Many times, little children will fear the monsters in their closets and under their beds. Those of us who have grown past that age just write it off as the child’s vivid imagination at work. But, what if it goes much deeper than that? What if their imagination only gives a recognizable form to the “monster”?
Children are innocent. That much is clear. Up until a certain age, they haven’t got an evil bone in their body. Innocence. Complete and total innocence. The physical representation of the Heart of G-d. But pure and total innocence doesn’t have a form, does it? Enter one of the greatest writers on the planet, the man who gave a form to both pure good (innocence) and pure evil. He offers these two forms in a story about a man. We’ll call him Jack. Jack is a man who grew up in a home where his aunt creates a world she believes is free from evil. Throughout his life with his aunt, he faced psychological abuse. That is, until he met a girl we’ll call Sandra. They were eleven when they met. Not long after they meet, Jack sneaks out one night and goes to her house. When he arrives, he sees something that horrifies him. A boy of maybe thirteen or fourteen with a dagger tattooed on his forehead is LICKING Sandra’s window!
The boy discovers Jack and smacks him around a little, then threatens to kill Jack and Sandra. Jack runs. Sometime later, about a month or so, Jack sees the boy again. This time, Jack runs and leads the boy to the city’s warehouse district. Inside one of the abandoned warehouses. Down some stairs. Into a room. It’s dark. “Hello, puke!” The boy is there! He and Jack fight, Jack bolts out of the room and shuts the door, locking it behind him. Four months later, Jack believes the boy to be dead.
Fast-forward twenty years. Sandra is now an accomplished agent with the California Bureau of Investigation (CBI). Jack is going through seminary and is quite the philosopher. Then, Jack gets a call from a man we’ll call Rick Darige. Darige tells Jack he has three minutes to confess his sins or his car will blow up. Jack hangs up and drives off the road. Sure enough, his car explodes. This puts him and Sandra on a turbulent race against Darige. In the end, Jack discovers that Sandra and Darige are not real – Sandra is Jack’s creation to represent (embody) pure goodness and innocence while Darige is Jack’s creation to represent (embody) pure evil and wickedness. Neither Sandra or Darige exist physically, yet Jack saw them both physically.
Let’s step out of that story now. This, I believe, is an excellent representation of my point. See, children are very much like Jack, and it is their innocence that makes them so. Those monsters they fear at night, the ones they see in their closets and under their beds? Those children are seeing the physical (to them) embodiment of evil – but they don’t know what evil looks like, so they give it a familiar form – a monster.
Alternatively, the imaginary friends they create when they are alone and afraid. These imaginary friends are the child’s physical embodiment of pure good. Together, the child and his/her imaginary friend fight off the “monster”, just as Jack and his imaginary friend, Sandra, fought off the monster, Darige.
Tuesday, September 15, 2009
The Purpose of High School Education
High school is a playground for intellectual adults, full of budding young minds waiting to come to full bloom or to be exploited. In Dead Poets Society, Welton Academy is one such environment. Principal Nolan and all but one teacher chose the exploitation route, raising up the boys of Welton to be robotic clones of themselves and their constricted and limiting ideology. One new teacher at Welton, however, took the road less traveled by. His name was John Keating, and he taught English at Welton. For the duration of his career at Welton, he taught the boys to think for themselves. This, not Nolan's way, is the purpose of high school. Unfortunately, society is permeated with the dingy filth of Nolan and the Nolanites, and we Keatingites are few and far between.
The Nolanites of society teach conformity to society. They despise individualism, because it is different. In Dead Poets Society, Principal Nolan has a talk with Mr. Keating that shows this attitude quite efficiently. Nolan tells Keating that some teachers and parents have complained about his "unorthodox" teaching methods and that he should stick to the Welton script. Keating says to Nolan, "I always thought the idea of education was to learn to think for yourself." Nolan replied, "At these boys' age? Not on your life!" Nolan recognizes that all people should think for themselves, but only after they reach that age where their minds can no longer be freed. Raise them up as programmed robots first, and they will never be free of thought. They will only, like Nolan, think they are.
On the other side of the spectrum, you have your Keatingites. For us, education is about freedom: sucking the marrow out of life, as Henry David Thoreau would say. Conformity is a disease that kills individualism and keeps a mind in bondage with the cold and heavy chains wrought by society. In Dead Poets Society, Keating has a student read the introduction of their poetry textbooks by J. Evans Pritchard. In it, Pritchard talks about "rating" poetry on a scale. Poetry must "follow the rules," according to people like Pritchard and Nolan. But as Mr. Keating did in Dead Poets Society, we must stand on our desks and remind ourselves "that we must constantly look at things in a different way."
