Baby Tooth

Mack sat on the front row staring at her with malice in his blue eyes. Claire had been the only other student who had not lost a tooth in Mrs. Hoard’s kindergarten class. Now he was the only one. Why wouldn’t his baby teeth come out? Every night he pushed and pulled on them soaking his Snoopy pillow with drool. His mother told him a story about her brother Jimmy putting a string around her tooth and the door knob. He then would slam the door repeatedly eventually pulling out her tooth. Mack put the string around one of his teeth, but his three-year old sister did not understand she should close the door.
Claire with her blond hair escaping from its scrunchy gave the class a gapped- tooth smile. Mack focused back on Claire’s words, “My tooth felt wiggly, and I kept pushing it with my tongue. I tasted something funny, and when I looked in the mirror, all I could see was blood. I started screaming, and my mommy came running. My mommy stuck her fingers in my mouth, and I screamed louder! Then, my mommy snatched my tooth out of my mouth. It didn’t even hurt. The tooth fairy brought me a whole dollar.”
Mack pinched the bridge of his nose, and squinted his eyes together as hard as he could to push his tears back down his throat. He felt the eyes of his classmates all over him because they knew he was now the only one who had not lost a tooth. If he cried, he could just hear Tommy Riley shrieking, "Mack is a cry baby, and he hasn't lost a tooth!" Mack shrunk into his desk becoming as small as he could, hoping no one would notice him.
As soon as the yellow school bus stopped as his house, he raced up the grassy hill, pounded up the wooden steps, and flew into his mom’s arms. His tears erupted, and he sobbed uncontrollably. Mom patted his back calmly and asked, “Mack tell me what happened in school today.”
“Nothinnnnnng.” Mom pushed Mack back to arm’s length, and lifted his chin gently, so he had to look her in the eye.
“Tell Mommy what happened at school today.”
“I’m the only baby in my class.”
Mom’s eyes widened, and her voice volume rose one notch, “What? Did someone call you a baby?”
“No,” Mack said as he twisted the toe of his sneakers into the muddy brown carpet.
“What happened?”
The sobs began to heave inside of Mack and welled up once again as he thought of how unfair that he was the only kid in kindergarten who had not lost one baby tooth. “Dumb Claire lost a baby tooth.”
“Oh, I see. You are the only one who hasn’t lost a tooth.”
“Yeah. Why not mom? How come you made me this way?”
“It’s probably your dad’s fault. Did you know that he had two sets of front teeth, and the dentist had to pull out one set?”
“Gross! Poor dad.”
“I could take you to the dentist, and he could pull out your tooth.”
“NOOOOOO!” Mack began a campaign to make sure he lost a tooth before kindergarten
was over. He pushed and pulled on his teeth every night. Then one week before kindergarten ended, he noticed one of his front teeth wiggled a little bit. Instead of pushing and pulling on all his teeth, he now concentrated all his effort on this one tooth. Mack's mom and teacher nagged, "Get your hands out of your mouth." He ignored them. This desire to lose a tooth became his focus!
Friday, June 1, 1985, D-Day. Mack's tooth had to come out today. The students trooped outside for the last day of kickball. Mack was chosen as pitcher. The very first pitch, Casey walloped the ball, and it soared straight at Mack's face. Before he could put his hands up to protect his face the ball smashed into his mouth with a force so strong that Mack careened backwards and ended up on his rump. Mack touched his numb lip, and it felt bigger and funny. As he brought his fingers down, he saw the blood, red and gooey, covering his fingers. He opened his mouth to let out a howl, and felt something hard plunk onto his tongue. Could it be? Had he lost a tooth? He snatched the little tooth from his tongue and his howl turned to victory yell, and Mack jumped to his feet waving his little prize in the faces of his stunned classmates. Mack could now go to first grade with the same gapped-tooth smile of all his peers