Thom Lofgren
Thom Lofgren currently resides in Alliance, Ohio. He originally caught the writing bug during a Creative Writing course in college many years ago but shifted his creative talents into a photography career. At the urging of his children he again has put fingers to keyboard and is exploring this side of his personality. He is currently putting the finishing touches on a novella, “Dodging Butterflies, The Autobiography of Thomas Speaker.”
The Nice Guy
February 2008 winner
“What a face! What a figure!
Two more legs and you’d look like Trigger!”
Michael laughed at his joking rhyme, but Charlotte’s face said it all. First, surprise, then shock as her jaw dropped and she stared wide eyed at him. Tears came to her eyes.
Michael laughed again, seeing her reaction and ran off to join his friends. He’d just heard the rhyme form Ted and wanted to try it out on a girl. He first thought of Charlotte, the girl that sat two desks up the row from him. If anyone looked like a horse it was certainly Charlotte with her stringy black mane of hair and protruding teeth.
Trigger was a horse of course, Roy Rogers’s faithful companion. Every guy in fifth grade knew that. That’s what made the rhyme so funny. Any girl that looked like a horse had to be downright u-g-l-y, ugly. And the opening line, what a set-up! A girl would think you were about to complement her then Wham! Hit her with the punch line. Michael laughed again. “Got her good!” he said running up to Ted. They laughed and joked around a little more till the school bell rang. Recess over, they filed back into school.
As Michael sat down he took off the heavy, horn rimmed glasses and wiped the sweat off his nose. They were new, only about a week old and he hated them. The darn things kept sliding down or threatened to fly off his face if he ran too fast on the playground. Worse yet, the only other kids in class who wore glasses were just plain dippy. Michael did not want to be one of them. He jammed the glasses back on and looked around. No one seemed to notice. “Good,” he thought.
Charlotte was unusually quiet that afternoon. She was one of the smarter kids and loved spelling and reading, the two afternoon classes. Normally she would have had her hand in the air, waving to get the teacher’s attention, to ask a question or give the correct answer to whatever the teacher had asked. And she always had the correct answer. Today she didn’t even raise her hand once. This got Mrs. Johnson’s attention.
When the dismissal bell rang, Mrs. Johnson asked Charlotte to come to her desk. Michael wondered if he should wait. He and Charlotte always walked out together as they rode the same bus. They were neighbors so they would catch it at the same stop. Sometimes they even sat together and talked about the day’s events. Today though, teacher waved him to go on. “We’ll only be a minute,” she said. “Ask the bus driver to please wait.” Michael nodded.
As Charlotte got on the bus she saw that the only seat left was next to Michael. She pulled her books up to her, sighed and walked down the aisle and sat down heavily. Like Mrs. Johnson, Michael knew that she was upset.
Minutes passed as the bus made its’ way onto the street. The noise of the other kids talking grew louder but Michael and Charlotte sat silently.
“So what’s bugging you?” he finally broke the silence.
“You don’t know?” she asked, tears forming again.
“If I knew I wouldn’t be asking!” he exclaimed.
“Michael, you called me a horse!” she barely held the sob back. “I thought you were a nice guy, but you called me a horse!”
“What the…” his voice trailed off and he stared past her. Then he brightened when it dawned on him. “Charlotte, I was only joking! He cried. “You know, like we always do!”
She just looked at him. “You know,” he went on, like the time you called me pee pants when I spilled my milk on me.”
Charlotte smiled, remembering the day about two weeks earlier in the lunch room. The carton of milk had simply slipped out of his hands and landed in his lap spilling part of its contents. When Michael stood up the other kids started giggling when they saw the wet spot. “Look! Pee Pants!” Charlotte had said, pointing.
“It just came out,” she muttered. “I didn’t mean to make fun of you.”
“No big deal,” he said. “Somebody would’ve said it anyways. I was just glad it was a friend. I knew you weren’t making fun of me either.” They smiled at each other, showing their understanding. The conversation turned to the other events of the day.
The bus soon came to their stop and Charlotte jumped up. Michael slid off the seat behind her. Several seats up the aisle sat Melissa Harper. The long red haired daughter of some muckity muck at a bank, she thought the whole world revolved around her. She had been talking to her best friend about her upcoming birthday party as Charlotte passed by. Melissa whinnied like a horse and her friend giggled. Charlotte glared at her.
“Quit that, Melissa!” Michael said sternly. “That’s mean!”
“Quit it yourself, four eyes!” Melissa retorted and the other kids laughed. The insult was like a slap in the face. Michael turned red. “She knows!” he thought. “And if she knows everyone knows. They’ll all think I’m just as dippy as the others!” The name hurt and tears came to his eyes.
Charlotte had taken it all in. “Come on, Michael. Forget Miss Priss. She’s just being stupid.”
“Miss Priss! Miss Priss!” the other kids started chanting. The bus driver called back, “C’mon, break it up! Here’s your stop you two.” Michael and Charlotte made their way off the bus. As it pulled away they could still hear the other kids chanting, “Miss Priss! Miss Priss!
Michael turned to Charlotte. “Thanks for that,” he said. “It’s nothing,” she replied. “Besides, you’re a nice guy.”