Jenny’s stomach lurched when her kindy teacher brought out the Scissors Box from the storeroom behind her desk.

The class had just finished little break and were sitting at their desks. The morning sun was streaming through the pane glass window, lighting up Miss Angel’s blond hair. Jenny’s eyes stung with tears. She didn’t like cutting out.

“Miss Angel’s wearing a halo”, whispered Stacey Jones. Stacey was Jenny’s best friend. She had red hair and freckles dotted across her nose and cheeks.

Miss Angel was handing each child a pair of scissors, showing them the proper way to pass them. Never, ever hand them over with the pointy end first. You had to hold the pointy end in your hand and give the person the handles, so that you didn’t accidentally stab them.

Jenny took hers from Miss Angel, breathing in deeply. She liked the smell of Miss Angel, sweet and fruity like flowers.

Jenny was bad at cutting out. Her hand shook and she couldn’t move the scissors and steer them around the lines neatly like Stacey could. Stacey was already halfway through cutting out the drawing of teddy bear, humming to herself, her tongue out, her head to one side.

Jenny’s stomach hurt and she could feel the tears coming, filling her eyes. Plop! A fat tear splashed on to her page. Her hand ached from trying to open and close the scissors.

Miss Angel knelt down beside her. “What’s wrong Jenny?”

“I feel sick”, she sobbed. “And my hand hurts”.

“It’s alright,” the teacher took her little hand in hers and rubbed it gently. “I’ll kiss it better.” She pressed cool lips to the back of Jenny’s hand and then put the scissors into her other hand.

“I think you’re left-handed. That means you’re very special.”