Crayons.

A short story by Jemima Moore

Melissa chose a red crayon for her house and it was simple and nice with a door and a window and a roof. The crayon scraped the paper and made my heart shiver a little bit, almost like my stomach when I go up and down and up and down on a swing. I had already finished my family drawing – I drew my little brother Nathan, my mummy and daddy, and my dog Benji. Benji is the most important one, so I drew him the biggest. I also drew myself and wrote ‘Crissy’. Mum says I’m smart for a seven-year-old.

Melissa drew some flowers next, right next to her simple and nice house. Ms McKenzie said I could stay at the art table and watch Melissa finish her drawing since she was a bit slow. I don’t think she’s as smart as me. The flowers were red too and I almost told her to choose another colour, but my mummy taught me about ‘respect’ – so I didn’t. The flowers reminded me of the ones in the school garden – happy but not too excited. She stopped for eight seconds (I’m a good counter) to look at the flowers and the nice house. Then she drew two circles and a line coming from each and four lines coming from those lines. Red again? They were both the size of the house and rested on top of the flowers like bees. I like bees because Nathan stepped on one once and his foot went big and red and ouchy and he cried and I laughed. That’s when mummy taught me about respect.

Melissa drew an arrow and pointed it at one bunch of lines and wrote ‘mum’. She drew another arrow and pointed it at the other bunch and wrote ‘dad’. She looked at the picture (for seventeen seconds) and then rubbed out the mum with her hand. It was very smudgy (you can never really rub out crayon) so she chose another, darker colour to draw over the red smudge patch. A dark purple. I think Melissa really likes this colour because she always comes to school with it drawn on her legs. She must get bored at home. She redrew the mum but this time she was about half the height of the house with tiny legs and tiny arms. I saw Melissa’s mum once at the parent-teacher interview day. She is very tall and very skinny. Why did Melissa think she was small? Maybe she shrunk. That’s what my grandma did before she died three years ago. Benji was grandma’s dog and I think he’s shrunk too.

Melissa chose blue for the sky. I like blue, especially because it wasn’t red, so when it snapped in half before she had finished the sky I almost cried. I looked up at Melissa and she had baby tears in her eyes, like someone had stepped on her toes. My mummy said that if someone is sad always offer them something that they might like. I asked if she wanted me to get her sharpener. Okay, she said, without looking up at me. My big shoes made a scrapey sound on the ground as I walked to her desk. Her sharpener was in a see-through pencil case. Pulling it out I noticed there was no metal shiny bit. I was confused. I walked to my desk and got my sharpener instead. I walked back to Melissa at the art table (scrape, scrape, scrape) and handed her my sharpener and told her that hers was no good because there was no metal shiny bit. I think my mum took it out. Oh. I said.

After we had finished art it was morning break. Melissa shared her morning break snack with me because she was happy that I let her use my sharpener. She didn’t smile (she never really does) but I knew she was happy. She had a crispy cracker and some juicy grapes. I ate most of the grapes and she said it was okay because she wasn’t very hungry. I said okay. I pointed at the dark purple and asked her why she drew crayon on her legs. She said she didn’t. Oh. It must have been pen.

Melissa didn’t come to school the next day (Tuesday, I think). All the family drawings were hanging up on a long string that went across the windows. Melissa’s was near the end and mine was near the middle. I think Ms McKenzie liked mine better. It’s probably good that Melissa wasn’t there because she may have been sad that hers wasn’t in the middle like mine. I think I know what that feeling is. I got a scooter for my birthday this year (fourth of May), and Nathan cried. I asked mummy why he was crying, and mummy said he was ‘jealous’ of my gift. It seemed silly to me. I didn’t really want to put Nathan in my family drawing because he is silly, but I thought maybe when he gets to my age he will be smart so that’s why we are the same height in the drawing even though outside of the family drawing the top of his head reaches my armpit. So, I think that Melissa would have felt the same ‘jealous’ way if she saw that her crayon drawing was near the end of the string and saw mine in the middle. I was sad for her but happy for me.

