Real by Carol Cujec (snow like ashes .txt) 📕

“But, Steve . . .”

“Let her be. She needs to do this.”

I beat the door until my hands were throbbing, then fell to my knees breathing hard.

Dad lifted me to stand. I thought he would lead me back to the car. But no. He began pounding too. Mom joined in, their eyes leaking tears. Six feet kicking. Six hands thudding.

We sat on the steps to catch our breath. Mom pulled the keyboard out of her bag and helped me speak my truth.

Three years of prison.

“I know, sweetheart. I know that now.”

You sent me here.

She wiped her eyes with her sleeve. “I know that too. I’m so sorry, so, so, so sorry . . .” Her voice trailed off and we sat in silence.

“All we can do is move forward,” Dad said, “and we will forever try to make it up to you.”

My emotions seethed and growled and gnashed their teeth. Ready to devour me.

Bones and all.

…

Celia came to our house that evening after Mom phoned her about my explosion. She wore a long, slim dress that almost touched the ground. Her cinnamon hair was swept up in a twist held with a golden clip.

“Thank you for coming,” Dad said. “Hope we didn’t wreck your night out.”

“I am glad you called.” Celia sat next to me on the sofa and wrapped me in a hug. My stiff body melted into her.

“Querida.” She smelled of lilacs tonight. “Tell me what you are feeling.”

Mom sat beside me so I could communicate. Dad and Celia watched the screen patiently while I pecked letter by letter.

My broken heart is filled with too many hurts. Anger bubbles to the surface.

“You are right to be angry.” Celia squeezed my hand. “After everything you have suffered, I would worry if you were not angry. But anger is easy. What do you do about it? That is the important question.”

I knew the answer. Celia waited patiently as my fingers reached and tapped, reached and tapped each key. Dad read each sentence out loud as I typed.

I cannot have peace until the kids are safe. Borden closed.

Seeing the words in writing felt freeing. My wish floated from my spirit into the world.

Celia nodded. “Then you have a mission. And it is an important one. I can help you craft a letter to the district superintendent about Borden Academy.”

I have a mission.

I typed more. Reach, tap. Reach, tap. Reach, tap.

But who will listen to someone like me?

“Querida, most people who changed our way of thinking were not rich and powerful. Consider the heroes painted on the walls of our school—Gandhi, Rosa Parks, Malala. It was their message that had power. Speak from your heart and people will listen.”

I have a mission.

Breathe in hope.

Breathe out fear.

Why is it so hard to breathe out fear?

Celia leaned closer. “What else can we do to help you heal?”

I thought a minute.

I want a real education.

Celia held out her fist for a bump. “Then it is time you got one.”

Coming Out Party

Gram and Pops insisted on it.

A party in honor of my first words. Instead of our usual Sunday barbecue, Gram put together a feast of all my favorite foods—French toast, mashed potatoes with gravy, carrot soup, pepperoni pizza, and strawberry shakes.

The appetizer—sour gummy worms.

Before we ate, I had to endure a half hour of people hugging and sniffling every time I typed a word.

I am grateful for my family.

“Thank the sweet Lord our precious girl has found her voice,” Gram sang out as if she was in church.

Aunt Kiki smudged her coral lipstick all over my cheeks. “Sweetie, I just knew there was more, I just knew it. I could feel it, I tell you. Mason, can you believe it? Well, can you?”

Mason stood there watching me, his head jutting forward like a longnecked turtle. “Wow . . . I thought . . . I thought you were gone. But now . . . this is . . . wow.” He sniffed and wiped his nose.

It was Aunt Elvi I was worried about. She sat there, a frozen statue with no expression. I noted her face, usually pale, but now white as an arctic fox.

Gram finally unfroze her. “Say something, Elvi!”

Gram’s words unleashed a river of tears. Mom ran over and held her tight, but Elvi broke away.

“No, no, I don’t deserve any hugs. I’m so stupid . . . how could I have been so stupid?”

Aunt Kiki grabbed a tissue to mop up the black mascara flowing down Elvi’s cheeks.

Gram led Elvi to sit across from me. Elvi could barely look at my face.

“I’m so sorry, girl. I had it wrong all this time . . . and I was a total brat to you. All I can say is I’ll try to do better.” She wiped her nose on her velvet sleeve. “If you could give me another chance?”

Pain still boiled in my soul, but hearing Elvi ask for forgiveness released some of that pain into the air, like the steam rising off the pot of Gram’s carrot soup. Mom supported me to speak as Elvi watched and sniffed.

Regret wastes precious time. Only forgiveness brings peace. Forgive me for the wedding.

Elvi shook her head. “No, no. After everything I did, everything my dumb mouth said without thinking. I had it coming, girl. That and worse.”

“Enough of this,” Pops said. “Our chipmunk has had enough of you ladies blubbering. Time to eat.”

Mason held out the bowl of gummy worms and my hungry hand dug in.

This Is Only a Test

Fact: I hate tests.

Imagine failing every test you ever took. Even when you knew all the answers. Even when the questions were ridiculously simple, like “What is 2 + 1?” or “What letter begins the word alligator?”

When I could not get the answers right, Thinkers assumed my mind was deficient. It never occurred to them my body was to blame.

I hate tests.

Ana set up my keyboard in a library study room for peace and quiet. Even with the door shut, my ears picked up whispers outside, and my nose detected fish sticks cooking in the cafeteria.

“All questions are multiple choice.