THE CHILD OF SHAME

I must have been about five years-old. It was playtime. We were all running around, having fun, and shouting on the playground whereas the teachers were watching us while chatting. One of my classmates interrupted our game to invite us to join his, a bit further. The rule consisted of choosing among the participants the prettiest and voting for her by going to kiss her on the cheek.

My eyes carefully scanned each face with the stern gaze of a jury.

By the way, what is it to be pretty? I wondered.

My gaze fell on the face of one of my classmates. He had been in my class since the beginning of the year, but it wasn't until recently that we often played together. Unlike the others and even myself, he didn't wear his sex on his face; a round face with the typical features of Eastern European women at the beginning of the century.

That was it! I'd decided! I'd selected the prettiest in my eyes!

So, confident and determined, I walked towards my little friend to blow a soft kiss on his cheek. He jumped, surprised and at the same time appeased by my choice. I smiled at him and he smiled back. The other children remained frozen by the scene; their questions suspended above their heads.

'Borys!' one of the teachers screamed, grabbing my arm tightly. 'What are you doing?'

At the same moment, the children started giggling and pointing at me. Standing in front of me, my prettiest face gradually transformed as the laughter increased.

***

A few hours later, I was standing between my father and mother who were both sitting in front of the school principal's desk.

'This behaviour is unacceptable,' the woman in her fifties began sternly.

My mother took my hand into hers as if to give me the strength to listen silently like her.

Meanwhile, my father kept apologising after each of the principal's comments. Obviously, my unacceptable behaviour had hurt him deeply. I already knew what was waiting for me back home: first, a smack or two on my behind or my face followed by forced exile to a dark corner of a room in the house. Then, total invisibility for a few days. Not a gaze or a word, not even a "move out of my way!" I would no longer exist for my father alone.