'Petunia'

It all started on a Monday morning. The sun had just risen against blue skies. It was bright yellow, just like a lemon, and looked very cheerful. Fields of grass bathed in the golden sunlight. After raining for two days straight, this was a nice way to start a Monday. We all know how Mondays can get.
         I was sitting in my desk while others talked about the weekend. The ‘Cats’ as we called them, were in the back of the small classroom, whispering and giggling as usual. Cathy, Anna, Tiffany, and Susan were the four top girls of the sixth grade. You didn’t want to get on the wrong side of them, but I think getting on their good side is just as bad.
         Mr. Limbrig strode in with his hands behind his back. He cleared his throat. We all snapped to attention, knowing he was about to announce something important.
         “We have a new student today. I hope you welcome her warmly, for she will be in this class for the rest of the year. Her name is Petunia.”
         Now this was news! We had all been together since kindergarten. A couple new students in second or third grade, but basically everyone knew everyone. I waited anxiously for the new student to make her entrance. And when she did, no one was expecting such a sight.
         A tall girl with pigtails skipped into the class with a big grin. She had red hair like a ripe tomato, and mismatched socks. One was blue striped and green starred, and the other was purple polka dotted. She had on what looked like a homemade dress, and enormous shoes. And boy did she smile! She seemed completely oblivious of the fact she looked ridiculous, standing up there in that bizarre camouflage.
         Mr. Limbrig searched for a spot for the new student to sit. I, too, looked around, and feverishly noticed the only open desk was diagonal from my seat.
         “Why don’t you sit over by Alvin? Alvin, could you wave so she knows who I’m talking about?” He asked in a way that was really not a question.
         I stuck my arm up stiffly in the air, feeling rather silly. She grinned another, bigger  (if that seems possible) grin at me. I smiled back, trying to be friendly.
         Glancing around, I noticed everyone was so mesmerized by this stranger, that no one-not even the cats-had begun to laugh.
         Petunia galloped over to her new desk, and sat down with a thud that shook the floor.
         “Earthquake!” Sneezed Cathy, causing everyone to break the spell of silence and burst into giggles. Mr. Limbrig looked around confusedly, but said nothing. Instead he ran his long fingers through a lump of greasy hair and started the lesson.
Math was the first subject of the day. I hate it. I refer to this class as my bedtime. I grabbed the sweater dangling over the top of my chair and prepared myself for a one-hour hibernation. Fifteen minutes later we were moving from decimals to fractions. Gross.
“Now, if you switch the denominators to six, what should your answer be?” Asked Mr. Limbrig, looking around for raised hands, which was no luck. I guess everyone else had bedtime in math, too.
“Petunia, do you know?”
“Of course I know!” She exclaimed, looking offended.
Mr. Limbrig waited for the answer. When none came, he asked her again, “Could you tell me what the answer is?”
“Well, I suppose I could.”
Again he waited.
He cleared his throat. “What is the answer?”
“Why, I’m surprised at you! You’re the teacher, you should know!” At this Petunia stood up, ready to preach. “Are you asking me because you simply do not know how to do this equation? Well, then I very well think being a teacher is not a good job for you, sir. Asking me to tell you the answer is like asking me how to do a problem on a test. And telling you would be cheating, something I’m sure they’re supposed to teach us not to do in school.” She sat down, looking quite pleased.
We were all in shock, including Mr. Limbrig. He was the quickest to recover though, and tried again.
“But didn’t you say you could tell me what the answer is?”
“Oh yes, I certainly could. But that does not mean that I will,” The brave girl retorted.
The bell rang. No one got up.
“You’re all dismissed.” He shook his head like he was having one of those days.


At lunch I noticed Petunia sitting alone. Hesitating a few moments, I finally decided to go sit by her.
She looked up at me, and smiled one of her smiles. “You’re Alvin.” Petunia stated.
Yup. I believe I already knew that.
I examined her lunch out of the corner of my eye. She had a ham sandwich with peanut butter and jelly, two pickles, and a pancake covered in thick chocolate frosting.
“Want some?” She said to me, not bothering to swallow before opening her mouth, giving me a clear display of frosting and ham. I quickly shook my head.
“Okay,” Petunia responded happily. A small bit of pancake flew from her mouth, landing on my new green sweater.
“Are you going to eat that?” She asked politely.
I shook my head again. To my horror, Petunia picked off the crumb, and stuffed it into her overloaded mouth.
“So… um. How do you like school so far?” I was trying to make conversation.
“I hate it,” She said with no emotion.
“Oh. Ditto,” I responded nervously.
Well, I didn’t have to worry about conversation. Petunia’s mouth wouldn’t shut. She talked about her travels around the world, her father being a king of some sort, and things that no one could possibly believe. I loved it. Nothing this interesting had happened to Greenfield since Mrs. Ritian’s volcano science experiment.
I started talking too. It was easy to talk to Petunia, because she listened. Most kids ignore me, thinking what I have to say is of no importance. But she listened. She listened like there was no one else in the cafeteria, like I was the center of the stage.

After school, I trotted up to Petunia to see if she could come over to my house. My mom had just made her famous double chocolate chip cookies, and I wanted her to try one. Unfortunately, the Cats were crowding around her, laughing. Oh no.
“Those stockings really match your eye color,” Cathy said sarcastically.
The girls burst out in a fit of giggles. I was about to come to her rescue, but like always, Petunia surprised me.
“Thank you very much.”
The girls were taken aback, but that didn’t stop Cathy.
“Your hair is a lovely color too. I almost ate it this morning. I thought it was a tomato,” She tried again.
“Oh, let me tell you! You’re not the first one. Once when I was in Madagascar, the islanders wanted to chop off my hair, cook it, and have a wonderful feast! I of course had other plans, and escaped with my father aboard our canoe,” Petunia explained.
         “Uh huh.” Cathy said, almost seeming fearful. “Well, bye.” The cats walked quickly away, not looking back at the stranger.
         I was completely astounded! Instead of trying to think of worse things to top Cathy’s comments, Petunia had been so nice; she had won the battle anyway.
         “So, Petunia, want to come over for some cookies?”
         “Now, that would be lovely.”
         I smiled. “Great!”
         “Oh, and Alvin?”
         “Yeah?”
         “Don’t call me Petunia. Call me Pippi. Pippi Longstocking.”