The Pencil Sharpener

Ages 9-12

Sori is told to empty the pencil sharpener, and she does it into her own hand.

It is the old kind, a metal box with a handle, screwed to the edge of the teacher's desk. It has been used all term. When she pulls out the little drawer at the bottom, it is full, a gray heap of wood curls and lead dust.

The wastebasket is across the room.

She holds the drawer in her left hand. She tips it, and the curls pour into her right palm and spill over her fingers. She closes her fist around them, to keep them in.

She walks the whole way down the aisle with her fist held out. A curl drops, and then another. One gets caught in her cuff.

She comes to the basket. She opens her hand over it. The shavings fall in a small soft heap, and the dust follows, gray. A few are stuck to her palm.

She turns her hand over, and taps it on the rim. Then she wipes it down her skirt, once, and there is a long gray mark.

Back at the desk, she slides the empty drawer into the sharpener, and it clicks shut.

She holds up her hand to the light from the window. The palm is gray, with the lines of it picked out in lead.