Sarah had a birthmark the size of a tennis ball, on her left cheek. It was a deep purple, shaped like a cloud, but it could also kind of resemble a little curled-up turtle when the lighting was just right. But no matter how it looked, Sarah had to live with it every day. She had it from the moment she was born, which meant she’d been answering questions about it for as long as she could talk. And boy, did the questions come. On the first day of kindergarten. On the first day of first grade. On the first day of second grade. And again, in third... “What happened to your face?” “It’s a birthmark,” Sarah would say. “I was born with it.”

  “Does it hurt?” “No.” “Can you wash it off?” “No.” “Why is it there?” Sarah would shrug, even though the answer never changed.

“I don’t know. It just is.” The questions were tiring, but Sarah had learned to answer quickly and move on. On Tuesday, the classroom door opened and in stepped a substitute teacher with reading glasses and bright red hair. ‘Mrs. Kopek’ was written in cursive across the blackboard.

“Good morning, class,” she said. When she came to Sarah’s name during attendance, she paused. Her eyes lifted and instantly widened as she said in front of everyone, “Oh my goodness, sweetheart, what happened to your face?”  Sarah’s stomach twisted itself into a knot.

“Nothing happened to my face,” Sarah grumbled under her breath. “What’s that, sweetheart? I didn’t hear you?” “It’s… it’s a birthmark,” Sarah said this time, louder. Twenty-three pairs of eyes swiveled to stare at Sarah. Her cheeks burned. Her ears burned. Even her neck burned. She started to feel really hot everywhere except the birthmark, which never burned because birthmarks don’t have feelings even if the people wearing them do.

Once the awkwardness wore off, the rest of the classroom went about their business. They were used to the birthmark by now. Still, it didn’t help that she caught Mrs. Kopek staring at her several times throughout the day, which made Sarah feel like putting her hoodie back on and tightening the strings. That night after dinner, Sarah climbed the stairs and went into the bathroom to brush her teeth. She reached for the light, but just before she turned it on, she heard the most magical of sounds. When the light turned on, the mirror brightened to a blinding white, but only for a second.

“What was that?” Sarah grunted while rubbing her eyes with her knuckles. When she regained her focus, all she saw was her purple birthmark staring back at her. Sarah leaned closer and traced the edges with her finger. She had spent nine years imagining what her face might look like without it.