pervert

I worked with her twice a week, pulling her from her related arts classes to help her learn to read better. She seemed grateful at first; quiet, compliant, presumably eager to learn.

But then she told them that I was a pervert.
Told them I would tell her that she’s pretty.
Said I would try to hold her hand in the hallway.
Accused me of following her into the girls’ locker room.

My breath catches in my chest as I instantly distress over potential career death.
No reputation left. Those three words fester in my mind.

No. Reputation. Left.

Her words like poison, dripping down my throat along with a lump the size of my future.

What could possess a youth seemingly so innocent
to cause me such detriment with her verbal excrement.
I’m innocent!
How impudent can she be?
Is she that selfish that she cannot see that I’ve sacrificed 5 years, endless late nights, internal will-fights, and $80,000 to dedicate my life to hers.
I just wanted to help you!
You’re in 6th grade and cannot read!
I just wanted to help you!

Never in my life have I EVER considered crossing that line.
11 years old and knows enough that those accusations will cause a sensation wild enough
This child’s enough to ruin me.
With just a few words, she’s abused seemingly unmitigated power.
My spirit aches as I watch my dreams soar away on the wind of her deceit.
A verbal zephyr with ends immeasurable.
And I just want to collapse.

But I refuse to spend the rest of my life on a list where I have to introduce myself to my neighbors as a child molester. I will not accept defeat. And by the grace of God I can stand knowing that there are those who believe in me and my integrity. A principal who believes me and knows how to crack a liar. And I can walk through halls with my head held high because I’m safe. I’m trusted.

And I am not a pervert.