Children's Games

By Thursday, Pablito had changed. What had once been a blessing now seemed to be working against him. When he first returned from the hospital, at least people would look at him or offer a "good morning." Granted, it was out of pity, as if saying, "Poor Pablito, at least he’s okay now."

The teachers, tired of his attitude, did nothing. They simply remarked that he should be grateful they weren't hitting or insulting him anymore.

"Héctor has stopped bullying you," one of the teachers commented when Pablito went to report his problem. "Be grateful that the harassment has finally ended."

"But... ma'am..." Pablito tried to defend himself, which only earned him a reprimand from the teacher.

"Have they hit you?" the principal asked. Pablito said no. "Have they pushed you again? Have they mocked you with new nicknames?" Pablito said no to both. 

"Then what is the problem?"

"They... they’re ignoring me," Pablito whispered. The principal sighed, tired of his constant complaining.

"Pablo, everything is a damn problem for you. Go back to class, now!”

Pablito left the office, shuffling his feet. A third-year student tripped him, and he fell to the floor. They laughed mockingly, calling him a "little piggy" and saying that with his weight, he’d cause an earthquake. "I can't cry..." Pablito whispered as he got up.

They pushed him again, and he fell once more. Laughter, a kick to the lower back. He crawled along the ground to avoid further aggression. He stood up and went to the classroom with tears already falling. He opened the door, closed it, and went to sit down. Not even the teacher addressed a single word to him.

He looked at the blackboard, at the exercises and sentences written there. Dizziness, a bit of nausea; he felt his stomach churn. He could still feel the kick; the only sign he was still alive was that very pain.

He tried to copy the exercises, but the words, the letters, and even the punctuation marks seemed to dance, combine, and stretch to a point where he couldn't read what was on the board. Everything was spinning. He looked at his notebook, but it was as if he wasn't really there. Why was his hand positioned as if he were holding a pen?

"Emily!" Héctor shouted. Emily turned to look at him. Pablito snapped back to reality. He looked at Emily. Had she always worn her black hair tied back in a ponytail?

"Have you done any ghost or demon rituals?" Héctor asked his classmate. Emily couldn't believe he was asking her that exact question.

"N... no, why?" Emily lied. In her defense, she had forgotten about the mirror ritual.

"You're damn blin’ if you didn' see that," Héctor said, annoyed pointing to the door. "The classroom door opened and closed by itself. There’s no win’, and I didn't see anyone enter. You have to teach me at least one ritual, maybe that way my idiot old man will finally drop dead from a god’amn heart'attack."

Emily looked over at Pablito, who had his face hidden in his arms. It was obvious he was crying. For a brief moment, she thought about it: she wanted to get up, comfort him, ask if he needed help.

Héctor made a gesture, and one of his friends stood up and sat next to Emily to ask for help with the spelling exercises the teacher had assigned.

"Well... it's just that I..." Emily tried to say.

"You what, dea' Emily?" her classmate asked. Just by his gaze, she felt a pressure—something Emily sensed could work against her.

"No... nothing," Emily replied. "I think this word is spelled this way."

Emily pointed to a word: "coordinación," (coordination in spanish. This first one is written with the correct spelling) which was written in her classmate's notebook as "cordinasion." The word was corrected and rewritten as "cordinacion." For ten minutes, the two of them worked on spelling various words.

She felt strange being able to help a classmate, though after the teacher's corrections, she couldn't say she had been of much help. But at least they were finally paying attention to her and not laughing at her hobbies.

"Emily, wait!" a female voice called out behind her.

Classes had ended, and Emily wanted to go home. Turning to see who it was, she saw her classmate Aisha running toward her.

Aisha’s name, so exotic and different, was always a point of attention for her. Since she didn't stand out in anything, she was always trying to imitate others, to try harder. Since the beginning of the year, her goal had been to imitate Dita.

Her brown hair was styled like her new idol's, although it wasn't as long, and she was forbidden from dyeing it, so she tried to use the same accessories.

"Is something wrong, Aisha?" Emily asked curiously.

"I want you to help me learn a ritual," Aisha responded with a fake smile. "I want to be the prettiest girl in school and get a boyfriend better than Dita's. Please say yes..."

Emily saw Pablito walking past them. He had a vacant stare, and his swollen eyes showed he hadn't just cried in English class; his walk was erratic. Some third-year students made pig noises as he passed by them.

Her mind was made up; Emily started toward Pablito to try and help him, to ask him to talk if he needed to. But Aisha stopped her and insisted:

"Please, Emi, help me!,” Aisha said, giving little hops while trying to keep Emily's attention. "If not a ritual, a spell. Surely you know something that can help me."

Neither of them noticed, but Héctor was watching from the school building's entrance. Once he confirmed that Emily was distracted by Aisha, he stepped out.
Héctor walked fast and shoved Pablito, who almost lost his balance but didn't fall. After a fake apology for bumping into him, Héctor got into a friend's car and drove off to a destination known only to him and the group in the car.

Emily took one last look at Pablito, who was walking in the opposite direction from her. But Aisha kept insisting and even asked if they could go for ice cream together.

"Look, look..." Karla noted, pointing at Emily and Aisha. Naomy and Lucía turned to look. "How weird that Emily is hanging out with the cheap knock-off of Dita."

"What could she have said to her?" Lucía asked curiously.

"She probably asked her for help with a spell, a ritual, or something like that," Naomy replied. "They're both so basic, it’s bound to be something like that."

"By the way, don't you think Pablo is acting weird?" Lucía remarked, watching Pablito walk erratically, paying no attention to his surroundings.

"That fat kid has always been like that since they started messing with him," Naomy replied. "I went to elementary school with him, and he’s been like that ever since he gain weight."

Finally, Lucía’s mother's car arrived to pick up the group, and the friends got in to go home and start a study session for the dreaded history exam. And it wasn't just history; exams were approaching as fast as the Holy Week break.