both smile in tandem, and a hug is hugged.
Both, of course, turn to glare at my creepy self, but I have already turned around. I feel odd, I've witnessed a coming of age moment and it was beautiful, but if I ever tell anyone I saw it they will think I am a total goon.
Better go tell the internet.
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