'Les yeux sont le miroir de l'âme
The eyes are the mirror to the soul
Kelsey Cole, Herald Whitaker Middle School
“Mom always said that behind every pair of eyes was a story to be told. I see
what she means as I look around at the faces of the class of 2012, our class. The story of
our pasts together and our hope for a better future are all in our eyes. Will we fulfill that
future in our eyes? Only time will tell. Good luck to my peers, my friends as we graduate
and step out into the world to become the young women and men our teachers and
parents hope us to be. As we become those women and men, let us not forget where it
all began, right here in the halls of Robert E. Lee High School, with our friends and
memories that will always be in our hearts. I love you all and God bless our futures.”
A tear slid down my cheek as I finished the graduation speech and my
classmates threw their caps in the air, some whistling, and some spraying cans of silly
string. I smiled.
I walked down from the podium and the first person I saw was Maybeth
Childers. She softly hugged my neck and whispered, “I’m sorry.” I looked into her eyes,
one of which was bruised and blackened, and they told me this story…..
__________________________________
It was 9th grade and I was walking down the hallway.
“Hey, Goldilocks, I think you owe me some lunch money.” I stopped dead in
my tracks. A chill went down my spine as soon as I recognized the voice.
“I, uh, forgot it, uh, today,” I stuttered. I thought those words could possibly be
the last ones I ever said.
“Well, that’s too bad, Scarlet Johnson. Maybe my fist can help you unforget?” Maybeth raised an eyebrow. That’s all she had to do. I swallowed and dug into
my pocket to pull out a crumpled up dollar bill.
“That’s what I thought,” she smirked, snatching the money from my trembling
hand. I sighed. I escaped a beating, but with the consequences of yet another day
without lunch.
__________________________________
Fast forward to two weeks ago; I looked out my window next door
to Maybeth’s house. I heard shouting.
“You’re so stupid! You’ll never amount to a hill of beans! I’m
‘shamed to say that you’re my daughter. You hain’t nothin’ but a pile of dirt,
that’s what you are!” a voice that sounded like Mr. Childers’s slurred out
angrily. I ran quickly outside and looked into Maybeth’s house through an
open window just in time to see a sight I’d see in my nightmares weeks after.
Mr. Childers was beating poor old Maybeth with a broom, and I could tell she
was internally struggling to not cry. He whacked her as hard as he could.
Maybeth’s face was so bruised it looked disfigured. Patches of purple and
blue covered her visible skin. I jerked out my cellphone as fast as I could.
“Hello? 9-1-1? If you don’t get here soon, Mr. Childers is going to
beat the life out of Maybeth.”
I stood in front of the window until the police arrived, unsure of what
action to take. If I went in there and tried to stop him, would it just make
Mr. Childers even angrier? Was he drinking again? Oh, Maybeth, hang
on. Not a moment too soon, the reflection of blue lights were dancing
upon the Childers’s front door. I stood in the shadows and watched a
policeman force open the front door and point a gun at Mr. Childers.
“Sir, let go of the young lady or I will shoot.”
After it was all over and Maybeth was safe, she asked the
officer who called the police. The officer looked grim.
“The little Johnson girl next door,” was his retort. Through the
bruises and cuts and disfigurements of her poor face, I believe I saw
Maybeth Childers smile weakly as she glanced toward my house.
When I pulled away from Maybeth, that’s what I saw in her eyes: the
story of a little girl that was just trying to fight back against the world
when it growled at her.
“I’m sorry for all of the times you did without lunch. I’m sorry
for every bruise you’ve ever had because of me.” Maybeth swallowed
her pride.
“I forgive you, Maybeth. Children, I’m just glad you’re
alright!”
“Congratulations, valedictorian,” she said as she
disappeared among the sea of students.
I made my way through the crowd, when another pair of
eyes met my gaze….
I met Jessie Erom when I was in the 8th grade. His eyes were
like blue velvet and his smile lit up any of my dark days. He pulled out
chairs for me when I sat down, and was almost a whole year older than
me. Before I knew it, he asked me to the 8th grade dance. Of course, as
soon as he smiled his big, goofy smile, I melted and said yes. I was
talking to some friends when Jessie walked into the dance. He was
dressed in his Sunday’s best when he could’ve stopped traffic in an
gunny sack.
“You look, uh, pretty tonight,” he said nervously. I smiled.
“Uh, thanks,” is all I could utter.
“Go on, dance you two lovebirds!” Karilyn Banks, my best
friend, pushed us out to the dance floor.
“Sorry, uh, my friends are sort of aggressive,” I smiled.
“It’s alright. They’re nothing compared to my friends,” we both
laughed. As soon as we got out to the floor, my heart sank. My favorite
song came on; a slow song.
Jessie must’ve seen my face light up. “Do you know this
song?” he asked.
“It’s my favorite,” I breathed. He swallowed.
“May I have this dance?”
He put his hands around my waist shyly, and we
began to softly sway to the music. He smiled that big
old goofy, nervous smile that I fell in love with. I
looked into his deep blue eyes and blushed.
