First Impressions- Our beloved Summer

This was a short novella I wrote for my school project. A story of love and growth and strength and letting go of biases from 'First Impressions'- I'm very proud of it and I want to share it on this blog- despite being inactive for a few years.

It was a warm summer morning; the sun came in as a stream of constant warmth through the window, illuminating the atmosphere and letting little bits of airy sun particles be seen- zooming erratically around. That was the first time we met; the first time I laid my eyes upon you. You barely said a word; head bent, shoulders down and eyes heavy. You were beckoned to the seat beside mine, where you quietly sat down. Your hair shone a deep chocolate hue under the bask of the golden, glowing sun; you neatly un-creased your skirt, tried to pull down the sleeves of your shirt, and silently took out your books. What really drew me to you was your serenity: you were so perplexing, so enthralling- a unique clumper of stars drawn into the form of a human being. You had a look of loneliness, of complete seclusion from the world around you- even though you were right there, you looked a million lightyears away… that was what drew me in. This is a story… no, this is our story. The story of our beloved Summer.

A month had passed since you first joined, and I was more than desperate to talk to you. You didn’t talk to anyone, keeping to yourself in your own plane of tranquillity: I had approached you more times than I could keep count (most of the other people in our class gave up after the first dismissive hum or disgusted look), but no matter how hard I tried, you never wished to give me the light of day. It seemed as if you were incapable of communicating… or perhaps, you just didn’t want to. Nonetheless, your reticent demeanour was taking a big toll on your popularity- after all, our immature, preadolescent mindsets could never handle a person we didn’t understand. You had joined barely a month ago and already all the girls whispered behind your back. Already the boy sneered at you and snickered as you walked past. Already rumours arose of you being “cocky”, “arrogant”, that you thought yourself “superior” when in their opinions you had “nothing to brag home about”. Rumours that you were “mute”, “depressed”, “anti-social” started spreading around; suffocating lies and malicious words against you became well known. I wondered how you felt, I wondered whether you took notice. Did you- always submerged in a book unknown by most, or zoning out into a distant space- even care?

One day, however, my perception of you changed completely. On this day I was idly passing by our classroom on the way to the toilet. Nobody was supposed to be there; it was lunchtime, and everyone was either capitalising on the brilliant, dazzling weather outside or eating lunch with their friends in the lunch hall. But there you were, sitting in that empty classroom… crying. I didn’t notice at first. You had your head down on the desk and your fists rolled up in your skirt, but then I heard your sniffled chokes and supressed gasps. My mind went blank, panic swirling bubbling amidst the empty space. I wanted so badly to be there by your side, comforting and calming your woes. But I wasn’t. And it didn’t seem as if you wanted me to be. My mind was a conflicted tempest of emotion and logic. My emotions told me to move to your side and give you the biggest hug I could and kiss the tears out of your eyes. My logic, however, told me that that was ludicrous and a blatant violation of privacy and personal space; added to the fact that we hardly knew each other, and I would be a creep. Whilst the battle raged on, you had stopped crying and finally noticed that you weren’t alone. Shocked, mortified, afraid, your face went through a flurry of emotions before finally settling on anger. Silently, you stood up, averting your gaze, and made to walk out of the classroom.

“Wait!” I grabbed your arm before you could get out of my reach. You flinched. I wasn’t going to miss this opportunity now that I had your attention. “I’m so sorry, I was just passing by and then I saw you and you were… crying.” You stared back at me. Nothing was said in response, but you made no effort to leave- encouraged by this, I continued.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong? All these past lunches, have you always been alone in our classroom crying?” You sniffed and glowered at me wit the intensity of an injured but defiant wolf, but still no words were uttered. “Will you not say anything to me? I said sorry…” I was cut off by a low growling sound that seemed to come from your stomach, “Oh! Are you hungry? But it’s lunchtime. Come, let me buy you lunch, and I’ll sit with you.” I had tried to take you with me- using your complacency as a sign that it was okay, but you pulled your arm away, and to such extent, you finally spoke.

“Leave me alone!” The words came out raspy and exasperated, filled with broken gasps caused by your prior sobbing, “I’m okay. I don’t need… you to buy me lunch or talk to me. (I was stunned into silence) What… what do you want from me?” The last part came out as barely a whisper.

In sudden indignation I replied, “I want to be your friend.” Silence. You hung your head, wrapping your head around the prospect. I sighed, “My name is Josy, what’s yours?”

“Myra.” You said after a long pause, “my name is Myra.”

