8/7/2019 The Curmudgeon of Winchester Street: ONE

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The Curmudgeon of Winchester Street: ONEWednesdays were the absolute worst days ever. They weren't like Taco Tuesda

ys or Mondays where everyone got to read short stories in class and no one was allowed to talk, or laugh, or boo. Or like Thursdays when Sally sat in the frontrow of Mr. Gleason's math class and smelled like flowers which all the boys liked but didn't know why. And they definitely weren't like Fridays when Mr. Lichterbrought out his ice blue motorcycle and buzzed around town. Thomas did not know

what he did for a living but he was sure it involved crime fighting at least one day of the week.

Wednesdays were the days when Mavis Jordan waited for the bus because her father was too busy being late for work to give her a ride. She was a fat girl, kind of shapeless like a black-haired amoeba. Her eyes were always squinting, even when it wasn't sunny, and her hands were always greasy from the hidden snack tucked tightly in a jacket that was always too small. She wiped her hair from herface and smeared grease on her chin but Thomas never told her. Mavis didn't lik

e him and she made other people feel the same way.She was the bus stop dictator.It was on this day that Thomas' mother made him walk the plank to the bus s

top because she believed that the exercise would do him good. She was one of those progressive mothers who fed him green juice and said it would make him grow t

o six feet tall by the time he was fifteen. She liked feeling like her son's health was her doing and always told her friends in the book club that he never gotsick. Thomas never told her that he'd rather stay home with the flu than deal w

ith Mavis and the bus stop mob. On one occasion he actually tried to fake it. The night before he had crushed up a piece of white chalk stolen from class and applied the powder all over his face. He took a wet washcloth to bed with him andrubbed it all over his chest and hands before calling to his mother. Thomas feltlike a genius and was sure she would let him stay home and give him ice cream a

nd buy him magazines. When she entered the room he held out his clammy hands andgave his best sickly impression, a few raspy coughs, and a moan for emphasis. F

ifteen minutes later she was scrubbing his face, feeding him green juice and shoving him outside to his doom.

It was a long walk to the bus stop and during winter months the cold air al

ways found its way through jackets and onto tender skin. Thomas hated the cold and never seemed to know how to avoid it. He was small for his age, skinny as a rail and white as a ghost all year round. His mother was afraid of UV rays so shelathered him up the moment the earth began to thaw and didn't stop until the fi

rst frost. He was always wearing some sort of lotion and worried that he smelledtoo much like cocoa beans and astringent.

That was nothing compared to the thick red mop on the top of his head. He didn't know why he had to be punished with fire engine hair, but due to some awful sin he was completely unaware of committing God had chosen to make his head glow. Most days it kind of laid limp like a giant read helmet. Other days it wouldfly in every direction and refused to be tamed. Either way it never changed col

or.

Thomas contemplated shaving it off one day like the boys in the seventh grade did. He saw them on their way to soccer practice when he walked home, their head glittering with stubble and domed perfection. They looked like soldiers in away, all one cohesive unit moving about in rhythm. Thomas wanted to be like the

m but his mother was afraid of sports and his hair was red.Mavis Jordan loved that Thomas has red hair, and she caught the red fire li

ght from each strand in her eyes when she saw him coming. It was part of her daily routine to make his life miserable and she worked hard at it. When he was first within site she rallied her troops around her and gave each person a name inwhich to call him delegating herself as the ringleader with the nastiest name ofall. Once within earshot they hurled the words at him with such force that theyseemed to sting his cheeks and bounce off his chest like skipping stones. If hewinced she'd feel herself grow stronger. If he pretended not to feel it she'd f

ind another means of extracting weakness. If Thomas did not make eye contact she'd corner him against a nearby fence and make him look into her fat squinty eyes. " Tell me you're ugly Tommy, come on tell me," she forced out of him. Sometime

8/7/2019 The Curmudgeon of Winchester Street: ONE

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s he would be so bold as to resist, but only for a moment as a quick punch to the ribs got what she wanted. In the end the bus would come and the boy would be close to tears if not crying already, and Mavis would be a queen.

Thomas did not know how to defeat her. He was used to the names and knew how to take a punch even if he was small, but he did not know how to control a beast like Mavis. All he could hope for was that the whole business would happen fast and Wednesday would fly by as quickly as it always seems to show up every we

ek. He was not the kind of boy who knew how to change things. Instead he sigheda lot and accepted his fate. On the outside he was meek and timid, and the perfect polite son to a doting single mother who feared the whole world. She made himafraid too. Often times she made him believe he should hide. After all, the pla

net was full of Mavis creatures and he was not equipped to fight them. Thomas was not a warrior of the world. On Wednesdays and rainy days, cold days, days whenhe wanted to be sick, and days when his hair glowed hot he disappeared into hismind where he was always a dragon slayer and righter of wrongs.