Colorblind

by Leah Harper Bowron

  “And don’t cut his head off in the pictures,” laughed Mrs. Parker. “Why, he may be too tall to photograph.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Lisa. “I’ll do my best.”

  The parking lot outside the grocery store was packed with cars. There was a line of people extending from the store onto the sidewalk outside.

  “I knew we should have gotten here earlier,” fussed Mrs. Parker. “Thank goodness this car is small enough to squeeze into this space.”

  Mrs. Parker inched her car into a small space in front of the grocery store. Mrs. Parker then used her social skills with the store manager to get to the front of the line.

  “Excuse me, Mr. Bailey,” whispered Mrs. Parker. “I’ll buy a side of beef from you if you let me and my children move to the front of the line.”

  Never one to pass up a sale, particularly one as profitable as this, Mr. Bailey ushered Mrs. Parker, Lisa, Harold, and Mark to the front of the line.

  “Excuse me, but I was first,” said an unknown woman.

  “Pardon me, but regular customers go first,” said Mr. Bailey.

  While the boys engaged in a mock sword fight, Mrs. Parker began waving to all of her friends and neighbors who were now behind her in line. Some waved back; others paid her no attention. Lisa was humiliated—she’d cut in line in front of all of her friends.

  “Great,” thought Lisa, “everyone is probably mad at me.”

  Lisa then looked back to see Cathy waving to her and smiling. Lisa waved and smiled back.

  Lisa looked around the store. Big Bear had gone all out for the Corn King. In the back of the store in front of the frozen foods was a banner advertising Corn King margarine along with a special free-standing refrigerated compartment filled with Corn King margarine. On the banner was a picture of the Corn King.

  Lisa then heard a trumpet fanfare over the grocery store loudspeaker. The music heralded the entrance of the Corn King from his seat next to the rotten vegetables in the back of the store. In walked an extremely tall, very thin man. He was wearing a regal robe made of red velveteen trimmed in fake white fur. On his head sat a large gold crown with a red velveteen top. His pants were extremely high-waisted, and his cuffs were much too short.

  The Corn King walked in front of the frozen-food section until he came to the center of his banner. When he stood erect, his crown became entangled in the banner. Despite his best efforts, the more he tried to untangle himself, the more tangled he became. Mr. Bailey dispatched the butcher and greengrocer to the scene to untangle the king. These two succeeded in removing the Corn King’s crown, which caused the banner to fall to the ground. The Corn King was effectively dethroned in front of the crowd.

  “Mama, he’s not a king anymore,” cried Harold.

  “Not king,” cried Mark.

  “Now, children,” said Mrs. Parker, “he will get his crown back any moment.”

  And any moment it might be. Mr. Bailey had now interceded in the matter, and he was using scissors to extricate the crown from the banner. The scissors cut the picture of the Corn King into small pieces while freeing the crown. The Corn King knelt, and Mr. Bailey then placed the crown back on the Corn King’s head. The Corn King stood back up while the crowd applauded.

  The Corn King did not speak but signaled for the Parkers to come forward. Mrs. Parker pushed Lisa, Harold, and Mark in front of the Corn King.

  “Lisa,” yelled Mrs. Parker, “get a picture of the boys with the Corn King.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Lisa.

  Lisa knelt down and tried to get the faces of the boys and the Corn King in the camera’s viewfinder. When she was unable to frame the picture, she backed up, but to no avail.

  “It’s no use,” said Lisa. “I can’t get the boys in the picture without cutting the Corn King’s head off.”

  “Maybe I can help,” said a tiny voice.

  Lisa looked up to see the Corn King kneeling between the boys for a picture. Lisa looked in the viewfinder and snapped the picture. Then Harold and Mark began touching the Corn King.

  “He doesn’t feel like a giant to me,” said Harold.

  “Not giant,” said Mark.

  “He’s really skinny,” said Harold.

  “Kinny,” said Mark.

  “Please excuse my brothers,” said Lisa. “We enjoyed meeting you.”

  The Corn King then gave autographed photographs of himself to Lisa, Harold, and Mark (and Mrs. Parker).

  “Let’s go, children,” Mrs. Parker said.

