73. Ryan Fairview
8 years old
M rs. Rodriguez had told us all to bring in something that showed the class what we wanted to do when we grew up.
Everyone immediately turned in their seats to stare at me. They all knew I lived in a funeral home, and I braced myself for all the mean things I knew they were going to say to me about the project.
“Mrs. Rodriguez! Ryan shouldn’t be allowed to come to show and tell this week. He’ll probably bring in a dead body!” Kenny Samuels exclaimed loudly. His posse of mean friends sniggered as I sunk lower in my seat, hating the way everyone’s eyes were burning into me.
“Ewww!” Clarissa Daniels squealed. “I don’t want to see a dead body! Mrs. Rodriguez! Tell Ryan he can’t bring in a body!”
My face was burning, and it was taking everything in me not to call Clarissa a big dumb, stupid head. Only an idiot would think you could bring a dead body in for show and tell. There were all kinds of rules around taking care of the deceased, and you certainly couldn’t take someone’s loved one to school.
I didn’t even want to be a mortician when I grew up. I wanted to be a florist. But everyone always assumed I would take on the family business the second they met me. It was a curse that had followed me around since kindergarten, when my dad had come to school for career day and told everyone that we lived in a funeral home.
Ever since then, my sister, Theo, and I had a pretty tough time with the other kids. Theo handled it better than I did. When we were at recess, sometimes she even beat up the bullies that picked on me, even though it got her in a lot of trouble with Father Samwell, our school principal.
I would show them. I would come to show and tell with some of the most amazing flower arrangements they’ve ever seen and tell them all about my plans to become a florist.
Then they would all feel stupid and forget all about the dead body jokes.
Everyone was always so impressed with my arrangements when I helped make them for funeral services. One lady even told me once the vase I put together was so amazing she thought a grown-up had done it.
Despite the jeers from the class and Mrs. Rodriguez’s pitiful attempt to get everyone to calm down, I felt myself smile at the memory.
Yeah. I was going to blow everyone away and have the best show-and-tell presentation anyone had ever seen.
It was going to be perfect.
I would make sure of it.
It took all week and only a little help from my mom, but by the time show and tell day came around, I was ready.
Getting my project to school was the hardest part. I didn’t want to risk taking it with me on the bus, so I carried the four-foot by two-foot plywood board for the entire twenty-minute walk to school all by myself.
It was heavy and it was hot out, but it was so worth it.
My project turned out amazing.
Mom helped me find the plywood at a home hardware store, but I had collected all the flowers from her garden and arranged them by myself.
The board was now covered with peach, white, and pink flowers, and the words ‘Flowers by Ryan’ were made out of perfectly manicured green moss.
It took forever to get the moss to line up perfectly with the stencils my mom bought me from the craft store, but the final result was amazing.
Dad said it looked like a real professional made the sign, and I had never been more proud of anything in my life.
My mom took a picture of me with my sign before I left for school that morning, telling me that it was so she could show ‘my dark angel when he arrived.’
She was always going on about this dark angel that was supposed to show up, and it always made me feel safe.
Like someone was looking out for me, even when it felt like I was all alone. I liked the idea that I had a guardian angel of some kind, and I couldn’t wait to see what he thought of my flower sign when he finally did come to meet me for real.
After some pictures and some whispered words of encouragement from my mom, I started my journey to school.
I made sure to get to class early so I could keep my flower sign covered up with the tarp my father had lent me. I didn’t want anyone to see it before the grand reveal.
I waited anxiously for my turn as Mrs. Rodrigues seemed to call every other student in the class before me.
The longer I waited, the more excited I got. I definitely had the most impressive project. Most kids had brought in an action figure or a stuffed animal to illustrate their dreams for their futures. Kenny Samuels brought in his dad’s old football helmet, telling everyone he was going to be an NFL star one day, and it took everything in me not to roll my eyes.
Finally, it was my turn. As soon as Mrs. Rodrigues called my name, the class started whispering and snickering to each other. Despite the burn in my cheeks, I forced myself to ignore them and lugged up my flower sign, making sure it stayed covered until I was at the front of the class.
Once I had it propped up and ready, I whipped away the tarp and beamed at my work. It looked just as perfect as it had that morning in the kitchen, and I reveled in the silence that fell over the class as they took in the flower sign.
Turning to face them with a big smile, I opened my mouth to tell them all about my plans to become a florist when Kenny suddenly burst out laughing.
I frowned.
Several of my classmates actually looked shocked and impressed with my flower sign, but Kenny’s reaction seemed to have stolen the attention of the class.
Everyone looked away from my work to that big dumb bully as he wiped tears from his eyes.
“What’s so funny!?” I snapped, and Kenny snorted.
“Nothing, Fairview. I just didn’t know you were both an undertaker and a faggot.”
The class gasped, and my frown deepened.
Faggot?
I wasn’t familiar with that word, but the sick, twisting feeling in my gut told me it wasn’t a nice thing to say about someone.
“Mr. Samuels! That kind of language is not tolerated in this class!” Mrs. Rodrigues sounded absolutely appalled.
All the other kids were joining Kenny now, jeering and calling me that word that made my tummy churn. One kid even threw an eraser at me, and I barely had time to duck out of the way.
It hit my flower sign, and panic tore through me. Not wanting the increasingly rowdy class to ruin all my hard work, I scrambled to pick up my sign and get it back to my desk.
However, as I rushed through the aisles, Clarissa stuck out her foot and tripped me. I went down hard.
Horror rolled through me as I fell in what felt like slow motion. My body crushed the sign beneath me, and I felt it as the heavy board crushed all my flowers into smithereens.
There was a roaring in my ears, and I shakily got to my feet, pulling the board back to assess the damage.
The sign was completely ruined.
Hours of hard work and meticulous arranging were gone in seconds. Laughter and more jeers bubbled up around me, and tears burned behind my eyes as Mrs. Rodriguez tried to get the class back under control.
Undertaker!
Faggot!
Freak!
I sniffed as I lost the battle against my tears, and I wiped my nose with the back of my wrist just as the bell rang.
Not waiting for Mrs. Rodriguez to dismiss us, I leapt to my feet, leaving my destroyed sign on the ground before sprinting away.
The laughter seemed to follow me as I rushed down the hall toward the bathroom, fully crying now.
I had thought for sure that if I worked hard enough, they would finally see the real me, and I would be able to escape the horrible labels they had slapped on me since I first came to this stupid school.
Why did it feel like everyone hated me so much? How was I supposed to keep coming back to this place every day with literally no one in my corner? My mom always told me that my dark angel was coming to save me, but he never did.
No one ever came to save me from the bullies.
There was no guardian angel.
Only mean children with hurtful words, crushed flowers, and broken dreams.