Finally, you have your in-betweens. You have your Todd Andersons. At first, Todd stuck with conformity and the Nolanites, but he yearned to join the Keatingites. He just didn't know how. When Mr. Keating showed up, however, Todd discovered that it was quite simple: dream and look and think. As Thoreau said, "to put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived."
Show me the heart unfettered with foolish dreams, and I will show you a man in bondage. For only in their dreams can men be truly free. 'Twas always thus, and always thus will be. Stand on your desk and look all around you. There is so much worthless stuff in this life. "What good amid these"? "That we are here - that life exists, and identity." The show must go on and everyone of us can contribute a verse. What will your verse be?
The Nolanites of society teach conformity to society. They despise individualism, because it is different. In Dead Poets Society, Principal Nolan has a talk with Mr. Keating that shows this attitude quite efficiently. Nolan tells Keating that some teachers and parents have complained about his "unorthodox" teaching methods and that he should stick to the Welton script. Keating says to Nolan, "I always thought the idea of education was to learn to think for yourself." Nolan replied, "At these boys' age? Not on your life!" Nolan recognizes that all people should think for themselves, but only after they reach that age where their minds can no longer be freed. Raise them up as programmed robots first, and they will never be free of thought. They will only, like Nolan, think they are.
On the other side of the spectrum, you have your Keatingites. For us, education is about freedom: sucking the marrow out of life, as Henry David Thoreau would say. Conformity is a disease that kills individualism and keeps a mind in bondage with the cold and heavy chains wrought by society. In Dead Poets Society, Keating has a student read the introduction of their poetry textbooks by J. Evans Pritchard. In it, Pritchard talks about "rating" poetry on a scale. Poetry must "follow the rules," according to people like Pritchard and Nolan. But as Mr. Keating did in Dead Poets Society, we must stand on our desks and remind ourselves "that we must constantly look at things in a different way."
Finally, you have your in-betweens. You have your Todd Andersons. At first, Todd stuck with conformity and the Nolanites, but he yearned to join the Keatingites. He just didn't know how. When Mr. Keating showed up, however, Todd discovered that it was quite simple: dream and look and think. As Thoreau said, "to put to rout all that was not life; and not, when I had come to die, discover that I had not lived."
Show me the heart unfettered with foolish dreams, and I will show you a man in bondage. For only in their dreams can men be truly free. 'Twas always thus, and always thus will be. Stand on your desk and look all around you. There is so much worthless stuff in this life. "What good amid these"? "That we are here - that life exists, and identity." The show must go on and everyone of us can contribute a verse. What will your verse be?
Change We Can ALL Believe In!
Five months ago, we Americans went through a major event in our country: the election of our new president. Senator Barack Obama and his running mate Joe Biden ran on the campaign slogan "Change", oft expanded to "Change you can believe in!"
Well, my friends, let me tell you...this election was a bust. Short of electing a good third party candidate, We The People stood no chance. We lost this election. We have BEEN losing elections for quite a few of them in recent times. Are we about to STOP losing and start WINNING?
Unless you are willing to stand up and make this country into what YOU want it to be instead of relying on your non-representing representatives and your unconstitutional presidents, the answer is no.
You see, the primary problem in this country is not with the LEADERSHIP, but with US. WE THE PEOPLE have grown lax, lazy, and rely far too much on our government, which has FAILED us. Back in 1776, we would all be arrested for treason, and rightly so!
It is now the time, my friends, to REALLY change this country, and for the better! It is time for US to launch the second American revolution, and tell the government we're mad as hell and damn well ready to do something about it! It is time for US to tell the government OUR campaign slogan: Change WE ALL can believe in! Change for WE THE PEOPLE, not for you and your wicked corruption!
The Constitution is a BEAUTIFUL document that does not GIVE us the rights we have, because those are natural rights. It just lays them out for us and tells us the ones we were born with. What we then have to do is keep our government accountable. We have to make sure they follow that document, and if they don't, we have every RIGHT to throw every single one of them out.
So why haven't we done so yet?
Well, my friends, let me tell you...this election was a bust. Short of electing a good third party candidate, We The People stood no chance. We lost this election. We have BEEN losing elections for quite a few of them in recent times. Are we about to STOP losing and start WINNING?
