Something To Prove

"Hi, I'm Sparkles." 

She was not your typical circus clown. She spoke like a kindergarten teacher and her costume wasn't very flashy. Her naturally pale face was free of the expected oily paint. A small red paper heart was stuck to the end of her nose.

I smiled politely, even though I had never liked clowns very much.

I knew I was special if special meant different, but in my case, different wasn't good. I turned back to the rack of clothes behind me and continued my search.

 

Thankfully, she moved on to her next custmer. I could hear her having pretty much the same conversation with an elderly man in the next aisle. Maybe everyone in the store was special according to Sparkles.

 

When I first arrived, I saw that the store was having a one-year anniversary event. Sparkles was the main attraction. A platter full of crumbs on a table up front led me to believe that there had also been refreshments. Pretty weird, but I was there for just one purpose: to find a suitable shirt to go job-hunting in.

 

I pulled out a blue polo and inspected it. No stains, no rips, and it was my size... the three musts for shopping at a thrift store. The tag said two dollars, which was about all my budget could handle. I could have asked my mom or dad for the money, and they gladly would have given it. My mom would have liked to take me shopping. But I wanted to handle this on my own.

In the dressing room, I saw the reflection of my sticker. It had a stupid little green frog on it and it said, 'I am special.'

I quickly pulled off my t-shirt and tried on the polo. I liked the color, and thought of how my mom would approve. She said royal blue looked good on me. I had to admit, it looked nice against my dark brown skin.

I had khakis at home to go with it, and dress shoes. My hair was cut neat and low so I would look the part of a professional. But would I sound the part?

My dad told me that everyone has their own burdens, and mine is stuttering. At times it feels too heavy to carry, but mostly these days it is like my shadow... always there, but not always seen.

When I was younger it was so bad that I tried not to speak at all. Medication had helped some, but it made me feel like I was on another planet. I did speech therapy after that, and little by little it worked.

I didn't think she saw me staring and now I wasn't sure what to say. Glancing around, I saw that Getzel's was all but deserted.

"Cool," I managed.

I filled it out right there at the counter and headed back home. I didn't have a job, but at least now I had a little bit of hope.

I got the call from Pam Getzel herself the very next day. She wanted to know if I could come in for an interview that afternoon. It was a Saturday and my mom offered to drive me. "Good luck, baby," she said.

Through the open garage door I saw two older men outside smoking.

"Y-yes ma'am."

She picked me up after a few minutes and high-fived me when I told her the news.

Later that morning, Ava explained the sorting system in the warehouse. Our backs were turned when Andrew came in and his voice made me jump.

She gave Andrew all the basic information about me and my position at Getzel's, but offered nothing more. It was tense. I could tell right away that their relationship was strained.

Andrew looked like he was in his early twenties, and he looked rough. Something in his eyes made me feel uneasy.

He swept the floors and took out trash in silence, and Ava and I were quiet until he finally left.

"My brother," Ava began as we sat down for a break, "has his moments."

I waited, wondering what she meant.

"Keep your distance, Derek," she said finally.

"W-why?" I asked, my nerves causing trouble again. "Is he some kind of criminal?"

"No, he's not a criminal, he can just be really mean sometimes."

Ava was picking at a rip in her jeans and gave a loose thread a yank. She didn't say another word, just went to the bookshelf in the corner and started straightening up. I began to wonder if maybe this job at Getzel's was more than I could handle after all.

"Yeah," I said, "but a turkey melt sounds better."

The truck we were in had been her grandpa's. It was loud and smelled of gasoline. Ava looked out of place in the driver's seat.

The styrofoam containers squeaked together on the seat between us. Back at the store, we gave Pam her lunch and then walked out back. Ava and I sat down at the old wooden picnic table under the shade of an oak tree. It would have been perfect if it wasn't for the occasional ant trying to steal its tiny share.

"Me too."

"Thanks. She loves everybody," Ava said and laughed. "But I know she can be intense."

"So how long have you been Sparkles, Ms. Pam?"

The store was quiet and Ava had the day off. Pam and I were working our way through the racks of clothes, straightening and organizing. I was just making small talk, but I had to admit that a part of me was a little curious.

"About fifteen years now," she said. "I got the idea when Ava was just a tiny thing. She was sick and the doctors were trying to figure out why. I'd gone up to be with her and her mom. My daughter was a wreck, already struggling with issues of her own. Ava had been admitted to the children's hospital for testing, and one of the nurses would dress up for the kids."

"Ava's face would just light up when she came in the door. That's what inspired me. I taught elementary school for almost thirty years. Being Sparkles is a way that I can make kids smile again, even big kids."

I couldn't help but smile then, too.

"I never could quite get through to Andrew though," she continued, but then quickly changed the subject.

"All right, then. We'll start getting ready next week."

Back in the warehouse, I gathered up some items that were labeled trash and loaded them into a cardboard box. I could hardly see over the top. What happened next was so sudden that at first, I couldn't make sense of it.

There was a huge force against my back, and then I was face down in the grass, broken toys and junk everywhere. I touched my lip and there was blood on my fingertips.

"Don't you have enough friends already?" Andrew's voice was ugly and low. He had pushed me and now stood towering over me like an angry giant.

I knew I would stutter if I spoke, so I just hopped to my feet and balled my hands into fists. I was not going to be bullied by this loser. I knew enough about his type to know not to stay down when he knocked me down. It was a small gesture, but he did take a step back.

"Stay away from Ava," he said. "She doesn't need a friend like you. Next thing you'll be trying to date her or some crap. No way. Everybody else can be okay with black/white relationships or whatever, but that don't mean I have to be. That's my baby sister."

"Have you ever seen grass this green?" Ava asked me, days later.

We had eaten lunch and then walked over to the empty lot next door.

"Mr. Frank Getzel!"

Ava lay crumpled next to the picnic table, her lunch bag sitting unzipped but otherwise untouched. I ran towards her and my stomach dropped when I saw her face. It was slick with sweat and drained of color. I placed my fingers on the side of her neck and felt the soft beating of her pulse. My own was hammering away as I leaned in to check for breathing. I felt the tickle of her breath on my cheek and finally the fog began to lift. I ran back into Getzel's, passing by my own lunch scattered in the dirt. I didn't even remember dropping it.

Once inside, I looked wildly around for Sparkles. She was in the children's section, twisting balloons into animal shapes. A small group of kids were watching her intently. She saw my face and I could tell it scared her.

"What is it, Derek?" she asked.

I felt like I was in quick sand. Nothing was coming out of my mouth. The half-finished, pink poodle fell slowly from Sparkles' hands onto the floor. The kids stared at me with big eyes and open mouths. I saw that Frank was slouched over in the wheelchair nearby, exhausted and now troubled. I knew if I tried to speak, a terrible noise would come out.

Except...except... Ava.

"I'll get her glucagon."

Ava called it a 'low.' She said it had happened many times before, although that had been the first since getting the insulin pump. It was her body's reaction to her blood sugar dropping below a certain point. She was back at work the next day as if nothing had happened. But Pam brought in sugar free cupcakes and mine had the word hero written on it in blue icing.

"If you hadn't seen her when you did..." she managed to say before getting choked up.

The extra cash was great, but there was much more to working at Getzel's than that.