  Lisa held hands with Harold and Mark as they walked to their mother’s car. On the ride home, Harold was filled with questions.

  “Is the Corn King related to Katie?” asked Harold.

  “No,” said Mrs. Parker. “Why would you ask that?”

  “One is too tall, and one is too short,” said Harold.

  “The Corn King is a giant, and Katie is a midget,” said Mrs. Parker. “They are not related.”

  “Why is the Corn King a giant?” asked Harold.

  “God made him that way,” said Mrs. Parker.

  “Why is Katie a midget?” asked Harold.

  “God made her that way,” said Mrs. Parker.

  “Why?” asked Harold.

  “Because,” said Mrs. Parker.

  Lisa listened to her brother’s questions and wondered why God made her the way she was. Because.

  Chapter Fourteen

  The Pageant

  December ushered in the first winter weather of the year. The sixth-grade Christmas pageant was just two weeks away, but Lisa had her mind on other things—Mark’s third birthday. This year Mark was having his party at the Parker house. The theme for the party was cowboys and Indians. Lisa and Cathy would be in charge of arts and crafts—the youngsters would be making sheriffs’ badges and Indian headbands out of construction paper, pipe cleaners, and glitter.

  Mrs. Parker got Mark’s birthday cake from Liger’s Bakery—it was a chocolate sheet cake with white icing and plastic cowboys and Indians on horseback. The birthday party began with a game of Pin the Tail on the Donkey. Mark pinned his tail on the donkey’s nose. Lisa touched her nose and winced. Harold won the game by pinning his tail closest to the donkey’s rear end.

  “I won, Brother, I won,” said Harold.

  “Good, Bubba, I so gwad,” said Mark.

  A game of Hi Ho! Cherry-o followed. Mark’s friend Anderson won by having the most plastic cherries in his bucket. Then it was on to arts and crafts.

  “Can everyone decorate your sheriff’s badge with glitter?” asked Cathy. “First put some glue on your badge, sprinkle glitter on top, and then shake it.”

  “Wike this,” said Mark as he shook the excess glitter from his badge.

  “That’s great, Mark,” said Cathy, who was busy stapling pipe cleaners to the center of the paper feathers.

  “Can everyone glue the paper feathers to your headbands?” asked Lisa. “First, get your brown strip of construction paper, then place dots of glue on the paper, then press your paper feathers to the glue.”

  The children began gluing paper feathers to their strips of construction paper.

  “When you are finished, I will measure your head and staple your headband in place,” said Lisa. “I will also give your feathers more support by stapling them to your headbands.”

  When the gluing and stapling were over, four boys and three girls were wearing sheriffs’ badges and Indian headbands.

  “I want to make a headband for Ozella,” said Harold.

  “Why?” said Mrs. Parker.

  “Because Ozella is an Indian,” said Harold.

  “No, she’s not,” said Lisa.

  “Well, Ozella has brown skin like Indians,” said Harold.

  “No,” said Lisa, “Ozella is a Negro, not an Indian, and her skin is darker that an Indian’s skin.”

  “No more of that talk,” said Mrs. Parker.

  “What is Negro?” asked Harold.

  “Now see what you’ve started?” said Mrs. P
arker. “Harold, stop asking questions.”

  “Negro is a group of people with dark skin who used to live in Africa with lions and tigers,” said Lisa. “Isn’t that right, Ozella?”

  “I believe so, sweetie pie,” said Ozella.

  “I want to be Negro and live with lions and tigers,” said Harold.

  “Harold, if you don’t hush, I’m going to wash your mouth out with soap,” said Mrs. Parker.

  “If you lived in Africa, Sissy would miss you,” said Lisa.

  “I won’t really go to Africa,” said Harold.

  “Don’t go, Bubba,” said Mark.

  “Time to play Simon Says,” said Lisa.

  “Come on, children,” said Cathy.

  After games came cake and ice cream and the opening of presents. Then it was time for the guests to go home, with party favors in tow.

  “Cathy, thank you so much for helping with Mark’s birthday party,” said Mrs. Parker.

  “You’re welcome, Mrs. Parker,” said Cathy.

  “Are you busy getting ready for the Christmas pageant?” asked Mrs. Parker.

