The Girl With The Missing Arm {on hold}

:02

"ARE YOU EXCITED about your first day at your new school?" My mother questions me, as she straightens out her nursing uniform.

Today is also her first day of her new job at the local hospital. Being a single mother with a child is tough and nursing jobs don't pay much but we've always gotten by, usually with a little extra money to spare. It helped when I had a job at Kroger's back in New York before I lost my arm. But now that I'm considered disabled it's going to be hard to find a job here, not that there's much I can do with only one hand anyways.

"No." I state absentmindedly stirring my milk slowly with my spoon as I look abysmally into my bowl of soggy uneaten cereal that my mother poured for me. Everyday tasks that people don't even think twice about doing, like opening a jar or can, using a phone, pouring yourself a bowl of cereal, and putting on clothes is difficult, sometimes even impossible for me to do and I miss the times when they weren't.

She sighs. "I already told the school about. You know..." She trails of as she looks at me meaningfully.

"Okay."

"If you have any problems just call me okay?"

"Okay."

"I left some lunch money on the counter for you. So make sure you remember to take it before you leave for the bus okay?"

"Okay."

"I won't be here when you get back so also make sure you bring your key okay?"

"Okay."

"Are you even listening to a word I say?"

"Okay."

*    *    *

I stand outside my bus stop with my hand in my pocket and a sinking feeling in my stomach.

I'm not looking forward to the prying eyes of people who look at me once, then twice, and when I notice them, they quickly look away, only to have to take another peek when I turn my back. It's like I'm a magnet for people's eyes. I'm not looking forward to the tight lipped smiles with the polite hellos and nods of the head of people who encounter me, who then quickly scamper away as soon as I leave. I'm not looking forward to their pitiful but relieved looks. They feel sorry for me, but they are so glad they don't look like me.

Two teenagers. A boy and a girl walk up next to me. They glance at me curiously, then again when they notice that I don't have an arm sticking out from one of the sleeves of my hoodie. All my hoodies I cut the right arm off of with a pair of scissors. It looked ridiculous with just a hollow sleeve with no arm to fill the space.

"Hi." The girl says with a fake smile. She's a fiery red head with a face full of freckles. She tries to indiscreetly nudge the boy next to her who has ear buds in his ears.

"Hi." He says just as equally forced as the girl.

"So you must be new here because I've never seen you."

"Yeah I'm pretty sure we would've of noticed you before." The boy remarks. I bite my tongue as I realize what he means. After three months I still can't get you used to these comments.

"Tyler!" She hisses. "I'm so sorry! He didn't mean..."

Her voice trails off as I pop my own earbuds in. Instead of listening to generic pop songs like most people would, like how I would before. I listen to Beethoven, Bach, and the likes. A couple of years back I got into it, when I was forced to take music history in school. It kind of just stuck with me since then, and now it's the only thing I listen to.

"Look what you did!" The girl whispers loudly as she hits the guy again.

"What?" He asks defensively as he twirls his skateboard in his hand.