Bright Red
Calvin was driving to school in his new car. His father had just gotten tenure last year at the University and since they could be a bit less relaxed with spending, they bought him a car for his birthday. It was a used 1990 Honda Prelude, and it was red. He was told it was red. He couldn’t actually be certain because of some strange form of color blindness he had. Apparently it was extremely rare. What it meant was that he saw no colors. He only saw in grays and black and white, like a dog. He got used to it. For the most part. He looked at the road. Oh shit. The stoplight.
The top light was lit. Which one was that? Was it green? Red? Usually someone was with him so he could double check. This was the first time he was alone. His mind raced. He was going 50 miles an hour, if he slammed on the brakes he could swerve into a tree. Fucking trees. It wouldn’t be a problem without them, then he could see around the turn. Fucking trees.
OK. Top light was green. Wasn’t it? God damn colors. He kept his speed.
He heard the horn, and he felt his head start to turn and glimpse a truck out of the corner of his eye. Everything blurred. Even more than usual. There was blood everywhere. He was lying on his side, and the craziest thought entered his head. He remembered from a distant time and memory, something that happened a long time ago. He looked up at the sunroof and saw the trunks of trees. That’s not right…
Calvin walked through door after door. Each door was heavier than the last and they were farther apart. It’s the never-ending hallway. How poetic. He found his own door, the one that lead into his kindergarten classroom. Such a happy place. Colorful, bright, cheery, and wonderful. Not that it mattered shit to Calvin.
“Calvin, it’s nice to see you to class so early,” Mrs. Whitlock said in that wonderfully depressing sing-song voice. “How are you this morning?”
“Fine.”
“Well, just take your seat and wait for the other students.”
On some sort of cue, in marched the parade of sullen gray 5 year-olds. Each one more hyperactive than the last. Jabbering and chirping about some cartoon they all saw. Calvin didn’t watch cartoons. They were just so boring and drab compared to reading. Books were about the only entertainment he could be interested in. Each page was an adventure, his active imagination made up for the lack of pictures. His pictures were better anyway. Far more vivid than whatever the author drew. TV and movies were just as exciting to look at, but not nearly as interesting.
He didn’t like any of the things that the other kids talked about. They liked cartoons, and when they did read, they read picture books. His parents figured out quickly enough that he wouldn’t really appreciate those too much. He was already reading books that kids twice his age had trouble with. He didn’t always understand everything, but his father explained everything he didn’t get right away.
His father knew so much. Calvin’s father was so smart that he was a writer. And he was a good writer. He didn’t need to put any of those pictures in his books. His words painted a picture in Calvin’s mind that a ‘two-bit hack’ couldn’t do. Calvin’s father didn’t like children’s book writers. He said they were ‘two-bit hacks who couldn’t make art so they make money instead.’ Calvin didn’t know what that meant, but he reasoned that they weren’t good. He just finished reading ‘The Hobbit’ and that was better than anything with pictures. His favorite part was when Bilbo killed the spiders. Rhyming and dancing like the merriest and bravest…
“Calvin!”
His head snapped to attention. His eyes rising to catch light as his pupils shrunk accordingly. The blue-gray outlining his tiny pupils searched to find an irate Mrs. Whitlock. She wanted to ask Calvin a question about ‘Outside.’ This week was all about ‘Outside.’ This is a Bird. B. I. R. D. Bird. What noise does a cat make? Meow. What color is the grass? Green. Who cares? Not Calvin.
“What color is the grass?” asked Mrs. Whitlock.
“Green.” Everyone knew that.
“Calvin, do you know what we’re doing?”
Calvin shook his head no. Mrs. Whitlock sighed. “What WE are doing is drawing a picture of the ‘Outside’ on the chalk board. Could you color in the grass?”
Shit. Shit. Shit.
Calvin looked down and mumbled something incoherently. Kids started looking at him, whispered taunts and teases about this dunce, how stupid he must be.
“Calvin, you weren’t paying attention before, I think it would be nice for you to color in the grass. You don’t want me to write your name on the board, do you?”
Oh, Christ Almighty, not that! Name on the board is the first step on the trip to the principal’s office. He grudgingly got out of his seat. Maybe if he dragged his feet long enough, it would be lunch time before he reached the board. Mrs. Whitlock couldn’t stop him. Stopping him would only take longer! Victory was near.
“Calvin, please hurry up.”
Oh… Well played, Mrs. Whitlock. Well played, indeed. She saw through Calvin, and his last line of defense was breached. What would Bilbo do? With a sigh of defeat, he realized Bilbo would face the dangers. He quickened his pace and was soon at the board. He looked down at the chalk.
Fifteen pieces of gray chalk looked back at him. Which one is green? This one’s darker than that one, this one seems lighter, is green used a lot? Which one’s more worn?
“Calvin, it’s not difficult. Just pick up the green chalk and shade in the grass.” The class started snickering. Calvin just closed his eyes and grabbed a piece of chalk. He opened them to see a gray brighter than the others. Just as green as any other gray. He scribbled all over the part of the board that was clearly where the grass belonged. Everyone started laughing.
“Calvin, might I ask you what you think you’re doing?” Mrs. Whitlock inquired. Calvin cringed. He realized that whatever color his chalk was, it wasn’t green.
“I was coloring in the grass.” That seemed like the best thing to say. Be honest.
“Calvin, I think you should discuss with the principal why you have to disrupt the class.”
What is this, WHAT IS THIS?! Did she just forgo the necessary three check process? It is well known to everyone in Kindergarten that one must attain three checks next to their name to be sent to the principal’s office. His name wasn’t even on the board and he’s already facing execution? What is this?!
“But… wh- what did I, I do?” a stammering Calvin asked. Tears started forming. He didn’t care. Everyone was laughing so hard at him that they either wouldn’t notice or would have so much more ammunition that ‘cry-baby’ would mean nothing in comparison.
“Calvin, I don’t think I need to tell you that grass is not yellow, now go to the principal’s office.”
He slowly trudged out of the door. Every child’s nightmare of being laughed out of class was coming true. The fucking colors.
He heard shouting. There was a lot of running and sirens. They were going to be too late. It didn’t matter. There was blood everywhere. So that’s red. He started laughing. It was so cold. Everything was getting darker, but he was still laughing. It was black as night, and he couldn’t stop laughing. He closed his eyes and smiled. He might be bleeding to death, but at least he knew what the hell red looked like. His last breath left him. All of a sudden he could see colors. Calvin didn’t see what all the fuss was about.
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