“Are you having fun?” I whispered in his
ear. His hearing aid made a popping noise. I don’t
know whose face was redder; his or mine. Finally we
laughed and he looked me in the eye.
“Some friends and I are walking to
MiHacienda after the dance. Do you want to come?”
“I would be flattered,” I smiled, unable to conceal my excitement. He
smiled and took me around the dance floor one more time, holding my hand.
“You’re the most beautiful girl here,” he whispered. At that moment, to
me, we were the only people in the room.
He walked with me to MiHacienda, as fancy as a restaurant got in
Schylertown (although that wasn’t saying much) and joined our friends. The story
doesn’t really happen in MiHacienda; most of the story I saw in his eyes were after
the get-together, behind MiHacienda, alone in the parking lot. I blushed as I read
the memory in his eyes.
He put his big, rough arms around me and turned red. “I know this is
going to be awkward, but… can I kiss you?”
“Yes,” was the only word I could find
to say.
He pulled me closer and
wrapped me into a passionate kiss.
At that moment, he was a prince
and made me a princess…
“Here, I want you to
have this,” he slipped his 8th grade
class ring on my finger.
We were together for 6
more months after that. Mom told
me I had to break it off with him,
because we were getting too
serious of a relationship for our age.
Truth be told, she was right. The
day I gave Jessie back his ring he
hugged me.
“Thanks for the best 6
months of my life,” he said, then I
watched him walk away with a tear
in my eye.
__________________________________
That was the story of Jessie’s eyes.
“Good luck, Scarlet,” he smiled as I walked by.
“Good luck, Jessie.”
They might’ve pulled us apart, but we would always have
memories of that dance. I can still feel his arms lingering around my
waist, and his lips pressed against mine like that passionate night at
MiHacienda. The taste of love is bittersweet.
I walked on through my classmates, many of them leaving the
gym by now. I finally caught the eyes of the person I was looking for;
none other than my best friend in the world, Karilyn Banks.
__________________________________
It was first grade and I needed a new
best friend (the last one I had pulled my hair too
much.) I thought long and hard about this one night
when I was lying in bed. I would go to school the
next day and ask someone new to be my best
friend.
When I walked into the classroom the
next
day, a new girl from another school had just
transferred into our class. I couldn’t believe my luck!
At snack time I went over and sat by her.
“Hey,” I smiled shyly, holding my ice
cream in my hand.
“Hello,” the girl smiled back.
“Will you be my best friend?” I asked.
“Will you give me a lick of your ice cream?” she asked.
“If you be my best friend,” I said.
She thought about this. “Okay.”
And thus started a friendship that has lasted over a decade.
__________________________________
Ten years later, we were sophomores. I got caught up in the
madness of this world. Darkness was closing in on me from every
corner. I felt like despair and hopelessness were the only friends I had
left. Some friends. I started to think of unspeakable thoughts and of
doing unspeakable things. Finally, one day in the kitchen, the gleam of a
knife on the sink caught my eye. I could end it all right there; all of my
problems would go away. I slowly picked up the knife and studied it; a
quick stab through the heart, and everything would be solved. I held it to
my chest.
“Scarlet, put down the knife. If you don’t care to harm
yourself, at least think of how it would hurt me.” Karilyn was standing in
the doorway. Her voice was shaking. “Thank of how it would hurt your
family. Think of how it would hurt God.”
The knife made a clank as it dropped to the floor.
__________________________________
“I love you Karilyn. Thanks for being there through everything,” I
said through a series of sobs.
“I love you too, Scarlet. Best friends forever?” she asked.
“Forever,” I agreed. Now my favorite memory of graduation is of
Karilyn and me, crying like idiots in the middle of the gym floor, hugging
each other. Karilyn’s eyes told all of those stories; Maybeth Childers, Jessie
Erom, and the whole nine yards. She even knew about my new boyfriend,
Tyler Newsom.
So I left Robert E. Lee High School with a heavy heart, a sack full
of memories, and friendships to last a lifetime. And, my favorite of all, the
ability to read the stories in people’s eyes.
I went home and passed by my mirror. I
noticed my eyes. What stories did they tell? I studied
them closely. They told stories that stitched together with
other stories. Eventually they expanded into other
people’s stories and right then, looking into my mirror, I
realized, that everyone on Earth had some effect on
another person’s life, like stitches on a quilt; the stitches
weren’t always close together, but the unraveling of one
stitch effected all of the stitches. They told of a story yet to
be written, the story of my future. I felt like I held it in the
palm of my hand. No one can help their circumstances
they’re born into, like poor little Maybeth; but life is like a
story with the beginning already written. You hold the pen
to write your own ending. Yesterday I was a high school
student, today it’s suddenly like I’m an adult.
All of these changes are making my head spin.
The phone’s ring interrupted my epiphany. I
picked it up. “Hello?”
“Hey, where are you?! We’re all at MiHacienda celebrating. Get up
here! I think Tyler’s supposed to come!”
I laughed at Karilyn’s usual rude tone. I knew she used it because that
was her way of saying, “I care about you. I don’t want you to miss this.”
“I’m on my way.”
Some things never change.
Karilyn Banks and
Scarlet Johnson, 9th grade
year