Unless you are willing to stand up and make this country into what YOU want it to be instead of relying on your non-representing representatives and your unconstitutional presidents, the answer is no.
You see, the primary problem in this country is not with the LEADERSHIP, but with US. WE THE PEOPLE have grown lax, lazy, and rely far too much on our government, which has FAILED us. Back in 1776, we would all be arrested for treason, and rightly so!
It is now the time, my friends, to REALLY change this country, and for the better! It is time for US to launch the second American revolution, and tell the government we're mad as hell and damn well ready to do something about it! It is time for US to tell the government OUR campaign slogan: Change WE ALL can believe in! Change for WE THE PEOPLE, not for you and your wicked corruption!
The Constitution is a BEAUTIFUL document that does not GIVE us the rights we have, because those are natural rights. It just lays them out for us and tells us the ones we were born with. What we then have to do is keep our government accountable. We have to make sure they follow that document, and if they don't, we have every RIGHT to throw every single one of them out.
So why haven't we done so yet?
Lessons from Zoey (Pt. 4)
The months passed slowly after that. Zoey remained vibrant and full of life. The first month passed, then the second. Slowly, I began to change. Zoey’s daily wisdom and constant happiness had a major effect on me, and I became happier as a result. Little by little, I stopped being mean to people and started being nicer.
A third month passed. Zoey had now survived four months when she was only expected to make three.
We sat now at the end of that last month, me with my back to our oak tree. She sat on my lap, looking out at the setting sun. Her brown hair blew gently past my face in the wind, slightly golden in the light of the descending sun.
“Ben,” she said quietly, “I think…I think my time is up.”
I just nodded.
“I accomplished something, Ben.” She coughed softly. “Doctor Thompson said I would only make it three months, but I made it four.”
She turned her head to look at me and smiled gently. I smiled back and took her hand in mine.
“You did good, Zo,” I said. We sat in silence the rest of the sun’s descent and then late into the night. Finally, she stood and hugged me, then went home. We did this every night for a week, and then Zoey went into the hospital. The cancer had finally taken its toll. I stayed by her side every minute of every day after that until the day came when she passed away.
I’ll never forget Zoey and the things she taught me. I visited her grave every weekend after that and told her how I was doing, what new books I was reading, new things I’ve written. I’ll read her this story, too, once it is finished. I know she would love it.
A third month passed. Zoey had now survived four months when she was only expected to make three.
We sat now at the end of that last month, me with my back to our oak tree. She sat on my lap, looking out at the setting sun. Her brown hair blew gently past my face in the wind, slightly golden in the light of the descending sun.
“Ben,” she said quietly, “I think…I think my time is up.”
I just nodded.
“I accomplished something, Ben.” She coughed softly. “Doctor Thompson said I would only make it three months, but I made it four.”
She turned her head to look at me and smiled gently. I smiled back and took her hand in mine.
“You did good, Zo,” I said. We sat in silence the rest of the sun’s descent and then late into the night. Finally, she stood and hugged me, then went home. We did this every night for a week, and then Zoey went into the hospital. The cancer had finally taken its toll. I stayed by her side every minute of every day after that until the day came when she passed away.
I’ll never forget Zoey and the things she taught me. I visited her grave every weekend after that and told her how I was doing, what new books I was reading, new things I’ve written. I’ll read her this story, too, once it is finished. I know she would love it.
Lessons from Zoey (Pt. 3)
She laughed again and got out her things. We spent the remainder of the sunlight working, finishing most of our homework. Then Zoey stood up on her tiptoes and looked out of the window. Her hazel eyes widened and twinkled.
“Ben! Let’s climb down and watch the sunset! It looks beautiful!”
We climbed down to the bottom of the tree and looked out on the horizon. She was right! The sun was slowly descending, a bright orange orb in the sky surrounded by fluffy, white cushions sparked with reds and violets and pinks.
As we watched the sunset, I was taken back to a time in our past when we always watched the sunset together. I could see little nine year old Zoey now, running across the field from her house to mine.
“Benny! Benny, come out! The sun’s going home now! We have to say goodbye!”
I dashed out of my room and through the front door. She grabbed my hand immediately and took off running, nearly dragging me along behind her. The little red dress she always loved to wear swished about her little tanned legs as she ran, barefoot as usual.