On Wednesday Melissa didn’t come to school. I looked at the crayon drawings and saw mine in the middle still. I was happy. I looked at Melissa’s, or, the space where it had been. It wasn’t there! It must have been moved. My eyes followed the string, window to window, but I couldn’t see any red house and red flowers and red dad and small, purple mum. I sat down, a bit confused, but I was still happy because my drawing was still close to the middle.

Ms McKenzie wasn’t there that day. We had a relief teacher called Ms Ramirez. She said we could call her Ms R. She also said that Ms McKenzie was sick. But she said it like Ms McKenzie is uuuuhhh sick. I may be only seven and I know that I am not the oldest person in the world (my grandma was but now I think my dad is), but I didn’t think Ms McKenzie was sick. I know it’s bad not to believe a teacher because they are good at everything and know everything and never lie but this time I think Ms R was. She seemed very nice though, so during morning break I went up to her. Melissa wasn’t there so I didn’t feel bad about not sharing her morning break snack. Ms R was sitting at Ms McKenzie’s desk. It was cluttered with paper and little animal toys. I don’t think she liked the mess. I asked Ms R where Melissa’s drawing was and pointed at the string. She said that she didn’t know, but I had the same feeling that that wasn’t true. Ok. I said. Do you know where Melissa is? She said Melissa? I said yes, Melissa Dennis (I know that because my Dad’s name is Denis).

Oh, ummmmmmmmmmmm. She said. I didn’t like the way she held the “mm” sound. It made me feel like I wanted to pull the head off one of the animals. I did that when I was a baby once. She looked around the desk and picked up a yellow sticky note and read it for three seconds. Ah okay. She said. Melissa is sick.

She looked up at me and her mouth smiled, but the rest of her face didn’t. She scrunched the paper up and threw it in the bin. Okay. I said. I didn’t believe her. She wasn’t sick on Monday. Unless she got pen poisoning from drawing on her legs. I sat back down.

The next class was maths (I love maths and art) and Ms R gave us a worksheet. She sat back at her desk while we did the sheet. I really wanted to know what the note said. Mummy says I’m as curious as a cat. I don’t really know what that means but I know I don’t like cats. I went over to the bin near Ms R’s desk to sharpen my pencil. It didn’t sharpen very well because Melissa had sharpened the blue crayon a couple of days before. I dropped the sharpener in the bin and pulled out the sharpener AND the note. I may be seven, but I think I’m pretty smart. I could be a teacher when I grow up. I went over to my desk and opened the note. This is what it said:

I read the note again. And again. Then again and traced the letters with my pointy finger. I was confused. DV? I think she meant TV. And police? My grandad was a police officer. There were many pictures of him and his big suit at grandma and grandad’s place. Now he is in a different place and he doesn’t remember being a police officer. Mummy says he is just confused. I was confused like grandad. I kept reading and tracing and reading and tracing and – I felt a hand on my shoulder and jumped. I looked up to see Ms R; her face was angry and confused and sad and nice. Her voice was the same.

Where did you find that? In the bin.

Okay, do you know what it means? No.

Okay.

Can you tell me what it means?

Hmmmmmmmm, okay, let’s go outside.

I followed her outside. I don’t think the other students liked the maths worksheet because they were all looking at me and Ms R. She stopped us about halfway to the next-door class. The cement felt cold and my heart felt weird. How can I feel cement through my big shoes?

Do you know anything about Melissa’s family?

I know she has a house and flowers and a big dad and a small mum.

Do you know why she had a small mum? No. Where’s her drawing?

It’s with the… some special people. Her father is just a bit angry. Do you understand?

Not really.

Okay, do you want to go down to sick bay?

Yes.

Ms R went back inside, and Jacob came out. Jacob is fine. His mum helped my mum with her car once. We walked down the path to the sick bay. My shoes scraped on the cold concrete. I wondered why Melissa’s dad was angry. Maybe he’d made a nice soup and no one liked it. Or maybe he realised Melissa only draws with red crayon.

Are you sick? Jacob said.

I don’t know.

Oh, okay.

The flowers didn’t look happy today. They looked grey and sad and made my heart feel the same way.