Girl in Shades by Allison Baggio Page A

significance of the word “die” in the song. An awkwardness hangs over the circle — everyone in the class knows about my mother. They saw it on the news.
    Jackie doesn’t care. She sings every word and continues to glare at me. That’ll teach her for throwing banana bread in my face , I hear her think. I was only trying to be nice to her because her crazy mother was sick. I was being a good person. Was she trying to say I wasn’t a good person? To hell with her.
    I look her way and let out an exhausted sigh. Why do people always think it’s about them? I stare at the spot between her eyes until her whole face seems to be swallowed by a yellow light. “Stop it,” she mouths, like she can feel it.
    â€œMet her on a mountain, and there I took her life. Met her on a mountain, and stabbed her with my knife.” A few more kids have started singing. We’ve sung this one before, in another music class last year. Before.
    â€œThis time tomorrow, reckon where I’ll be. Down in some lonesome valley hangin’ from a white oak treeee.” As Mr. Wigman takes in more air for the chorus, she says it, straight to my face. Her mouth opens wide so that the words form shapes that float into the split second silence. She says it for no good reason at all: “Your mother was a psycho.”
    Time as I know it stops and I can no longer hear any singing. From my seat, I fly across the circle, screaming, “You witch!” and land on top of Jackie with my nails digging into her cheeks.
    â€œGet her off me!” Jackie shrieks. Mr. Wigman stops strumming the guitar and the circle collapses, all twenty-five of my classmates reacting by tackling me. I struggle with them, grabbing fists full of hair and shirt collars. “Get her off me!” I hear again and then I am pinned — two hands on my shoulders and another two hands holding my feet.
    â€œMaya, for Pete’s sake.” Brian Bellamy has my shoulders.
    â€œOkay, everyone, it’s all right. We’ve got it under control. Sit back down,” says Mr. Wigman, only I can’t sit because I am lying on my back. Even when Brian and the people holding my feet step back, I remain motionless. I can hear Jackie crying.
    â€œShe just freaked,” she says through her tears. I bring my hand to my nose and see the blood. My eye socket feels like it is inflating.
    â€œMaya, get up and let’s get you to the nurse.” I look to see Mr. Wigman standing over me, his pointy chin almost touching his long neck. He looks disappointed. I sit up and feel a weakness in my hands and feet, like little cries that don’t know how to make it to the surface. “You’re bleeding, Maya, take a Kleenex.” I reach out to take the wad of white that Mr. Wigman has fished from his pocket. No one is laughing, only staring. The cries in my body start to get louder, and soon they are at my lips, escaping in sobs. “There’s no need to cry about it, Maya. You’re okay, you just got a little upset is all.” Mr. Wigman takes my arm and pulls me up so I stand on my feet. “I’m sure you’re just feeling under pressure with all that has gone on in your life. Come with me.” I take a step closer to him and share in the soft lime-coloured light that makes him up. “Jackie, go to the washroom and put some cold water on your face,” he says, and for the first time since I pounced, I see Jackie’s face. A strand of her blond hair has come loose from her ponytail, her cheeks are streaked with tears and red scratches, raised like welts.
    â€œYou’re crazy too, I don’t know how we were ever friends.” She says this as she walks by me and for a moment I think, she may be right. Crazy. Maya, you’re crazy , I think, and the words seem to be driving me there.
    They leave me alone in the nurse’s office for a couple minutes, with my head tilted back to stop the bleeding