Ferbert Flembuzzle's
Most Exotic Zoo

Chapter 10 - Sophia's Armor

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When Sophia returned to the classroom, Mrs. Blantly was writing math problems on the board. Sophia shuffled toward the front of the classroom to where she’d sat that morning, but her desk was gone. She looked for another place to sit. All the seats were taken.

Sophia turned toward Mrs. Blantly, desperate to understand, but the woman only gave her a crusty glare and pointed to the back of the classroom. Tucked away, in the darkest corner, facing the back wall, was a solitary desk—Sophia’s desk. Her shoulders dropped and she lowered her head as she lurched across the room, the other children sneering at her as she took her seat.

During the math lesson, Sophia turned around to see what was on the board until Mrs. Blantly yelled at her. “Stop climbing on the desk like it’s a jungle gym!” So, the girl turned back around and sat in silence until the bell rang, indicating the end of the school day.

Her walk home was long and slow, but her mind was restless. “Tomorrow will be different. Tomorrow, I will make friends,” she told herself. “The mayor is wrong about my dad.”

Saying it out loud helped, but the thought in the back of Sophia’s mind remained. What if the mayor is telling the truth?

Those pesky thoughts stirred in her brain until she reached the front porch of her small home. She walked through the door with her head down, staring at her feet.

“How was my girl’s first day?” Ferbert asked from where he sat at the table. He raised his arm, which held the canvas satchel. “What do you say we head out to the maple and do a little reading, and you can tell me all about the things you learned and the friends you made?”

When Sophia lifted her head, her tear-stained cheeks and puffy, red eyes told him everything. He dropped the satchel, jumped to his feet, and wrapped his arms around his daughter.

“Dad, I didn’t make any friends.” Her breath was short and jumpy as she sobbed. “I don’t know why I thought anyone was going to like me.”

“Don’t worry; you’ll make friends. In time, you will.” Ferbert pulled away just enough to see her face. “The roughest roads often lead to the most spectacular destinations.”

One side of Sophia’s mouth lifted with a slight hint of a smile. “You’re probably right.”

“Now, are you ready for a foot race to the maple?”

Sophia shrugged. “I think I’m just gonna go read in my room, if that’s okay.”

Ferbert’s brows dropped and his eyes turned soft. His daughter had never said no to reading in the maple tree. “Of course that’s okay.”

Sophia went to her room, shut the door, and stayed there until the next morning.

At breakfast, she poked at her scrambled eggs with her fork. She didn’t cut them, stir them, scoop, or eat them—just poked.

“It’s not alive; no need to stab it to death,” her dad said with a playful grin.

Ferbert had been sitting at the table all morning, but Sophia looked up with a frozen, wide-eyed expression of someone who was surprised to learn she wasn’t alone.

She forced a smile and put down her fork. “I guess… I’m just not that hungry.”

Sophia waited nervously for him to ask why, but he didn’t. There was no need—he knew. Instead, he gave a gentle smile and looked at his watch.

“Jumpin’ jellyfish!” Ferbert exclaimed. “We need to get you out the door or you’ll be late.”

Sophia rose like a zombie and Ferbert walked beside her as she staggered toward the door. She lifted her backpack from its hook and pulled it onto her back, and just before stepping out the door, Ferbert pulled her in for a hug.

Sophia didn’t want him to let go because the end of the hug meant the beginning of her journey to the place where everyone seemed to hate her. Ferbert didn’t want to let go either. His heart ached at the thought of letting his daughter go somewhere that caused so much pain, but he knew it was necessary and eventually released her from his loving embrace.

When she arrived at school, Sophia found children playing tag in the field and zipping across the playground, but it wasn’t long before she felt them staring at her. She spotted Bailey playing with a group of girls near the monkey bars. They kept glancing in Sophia’s direction. When she made eye contact with the strawberry blonde girl, Sophia was shocked to see Bailey waving for her to come over.

Maybe she wants to say sorry, she wondered. Maybe she still wants to be friends.

Sophia hesitated for only a moment before walking to the group.

“Hi, Bailey. I just wanted to say—” She stopped when they started whispering, giggling, and snickering with one another and an awful feeling came over Sophia. The girls shushed each other and then, in unison, they burst into a loud chant.

