£100 prize…
Monica had done so well for herself, but then her childhood caught up with her…
For your story
‘Any restaurant of my choice?’ Monica exclaimed, incredulously. ‘The whole class?’ She traced the number on her mobile with a long, scarlet, perfectly manicured nail, as she listened to the caller with a vague feeling of disquiet.
‘Yes, just name it. It’ll be our way of saying thank you!’ the woman on the other end of the phone gushed.
The woman’s name was Julie and she was a mature student on Monica’s sign language course. Monica had started giving these classes locally to help others be able to communicate with people like her sister Cleo, who had hearing difficulties, but from the moment that she laid eyes on Julie, she had an uneasy feeling. She felt the same unpleasant associations as she heard her voice on the phone, though the woman’s tone and message were pleasant enough.
Monica admonished herself severely: ‘Don’t be so ridiculous!’ she told herself in the mirror. ‘She’s just an ordinary woman. What harm could she do you?’
She even felt slightly guilty as she caught a glimpse of her own figure, draped in an expensive, tailor-made suit – comparing it unfavourably with Julie’s dowdy appearance. Her successful sign language business meant she was able to afford luxurious clothes and had become something of a minor celebrity. Being of mixed race and beautiful meant she was unable to remain inconspicuous as she signed at the bottom of television screens.
She sighed as she pushed back a glossy, black corkscrew hair from her face to reveal an ominous white scar above her eyebrow. It catapulted her back to her high school years when her unruly curls had been a source of embarrassment. A legacy from her Jamaican dad, her hair had marked her out as different from her white school friends, along with her exotic, well-defined features.
Desperate to fit in and look more like her classmates,
Monica spent long, fruitless hours trying to tame her recalcitrant locks into a straighter style – to no avail. One girl at school seemed to sense Monica’s unease and took particular delight in singling her out for ridicule. Overly made-up with long, poker-straight blonde hair, the girl targeted Monica with constant harassment whenever they met in the school corridors.
‘How’s Frizzle Hair today?’ she would shout to the delight of a gaggle of girls around her. They would laugh as Monica tried to smooth down the rebellious curls, which would bounce back treacherously. She never knew when the taunting would occur, as her tormentor seemed to have supporters everywhere.
One day, Monica’s mother asked her to pick up her younger sister Cleo from school, which meant catching a bus home. As Cleo was partially deaf, Monica was signing to her as they got onto the bus. As she looked idly at the hands holding on to the bus bars, she noticed an unusual, large purple blemish that ran the length of one owner’s knuckles. Her eyes followed the hand up to the arm and face when, to her horror, she found herself gazing into the angry face of her school bully.
Pulling down the cuff of her fluorescent pink hoodie over the birthmark, the girl scowled at Monica before noticing Cleo signing and talking loudly to her sister. The bully’s fury turned to sadistic delight and she began nudging two friends beside her. ‘Look what we have here,’ she yelled. To Monica’s dismay, the bullies sidled up to them and made rude gestures to Cleo who innocently copied the signs, to the disgust of other passengers. The bullies hooted with laughter as Monica signed urgently to Cleo to get off the bus. But as Monica moved towards the front, she tripped, knocking and cutting her head on a pole…
*** ‘Monica! Over here!’
She turned to see a group of students from her class waving to her from the restaurant booth. Heads swivelled round admiringly as she glided elegantly over. As she slipped into the seat beside them, Monica suddenly noticed Julie signing to a young girl with honey-coloured skin, exotic features and recalcitrant black curls. ‘I hope you don’t mind me bringing my daughter,’ said Julie.
‘Delighted she’s here,’ said Monica, as Julie handed her a menu. Taking the menu, Monica noticed that Julie’s hand had a large, purple birthmark covering the whole knuckle area. Slowly Monica followed the arm from the hand, and looked into Julie’s eyes that were now filled with shame as she made a circular sign on her chest: ‘Sorry.’