I remember the bus fighting its way up the hill. I wondered if it would make it, everyone was quiet except the engine which strained loudly. I was on my way with my grandmother to a school fair. It was a rough school known at the time for tough kids with even tougher teachers. Nowadays it is known as a place where kids were abused. Some physically, some mentally, others just ignored. But few were actually allowed reach their potential. Lucky for me I went to a school of tough kids with not so tough teachers so I ignored them.
We arrived safely, the school yard was packed. We made immediately for a big ‘Spin the Wheel’ where on display were some Pandas. The odds were against us, but we were going to try. My grandmother handed over the money, the guy spun the big 10 foot wheel and in what seemed like an hour it slowed became less noisy and stopped. On our number.
My grandmother was handed the Panda, which she gave to me. For a moment I thought it was for me, but it was actually for my cousin. It was a pink Panda after all and she was a girl, it was her birthday, and I was a budding tough guy. I could not hide my disappointment. The Pandas were nice. I wanted one. I was only 7 it seemed reasonable. My grandmother noticed, she handed over some money, the guy spun the wheel. A long time, slow, ticking, tick, tick until it stopped. Again, on our number.
The guy handed over a second Panda, almost as big as myself, black and white.
We left. Two Pandas, me and my grandmother, back on the Bus. She never uttered a word about “magic”. I figured that’s just the way it is when you have real magic. You tend not to talk about it.
-sf ca writer
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