Sorry about her

There are seven cherry trees on the walk between our house and the park and they are all in bloom. We walk the same way to the park, always the same way, every Saturday, so I can count the trees. Cherry trees are pink and pink makes me happy, happy, happy. There’s so much happy in my stomach and my arms that I want to clap my hands, but Mum has told me not to do that anymore, so I don’t. Instead I flap them by my sides and she’s okay with that, I think. Mum and I wait for the green man in the traffic light before we cross the street, because that’s a good thing to do.

There’s a fence by the park gate with a sign that says NO ENTRANCE. I know what that means. The rules say we aren’t allowed to walk through here. The fence is only half on the path and we could walk by it, but we aren’t allowed, so I stop. It’s not good to do things that aren’t allowed. There are rules in school and on the street and in the house and you have to follow them, otherwise you get in trouble. Sometimes I break a rule that I didn't know about or that I forgot, and Mum gets upset with me. I don’t like it when she’s upset, so I stop walking right before the NO ENTRANCE fence.

What’s wrong? It’s an old sign, we can go past. Look, other people are going as well.

Come on, Sophie. Don’t be difficult. It’s fine.

I don’t want to be difficult so I walk with Mum. It makes my stomach shaky. What if the police come to arrest us now? We broke a rule and you aren’t supposed to break rules. I want to run back past the fence, that would make it alright. But Mum’s holding my hand now and we are still walking. I want to cry but I try not to. My throat hurts a little.

There are five dogs in the park and that’s good, because five is a good number. Last year I was five. One two three four five, one two three four five. I whisper it to myself, not out loud, because then people will hear it. I don’t know why that’s bad, but it is, my Mum and my teacher tell me all the time. One two three four five. I feel not so nervous anymore when I say it. One two three four five.

We have to stop right by the pond because there’s a woman here Mum wants to talk to. I don’t think that’s fair, because we are supposed to get ice cream and not talk to people. I want to keep walking. What if the ice cream cart is closed by the time we get there? The woman who is keeping us does a creepy big smile at me. Her teeth are yellow and crooked and she smells bad. If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all, Mum always says. So I don’t say anything.

Say hello, Sophie. You’re being impolite.

Sorry about her. She’s… shy.

Am I? I guess she’s right. When Mum talks to other people I always want to leave as fast as we can. Standing still and having to listen makes my legs go itchy. I like talking to Mum, and sometimes to Dad, but never to strangers. I don’t know this woman and I don’t like her. But I still say hello, because I don’t want to be rude. I’m trying very hard not to be rude.

There are three ducks in the pond. That’s not many. Yesterday there were way more. One two three, one two three, one two three. Mum is still talking and now my hands are dry. That's a bad feeling, but I can't make them undry right now. I try to think about the ducks and count, one two three one two three, but my hands are dry, dry, dry. I rub them on my legs but it doesn’t help. The pond is wet and my hands itch to be in the water, but going there would be wandering off and I know not to wander off. Mum is busy talking so I can’t ask her for lotion, that would be rude. I think the polite thing to do is to lick my hands. Yes, it is. I won’t make a scene and they won’t be dry then.

What are you doing? Stop that! People will think you’re crazy.

Sorry about that.

Sorry, sorry, sorry. Mum tells people sorry a lot. Even when she doesn’t do anything wrong. Sometimes she tells people sorry about me. It’s because I do things wrong a lot. I don’t mean to. It just happens. Sometimes I’m a bad girl, but I never want to be.

I look at the ducks in the pond. One of them gets scared by a dog and flies away. Now there are only two. I hope they are friends. It would be nice to be a duck. I don't think ducks have to worry about saying hello to each other. They only say quack, so they can never say the wrong thing. Ducks don't have hands that can go dry either. Maybe there are bad ducks, but I wouldn't be one. I would be really good, all the time.

The woman finally leaves. I don’t see it because I’m looking at the pond, but her stinky smell goes away. Now I have Mum back to myself again.

What’d you do that for? You could’ve just asked me for the lotion.

Here you go. Better now?

Come on. Let’s go get you an ice cream, you silly goose.

I’m not a goose. I don’t understand why she says I am. But I don’t want to be difficult, and I don’t want to be rude, so I hold Mum’s hand and I don’t ask any questions.