WN - The 8 Year Old Sophia Martell

The Stuffed Panda

Hey, hey! I'm back with another oneshot! It was hard trying to figure out a song for this one and if you have a better song than the one I chose, you're more than welcome to suggest it to me! Also, a shoutout to lifeisbacons for the cover! Thankyou :). Enjoy...

Chewing viciously on my lip, I fought back hot, raging tears when I saw bouncing, red-faced children being embraced and receiving kisses from their parents. I blinked hard, praying mentally, and turned back to my mother, standing on tiptoes, and opened my arms wide with a huge smile full of hope that my mother's departure would be different this time. At this point, it was everyone's cue to watch with held breaths, anxiously anticipate something new to happen.

Instead, she continued her ferocious rant down the phone to some lawyer dude -like usual- and ignored my awaiting arms, -no surprise there-, patted my shoulder, -oh wait, that's new- then waved, dashing off, her heels clicking and clacking as that blasted black briefcase of hers knocked against the side of her legs. Even that stupid thing gets more attention than I do! I kicked at the concrete, grunting in annoyance.

I bowed my head in shame, sorrow, conflict, and anger, my dark hair billowing around my face acting as a curtain to hide my shell-shocked expression. She's done this more than enough times and it still hurts? My bottom lip wobbled in time with the internal roaring fireballs of emotion that pulsed through my veins, also colouring my skin red, and I grabbed hold of the straps of my backpack, clenching my fists tightly before swivelling back to the main entrance and marched through the double doors, ignoring the other 3rd graders who stared at me with wide eyes.

Intense stares followed my every move and I breathed hard, feeling uncomfortable, fidgeting as I strode down the slightly crowded hallway. I glanced around, my big blue eyes capturing each person's expression like a camera. Stop staring at me. Adults had pity and sympathy while children's held laughter or confusion. I sniffled, gritting my teeth, and picked up the pace, stumbling quickly down the hallway to my classroom. I barrelled in, mumbling a good morning to Mrs. Rochelle, who seemed startled at my fabulous entrance, and jogged to my seat in the back, next to the window. I wriggled my arms, taking them out of the straps, and dumped my small backpack onto the floor.

I gazed out of the window, watching as a variety of flowers flowed in rhythm with the gentle breeze, and as busy birds flew, occasionally landing on any surface they could. My eyes flashed everywhere, raking over the now neglected playground, with slightly swinging swings, the rickety roundabout, slippery slide and metallic monkey bars. The bell finally rang, its shril sound piercing my bubble and my head subconsciously snapped to the front. Children trailed in, conversing animatedly about their weekends.

My eyes dropped down to my hands on the desk, then followed the faint pencil lines that found a home on the desk's bumpy surface, not wanting to meet anyone's gaze. My fingers timidly ran themselves over the ridges where people clearly dug their pencils in, trying to chip away at the desk's surface. All I could hear were snippets of how someone's mother took her to the ice-cream store, and how someone's father took him to the baseball game.

"Mum brought me dresses then we played dress up after. It was really funny! I got to wear her makeup and her heels!" Mum hit me when I played with her makeup and I never went near it again. In fact, I haven't stepped in her room for months and I never will.

"Dad bought me a Power Ranger. The red one, because it's the best one." Some other boys decided to jump in and debate on how the red one was not the best. Oh, I love action figures...yet I don't have any.

"I went to the cinema with mum and dad! Ooh, and then the arcade!" My heart panged sorrowfully as everyone recounted their joyful weekends. My head dropped lower, tears threatening to cascade down my face.

What did I do? Well, I laid on the living room floor, listening as my parents battled it out with my mother's high, squeaky voice overlapping my father's deep, rumbling voice at times. Or it was the other way round. I strained to hear the television, never daring to turn the volume up, but gave up eventually, eavesdropping on their loud conversation. I caught foreign words like: custody, court, divorce and many more.‎ I clenched and unclenched my fists repeatedly, my nails scraping across the desk.

A soft murmur of my name reached my ears and I looked back up, eyes widening. The classroom hushed, a gentle silence replacing the boisterous atmosphere.

"Sophia?" Kristina Matthews, the class favourite, stood in front of me, her hands behind her back. She wore a shy smile, her feet shuffling on the carpeted floor. 

"Y-yeah?" I stuttered, my eyebrows furrowing, and my bottom lip jutted out. Her hands left their hiding place and in them was a small, stuffed panda.

"Happy late birthday, Soph!" She beamed, her eyes twinkling, and I stared at her in awe, my own eyes glistening with unshed tears. Mum and Dad forgot it was my birthday yesterday. It consisted of screaming, shouting, shrieking, slamming of doors, banging and crashing everywhere in the house. It was fun; jumping out of my skin every time there was a thud. And that was every two seconds. I truly and thoroughly enjoyed it.

"Mum told me it was your birthday yesterday, so I bought you this! Here you go." 

"T-thank you, Kristina," I muttered quietly, shaky hands retrieving the panda. A lone tear escaped my tear ducts and I stood up, hesitating before hugging the short girl. Her arms instantly wrapped around my torso.

"No, no, no, please. I don't like that name. Call me Trish." I giggled at her exasperated tone.

"Oh, want to eat with me at lunch time?" she asked as soon as I stepped out of her comforting arms. I suddenly craved her warm touch. I nodded mutely, smiling slightly. Her chubby hand flew up to my cheek and her thumb traced the outline of my cheekbone as it brushed away the tear. The simple gesture made me feel safe and loved. Her hand dropped down my side, and intertwined with mine. She squeezed firmly, reassurance in her eyes.

"Great!" she squealed excitedly, the sound widening my smile, and she skipped back to her seat at the front. Mrs. Rochelle sent her a look of gratitude. I sat back down, placing the panda on the desk in the corner. Little did I know, that was the beginning of a strong friendship that would hold fast over many years.
‎
Thankyou for reading!‎