Silver Mints

Ms. Finch always looked so clean, especially standing next to us. We were a rough bunch of kids. We combed our hair and washed our faces but were hardly as polished as Ms. Finch. On that hot September day, she wore a gray skirt with tiny silver buttons shaped like rose buds. I so wanted to touch one. As she walked past me, she smelled like Ivory soap, the kind my dad used for church, and her polished heels clicked on the hardwood floors. I smiled up at her and she smiled back with straight, white teeth.

One by one, she inspected us, stopping to tell some sleepy-eyed classmate to tuck in their shirt or push back their hair. My neighbor, Abel, stood behind me in line, using his spit on his palm to smooth down his cowlick. Meanwhile, I smoothed down my dress and waited for her nod of approval. Up to that day, I liked going to school. I liked reading and the certainty of numbers. And I liked being with my friends, who came from the same neighborhood and whose parents worked as hard as mine.

My older sister, Aurora, stood at the end of the line biting her nails. The teachers treated her like she was stupid and decided to place her in the third grade with me. They said she couldn’t read or write, but really, she just couldn’t read or write in English. The little English she did know, Aurora used to be snarky with Ms. Finch. Though I begged her to be nice, I was sure to stay on my best behavior, so Ms. Finch wouldn’t think my sister and I were alike.

Satisfied with our appearances, Ms. Finch led us into the classroom, and we quietly took our seats. As we pulled out our notebooks from our desks, Ms. Finch called me up to the front of the class. She sat at her own large, oak desk and leaned in close, probably as close as I thought someone like her would let themselves get to someone like me. She flashed her white teeth and in her soft, twinkly voice asked if I wanted to be her special helper. Teachers at my old school asked students to be their helpers, but despite my chubby hand waving in the air, I was never picked. Thrilled, I said yes. Ms. Finch explained I was to tell her if any students weren’t speaking English, and each time I did, she promised to give me a treat.

I sat all morning like an anxious cat on the edge of my seat, more alert than ever before. Some classmates slipped back into Spanish but quickly apologized to Ms. Finch in English so I couldn’t pounce. Yet as we were dismissed for recess, I heard Isabel talking to her friend, Clara. They were chattering away in Spanish with giddy, carefree smiles and laughter, unaware of me standing wide-eyed behind them. Marching right up to Ms. Finch, I tapped her on the arm and leaned in to whisper about my classmates. She thanked me, then pulled a small candy dressed in silver wrapping from her desk drawer and placed it in my palm. I’d never felt such pride.

I sat all morning like an anxious cat on the edge of my seat, more alert than ever before. Some classmates slipped back into Spanish but quickly apologized to Ms. Finch in English so I couldn’t pounce.

In the schoolyard, students hid in the shade, kicking off their shoes and letting their toes wiggle like worms in the dirt. Spanglish chatter was all around me, and I was all too eager to call out, “Ms. Finch!” I flung my finger left and right, pointing out every student who broke the rules. One by one, Ms. Finch pulled them aside while dropping shiny mints into my open palm. Even as my classmates returned to the shade with watery eyes and dirty looks, I never wondered what their fate had been as I savored my sweet rewards.

We returned to our desks, smelly and exhausted from the heat, but Ms. Finch, still crisp and neat, instructed us to pull out our books for a read-aloud. Aurora sat behind me, always fidgeting in her seat. I usually ignored her, and she usually ignored everyone, but that day I found her especially embarrassing. Ms. Finch started reading, but Aurora frantically flipped from page to page.

She leaned forward and whispered, “Que pagina?”

I shot her a look. “Shh.”

Poking my shoulder, she called me a dirty word.

When Ms. Finch glanced up, my palms grew sweaty, and my heart raced. I had been so good all day, I didn’t want Aurora to ruin it. I told her in English to be quiet.

“Que?” she hissed.

Ms. Finch looked our way again as Aurora gave my shoulder another jab.

In my anger, my hand shot up, “Ms. Finch! Aurora’s talking in Spanish!”

My classmates murmured to one another, eyeing Aurora and me. Ms. Finch paused, looking from Auroa to me, then put down her book and summoned Aurora to the front of the class. On her way up, Aurora glared at me. Ms. Finch asked her to place her hands on top of the large desk, and we all looked on in silence. When Aurora kept her arms by her side, Ms. Finch reached for my sister’s hands and gingerly placed them on the smooth wood. Then all our eyes went wide, as Ms. Finch pulled a thick ruler from her desk drawer and brought it down twice on my sister’s little knuckles. The smack of the wood sounded like thunderclaps. Then Ms. Finch replaced the ruler, telling Aurora to return to her desk. I felt like I witnessed a crime.

Walking back, Aurora kept her eyes down, silently taking her seat. Ms. Finch continued reading and placed another mint on my desk with the same hand she’d held the ruler in. I looked over my shoulder and saw Aurora’s tears staining her open book. I’d never felt such shame.

Walking back, Aurora kept her eyes down, silently taking her seat. Ms. Finch continued reading and placed another mint on my desk with the same hand she’d held the ruler in.

Finally, the thin arms of the clock on the wall said it was time to go home. Ms. Finch dismissed us for the day, and Aurora rushed out ahead of me. As I left the classroom, Ms. Finch stopped me, placing two more mints in my hand. Crouching down to meet my eyes, she smiled warmly, but her eyes were sad in a way I had never seen before. Pointing at the second mint, she said softly, “One for your sister.”

I stepped out into the open air, ready to share my last shiny mints with Aurora, but I couldn’t find her. I started to wonder if she walked home without me when two little rocks flew through the air, striking my arm and causing me to drop the mints. Aurora came flying at me, throwing rock after rock. I threw up my hands to shield my face.

“Aurora stop!” I begged in English.

But she didn’t stop until her hands were empty. Other students watched, our neighbors and friends who I had tattled on, but none of them stopped her. Then she shoved me to the ground. Her eyes were dry as she walked away, but my own face burned from my hot tears. And my two little mints were crushed in the dirt.