One Fine Day

Okay, the title of this entry has nothing to do with its content. Really.

Hurm.

I felt like writing the other day, and I'd like to share it here. I have no idea what title should I give to this short story, though. Hurm~



At one corner of a well-lit room, a girl was squatting with her face against the wall. She was sobbing, tears welled up in her squinty eyes.

I approached the girl and asked what was wrong and she pointed at a boy standing in the middle of a laughing crowd. I wiped the girl's cheeks with my shirt sleeve and convinced her to tell me what happened. I was their teacher after all.

Me: Stop crying. Now, tell me what happened eh?
Girl: *sobbing*
Me: Good girls answer when their teacher asked them questions, remember? Hurm . . . I thought Samantha is a good girl.
Samantha: I AM a good girl!
Me: Then, why don't you stop sobbing and calmly tell me what happened?
Samantha: That boy, Hamish, he made fun of my ponytails!
Me: Owh, I see. What did he say?
Samantha: Hamish said I look like Mother Ultra! Wu~
Me: Mother Ultra?
Samantha: Mother of all Ultramans! Hu . . . I'm not an old lady. I don't wanna be Mother Ultra!
Me: Samantha, if I call out for Hamish . . . can you promise me not to yell at him?
Samantha: I promise.
Me: Good girl. *pats Samantha on her head*

I hailed Hamish to come over to me. He hesitantly, taking his own sweet time, strolling.

Hamish: Yes, Mr. Westwood?
Me: What did you say to Sam? She's crying her eyes out.
Hamish: I said she looks exactly like Mother Ultra! Her ponytails, especially!

Samantha bagan to cry again. I stared at Hamish.

Me: Do you think Sam likes it?
Hamish: What?
Me: Listen, young man. Sam doesn't like to be called Mother Ultra.
Hamish: Then?
Me: I believe you have something else to say to Sam?

Hamish looked puzzled. I bent down and whispered to him, "Apologise to her. Now." Hamish nodded, but it took him a solid ten minutes just to say the magic words. Sam was silent but tears were still welling up in her little squinty eyes.

The bell rang and both of them dashed out of the classroom, heading home.



THE next day, I noticed Samantha was avoiding Hamish. She did not respond to Hamish's greetings nor did she return his smile. I shook my head but I decided to wait patiently and watch the progress of these two kids. I believe that they will be best friends again.



THE second day was the same. Sam was still avoiding Hamish. I was thinking to intervene and be a mediator for the two of them to reconcile but what happened during breaktime made me changed my mind. I saw Hamish, with a box of cookies, sneakily approached Samantha from her back.

Hamish: BOO!
Samantha: Ack! *in shock* Hamish!
Hamish: Sam, about that time . . . I'm sorry?
Samantha: Hey, I'm not talking to you!
Hamish: Really? Hurm . . . but I have my mom's homemade choco-chips cookies. A box full of them! I thought of giving all of them to you . . . but I guess now I have to eat all of them by myself. *sigh*
Samantha: Your mom's homemade choco-chips cookies, you say?
Hamish: Yeah, I asked my mom to make it last night.
Samantha: Really?
Hamish: Yup!
Samantha: I love you, Hamish!
Hamish: *smirking* No worries, Mother Ultra!
Samantha: What?

"Don't worry," Hamish laughed. "That's your pet name, only me will call you that. Nobody else." Hamish stuck his tongue out and escaped Samantha's tantrum.

But I noticed Samantha embraced the box of cookies. She was smiling.


***

I found out something interesting few days later when I had some time to spend with Hamish while helping him out with his science project. I asked him why he always try to irritate Samantha.

"I don't know," that was his answer. Then I asked why he called her Mother Ultra, and he answered, "I think Mother Ultra is cute . . . and Sam is cute too, but she took it the other way and thought I was making fun of her ponytails."

I was really surprised when Hamish told me this:

"You know, Mr. Westwood? I really don't understand Sam. She always gets angry at me even when I try to be nice to her. It's true I try to irritate her once in a while . . . but I can be nice to her too! I even asked my mom to teach me how to make choco-chips cookies. I know Sam loves it!"

"You helped your mom made them?" Hamish nodded vigorously. "Wow, but how did you know Sam loves choco-chips cookies?"

"I just knew."

I smiled.

Me: Know what, Hamish?
Hamish: Hurm?
Me: Seems to me, you know a lot about Sam. You like her?

Hamish's face turned red and excused himself to the washroom. I sank in my chair, smiling.