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Blond pigtails and red cowlicks nod and chatter excitedly. The thirty-something bus driver pulls the door open and more freckled faces climb on the bus, clutching the rail in one hand and their Disney lunchboxes in the other.
“I got a Super Swimmin’ Barbie and a tea set,” brags a girl with glasses.
“Santa got me a tire swing,” her friend in the red hat and mittens replies.
“Well, my daddy and mommy got me and my brother a playhouse!” The girl with the new striped scarf topped them both.
Across the aisle, filled with melting snow and gum wrappers, sat a little girl alone. Her hair, greasy and unwashed, was still in the drooping French braids that her mother did for her on New Year’s Eve. The sleeves of her coat stopped above her skinny, bony wrists and her gloves were missing the index finger. She watched the girls across the aisle with her big, angelic eyes.
Her mother always told her to be grateful for what she had-- her mother‘s unconditional love and a roof over her head, even if it did leak. Oh, she wanted to be grateful. How she tried! She couldn’t help but be disappointed though, when she slithered downstairs, right after the sun rose, to see 3 presents wrapped in newspaper, sitting under their tree; one present to Mommy, from Kate; one present from Kate, to Mommy; one present to Kate, from Santa. At least she had a present to unwrap. There were children all over the world that only received a smile or a hug. That didn’t help her though. Oh, how the girls at school talked! Molly’s parents gave her a new party dress and shoes with a bow on top.
Kate daydreamed of the perfect Christmas. She would sneak downstairs in fuzzy, pink slippers and a princess-like nightgown. A real tree-- a tall tree, too-- would harbor dozens of presents, wrapped in sparkly wrapping paper and large, gaudy bows. Kate would give her mother diamonds and jewels, and, in return, receive a prettier party dress than stupid Molly could ever imagine. She would meet her father and he would have a mustache, like all of the fathers on the television do. Her father would have a deep laugh that shook the whole room. Under the mistletoe hanging from the doorway, her father and her mother would kiss when they thought Kate wasn’t looking.
“What are you looking at?” hissed the girl with the glasses.
“Are we talking to you?” added her friend with the red hat and mittens.
“Nobody likes you anyway, freak!” The girl with new striped scarf topped them both.
Someday, life would be perfect for Kate. She stirred in her seat and looked away from the girls, and out the fogged window, into the winter mist.
“That’s right. Look out there.”
Someday, they would see. She would have more money, more fun, more dresses, more everything than those girls. Oh, they’ll see. She will be great.
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Nicole
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