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Cathy. “Lisa and I are on the decorating committee, and we are trying to turn the stage into a winter wonderland.”

  “Wonderful,” said Mrs. Parker.

  “See you on Monday, Cath,” said Lisa, who walked Cathy to her mother’s car. “That’s the day of the big announcement.”

  “I know,” said Cathy. “The principal will announce the Christmas queen and her court,” Cathy explained to her mother. “I’m keeping my fingers crossed that we make the cut.”

  “Me, too,” said Lisa. “Bye-bye.”

  Lisa walked back into her house to eat lunch. Her mother was waiting for her in the kitchen.

  “Sissy,” said Mrs. Parker, “I have a surprise for you in my bedroom.”

  “Really?” said Lisa while following her mother to her parents’ bedroom.

  There on the king-sized bed lay the most beautiful dress that Lisa had ever seen. It was an emerald green sequined formal in her size.

  “Don’t you just love it?” said Mrs. Parker. “Why, you’ll make the most beautiful queen in Wyatt history.”

  “But Mother,” said Lisa, “I don’t know if I will be the queen.”

  “Sure you will,” said Mrs. Parker. “Why, you’re the best student in the whole grade. Try the dress on, right now.”

  To Lisa, the queen had to have good grades and be pretty. Lisa wasn’t sure she was pretty enough to be queen. She felt assured of a place in the queen’s court due to her good grades. The pressure was on. Lisa had to be queen to please her mother. Suddenly, the emerald green dress didn’t look so pretty.

  With her mother’s help, Lisa put on the formal gown. It fit perfectly, and her padded bra accentuated the bust line. Lisa felt like a princess standing in front of the full-length mirror.

  “I had this gown custom-made for you,” said Mrs. Parker. “I will take you shoe shopping next week. And for the finishing touch, I am letting you wear my pearl necklace with the gown.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” said Lisa, “but remember, the principal doesn’t announce the queen and her court until Monday.”

  “I’m not worried,” said Mrs. Parker.

  But worried Lisa was. She could barely sleep or eat for the next two days. On Sunday, Lisa wasn’t feeling very pretty. All she could do was look at her formal gown and pray that she would be the queen.

  The big day arrived, and Lisa wore her lucky dress to school. The dress was a lime green culotte dress with white polka dots. She wore her white go-go boots for extra luck. The announcement was made over the loudspeaker during homeroom with Mrs. Duke.

  “May I have you attention, please,” said Mr. Breen. “The Christmas queen is Cathy Cartwright. The members of her court are Becky Owens, Roxanne Phillips, and Sallie Trotter.”

  Lisa was devastated. Not only did she not make queen—she didn’t even make a member of the queen’s court. Thanks to her mother, she had a formal gown and nowhere to wear it. Thanks to her nose and scars, she had an ugly face and nowhere to wear it. At the core of her being, Lisa truly felt ugly for the first time. She also understood the bitter truth that some people believe that physical appearance is more important than anything else, even good grades.

  Lisa congratulated Cathy for being queen and tried to make it through the rest of the day. Even Miss Loomis’s class didn’t cheer her up. And things would be even worse when she got home.

  After being picked up from school, Lisa sat quietly in the back. Mrs. Parker pulled the car into the driveway, and she and the children went inside their home.

  “Well, tell me the good news,” said Mrs. Parker.

  Lisa burst into tears. “I didn’t make it,” she cried. “I didn’t even get in the court.”

  “I don’t believe it,” said Mrs. Parker. “Who made it?”

  “Cathy is queen, and Becky, Roxanne, and Sallie are in the court,” said Lisa.

  “I am furious,” said Mrs. Parker. “You are smarter than all of those girls put together.”

  “But I’m not pretty, Mom,” cried Lisa.

  “Don’t ever say that,” yelled Mrs. Parker. “You are beautiful in your own way.”

  “I’m sorry you went to all that expense for nothing,” cried Lisa.

  “Nonsense,” said Mrs. Parker. “Why, you’ll get to wear that dress on other occasions.”

  Mrs. Parker began to pace back and forth like a tiger in a cage. She was thinking.

  “Of course,” said Mrs. Parker. “I know why you didn’t make the cut—it’s all your father’s fault!”

