Halloween fell on a Wednesday,
which was the day we wore our chapel uniforms:
plaid skirts from waist to knee
white button down blouse
Christ’s emblem emblazoned on the breast.
I forgot to wear my undershirt.
The fabric parted in soft peaks between buttons
revealing my budding breasts.
The boys teased me after worship service
because the harsh stage lights
bore through the thin, white cotton,
showcasing my body when I was called to give prayer.
When the theology teacher found me crying,
she said it was time I started acting more aware,
so I dried my tears on the bus ride home.
When I walked past my neighbor’s house
after being dropped off, Mr. Johnson called out
“I like your sexy schoolgirl costume!”
I responded that it wasn’t a costume.
“Sure, honey, sure,” he said,
with a wink.
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Hannah Bub writes both fiction and poetry. You can find some of her work in October Hill Magazine (Spring 2018, Summer 2023), Wingless Dreamer (Praised by December and The Petal Pages anthologies), and the Greene Street Review (Winter 2019).
