Mary, Mary - Cover

Mary, Mary

Copyright© 2021 by Banadin

Chapter 1: Mary, Mary, Quite Contrary

Ricky had given me a box of business cards. They had my name and our home telephone number. When he asked me what title I would have on my card I didn’t know. He made one up, ‘Mary, Mary Jackson quite contrary.’ It was okay but I think my next one will say, ‘Princess Mary.’

When I showed it to my friend Patti at school she wanted one too. Her title would be, ‘Pretty Woman.’ Davie’s would be, ‘President of the World.’ I told him if he was going to be my boyfriend he would have to be, ‘Prince Davie.’ He told me he didn’t like girls yet but would become a Prince when he did.”

At school when I showed kids my new business card they started chanting Mary Mary quite contrary how does your garden grow? They weren’t very nice about it as they ended it with, “it’s full of weeds.”

It made me so mad I cried at recess. Billy and some other boys stood in a circle around me. They kept asking me if my weeds were ready yet, or had they died. One boy asked if I had a brown thumb. I had to stand in the corner for saying one of those words that Mum used.

The next day they did it again. The four of them surrounded me and chanted Brown Thumb, Brown Thumb, Mary has a Brown Thumb. A teacher saw us and started towards us but someone fell off a swing and was crying so the teacher went to the crying girl. The boys wouldn’t stop so I got mad and punched Billy in the nose. It bled a lot and I got into more trouble.

I had to take a note home. My driver Jim told me that he was proud of me giving Billy a bloody nose. Billy wouldn’t be so quick to tease me in the future.

I think he is right but I’m still in trouble, maybe I should cry when I show Mum the note.

When I got home Mum took one look at me and wanted to know what was wrong. I told her about the boys saying I was contrary and that my garden would only grow weeds and called me Brown Thumb. Then Billy and the others stood in a circle and wouldn’t let me go so I punched him in the nose.

Mum wanted to know if it bled a lot. I told her the school had to give him another tee shirt as the one he wore was a mess. She then had me show her how I held my fist when I hit him.

I held my hand up with my thumb inside. She told me this was not the way to do it, I should always keep my thumb outside or I might break it. Also, it was better to hit with the heel of the hand than the fist. Less chance of getting hurt, and you could hit harder.

Then she told me that I was never to start a fight at school but I should always finish it. I asked how to do that.

“Always be the last one standing. Now the school wants me to tell you what you did was wrong. They want me to say don’t fight. What you really did wrong was put your thumb inside your fist, you might have hurt yourself.”

She took out a roll of quarters from her purse.

“If you have time, hold these while you hit someone.”

She showed me how to hold them. Also, I had to aim for the back of their head when I punched their nose. That way I would hit harder. I was to carry a roll of them in my purse. I told Mum my purse wasn’t big enough. She told me she would buy me a new one. Now I know why Mum always has a big purse.

She needed a lot of room for her quarters and weapon. I asked if mine would be big enough to carry a pistol. She told me not until I was older. I think she means around eleven or so.

My Mum knows so much. Billy better not try anything now.

After that Mum hugged me and told me enough. She was proud of me. The best way to win a fight was not to have to fight at all. Billy and his friends only used words. Words hurt your feelings, fists your body. My punishment for hitting Billy would be to come up with a way to stop his teasing without hitting him.

When she told me that I felt bad that I had hit him, I started to cry and Mummy hugged me real tight.

She also told me she would give some thought on how to make things better at school.

That was on Friday, Saturday I was going to a photo-shoot.

I’m so excited to get up this morning. I got dressed as fast as I could. Mrs. Hernandez made me go back to my room and change. I don’t know why socks have to match.

Mr. Baxter said I have to have my picture taken, “a real photo-shoot for a toothpaste commercial. I get to talk with Bucky Beaver about brushing your teeth with Ipana.

Mum had a charity meeting to go to and Mrs. Hernandez was busy, Dad has to work so he talked Ricky into taking me. We have so much more fun.

I know Ricky will let me get ice cream on the way home. Dad would say it would ruin my lunch but Ricky knows it won’t. Besides I knew there were going to be green beans.

We used my limo to go to the studio. I know it was my limo because the guards always used this one and it had the pictures I had drew in school taped to the back of the seat. It was really neat. I also had photographs of me and Mr. Wayne and Sinatra and a whole bunch of others. Ricky calls it my, ‘I love me wall.’

We were at the studio and I had just slipped out of the makeup chair when this fat lady came in and told me that I didn’t have to worry that I would be safe now.

Ricky asked her what was going on. She identified herself as being with Los Angeles Child Protection and that since Mary didn’t have an adult over the age of eighteen with her she had to be protected by the State. They would take her and make certain that she had a nice room until proper arrangements could be made.

I told her that Ricky was emaciated. She and Ricky both had funny looks. Then Ricky laughed.

“Mary means I’m emancipated.”

“I don’t care. I know you are not eighteen and the law is very clear. Come with me kid.”

She grabbed my arm and pulled me. I pulled back. She then raised her hand like she was going to hit me. Ricky grabbed her hand and she couldn’t move it. He pulled her away from me.

He told her, “I think you need to leave right now.”

“I’m calling the police, you assaulted me.”

While she made her call Ricky gave me his little black book of phone numbers.

“Mary, call this number. It is the man from the State of California that was on the set at Bandits, he was the old storyteller. Let him know we need his help here. Then call Dad’s office and tell them we have an emergency and need him here or the State will take you away.

As I went to make the phone calls the fat lady came back. Ricky tried to talk to her some more. He showed her his United States Marshal ID. She refused to acknowledge that it had any bearing.

“I have called the Police young man and they will help me take this child to safety.”

The source of this story is Finestories

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