There once was a man who lied, lied, lied.

He had a silly daughter who cried, cried, cried.

If you get the chance, and I hope you do,

push her in the mud or she’ll lie to you, too.

At once, the girls lunged forward and shoved Sophia, who stumbled and fell backward into a deep puddle of mud. Thick, dirty filth splashed in all directions and globs of mud crashed down on Sophia’s head and face. The scene around her erupted into chaos.

A giant crowd of children gathered around her. Some of them pointed and laughed so hard that their heads tipped backward, their mouths agape. Others laughed so hard that they collapsed to the ground. It seemed as though the world spun around the mud-covered girl as shrieking laughter exploded from every mouth. Sophia closed her eyes and threw her hands over her ears. The laughter continued until the bell rang. The laughter faded, and soon she sat in complete silence. Hesitantly, she opened her eyes and rose to her feet. She was alone.

Any other time in Sophia’s life, she would have run home and told her dad what happened, knowing he would wrap his arms around her and tell her everything was going to be okay. Today was different, though. For the first time, Sophia felt both alone and afraid. She thought about what the mayor said and worried that not even her dad would understand.

She stood in the mud puddle with her head down, looking at her legs and arms. She watched as the warm sun dried the mud and transformed it into a hard crust over her skin, reminding her of the armor-like shell of the Brazilian three-banded armadillo.

Sophia took a breath, wiped the tears from her face, and clenched her jaw. “That’s it. I will be like the armadillo to protect myself,” she said to herself. “I just need to make myself tough.” As she said it, she felt a dark, cold, invisible armor mold and wrap around her heart. When it was done she didn’t feel sadness anymore.

Sophia went to her classroom, confident that no cruel words or nasty acts were going to penetrate her heart anymore, and took her seat facing the back corner.

At lunch, she had nowhere to sit. As she passed by each table, the children sneered, “No Flembuzzles allowed here.” The only place Sophia was permitted to sit was on the floor next to the trash cans. No one bothered her until the end of lunch, when the children went to throw away their leftovers. “Oops,” they each blurted sarcastically as they dumped food on her head and laughed.

Elmer, the janitor, watched and then grumbled to Sophia, “I ain’t cleaning that mess up—you were the last one to touch it.”

Instead of jumping rope, swinging on the monkey bars, or playing kickball at recess, Sophia hid in the high branches of the tree she’d climbed to retrieve Bailey’s backpack.

When teams were being picked during gym class, Sophia was not the last kid picked. Rather, she wasn’t picked at all. The teacher and all the students acted as though she were invisible and started the game without her.

When she asked which team she was on, the gym teacher scowled at her with his sharp eyes and huffed, “I’ll have none of your backtalk. You take that untamed mouth of yours straight to principal’s office.” He shook his head and continued, “If I were Principal Winklestein, I’d kick you out of this school.”

Sophia went without a word.

“The only reason I’m not kicking you out of school,” Principal Winklestein started, “is because Mayor Monev forbade me from doing so. I don’t want a Flembuzzle in my office, so go back to class.”

Back in class, Sophia completed her classwork perfectly, but Mrs. Blantly plastered her assignments with giant frowny faces and Zs.

“What does a Z mean?” Sophia asked.

“It means your work was the worst I’ve seen,” Mrs. Blantly responded. “It was so bad that I had to skip F and go straight to the end of the alphabet. Now, go to the principal for back-talking me.”

Sophia spent nearly all day being sent back and forth between class and the principal’s office, and when school got out, she walked home with her face to the ground the whole way.

Ferbert sat at the table when she walked through the door. He smiled but didn’t ask how her day was, as he could already tell by Sophia’s slumped shoulders and drooping head.

“Can I interest you in an afternoon in the maple tree?” he asked with a gentle smile. “An afternoon in the maple always makes you feel better.”

She wanted to pour out her heart and tell him everything, but she couldn’t. Her heart ached as she realized that the invisible armor she had put on not only blocked cruelty, but it also blocked love and kindness. She no longer felt sad or happy. No, it was something much worse: she felt nothing.

“No thanks,” was all Sophia could muster before shuffling off to her room.