The Rainbow Fish
By Stevie Klein
Lexie loved books. She loved that they felt like her dog’s ears and smelled like the coffee in her mom’s blue mug that she always left out for a day or two.
On Lexie’s fifth birthday her aunt gave her a rectangular package that was tied with a big pink bow. In it she found a book, The Rainbow Fish. She ran her fingers across the cover. The silver scales of the fish reflected her green eyes.
She kept the book on her bedside table, under some small plastic dogs and an empty diary.
Her dad read her The Rainbow Fish every night. Even today, she finds this memory refreshingly clear, her dad poking his head into the room, calling: “Lexie-Cat, are you ready for tonight’s adventure?”
He would pick up the book from the table beside her, his rough guitar hands turning the smooth pages. She would nuzzle into his chest, touching the pages alongside him, hoping the words would seep through her fingers and into her mind. The colors were warm, and she felt warm when he read it.
Lexie started school that September. She was in Ms. James’ class. Ms. James smelled like summer and only wore dresses. The first thing Lexie noticed when she entered the classroom was the short, white bookshelf in the back, next to the sea green carpet. On the bottom shelf, three books from the left, sat The Rainbow Fish. The corners of Lexie’s mouth snuck up into a soft smile, as if there was something funny only she knew the answer to.
At 10:30 am every morning, the class had reading hour. The students were divided into groups based on reading level: low, middle, and high. And a few kids would leave the classroom. No one spoke about the kids who left the classroom. They would return, head bent slightly, eyes on their shoes. Those were the kids who couldn’t read.
Ms. James asked Lexie to pick her favorite book, and Lexie darted over to scoop up The Rainbow Fish before anyone else had stirred. The cover looked colder, the colors more faded. But nonetheless she had heard the words repeated so many times at home that she opened the book and recited them to her teacher, who looked at her with approval and an energetic smile. She was placed in the high reading group.
She held the book tightly. It made her feel safe among classmates who could speak the correct pronunciations of the words on the page. They would walk across to the bookshelf, eyes darting left and right, selecting the cover that they liked best. The b’s didn’t look like p’s, the m’s like w’s or the n’s like u’s. It made her feel safe when her teacher was around, the one whose approval she desperately wanted, and who made her feel like she was smart if the proper words left her mouth. Most importantly, it made her feel safe from being one of the kids who left the classroom at reading hour.
The next day Ms. James sat next to Lexie on the sea green carpet while she read, and when she saw that Lexie was turning the page before the words on the page ended, she still smiled, but it was a sad smile.
Stevie Klein is a senior at the University of Pennsylvania where she majors in Politics, Philosophy and Economics, and minors in Creative Writing. She is an avid fan of Harry Potter books, and loves writing, tennis and skiing.
