'tis the damn season

FIVE

Kindergarten is scary.

All of the kids seem to be bigger than Trixie and the chairs are too tall for her short, stubby legs. While the other children scream and laugh as they run around the classroom with their stuffed animals, dolls, and cars, she chooses to sit in the corner hugging her stuffed pig, hoping the teacher will notice her trembling and will pick her up and give her cuddles until it's time to go home. It's unlikely she will say anything about it, though. The best she can do is sit, wait, and hold back her tears.

Trixie isn't new to the class. She joined at the end of August like every other five-year-old in town, but according to Ms. West, she has "a little trouble making friends." Well, Trixie thinks that all of the other kids are the ones who have a little trouble being friendly to her, and she's crossed her arms and stomped her foot trying to defend her point on this topic more times than she can count (she's not very good with numbers yet).

The other children are blurs of energy who speed by her like lightning and screech like thunder, while Trixie is a soft field, freshly-coated with snow before anyone has gotten the chance to leave a footprint there. Plus, she has Peaches the Pig. She doesn't need anyone else.

As her lips quiver in a stiff pout, arms wrapped tight around Peaches, an airplane materializes itself out of thin air and lands at her feet, which are hanging from the chair, not even the tip touching the floor.

"That's mine!" A blonde girl yells, running towards her. Trixie knows her, but they have never talked or sat together at lunch. It's Katya Zamolodchikova - the scariest kid of them all. She always screams the loudest and the other girls say that Ms.West has her name on the naughty list, ready to give it to Santa. "Don't touch it, it will explode!"

Trixie frowns. "I don't wanna touch it," she grunts. Katya reaches her, gasping for breath after having run five full steps to get to her. She stands in front of Trixie after picking up her stupid airplane and stares.

"You look like him," she points to Peaches. Trixie's grasp on him tightens even more. "Your nose is round and you two are pink. He's your brother!"

"He's not my brother!" Trixie argues. Nobody had ever told her she was pink before. She still doesn't know if it is a good thing or not. Coming from Katya, it's probably bad.

"What's his name?" the girl asks.

"Peaches."

"Nice to meet you Peaches," Katya pats the pig on the head. "Peaches is a good boy!" Trixie nods. Maybe she isn't all that scary.

Before she can respond, Ms. West claps. "Okay, everyone, let's put away our toys?" A wave of unintelligible screams follows as the children rustle around and throw their toys into differently colored boxes at the back of the classroom. Katya runs off to put her airplane there too, leaving Trixie alone with Peaches. The CD-player starts playing the tune to the sit-down song and the kids stroll to the rhythm to the desks. Trixie chooses to sit at the big red one, and Katya happens to sit right next to her.

When the song stops, the teacher starts talking as she walks around the desks placing colorful papers, sequins, markers, glue, and all kinds of crafty materials in carefully-prepared baskets that will be destroyed in less than 30 seconds. "As you guys know, this is your last day of school before your Christmas break! Are you going to miss school?" A chorus of yes es echoes through the room. "And will you miss me?" Another wave of confirmations. "And will you miss your classmates?" This time the students answer even louder. Ms. West stops at the front of the class, before all of the desks. "What if we made something to give our classmates so they can remember us while we're away from school? Wouldn't it be cool?" The children cheer. With a kind smile on her face, the woman instructs the children to craft Christmas cards for the classmate who is sitting next to them on the desk.