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

of separation, the loneliness of silence. When you typed your first words, I imagined the spirits of countless children rising in jubilation, and a warm wind blew through my soul. I know it is difficult for you to see this sometimes, Charity, but you are one of the lucky ones. Your voice speaks for a million voices.”

She held the keyboard and supported my arm.

“Talk to us, querida,” Celia urged. “We’re listening.”

My finger reached out to tap the letter I. Ana nodded. “Keep going.” Letter by letter, I typed my shame onto the keyboard. It felt like a scab being pulled from my skin. She read my words.

I am a monster. They did right to kick me out.

Celia held up her hand. “You have to accept that you are not your body. Your spirit is struggling with a body that often betrays you. I am not surprised that you exploded in anger, querida. I am amazed that you do not do it every hour of every day.”

Ana nodded. “You know the kids at Lincoln are better off with you there.”

I have lost the battle. I am too weak to keep fighting.

Celia shook her head. “You may have lost a battle, but not the war.” She shook a finger at me. “You know what, Charity? I will be the first to tell you that life is not always fair. You were born with a disobedient body in a world that often treats you like a disease. But consider the many blessings you have. A brilliant mind and a courageous, giving soul. Two devoted parents. And a team of cheerleaders standing behind you, everyone from me and Ana to all your teachers and your friends at school. We are all part of Team Charity. You are setting an example for so many children. Your mission is to change the world, and I believe you can do it.”

How can I help others when I am a charity case?

Mom shivered when she heard this. “Charity, darling, is that how you see yourself, as a charity case? Don’t you know what your name really means?”

I hung my head.

Mom held my chin and lifted my eyes toward hers. “The definition of charity is ‘benevolent love of humanity.’ From the moment you were born, I sensed your beautiful, open heart.” She laid her hand on my chest. “Your name does not mean that others should pity you. You are the one opening your heart to the world.” Mom hugged me tight.

“You can’t let setbacks bench you, Cherry Girl,” Dad said. “That’s not the Charity I know.”

I am sorry for letting you all down.

“But Charity, do you realize that was the first meltdown you had in over a month?” Mom said.

“And under the circumstances, I’d say you had a good reason to blow your top,” Celia laughed. “We just need to work on your technique.”

Mom kissed me on the cheek. “There’s no point looking backward with regret. We can only look forward. Celia said your teachers and friends have been asking about you. They want to know if you’re all right.”

Did she tell them I was kicked out?

“You have not been kicked out, querida. Tomorrow evening is the investigation hearing. We will make your case in front of the committee. You do not have to be there.”

I breathed out pity and thought about how my life had changed since that day on the pier . . . when my foot dangled over the wild water’s edge . . . when my guardian angel saw me as valuable and saved me.

Was I worth saving?

Memories played in my mind like a high-def IMAX film—Mason finding his courage, Julian and the welcome table, Jaz cheering at pep rallies, Skyler twirling at the dance. Did I play a part in these small miracles? Maybe I can make a difference.

Fact: I have a mission.

I tugged on Mom’s arm. I needed to type more.

I need to go to the hearing.

“No, sweetheart,” Mom said. “You’re in no condition . . .”

I pounded my hand on my leg.

They have to see me to understand my struggle.

Ana nodded. “Actually, I agree.”

Mom let out a big sigh. “Then I suppose we have some work to do.”

Final Words

Thoughts swam through my head as Mom and Dad led me through the school parking lot to where Celia and Ana were waiting. Mom smoothed my hair and tucked my shirt into my pants, which were a little loose after the last three days.

No matter how well-dressed I was, my shaking, rocking, twitching body would show I was different. The superintendent never met me, but she would have no problem picking me out in a crowd.

We were surprised to see Celia dressed like Jergen, in a lawyerly suit with her cinnamon hair in a tight bun.

“I want to look respectable in front of the committee,” she laughed.

“Me too,” Dad said. “That’s why I ditched my shorts and put on actual pants.” He spun around to show off his khakis and button-down shirt.

“Steve, this is serious.” Mom frowned. “Charity’s future hangs on what happens in the next thirty minutes.”

He kissed her on the cheek and turned to Celia, dead serious. “So, what’s the plan?”

“I’m not certain what they will accuse her of,” Celia said. “But we can testify that the essay they have is different from the one she submitted.”

“In the end though, it’s our word against theirs,” he said. “And since Darcy’s dad controls the purse strings, something tells me his word’s worth twice as much.”

Even Dad’s sunny viewpoint was turning dark.

I knew he was royally right.

“The investigation committee is made up of three district staff members from other schools,” Celia explained. “They have never met Charity, so our hope is that they will be neutral judges.”

Dad pulled open the heavy door, and our determined group filed into the hallway, dim and empty. Mom and Dad clutched my hands. All of us had sweaty palms.

I stumbled forward, feeling a little like Dorothy approaching the Wizard of Oz.

Voices echoed from the auditorium.

My feet stopped in front of the door.

Ana