  “What do you mean?” asked Lisa.

  “Your father represents Negroes,” said Mrs. Parker. “And the selection committee obviously thinks that is wrong, and they blackballed you from the pageant.”

  “That’s not true, Mother,” said Lisa. “I didn’t make the cut because of the cut on my lip, not Daddy’s clients.”

  “You’re naive, Lisa,” said Mrs. Parker. “The Negro question controls everything.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Lisa.

  “I mean that white folks who help Negroes can lose their businesses and their homes,” said Mrs. Parker. “Why, your father’s law practice has lost business since your father started representing Negroes.”

  Mr. Parker walked into the room.

  “What did you say about my law practice?” asked Mr. Parker.

  “Nothing, dear,” said Mrs. Parker. “Poor Sissy—she didn’t make it as Christmas queen or a member of the court.”

  “I’m so sorry, Sissy,” said Mr. Parker. “You’ll always be queen of my heart.”

  “Thank you, Daddy,” said Lisa. “Mama says I lost out because you represent Negroes.”

  “Well, your mama could be right,” said Mr. Parker. “And if it’s my fault that you lost, then I apologize. I don’t know why the selection committee voted the way it did, but I can tell you one thing. If I had been on that committee, you would have gotten my vote as the smartest and prettiest girl in the sixth grade.”

  “Thank you, Daddy,” said Lisa, smiling.

  The day of the pageant came and went, but to Lisa the feeling of being ugly persisted long past the sequins and the pearls.

  Chapter Fifteen

  The Nose

  The teasing of Will and David paled in comparison to a teacher’s rude question. It all began during a January day in fifth period. It was too cold to have P.E. outside, so Mrs. Cook decided to entertain the students inside.

  This seventy-year-old teacher had played so much tennis that she had a year-round tan. She looked like a wrinkled sultana raisin. Tennis she may have mastered, but Wyatt didn’t have a tennis court.

  Mrs. Cook, unfortunately, knew nothing about the sports played in sixth grade. She failed to allow the sixth grade to participate in the Montgomery Track and Field Games, and Wyatt was always in last place by default, a constant embarrassment to the school.

  Yet Mrs. Cook w
as always in first place among the teachers at Wyatt because her brother was on the school board.

  So on that winter’s day, Mrs. Cook commandeered the sixth grade science room for a talk.

  “Attention, class,” yelled Mrs. Cook. She blew her whistle and said, “Please sit down.”

  The students sat in random desks. Mrs. Cook often had these talks to reminisce about her short-lived tennis career and to play mental tennis matches with her students.

  “Boring,” thought Lisa.

  But this talk was different. This talk was about faces.

  “Class,” Mrs. Cook asked, “if you could ask fifty people to change one thing about their faces, what would most of these people say?”

  Lisa swallowed hard. Tears began to well up in her eyes, and her nervous stomach surfaced.

  “Is she talking about my nose?” wondered Lisa.

  “Let’s have a show of hands for eyes,” Mrs. Cook said.

  Only Clara Martin raised her hand.

  “Let’s have a show of hands for ears,” Mrs. Cook said.

  Only four hands rose in the air.

  Mrs. Cook then went through the other parts of the face, saving the nose for last.

  “How many noses have we?” Mrs. Cook asked.

  Mrs. Cook counted and reported that the nose had won.

  “Do you know why the nose won?” declared Mrs. Cook, “Do you? Because more people are unhappy with the look of their noses than they are with any other part of their faces. Why, the nose can be too long, too upturned, or too flattened.”

  The class was staring at Lisa—staring at Lisa’s nose. Lisa laid her head on her desk to hide her nose and began to cry.

  “No crying in my class,” barked Mrs. Cook. “Just suck it up, you crybaby. Why, you’d never make it through a tennis match!”

  Lisa tried to dry her tears, but she couldn’t stop crying.

  “Crybabies have to stand in front of the class and suck their thumbs. Come on up here, Lisa,” Mrs. Cook demanded.

  Lisa had never been so humiliated in her life. She stood up while still crying and walked to the front of the classroom.

  “Put your thumb in your mouth, crybaby,” Mrs. Cook ordered.