"Chickie B".

Bravery comes in all sizes

Chickie was always prepared for horrible, but today would prove a special kind. She pulled her books from her backpack, slunk to the coat rack, head down. Shrugged off the ridiculous yellow slicker, kept her eyes low, and made it to her seat. Chickie slid a fearful glance to the empty space beside her. No Lexi.

She was wholly unprepared. Chickie couldn’t remember a day of school this year without Lexi.

“Oh, I forgot.” Chickie’s mom had said at drop-off. “Lexi’s mom texted last night. Not comin’ today.” Chickie froze, focused only on her mother’s manicured nails as they reached for the door, pulled it closed, and left Chickie alone at the school’s gaping entrance.

“Come on Chickie, don’t be a chicken. School won’t eat you!” Rosalie’s voice reminded Chickie of the mailman’s pushcart. Loud and harsh and crawled up your back. More goddamn bills, Chickie’s mom would say.

“Cállate,” Hector snapped at Rosalie.

“You shut up, uuuun-Speedy Gonzales.” Hector was chubby and Guatemalan. A perfect target for Rosalie.

Miss May waved from the door. Chickie had slumped and slugged into class.

Miss May. Why’d she have to come? With her smile and cheer. Chickie didn’t trust that. She much preferred Mrs. Magarell. Old and angry and never tried to hide it. That, Chickie understood. Her mom wasn’t old, but she had the same worn-down anger. You knew what was coming, what you’d get.

“Good morning, Chickie.” Miss May smiled. Chickie didn’t look up.

Fourth grade was fine before Mrs. Magarell left. She never bothered the kids about spelling. And she taught lots of math. Chickie loved math. Numbers made so much sense. Multiplying and dividing. Fractions! Chickie thrilled at solving the problems.

“Miss May spoke to you, Chickie. Don’t be rude.” Rosalie spun in her seat, pig-tails flapping.

“How did you come by that name, Chickie?” Miss May slid into Lexi’s seat as if it were for anybody. Chickie swallowed her anger.

“It’s because she’s afraid of everything!” Rosalie laughed. “She’s a chicken! Get it?”

Chickie leveled Rosalie with Her Look. A scowl she learned from her mom when her dad was home. Chickie had been in four schools in three years and learned that Her Look could shut any bully up. She loved it, the power of Her Look. But that was all she had.

Now Lexi, she was never afraid. Always telling Rosalie where to put it, always being friendly to kids like Hector, always being her friend. Lexi never backed away from Chickie’s look.

Chickie had come to Robertson Prep last spring, wearing her stupid yellow slicker and an even stupider yellow dress. Mr. Abrams had called on her, and she froze. At lunch, the kids started in with chicken. Chickie.

“Chickie, why don’t you read for us?” Mr. Abrams said one day. The kids nearly busted holding in their laughs.

“What?” Mr. Abrams said as if he didn’t know. “I love that name. It’s so perfect, with her yellow dresses and blond hair. Like a chickadee.” And that was that.

Class started today with reading. Miss May pulled names from the hat.

“Chickie.”

She tried mumbling.

“Speak clearly, Chickie.”

Chickie spoke so softly the book couldn’t hear.

“Speak up, Chickie.”

Chickie balled her dress in her fists. Where was Lexi? Lexi should be here, whispering her the words. Kids were staring.

“What’s a matter, Chickie?” Rosalie taunted. “Can’t you read, or are you too scared? Wait,” her face lit with joy. “You. Can’t. REEEEAD!”

An entire childhood of anger exploded through Chickie. “No!” She stood, panting. “I can’t read! But I know you’re a… a…” What did Dad always say? “…a bitch!”

Chickie tore from the room, out the front door. Forsythias lined the old brick building, their delicate yellow flowers and thicket of branches offering refuge. Chickie burrowed in.

After a time, Miss May crawled through. “Chickie, admitting that was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen anyone do. You stood up for who you are.”

“Who’s watching the class?” was all Chickie could think to say. Miss May laughed. An honest, I-think-you’re-great kind of laugh. Chickie’s heart lightened.

Next day, Lexi met Chickie at the door. “What’d I miss?”

“Hey, Chickie B!” Hector called.

“Hi, Chickie B,” said Anna. Others said it too.

At lunch, Lexi cornered Hector. “Ok. What’s going on?”

“Chickie B,” said Hector. “That’s what we call Chickie now. After yesterday. Chica Bravas. Brave girl.”

Chickie smiled, emboldened, and decided chica bravas would be the first words she’d learn to read.

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Chickie B was short-listed for WOW's Spring 2020 Flash Fiction Contest