A turning point it was, but not for good.
Instead of piousness Leisha found power, a big thing when you were seven. Not the Power of God, but the power that quoting Him could offer. By the time the summer sun was a distant memory she was well-versed in many Christian tenets, with the Ten Commandments still her favourite tool. She’d discovered a way to hold adults accountable without getting into trouble.
When her Fourth Grade teacher snootily told a classmate who was proudly doing her work with the new pen she’d been given as a birthday present, “You know these pens aren’t allowed at school. I’ll be using this today,” Leisha stood up, pointing her finger and yelling, “Thou shalt not steal! Give it back or I’m calling the Archbishop!”
The teacher’s response was drowned by cheering.
And just as her Sixth Grade teacher brought in a live mouse to dissect in front of her class, Leisha jumped in, waving her arms and shouting, “Thou shalt not kill! What would God think of you ripping open the guts and spilling the blood of one of His creatures in front of these innocent children?” Several of her squeamish classmates had consequently vomited and the mouse went free, at least for that lesson, whilst the room was cleaned up.
Whenever she was sent to the Principal’s office, she artlessly explained she was just following orders. From The Big Guy. You know, she’d point innocently, Up there.
In high school the Bible was shelved but Leisha’s desire for control was not, to the joy of her schoolmates. The entire Year 12 cohort crossed out the printed names on the voting sheet for school leader and wrote Leisha’s, even though she was still in Year 11. In reply, the staff reminded the students at assembly of a regulation nobody had ever heard of, saying Year 11s were not permitted to be School Leader. They appointed their own School Leader, a do-gooder who’d written Leisha’s name on her voting slip because Leisha had saved her from a humiliating experience in gym.
With leadership out of reach, Leisha decided she needed something to get her through another year of boring tedium. With a stroke of brilliance she persuaded Melanie, a budding hairdresser, to dye Leisha’s short, spiky hair every fortnight, each time a shade different so the change was imperceptible. The teachers were outraged to find Leisha’s hair turn platinum blonde, back to brown and on through to black before returning brown again. Unable to pinpoint a particular time when Leisha had changed her hair colour, they let the issue pass. But they stepped up their observations of her, waiting for her to slip up.
She never did. Which meant they had to find another tack.
Joni Page 