It was a long day. That was a funny phrase to Red, "long" like Kareem Jabbar's legs, long like that spider, a daddy-long-legs, (where did that come from?)--anyway, it was a long day, like all the days at the school called The Pink Palace because it was painted the
(more) color of pepto bismol and, of course, was falling down and not a palace. It was a long day because she had been mocked by the Spanish teacher, Ms. Whitney, for wearing overalls. Overalls had been briefly in fashion four years before. Always securely on top of the trends, Red had worn overalls to school. She liked them because they didn't confine her body, and when she wore them, she didn't have to think of her body which she did not like.
Ms. Whitney, Red realized years later, was a predator, a shark, maybe, because she was preyed on herself as a student, maybe, because she was just mean and relished the power to be mean on a daily basis. That day, the thin and pretty Ms. Whitney walked by Red's desk, leaned over and bit her with a snap. Glanced at her overalls. "What is this? Clown day?" Red could not retrieve her sawed off dignity, and, of course, had no verbal defense against the mockery of her teacher. Ms. Whitney had already moved on, anyway, to mock someone else.
It was a long day. "Am I a clown? Is that my function?" Red asked herself, closing her locker door softly because to slam it would mean she really existed. Of course, she never wore overalls again to school--ever--and shortly after that, stopped wearing overalls at all even though she loved them. Began to wear dresses to her classes the color of gray, the color of not to be noticed.(less)
