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"Beyond RAIN"
by Shadray

Author's Note- This isn't a multi-chaptered story, but instead a short story on an interesting and thought-provoking event that could happen in anyone's life. And, actually, it happened in mine and I'm kinda glad.

Summary- We've all been punished for something we haven't done, right? But . . . what about being punished for tapping someone on the shoulder in kindergarten and then having the threat of being beaten to death? No? I didn't think so.

"Beyond RAIN"

Beaming, I thrust my pencil far into my pants pocket and readied my legs to lift me from the carpet. I eagerly shot a glance at the tank to the edge of the room and returned my attention to the woman barking orders in the center of the rug. She sent a hand through her light brown hair and, although it may have been unnoticeable to any of the other kindergarteners in the classroom, it seemed as though her lips shaped into a frown when my hand shot into the air.

"Yes, Raishad?" Mrs. McGregor sighed exasperatingly, giving me a sharp look of irritation. "A question?"

"Yeah, um . . . Are we supposed to line up when we do this?" came the timid voice of a five-year-old.

Silence.

At first, I was positive the woman, probably in her early thirties, was not going to reply. However, after a few ten seconds, she firmly said, "No. Our new class pet has been placed at the side of the room for all of you to see." She nodded toward the tank. "Boys and girls, go ahead and observe our new iguana!"

It was obvious to me that this statement was untrue once I rose to my feet and darted closer to the tank, only to see the back of my classmates' heads.

Mrs. McGregor, my first real school teacher, had about five favorite students. I was not one of them. In fact, back then, I could safely say—without one ounce of guilt—that the woman hated me. Actually, "hated" was an understatement. Let's just say that if I were drowning in a pool of saltwater, Mrs. McGregor wouldn't be so kind as to reach her hand down to save me. No, she would pretty much just smirk and spit into the water.

But oh no,if one of her "favorite" students were drowning in the same pool, she would have gladly jumped in herself and saved the poor little duckling. That's what she called them: ducklings. Ducklings this, ducklings that— Oh, just shut up, you fiend. Maybe these were simply my thoughts at the time, but it wasn't as if they weren't true.

Trying to see above all of the heads of my classmates, I bobbed up and down and stood on the tip of my toes, only to lose balance and stumble. I quietly tapped the brown-haired girl standing in front of me, planning to ask her kindly if she could move so that I could see. It didn't seem like a problem to me, but when she whirled around with a dirty scowl on her face and cried, "I'M TELLING!", my heart skipped more than just beat. Eyes were widened to the size of tennis balls, and I instantly felt that curious sense when you know something disastrous is about to occur, but you might as well only sit and watch it happen, since you know it can't be prevented.

My feet went scrambling to the teacher, the girl already ahead of me.

"Miss McGregor, Miss McGregor!" she whined, tugging on the end of the woman's shirt.

"What is it, Marla?" asked Mrs. McGregor, carefully releasing the girl's hands from of her paid blouse.

Marla flung her pointer finger toward me. "He hit meeeee!" she moaned.

"I most certainly did not!" I cried, naturally speaking in what I called an "adult voice."

"Liar! You hit me on the shoulder for noooooo reason!" Marla snorted in an "I-am-only-calling-you-a-liar-so-that-I-can-get-you-in-trouble-and-be-a-little-miss-bratty-pants" tone.

"You," I snapped truthfully, "are the one lying!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yuh-huh!"

"Nuh-uh!"

"Yuh-huh!"

"Nuh—"

"ENOUGH!" Mrs. McGregor eyed both of us sternly and, after deciding to be a rude, emotionless witch, said, "I've heard enough." She seemed to resist the urge to grin. "Raishad?" she asked.

I nodded, thinking she was going to either send the both of us to time-out, or simply forget the whole thing ever happened.

She did neither.

"Go to the principal's office."

"Ha!" I laughed in Marla's face. I then stopped, noticing she was also laughing in mine. "Wait . . . um . . . what?" I gradually asked.

"The . . . principal's . . . office!" Mrs. McGregor repeated, mocking my baffled state. "NOW."

"But I—" I started to say something, but wasn't able to finish my sentence, for she had kicked my sorry butt out of the room, slammed the door, and judging from the doorknob that wouldn't twist, locked it as well. As I collapsed onto the floor, my nose began to run uncontrollably.

->->-

"Do you need a tissue?"

She had pale, white skin and dark brown eyes that seemed to pierce through me when she spoke. The woman's short, curly hair didn't hang too far below her chin, and engraved onto her face was a thin yet showy smile. She handed me a few tissues— There wasn't a trashcan nearby, so I was sadly forced to crumble up the papers into my right hand and hold them there. "What happened?" she questioned, not willing to waste any time.

