The Tooth Fairy

Something happened when I was still in school. The good little girl I was lied for the first time in her life.

A big fat lie that hurt a boy, at the time. I do not regret it one bit today.

The war was on, full blast, so I, my sisters and all the other kids, stayed home most of the time. There was no online schooling then, so we just enjoyed doing nothing and listening to the news. With our parents. Waiting expectantly for the announcement that there would be no school, again, the next day.

Until one day, my school decided to move to another school, somewhere far from the city. And so we, the kids, had to move along with it. And we did.

My school was initially an all-girls’ school. But now there were boys everywhere! I didn’t know what to make of it. Maybe another reason –that upset me– was that I came from an all-women household. And I just couldn’t stand the laughter of those boys and the noises they made. I resented them for being so outwardly alive. Though I wasn’t aware of this at the time; this is today’s me speaking.

I can still remember those boys’ names, all of them; novelty has a way of imprinting itself into a kid’s mind. And staying there. Yet strangely, I can’t remember their faces.

One in particular, Y. G., was, unbearably, more obnoxious than the rest. He was the most exuberant. Even his features. Everything about him was a testimony to the difference between boys and girls, that was more distinct at the time, more of an uncrossable gap. … And his voice! He worked hard on his attitude too, I think. Even today, I don’t believe everything he was came naturally. In fact, I can imagine him, every afternoon, getting ready for the next day in school. Cooking up his pranks. If he could have painted up his face into –even– more aggressive features, I imagine he would have, with wicked jubilation.

So maybe, today, I can understand why I did what I did then.

Yet, the first thing that comes to mind now is what I had to face when my lie was uncovered. The principal called me to her office. She was sitting behind her desk, and raised her eyebrows, then her eyes, to the kid standing in front of her. Slowly scrutinized my shaking body until her stare went up, then deep into my soul. That started shrinking fast into a tiny ball that lodged itself in my throat. Fortunately, she did not seem to be waiting for me to talk, as she did all the talking and wouldn’t stop! She uttered words upon words upon words I never heard.

Then she lowered her glare, religiously, and enunciated “The path of a liar is short”. And smiled a hypocritically sad smile, slowly shaking her head in pained despondency. She then declared, dejectedly, that she was going to call my parents, and tell on me.

Then I exited her office.

Later, when I was back home, I used the best strategy I could think of: I blamed my parents for having forced me to lie by expecting me to be the perfect child all the time. Terrified at the idea of tarnishing my own image –the image I was expected to conform to– and thus of losing their love, I had accused Y. G. of injuring me, while it was I who had accidentally done it to myself.

Let me explain: at the time, water bottles were heavy, way heavier than those used today. Mine was orange, mostly, and brown, made of plastic on the outside, and lined with glass on the inside. That day, I had been running in the schoolyard and I was thirsty, so I went inside the classroom to drink. …I hadn’t been careful enough, I don’t know what I did, I don’t know how it happened, but I lost my balance and my mouth came crashing against the water bottle while I drank.

And I broke a front tooth.

So there I was, standing alone with blood running down my jaw, when Jumana, a girl in my class, came in. As soon as she saw me, she declared point-blank and with utter certainty that she knew who had done this to me: it was Y. G., of course! Who else?! He was the obvious culprit! And I just stood there and said nothing, a spectator of –and in– my own biography. Then the girl ran outside and related the story to one of the nuns roaming through the halls like crows searching for a prey. And the prey was him… Or me, I’m not sure.

This is the truth of what happened. Though I did not admit it.

And I do not regret my lie today, because it somehow filled that gap between boys and girls, fulfilling my need to make our differences less infuriating.

Of course there are other reasons, more “real”, down-to-earth reasons. First, the guy; after this incident, Y. G. toned down his act. Sure he was still his annoying self, yet only the natural one. Not the one he used to work on, and that accentuated his irritating traits. I do not know what kind of a person he later became. … I am wondering though, now… But, whatever… Now me!; besides what I have stated earlier, there are, actually, lessons I learned. Whatever my first impulse is, I make sure to direct it in a manner that won’t cause irreparable harm to someone, while staying true to myself. Another thing I learned, and a very essential one at that; I can pick a liar out at the slightest, apparently most insignificant, hint, way before they lie…