From then on, we had our meals together. You hardly ate, relying on me to buy your food, but when I did- no matter what I bought- you always ate it in such elated joy, humming and bopping, a pleased smile plastered on your face. You often saved some of what you ate, perhaps to eat once you got home. It was a wonderful life. Every second I spent with you filled me with insurmountable and unexplainable joy; withal the fact that we hardly talked, and you always stayed indifferent towards me in lesson times and after school. In peace and contentment, we remained like this. However, I had started to notice strange little peculiarities, that I had never taken mind to before. How you often pulled down your sleeves and pushed up your collar; how you never had enough money to buy lunch; how your eyes always lulled and were heavy with fatigue- it deeply worried me. I had approached you multiple times, but either by unfamiliarity or a lack-of trust, you refused to say anything about it- hastily changing the subject or just remaining in silence. I was worried- things at school were getting worse and now our classmates had resorted to physical violence against you- in other words, bullying. I always tried to help you when I could, but you simply pushed me away and endured. Why were you constantly pushing me away? I always tried so hard, why couldn’t you accept my help? You didn’t have to try to go though it… alone. It was still Summer yet beads of water were spat out of the sky at voracious speeds. For some strange, incomprehensible reason, we were forced to go outside for P.E (which triggered an earthquake of groaning). I side-eyed you. You were still in a state of tranquillity, quietly listening to the instructions our teacher gave, but… you were shaking. The lesson commenced, and you were all I could focus on; the quiver of your blue-tinted lips; the slight swoon when the ball was passed to you; I was so incredibly worried about you. Trembling, you approached our teacher and told her that you couldn’t go on. She sent you to the nurse’s office and told me to escort you. Thank God- I breathed out a sigh of relief. Once there, you collapsed onto the chair and the nurse came in. She asked if you wanted her to check you, but you firmly refused and said you would take care of yourself. She complied and left the room to take care of other issues, but I was still there. You didn’t know. Tenderly, you lifted your sleeves and then I saw it; a litter of blue and red stretching all across your arm. It was adorned with bruises, covered in spreading purple and yellow blotches- some fading and drying up, and some still fresh and bloody. I gasped in complete and utter horror and at that moment, you saw me- eyes widening and body frozen. We regarded each other for the longest time, both unsure of what to do. I broke the silence first.

“Myra… what… what happened to you?” I could barely get my words out, stuttering as I scrambled to get closer.

“Wait! No, I”m fine- this... this is nothing. I promise! Please don’t touch me. Don’t look at me.” Your voiced quavered as you backed away. I stopped. You looked terrified, as if you were ashamed. “Why were you so afraid?” was all I could think. In as calm of a voice as I could muster, I replied

“Tell me, what happened? Why are you bruised this badly? And don’t (I said before you could speak) tell me it was nothing or an accident. I want the truth.” Silence. I asked again. Silence. Your mind seemed to go blank- everything was still- it felt as if a cloak of emptiness had wrapped itself around you, suffocating you in nothing but fear. I was about to step forwards, and then you whispered, “It was him.”

“Who’s him?” I shot back, frightening you. I collected myself, “tell me, who’s the person that did this to you?”

“Him… my mother’s boyfriend. He… hits me.” Tears were streaming down your face like the heavy rain outside, but you continued “and he… he drinks, and he smokes, and he gets angry at mum and hits her. And then he sees me and he… he grabs me by my arm… throws me across the room… mum screams but he… he hurts her, and my sister watches and she’s scared, and we run and lock ourselves in the room…. and I cry as he bangs and the door and I scream but he doesn’t stop… he never stops-” your arms were wrapped around your chest; your body trembled and shivered and you coughed between every word that came out, as if they were choking you, blocking your windpipes and smouldering your lungs. By now I was with you, holding you in my arms as you cried and cried and cried; but you didn’t stop. The words poured out like a flood. I could only think of how long this had been happening- how long you had kept it in, covering it all with a façade of silence and solitude. In that moment, I saw no more an enigma. No more a girl shrouded in mysteries and secrets. You were broken; a broken and hurting child, trying so hard to be strong; to survive. From some absurd part of my mind, I had always imagined that you were incapable of emotions, but oh how I was wrong. Your tears were a constellation of stars, your scars a reminder of the battles you had faced. You were a beautiful spectrum of colours- able to ignite a fire in my heart that burned and hurt for your pain. We stayed in that moment, sharing the feelings we both had- that we were safe… together.

You broke the stillness first, imploring of me “Please don’t tell anyone about what I just told you.”

I started. “What?! Why not? Listen if he’s threatening you and your family, you need to tell-” “NO! Please. I can’t. My mum needs him. She hasn’t been the same since dad left… he’s the only one that makes her happy.” “…not even you and your sister?” You paused. And then you smiled. Clutching my arm you said, “Please… I’ve already accepted the fact that I’m not enough, and neither is Shelly. We were never enough since dad left, I know that. But please, I just want her- I need her to be happy. I’m okay. We’ll be okay.” My mind was moving a mile an hour- I didn’t know what to say, but you continued “You’re the only one I’ve ever told. I trust you. You make me feel… safe. Please don’t tell anyone. Please Josy.” That last phrase came out with such vulnerability and faith; you really trusted me, you finally cared for me, and it made my heart bubble up in joy. Maybe, you were right. Maybe I didn’t need to tell anyone- you were strong, and you had a solid assurance that everything would be alright. Plus, we had each other. That’s all you needed right? Right?... that’s what I desperately wanted to believe; but even as you hugged me and thanked me for my oath to secrecy, I knew that this wasn’t right. I knew that you deserved better. You deserved to feel safe not just with me, but at home too. You deserved security, and the love of an adult- to not have to fend for yourself or live in constant fear. You trusted me, and I didn’t want to ruin that, but I couldn’t just do nothing either.