The next three words that came out of my mouth were the last words I thought I'd ever say. I could never figure out why I had said them, but maybe I had begun to believe it were true. Maybe I had begun to believe the girl's lies over my own honest statements. Maybe . . . maybe I didn't trust myself. It's interesting how you can easily tell the truth at first, but once someone else starts to say something different, you begin to believe it yourself, even if it were a lie.

"I hit her."

"Excuse me?"

"I hit her on the shoulder."

The woman, who still hadn't properly introduced herself (probably assuming I already knew her name, which I didn't), leaned heavily against the table, spreading a frown across her face. "I don't understand," she said. "Who did you hit on the shoulder?"

"A girl in our class. Marla. We were looking at the class pet and I hit her."

She leaned back in her seat and nodded. "Ah . . . I see. And you were sent here because of this?"

"Uh-huh."

"By who?" she interrogated.

"Mrs. McGregor."

"Well—what's your name, son?" the woman asked.

Here it is, I thought wearily. Here's the punishment,the phone call home, the . . . everything. I was surethe lady leaning in her seat would immediately reach for the phone once I stated my name. For this, I hesitated. I'd never been into a principal's office before, and I never thought I would in my entire life. In fact, "principal's office" were the two forbidden words in our household. What if my mom really did find out? I shuddered at the thought of the belt lashing against my body. I'd been tought from my mom that being in any school-related trouble was the worst possible thing that could happen. I clenched the tissues my hand tightly and shut my eyes. "R-R-Raishad," I stumbled, ready for the worst. I dared not open my eyes; I could already feel them start to well up with tears. You baby, a voice said within me. I ignored it.

"Okay, well—Rrrrrraishad—I'll give you one more chance. I'm not calling your parents," the principal declared. "Instead, I'm going to send you back to your class."

I gradually opened my eyes. "You arent . . . calling?"

"No. But, even do so much as think about hitting someone else again, and I'll dial those seven numbers so fast, you'll see your life flash before your eyes. Got it?"

All I could do was move my head up and down. And, actually, it was barely even that. It was more like a head fidget. But the woman nodded nonetheless, and ushered me out of the room. "Go on," she smiled. I slid out of the room at a snail's pace, with my back hunched over and my eyes staring shamefully at the immobile ground.

After reaching the classroom entrance, I knocked on the door and waited impatiently for it to swing open. When it did, the first thing I noticed was Mrs. McGregor glaring bitterly at me, as if wondering why the hell I had been sent back to class so quickly. I tried to smile at her, but the shame of being sent to the principal's office for hitting someone took over my body and wouldn't allow my lips to do so much as move. My attention then fell to the several students with their eyes fixed on me as I trudged my way to the trashcan in the corner of the room.

"Raishad! What happened?!" someone beamed.

"Did you get into a lot of trouble?" someone else interrogated, frowning.

"That's one baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaad kid," another voice remarked.

I answered no one, looked at no one, and as far as anybody knew, heard no one.

Eyes stuck to me as I slogged past, the room completely silent. I felt like I was drowning in a vast puddle of RAIN. My spirits were as low as ever as the "RAIN" of the embarassment, the internal pain, and the aggravation clung to my clothes and dripped from my hair and skin.

Just before tossing the tissue into the trashcan, I noticed it was drenched in tears.

->->-

Thinking back now, I realize my mistake in not telling the principal the truth of what had happened that day. I should've believed myself, instead letting a principal's office intimidate me into lying. Or maybe . . . maybe at the time, I thought I was telling the truth.

No, that couldn't be it. I was there, so the least I could do was trust my own statements and stick with what really happened. Perhaps if I had, I wouldn't have been so ashamed when I returned to the room.

However, by the time school was over that day, I knew I had done nothing wrong. And perhaps, neither did Marla or Mrs. McGregor. Mrs. McGregor was only trying to do her job well. Blaming someone for doing something that was no one's fault isn't right, so I shouldn't do it. Who knows? Maybe I'll become a kindergarten teacher one day, and I'll have to deal with two arguing children. And maybe I'll make the wrong decision, just like she did. It could happen.

The next time any RAIN comes my way, I'll just have to smile and keep walking through it.

I'll get beyond it.

I'll get beyond the RAIN.

I know it now.

Maybe irony is ultimately a good thing? I'm not sure, but I now know my place in the world.

When my mom picked me up, she looked at my strangely shiny eyes and the blissful grin implanted on my face and asked, "What happened in school today?"

I grinned wider and stared at the ground. "Nothing."