Bunny Ears
written by: Michaela El-Ters
Avery’s fingers yanked at her tangled hair. The knot in her stomach tightened when she opened her mouth, and the words stayed trapped in her throat. The letters were twisted and strange. They swirled along the roof of her mouth and wedged themselves under her tongue. Her eyes prickled with tears as her lips tried to form the words. Rage boiled inside her. The pressure built and built and built until finally, she cried out. Her scream was like a caged animal, a guttural, choking sob that couldn’t be contained.
Avery squeezed her eyes shut. She slumped back into the couch and wondered if she would sink into the soft material if she waited long enough. Her Mama and Papa didn’t like it when she screamed. No one did. It didn’t matter if she tried to form the right words, and they wouldn’t come out. It didn’t matter how much she tried to stop herself from crying out. Once the sound escaped her throat, a line was crossed. Mama’s grip on her arm yanked her upward and strangled the apology in her throat. If Papa were home, he would grab his belt.
Her Mama hissed something in her ear, but she didn’t hear it. Mama dragged her into her bedroom and slammed the door shut behind her. Avery flung herself onto her bed. Tears stained her star-patterned pillow. Later, she heard Mama and Papa’s hushed voices through the door, arguing.
“Her behavior isn’t improving,” Mama said.
“What if she doesn’t get better?” Papa sighed.
“What else can we do?” Mama asked.
No one liked it when she screamed, and neither did she.
In Mrs. Gardener’s office, colorful paintings of farm animals covered the walls. Avery stared at the untied shoelaces on her light-up sneakers. She watched Mrs. Gardener’s thin fingers form perfect loops.
“Like bunny ears,” Mrs. Gardener said with a smile, cinching the laces tight. “Now, you try.”
Avery’s breath hitched as she kneeled and gripped the thin material. But her fingers were too short and fat to make perfect bunny ears like Mrs. Gardener did. They quivered with each failed attempt to make a bunny loop and wrap them around each other. Her eyebrows furrowed as the laces fell from her grip onto the cold tiled floor. Avery balled her hands in a tight, white-knuckled fist and wailed, loud and broken. She waited for a firm hand, or a sharp hiss, to make her stop.
She jumped when Mrs. Gardener’s hands covered her own and patted them gently.
“It’s okay,” she said softly.
“…I-I’m s-sorry,” Avery gasped in between the sobs, rubbing the shoelaces between her fingers.
“You don’t have to be sorry. I know it’s upsetting, but you’ll get it next time. It’s okay,” Mrs. Gardener repeated. “It’s okay.”
- Bunny Ears - March 3, 2026
