Amanda’s report card

Amanda’s report card

Amanda, who grew up teaching English to girls of her age, indulged into fun on the streets that lead to her home. She laughed at the lame linguistic impressions that the street artists had left on the walls of her city. She was left amused when she read advertisements as these– “Childrens Toys”, “Your the best”, “The Filanthropist” or “The Vagetarian restorant”. In Amanda’s mien could be found the erudition that a young woman with a major in English should bear. This was one of the reasons behind the freedom that she enjoyed while making fun of those who lacked the perfection of language.

One weekend, her mom spread old photographs, letters, books and memoirs across a bed; Amanda jumped onto a corner of the bed while her mom clung to the other as they enjoyed recalling long-lost memories. In one of the books Amanda fumbled upon a report card of her early schooling. The ecstasy in her flipped the card open and dropped eyes on the scores mentioned in the subjects of language. She frowned as read –

Grammer: 93/100

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Amanda’s cakes

After three days of hunger spent in their tiny apartment, mom and Amanda sat at the table for dinner. Loss of mom’s job about six months ago had become more meaningful now when bills and charges were eating away her savings, leaving her with nothing to feed her kid. Today, however, she had earned a smile for Amanda’s face while falling from grace when she stole muffins and cakes from a friend’s housewarming party she had been invited to.

The table looked lively with a basket full of food. Amanda pushed her plate for mom to fill it.

As soon as mom moved her hand towards the food, two dirty rats sprung up from nowhere and dug into the basket. The bigger rat bit into the muffin while the smaller one fell flat on the cake dancing all over it. They both grabbed muffins into their mouths and scurried away.

Amanda’s breakfast

Photo: art.com

Photo: art.com

I will eat breakfast only when mommy’s around.  Amanda thought as she took the Sunday newspaper in her small hands.  Every week she waited for this day when she could maunder about all that she did in school.

She had finished reading all comic strips when she felt hunger pangs. She looked at the big clock on the wall while the food lay on the table.

10:50 am

She folded the newspaper and dropped it in mom’s chair. A tiny piece of paper slipped from the pages. It read,

Honey, I’m off to office, got an urgent call from my bald boss. Finish the breakfast, I’ll be late.

Love,

Mommy