The Trouble with Polly Brown (14 page)

“Tell me something, Will. What does the word
insolent
mean?”

“I think it means ‘disrespectful,' but don't just take my word on that.”

“Oh, great, and have you any idea what
uncouth
means?”

“Hmm, I think that means ‘ill mannered' or ‘unrefined,' hmm— maybe even ‘clumsy.'”

“Oh, good grief! Well, what about
recalcitrant
, or how about
treacherous
? What do those horrible-sounding words mean?”

“Hold on, Polly. You're going way too fast, for I'm not a walking dictionary. But tell me truthfully, why are you asking?”

“Oh, nothing, it's just that…Oh, never mind. It's all too much bother, really it is,” she quietly sniffed as she experienced further distress at what those ill-fated words had finally revealed concerning her true disposition. Was she really that ill-mannered and unrefined? And as for disrespectful, never in a month of Sundays had she ever intended to be rude or discourteous to anyone, let alone a teacher. She instinctively knew that teachers worked harder than most, and she truly respected them for their dedication to their profession. So how did she alone manage to portray herself as having little to no respect for them? Oh, what a terrible problem to all she so sadly and much against her will had become.

Will watched on as though eagerly awaiting an answer as she continued halfheartedly to prod the food on her plate with her fork. The silence felt decidedly long and awkward.

Finally he decided to take matters into his own hands. “Look, Polly, I wasn't trying to be facetious, for I too have a history. And I know you're probably thinking, ‘Goodness, he's a bit weird or abnormal,' or how about, ‘He's just not normal!' Go on, admit it.”

Polly looked up from her plate to wrinkle up her nose, but she still remained deathly quiet, leaving poor Will to carry on regardless.

“Well, at the end of the day I have to conclude that
normal
only applies to the knob on the washing machine, for as far as I'm concerned, we all go 'round at different spins, and so in my book, whoever we are, or whatever we are, well, that should be OK.”

Polly couldn't believe her ears, for finally she'd met someone who saw things from the same perspective. Up until this moment she had believed herself to be alone in her thinking. After all, who has the right to decide what's OK and therefore acceptable, as opposed to what's not and therefore kooky? Who decided whether you were to be included as part of the in crowd or otherwise excluded to then be treated with pure contempt by others? Why should hideously unkind judgments be at the disposal of the beautiful-looking or the physically athletic pupils in the school? Were they within their rights to maliciously name-call or deem other pupils to be outcasts, nerds, or misfits?

Did these elite groups of students have the right to regularly send hideously spiteful letters about her and others around the classroom? To the girls concerned, this was seen as little more than light amusement to help them through another desperately boring day at school. However, for those at the receiving end, it felt very different. In fact, without wishing to appear too dramatic, it was life-threatening.

Sadly, this was indeed Polly's field of expertise, for she knew firsthand all there was to know about the subject of bullying. She had always lived in fear at home and at school, and there had never been any help from anyone. No, not one teacher or helper or social worker, for that matter, had ever come to her aid. Sometimes the threats came in the form of signals, like an index finger ominously swiped across a throat, or other messages, such as when upon opening her desk she would discover a frightening message that warned, “Watch your back, Brown, or you're dead.”

Of course, all these notes were always absent of any signature whatsoever, for that would require her oppressors to be brave enough to own their words, but such cowardly creatures rarely come out in the open, preferring to opt for complete anonymity as they continue on with their cruel, sadistic, abusive oppression—and in most cases without fear of any repercussions.

Even using the school toilets created tension as she tried to fight off bullies determined to grab hold of her head, and after bashing it against one of the metal changing room lockers, they would then unceremoniously stuff her head as far down the toilet bowl as they were able and for as long as they could without actually drowning her. This inhumane practice was sadly considered very normal, and it was not just Polly but also overweight pupils, timid pupils, and pupils with thick, national health glasses who suffered. Come to think of it, any pupils who did not match up to some unwritten criteria were regularly subjected to this, and worse. On one occasion when she was using the toilets, a group of girls had thrown a bucket of water over the toilet door, drowning her in water. Polly missed the next lesson, as she stayed behind and attempted to dry her hair and clothes. Her failure to turn up at the lesson ended with a visit to the headmaster's office and a further lunchtime detention. To rat on her fellow pupils would certainly have meant further degradation the next time they caught up with her, so she had no choice but to quietly endure further punishment for bunking lessons.

Then there were the blatant, hideous lies that were fully intended to demean and degrade her in front of the boys. Yet again the girls making up the lies saw it all as merely having a bit of fun at the expense of others, of course! Polly knew with absolute clarity that they were nothing but filthy lies made up by the prettier and more popular girls in class so they could feel good and powerful. She also believed that if most students were stupid and susceptible enough to listen to and not question the lies, then those lies would stick and so might just as well be the truth. After all, why would anyone with even the teeniest amount of conscience spread wicked lies just for the sheer fun of it?

