that which we call a rose

I have to choose a name and it has to be an animal.
This place is better than any of the others.
But it still starts the same.

It starts like a blush.
The hot, singing in my ears, the dizziness as I try to hang on, no no no don’t you little fucking cry baby don’t you dare.

But I do anyway even with her voice burning in my ear.

Jasmin, stand up, tell us a little about yourself.

I wipe hard at my eyes with the heel of my hand, aware of the crosslegged sniggers that I have to weave through to get to the front of the carpet.

My name’s Yasemin and I’ve got two sisters who are coming here too and a baby brother who is at home with my Gromor and Grandad.

I bite the inside of my lip hard. I should have said grandparents. I shouldn’t have said anything at all.

I never correct them when they say Jasmin.

I just started calling myself something similar, pronouncing my name with the hard ’s’ Yazmin. When I said it something slithered in deep down everytime. Where’s the ’s’ ? It sang, where’s the ‘e’ that stands up for itself?
Yasseemin.
It whispers it properly into my ear and I like the secret. Like a snakes song from the Arabian Desert it makes me feel strong, like I could survive there for weeks without water, that I would do things that girls named Sam and Kim and Kate could never ever do to survive.

But I still pronounce it like it’s Jasmin.

I don’t know what else to say. I already know that you never tell the whole truth. Ever.

I’ve been to lots of schools.

I don’t say anything about the last one. Schools with barbwire around them are not for show and tell.

The teacher tilts her head and her chins squash up against her neck, they fold in and I try not to look at them. Fat is gross. It’s a swear word when your hand reaches into the cupboard for more chips like a greedy pig. I get dizzy remembering ‘til I remember that Gromor lets me eat as many chips as I like. She calls me beautiful.

Did you bring something in to show and tell?

She smiles at my hands and l look down at the paperback in my hands. I feel pretty sophisticated knowing that it’s a paperback. I smile inside when I think the word sophisticated.

I like reading.

My voice comes out smooth, like I’m not a little pig at all.

I hold up my book and I see the eyes widen at the cover. It’s not the baby book they were expecting and I feel stronger. Like I’m the King of the Desert. The scorpions and rattlesnakes all slither around me.

This is the book I’m reading. It’s called Funhouse. It’s about a man who runs a carnival who has a monster baby. But the mum kills it because she knows it’s evil and then she runs away. Then he has another one and grows it up and finds the lady who is married and has kids who are teenagers.

I look up and the kids are staring at me.

…but the boy is as old as me. I haven’t finished yet but I think the man’s going to get the monster to kill them to get her back for killing his monster baby.

I look down and my hands are bending the cover all backwards and I look at the teacher and she isn’t smiling.

He’ll probably kill them in the funhouse which is why it’s called Funhouse. I’ll probably be finished this weekend.

Mrs. Frith clears her fat throat and says thank you Yasemin and doesn’t ask any of the kids if they’ve got any questions even though there are hands pointing high up in the air.

May I have a look?

She takes it from my hands as I step past pointy knees and sit back in my spot. I don’t know if anyone is looking at me because I put my face onto my knees and breathe in.
I like the smell of my knees.

I put my chin on them and watch a girl called Sam talk about her doll. I know what it’s going to be like here. I get ready for it at recess. I get ready for the pushes and the shoves. I get ready to cry because now I push back. I push hard after the last school.

It doesn’t take them long.

Hey new girl.

I’m on the monkey bars, swinging upside down with the hot metal rubbing the skin away behind my knees. I flip myself up and watch them come close.

Two girls with their arms wrapped around each other’s waists and some boys.

You’re gonna get in trouble for that book.
You can’t bring that sort of stuff to school.

I hate them so hard for a minute for saying this because I suddenly realise they’re right. I don’t know why I only see it now.

But my chin sticks out.

So what?

The girl that spoke first is the girl called Sam.

She narrows her eyes.

So what’s your animal name?

The ground seems very far away. This isn’t going the way it normally does. I look again and their eyes are on my jeans, on my wristband, on my pins Vicky gave me before we left Allambie.
Their eyes look hungry and I feel dizzy again. But in a good way. I don’t have to think.

Snake.

That’s the other Sam’s.

Wolf.

Nuh uh.

I stop and think. I already know that all the good animals are gone, all the beautiful strong animals that people like to wear on their t-shirts are taken by these kids that have gone to the same primary school for five whole years.

Rat.

Sam wrinkles her nose but nods.

Yeah, you can have that one.

And so I flip off the monkey bars, I land hard in the bark and I flip my pony tail back out of my face.

I walk towards them not smiling yet, but not crying either and I take the name.

• Favorite
• Report Concern
• Share This
  • Facebook
  • Twitter

Add your comment

You need to login or signup to add your comment to this work.