Author: Ninja1234 PM
"Even the slightest comment, the smallest gesture, can leave a scar on someone's life for eternity." Are you the offender? Or the victim? Rated T to be safe. Please review.Rated: Fiction T - English - Family - Words: 216 - Published: 12-11-12 - Status: Complete - id: 3082246
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
Hi. I'm Ninja1234. I'm a lot of things. I'm a singer, an actor, a writer, and many others.
I'm also Asian. And proud of it.
It came to me that many people just don't understand how we should live with them side-by-side in society, that we're still people. It's happened to me before. So, I decided to write this.
I hope that you think before you say something to other people. The slightest comment can deeply injure someone for life.
Sixteen year old Lizzie Kang sipped her warming latte as she admired the view of the park from her small wooden bench. Smiling, she took in the rustling of the wind, the laughter of the small kids playing around, the teenagers chatting and shoving each other in the shadows, the constant buzz of energy the place seemed to have a constant supply of.
It was spring again, and the apple blossoms bloomed on the wild, leafy trees, shining in pale pinks as the sun beat down its gentle rays. Winter is over, it seemed to be saying.
At least, Lizzie thought so.
She sighed wistfully. It seemed as if she had been a cheerful little girl only yesterday, her hair teased into a high, painfully tight ponytail, her plaid skirt twirling freely about as five year old Lizzie danced around, innocent and blissfully ignorant about the harsh reality of the world. Her mind couldn't process the fact that people could be- what was the word?
In young Lizzie's world, there was no wrong. No one stole, everyone told the truth, and there was no such thing as law enforcement. In her idea of society, everyone understood everyone. It was perfect.
All of this had been shattered on her first day of school.
The kids teased her. They called her yellow. The school's biggest bully pelted her with woodchips at recess, laughing when she fell.
The girls weren't much better. They moved to another table if Lizzie approached them at lunch. They whispered about her, breaking into raucous giggles. The leader, Shawna, never resisted the chance to make fun: of the other girl's clothes, her food choices, and just the way she carried herself.
At night, Lizzie would brush away the brimming tears in her eyes and pull the covers up to her chin, praying desperately that tomorrow wouldn't come.
But it did. So did the day after that. And the day after that.
Soon, her peers had achieved their goal, smirking as a terrified Lizzie darted into the classroom with red-rimmed eyes.
"You're nothing, yellow," Rena Goodworth sneered at her, twirling a perfect chocolate brown ringlet around a French-manicured finger. "Go back to where you came from."
Now, eleven years later, Lizzie was no longer the happy little kindergartener she used to be. She lost all hope in stopping the threats and taunts that were thrown her way.
But she was confident.
Her head held high, she walked through her old hometown in Alabama, surprising the inhabitants with her bold attitude and fearless ways. The shopkeepers that used to shut Lizzie out dropped their tools to stare at this unfamiliar young woman. The townsmen gaped at her carefree take on life, not believing that this very same girl that they had shut out, restricted, ridiculed, and abused had become a globally known computer whiz.
The Asian girl greeted them politely, chatting with them for a while like old friends. They'd end up entering a sandwich shop, and leaving with a heavy burden off of their shoulders.
At least, the latter did.
Lizzie always felt as if the weight was taken off of them and put on her. At the end of her visit, she had thousands and thousands of pounds of guilt and worry pressing her down as she boarded her private jet, so much force that sometimes she convinced herself that she couldn't stand upright.
No matter how sorry the old acquaintance had said they were, no matter what they did to make up for the years and years of hurt, Lizzie couldn't forget what they had done to her, the jeers and rotten tomatoes that had been hurled at her, permanently staining her skirt and blouse as she timidly paced down the halls.
She knew, inside her heart, that she would never be able to forgive them.
"Hey!" a shrill cry broke Lizzie out of her stream of deep thinking. Startled, her head whirled to the direction of the sound, and she soon located it.
A boy leered over a small victim. The former was tall, with broad shoulders, brown buzz-cut hair on a bumpy head with a flat face, and an eerie smirk, his huge rough palm facing upwards. He looked strong enough to tie in a wrestling match with a sumo champion.
The offender looked quite the opposite. It was a young girl, no more than nine, with loose black hair, a skinny frame loosely covered with a plain t-shirt and jeans, and terrified brown eyes, like a deer caught in the headlights.
She's Asian, Lizzie realized with a jolt. Just like me.
"St-stop!" the girl squeaked, scrambling backward. Stray threads in her shirt caught on nearby thorns. She was stuck.
The attacker lumbered forward, and dropped a brown sack in front of her, stomping on it with his right foot and spitting. "I've changed my mind," he said. "I don't want anything that was touched by your filthy colored-"
"LEAVE!" Lizzie roared. She found herself getting up and walking in their direction, seeing red from the indignation she was experiencing. How dare he!
She stopped right in front of him. He was a good couple of inches taller, but she held her ground. "Go away now," she commanded, eyes blazing, arms akimbo, and looking downright menacing, "and leave her alone."
His features twisted into an ugly expression. "And why should I do anything you say?"
Lizzie stared stonily. "Because I'm Lizzie Kang, that's why."
He reacted quickly. She watched as his face alternated between the colors of a traffic light, red then yellow then green, before turning purple. "Ms. Kang," he stammered out, "It's not what it looks like. I-"
"It looked like you were harassing a child. One that's much younger and smaller than you," she replied. "That's just sad. Now, leave!"
She kicked him in the shin- not as hard as she could've, but still pretty painfully -and the boy scampered off, clutching his leg.
Lizzie grinned. "Mission accomplished."
There was a cough behind her.
Remembering the little girl, Lizzie rushed over to her side. "Are you okay?" she asked worriedly.
The younger offered a weak smile, still shaken. "Yeah. Thank you."
Lizzie helped her up onto her feet. "No problem. What's your name?"
The girl stared up at the teenager with wide, shining eyes. It broke Lizzie's heart, that a girl so little had to experience something like this so soon. The world was harsh.
Lizzie then swore that she would always look out for this girl. She knew what it felt like to be teased every day, to wake up in the mornings, only to think about how many tomatoes were going to pelt her that morning. This girl wouldn't go through any more of it.
"I'm Lisbeth," she said.
Lizzie stretched out a hand. "Well then, Lisbeth," she said, "how would you like to spend the day with me?"
Lisbeth smiled from ear to ear, revealing the gap in her front teeth. Lizzie wondered if it was from natural causes.
"I'd love to," Lisbeth whispered. She took the sixteen year old's arm and walked with her to the park bench.
I hope dearly that you're not one of those townsfolk. It's not too late. There are still many open-minded people in the world, including you. And we CAN help others like them.
Thank you for reading this. Please review.
This is Ninja1234, signing out.