The Timeline

7.

June 17th, 2013:

There was a story from Claire's past. One she hadn't told to anyone, not even her closest friends, who had already been her friends when it had happened.

For some time, she had tried to convince herself that it hadn't happened, that she had made it up. It wouldn't have been so far fetched, to think, considering her history with making things up and creating entire lives in her head.

But then she had stopped, unable to do so. The story, the memory in itself, was too painful to be fake. When Claire made things up, the pain and heartache that the Claire from those words experienced was not real; it was fake, it was distant from her, it didn't touch her. The pain Claire felt whenver she thought about that story, instead, was real. Too real, too close to her heart.

It was that story, that memory, that had permanently sed aside Claire's perception of herself from the perception she had of the other kids, her classmates.

The story took place during her very early childhood.

End of kindergarten. Claire was 6 - or was about to turn 6, always being the last one to have her birthday among her peers, having been born in late December. The teachers at kindergarten had set up a little year-end show for all the kids that would've left their classes and enter elementary school in September. It was nothing too big, simply a bunch of kids wearing papier-mache and tissue-paper costumes, grouped together, wearing makeup made of washable paint and dry erase pens. There was no plot, nothing to follow, except for a few made up dances and a couple of songs that all the kids would've sang together.

The year-end show had been held at a local hall, in Maidstone. All the parents had been notified by the teachers, personally, for the show would've begun at 6pm in the evening and would've lasted til 7pm, in an evening of June, right before the summer holidays would've started. All parents were required to attend, because kids could not be left unattended after the show was over. Every parent had been notified.

The kids had spent their last day of kindergarten with the teachers, from the morning. The teachers had also organized a small party for them, with Coke and pizzas and a small cake, so they could celebrate the end of their early childhood and the show they would've put on for each other and their families later on that day. Every parent would've come. The teachers had reassured every kid.

During the show, the room had been crowded: parents, siblings, grandparents, uncles, cousins and whatnot. It was a joyous occasion. The kids had sang, danced and stood hand in hand taking the applause from each parents.

Claire remembered plainly how her tiny costume had been made of red and yellow papier-mache applications over her shoulders and her head, to form a small crown; she rememered how the see-through tissue paper covered her white skirt, forming a princess-like gown over her legs.

She remembered clearly that she had been holding David's hand on her right side - he was playing a prince, covered in yellow paiper-mache and tissue paper over his little clothes - and Jacopo's on her left side - he was covered in bright blue paiper-mache and tissue paper. She didn't remember where Fabian was, but she knew he must've been near, for the four of them were already inseparable.

She remembered the faces of the parents in the front lines, the over-enthusiastic ones, the ones who were clapping, taking pictures and crying because they were so proud of their kids. She didn't know them all - as a kid usually doesn't know every parent around them - but she could feel the love that was radiating off of them.

Lastly, she remembered starkly how she had stood on her tiptoes, trying to not be too obvious about it, lest the teachers wouldn't have yelled at her - ever the troublemaker, ever the one who loved to be the center of attention. She stood on her tippy toes, her tiny toes pressing against the fronts and the soles of her shoes (white, like her skirt), hurting a bit; Claire had put on her braves 5-year-old-soon-to-be-6 face and had kept standing on her tippy toes, for had she buckled then, the teachers would've seen her and surely reprimanded her.