My Cardboard Balcony

Frank's Face by Belinda Roddie Frank's face was covered in a sticky paste from the arts and crafts project that Mrs. Grace had assigned the six-year-olds that day. He tried to wipe it off with a towel, but the towel stuck hard to his chin and he cried long and hard until his friend Sally had the idea of using water. As he cleaned up the souring residue of paint and silly glue, Sally sat with him and passed him a jar of blue. She said, "You can make an ocean so you can remember how water fixes everything." And how Frank wished it really did.

The verbal assaults were only the beginning of the barrage of hate that she and I faced walking down the corridors where the military gray lockers waited unyielding with closed metal lips. The words were typical, more dangerous due to the laces of tone than the actual constructs of speech. I had certainly heard the derogatory terms before. But it was the way they were said that was more malicious and more frightening. I never thought people could hate us this much.