“Grammy, can I tell you a secret?”
Oh, no. She’s going to tell me something horrible that I can’t handle; that she’s being bullied, or that her mommy and daddy are fighting or that she got in trouble and is afraid to tell her parents or about someone’s inappropriate behavior or that one of her friends is in trouble. It doesn’t matter, I will be calm and handle any crisis she needs to confide.
“Of course. You can tell me anything and I won’t be upset. I will always be here to help you.”
Looking up at me with trusting, innocent seven-year old eyes she pressed her sweet little lips against my ear and whispered, “Myrtle died in the girls bathroom at school.”
“WHAT?” I shrieked.
“Yes.” Lowering her eyes dramatically and shaking her little head, Rebekah continued. “She drowned when the giant snake came up through the sinks and broke the water pipes and now her ghost lives in the toilets. But don’t tell anyone because she comes and talks to me and my friends when we go to the bathroom after lunch.”
“Oh, you’ve met Moaning Myrtle?” She looked at me with admiration and started to giggle.
Thanks Harry Potter and The Chamber of Secrets. You’ve made me a hero in Rebekah’s eyes.
“I won’t tell a living soul.”