Smile

Every day I get up out of my bed. I open my sleep eyes and wake my distant head. Depending on what day it is depends whether I get a shower in the morning because mummy says that if we use too much water or eat too much food the bad men will come and take mummy away and lock me up with all the other kids who used too much water. Then, when I’m dressed and ready for school I walk down the hallway and go past mummy’s room. For once mummy is home when I get up because usually mum leaves at 10 ‘o’ clock at night and comes back home when I’m at school. Mummy never says why.
I’ve eaten breakfast and I’ve packed my lunch which consists of one plain cheese sandwich and a couple of chunks of ASDA brand chocolate. I only get the chocolate on Tuesdays and Thursday’s.
When I’m at school the teacher tells me off again because I didn’t do my homework; it’s not because I couldn’t be bothered, it’s because I simply can’t do anything school related. The other children call me stupid-I guess that’s what I am. When the teachers talk I don’t listen. I don’t see the point because my mummy said she never did yet she still managed to have a child and a house.
After 6 and hours of daydreaming and not giving in homework I walked home. The walk takes about one and a half hours. I carry my books and lunchbox in my hands because I have no bag. I have no money. On top of the pile of stuff I have my math homework with ‘Do your homework or get a tutor!’ written in red ink across the top. When I am walking down the street I live in; I don’t look forward, I tend to look at the houses opposite me. Their mocking me with their smug looking curtains and oval windows; I hate it yet I can’t seem to look away. Because of this I don’t see the boy who I bang into. Because of this my books, lunchbox and math homework goes everywhere. Because of this the boy sees how bad I am at math. He picks up my homework, reaches out to give it to me but reads it instead. It seems like a lifetime until he looks at me and gives me his smile.
‘Would you like me to tutor you? He asks.
I nod as my reply
He stands up and holds out a hand to help me up. He gives me his smile again.

Over the course of a month I manage to hand in all of my homework on time because of the boy with nice smiles. Without him I probably wouldn’t have made it into a nice secondary school. Without him I probably wouldn’t have made it into university. Without him I probably wouldn’t have made it into a reasonably well paid job. Without him and his smiles I probably wouldn’t have been able to live in a nice house, have nice kids or have lovely grandchildren. This is all because the boy with smiles never left my side; not when I struggled with math, not when we said ‘I do’ to eachother, and not even when I died in his arms on the 16th of November. I died with a smile.