Whoever made up the ridiculously trite saying “Sticks and stones will break my bones, but words will never harm me” obviously needed to pay a visit Polly's world, if only for a day, for her life bore testimony to the fact that physical injuries, given time, will heal, but a destroyed reputation, well, that lives on forever! Sad to say, but she had known a small handful of decent, sensitive souls who, having constantly suffered and endured such malicious and injurious lies and wickedness, had come to the sad and unthinkable decision that the only way to permanently end this abuse was to bring their own young and tortured lives to a most terrible and permanent end.

Polly knew with great clarity that she had no power whatsoever to stop these weak, cowardly bullies in their tracks, for any form of retaliation only made things a whole heap worse, so just like her life back at the castle, she felt she had little choice other than to remain completely demoralized and powerless. Every day she was forced to gather up courage and brave the school corridor as she walked past these shallow, hedonistic students huddled together, immersed in conversation as all in the group shared their latest foul feast of spicy, character-destroying tidbits. She knew these pernicious character assassinations were done purely for amusement purposes, and they cared nothing in terms of consequences, as they felt it was their right and virtue to systematically pull hers as well as other vulnerable students' reputations apart.

All this in mind, Polly nodded her head at Will, for she was in total agreement with her new friend, and she really did appreciate the analogy of the washing machine, for it truly made her smile.

Witnessing Polly's assent by a small nod of her head encouraged Will to take things further. “Polly, perhaps it would be helpful if, when it seems right, we could disclose to each other some of our best hidden secrets, and then you will know for sure that all my intentions are entirely honorable, hand on heart,” he stated, giving yet another irresistible smile as he lay an arm across his chest, pointing directly to where he believed his heart presumably lay.

Polly groaned and gave another consenting nod before giving herself permission to half-smile.

“There, that's more like it. I was beginning to think you saw me as something of a freak or monster! Look, I had better be on my way, as my English class starts in less than five minutes, but how about coming back to my place for a while after school. I'm afraid my house may well shock you, for I warn you now that it's a bit of a tip. But if you can see past the mess, well then, I'd love you to come and pay an impromptu visit to my world.”

“I'm awfully sorry, Will, but that really won't be possible. I have duties that I need to attend to after school that sadly prevent me from saying yes.”

“Well then, what about after school tomorrow? I make a great cup of tea, really I do. And for such a lovely lady, well I might even consider handing out a scrumptious biscuit or two,” he said optimistically in his gentle but very persuasive manner.

Polly smiled but still continued to shake her head.

“Wednesday? Thursday?”

Still Polly shook her head.

“OK then, Miss Popularity! What about sometime over the weekend? Can you see your way to somehow squeezing me into your overbooked social calendar?” he asked in a voice oozing great charm as he pulled out all the stops in his attempt to win her over and thereby get her full agreement.

“We'll see,” was all Polly could come up with in response to her new friend's eager suggestion.

Completely undeterred, Will stood up to leave the table, and after gently pushing his chair to one side, he bent over to whisper in her ear. “I'm not about to give up on you, Polly Brown. You will be a good friend to me. Just you wait and see.”

Meanwhile, back in Piadora Ralph turned to face Hodgekiss. “My! Wasn't it a reckless, if not most splendid idea of yours to move Will over to Polly's school? Thank goodness he has the tenacity and character to persevere with young Polly, for I do believe there are times when she rather unwittingly plays very hard to get
.

Hodgekiss nodded his head in agreement. “Yes, but considering all she has been through, I am more than delighted to observe that she has over time made a tremendous amount of progress.”

“Hmm. Needless to say, her trials are about to deepen, and then, Hodgekiss, you must surely agree that she will be in need of a strong shoulder for support,” Ralph stated, a deep and perplexed look of concern written all over his face as he anxiously beheld his master's loving eyes
.

“And to cry on?” Hodgekiss interjected
.

“Yes, and sadly, to cry on.”

Chapter Seven

MISS SCRIMP 'N' SAVE

P
OLLY JUST ABOUT
made it through the afternoon lessons without any further trouble or mishap, and soon she found herself sitting on a train with her eyes temporarily closed and her head back as she tried to rest. She felt unusually tired, and she just wished that she might get through the evening chores without physically collapsing.

Soon the train pulled into the station, and after exiting the station, she crossed the road to stand in line with all the other pupils by the bus stop. After finding a seat on the bus, Polly once more closed her eyes, and this time all she could do was think about her new friend, Will. “Dear God, please let Will turn out to be my first ever true and loyal school friend,” she quietly whispered under her breath.

She then picked up her schoolbag and spent a few minutes rummaging through it until she finally pulled out an exercise book. Polly opened the thin book and ripped out a clean sheet of paper. Then, taking a pen from her pencil case, she began to write another letter to her dear, much-missed friend Aazi.