Mixed-Up Chameleon: A Short Story

She remembered the sting of humiliation that had deprived her of much joy in her own childhood. It had also been injected through ugly remarks expressed by local farm kids. Her protective maternal urge began to rise in fury toward those ignorant types who had hurt her years ago and whose offspring would now perpetuate their malevolence onto her daughter. She continued to rock the suffering child back and forth. “Yer a special person, my dear. Yer an intelligent, beautiful girl. Some children get jealous, that's all, and they're ignorant," she repeated. You can't pay em any mind." Your dad cares too,” she added. She thought of Steve downstairs watching his game and it made her angry. She had talked to him about getting Ellen into a better
It's just that they, at least Carole does, like boys and horses. She's even in pony league and I'm not, not that I want really to." Sylvia saw that her daughter had calmed down.
"Now sweetheart, why don't you get ready for bed?" I'm gonna look in on Susan and be back in a little bit. Okay?” The girl nodded. "Wait," she said and went to her bookshelf and pulled out a picture book that had been one of her favorites since she was little. It was the Mixed-up Chameleon by Eric Carle. "Mawm," she opened the book to a particular page, one illustrating a green chameleon with black spots and a long pink tongue. “Can you imagine if we could change colors like that? Then everyone would know how we really felt about stuff. Not that I'd want to be a chameleon or have to eat a fly exactly," the little girl spoke firmly. Sylvia was struck again by her daughter's sensitivity. "No. A piece a spaghetti or an ant might be tastier," her mother joked back. "Let's get goin now, okay?”

With that the mother left the room and walked down the hall to look in on Susan. Sylvia knocked on the closed door and called out. "Susan?" She could hear that her daughter was on the
"Rachel, my mom's here for something. Can I call ya back later or we can talk about this tomorrow. Okay?" The girl then hung up and looked up at her mom. "Thank Gawd yer here, mom. If I have to hear one more word about Tom Franklin and what he mighta said about Rachel. I swear ta Gawd I'm gonna scream. Ya know some girls think boys are so.... well, I don't know the right word, ‘important,’ but I don't. That's for sure. They’re okay an' everything, but most of em are just plain stupid anyway. Ya know what I mean? Well, dad isn't. Well kinda, but ya know what I mean, don'tcha?” “Susan, when was the last time ya washed yer hair? What conditioner are ya usin?” "Yesterday or may be no, it was the day before. I think," Susan answered. "Well, yer hair looks greasy or something, like ya got into something. Why don't you wash it