That very same day, you were called to the Pastoral carer’s office. The rain had stopped - the sun poking its shining head through the clouds, yet I felt so cold. Anxiety struck my heart and clouded my thoughts. Once it was lunchtime, I ran to the Pastoral office and peeked in through the door crack. You were there with our Pastoral head and 3 other adults dressed in smart but casual clothes- what I can now infer as social workers. You looked numb- more tears shrouding your eyes. They talked to you in tender and hushed voices; when you occasionally answered, I couldn’t hear a thing. Suddenly, you looked at me. You looked straight at me, into my eyes and into my soul. I was sure you couldn’t see me- as your company repeatedly asked you what you were looking at- but you didn’t avert your gaze. Your eyes bore feelings of pain and betrayal; thunder and lightning glowed in your expression, and I could see the absolute revulsion you held against whatever you were looking at. “I trust you.” A shiver ran down my spine. I got up and ran. I ran as fast as I could- where to, I didn’t know. “What have I done?” I thought, “Josy, you idiot. You stupid, selfish idiot.” I was a coward, you trusted me. You told me a secret that you had never told anyone and begged me not to tell. Yet, in my compulsiveness- my selfish wish to 'fix you', to keep you for myself- I told someone… and now you would never trust me again. Bitter tears accumulated in my eyes and threatened to spill, but I bit them back. I had no right to cry, when you were the victim- the one that had been betrayed. That I had betrayed.

You didn’t come to the rest of your lessons. That was the very last time I saw you. We were told two weeks later, that when you went home on that day, your mother’s boyfriend had violently lashed out on you after getting the call from our school. The police had arrived before he could do any significant damage and he was handcuffed and arrested. He was put on charge for domestic abuse and GBH aggravated assault. Your mother had begun screaming and crying, repeating the words “No, it’s not his fault. Don’t take him away. Please don’t make him leave me!”. She tried to lash out on you but was apprehended by the remaining police- hence she was sent to a mental recuperating hospital. You and your sister were put in social care.

The news hit my heart like a sledgehammer; I burst into overwhelming sobbing and had to be taken out of class. You never deserved that, and for the longest time, I blamed myself for how everything ended. Maybe, if I had kept my mouth shut… maybe it would’ve ended differently. I have since then forgiven myself. You were my first love, a breath of fresh air in a world bent on ceaselessly breaking us. You taught me courage. You taught me strength. And you taught me the beauty of our human fragility and flaws. I know I did the best thing for you. But still, to this day, I wonder if things could’ve perhaps ended differently… Maybe in another life. But in this life, I will always love you, and I will never forget that beloved Summer.-

Love Josy, the one you trust.

I stood up, stretched and admired my work. 10 years had passed since that day. Life had endlessly twisted and spiralled, bent on breaking me in guilt and regret; but I stayed strong. Just as she taught me, I survived. For the past month, I had been writing a letter just for her. I know she’ll never read it, but I wanted to write a memoir for us. So, I would never forget. I sighed and closed my laptop, making sure to save my work. I put on my shoes and stepped outside my apartment. Suddenly, I was roused by all the ruckus. Someone was moving in next door. I sighed; all will and excitement for socialites had been lost 10 years ago. Still, for polite courtesy, I decided to introduce myself. I knocked on the door, which was opened by a girl in her early teens; her hair was brown and her eyes hazel. She looked exactly like Myra. My shock was electrifying. “No,” I reminded myself, “that was 10 years ago, she would’ve changed.” I composed myself and smiled. Out from a corner, another person came- this time an adult. She was pretty; about my age and a centimetre shorter. Her chocolate brown hair flowed past her shoulders, and she met me with a look of scepticism.

“Can we help you?” she asked.

“Umm… n- no. Actually yeah… well, I- I saw you were moving in, and I just wanted to welcome you.” I stuttered. My heart was playing drums inside my chest… could it be?

“Oh wow, thank you. Me and Shelly were just about to go out to a café, but I’m grateful nonetheless.” She smiled. Shelly… that name. I’d heard it before. My hands trembled, my breathing speeding up in accord with the soaring of my thoughts. Could she be?...

“Can… can I ask, what is your name?” A cool breeze had entered the hallway. It was humid, as summer had just started, bringing with it fruits and flowers and the laughter of children, and the blossoming of hope. Could it be… that I had found you?

“Myra. My name is Myra. I’ve missed you. It’s good… to finally see you again, Josy.”

THE END