We finally arrived at the top of a hillock at the edge of our property. Zoey grinned and fell backward, scattering dandelions about her. She lay in the grass and looked up at the sky. I sat down next to her and hugged my knees to my chest. After a little bit, she sat up and pointed to the clouds.
“You know what those are, Benny?”
I nodded. “Duh, Zo! Those are clouds!”
She giggled and shook her head. “No, look past that. Think! They are cushions for the sun! They keep him comfortable so he can sleep well! Don’t you always sleep better when your momma tucks you in at night?”
I scratched at a little scab on my leg. “Well, yeah…”
She stood up quickly and spread her arms wide in the air, as if the sky were an exhibit and she was displaying it for the world to see.
“That’s what the clouds do for Sunny! They tuck him in so he can sleep better!”
I smiled at the memory. I turned my head just a little and watched her now. She just stared up at the sun, eyes wide and practically glowing, her face split in a huge, delighted grin. This was Zoey, the little seventeen year old wise woman. The sky was the limit for her. She used to tell me, “life should be lived to the fullest. Who cares if there’s a chance you can’t do something? Dream it anyway! A pilot does not think of landing before he takes off, he thinks of flying high!”
The sun finally fell behind the mountains, casting the world in darkness. Zoey gave me one last word of wisdom before going home.
“Don’t lose hope, Ben,” she said. “I am going to die, but I will always live…” Here, she lay her hand gently over my heart and smiled. “I will always live in here.”
“Ben! Let’s climb down and watch the sunset! It looks beautiful!”
We climbed down to the bottom of the tree and looked out on the horizon. She was right! The sun was slowly descending, a bright orange orb in the sky surrounded by fluffy, white cushions sparked with reds and violets and pinks.
As we watched the sunset, I was taken back to a time in our past when we always watched the sunset together. I could see little nine year old Zoey now, running across the field from her house to mine.
“Benny! Benny, come out! The sun’s going home now! We have to say goodbye!”
I dashed out of my room and through the front door. She grabbed my hand immediately and took off running, nearly dragging me along behind her. The little red dress she always loved to wear swished about her little tanned legs as she ran, barefoot as usual.
We finally arrived at the top of a hillock at the edge of our property. Zoey grinned and fell backward, scattering dandelions about her. She lay in the grass and looked up at the sky. I sat down next to her and hugged my knees to my chest. After a little bit, she sat up and pointed to the clouds.
“You know what those are, Benny?”
I nodded. “Duh, Zo! Those are clouds!”
She giggled and shook her head. “No, look past that. Think! They are cushions for the sun! They keep him comfortable so he can sleep well! Don’t you always sleep better when your momma tucks you in at night?”
I scratched at a little scab on my leg. “Well, yeah…”
She stood up quickly and spread her arms wide in the air, as if the sky were an exhibit and she was displaying it for the world to see.
“That’s what the clouds do for Sunny! They tuck him in so he can sleep better!”
I smiled at the memory. I turned my head just a little and watched her now. She just stared up at the sun, eyes wide and practically glowing, her face split in a huge, delighted grin. This was Zoey, the little seventeen year old wise woman. The sky was the limit for her. She used to tell me, “life should be lived to the fullest. Who cares if there’s a chance you can’t do something? Dream it anyway! A pilot does not think of landing before he takes off, he thinks of flying high!”
The sun finally fell behind the mountains, casting the world in darkness. Zoey gave me one last word of wisdom before going home.
“Don’t lose hope, Ben,” she said. “I am going to die, but I will always live…” Here, she lay her hand gently over my heart and smiled. “I will always live in here.”
Lessons from Zoey (Pt. 2)
The rest of the day passed without incident. I only had Spanish, chemistry, and English left. Mr. Sorrel, my English teacher, started us on short story writing. I think I’ll write about Zoey…
Finally, the end-of-class bell rang, signaling freedom. I got up and jammed my stuff in my bag and tore out of that classroom like the Roadrunner. Twenty minutes of walking later I arrived at the base of a small hill, at the top of which grew the large oak tree that held in its branches the treehouse Zoey and I called our Secret Place. I could hear the sound of her voice as I trudged up the hill. She was singing.
How that girl managed to stay so kind and so happy while dying was beyond me. I know that I don’t handle pain and suffering well. Quite frankly, I’m a jerk. I’m nice enough to my friends, and especially to Zoey, but I’m not so nice to others. Why should I be? Other people will only stab me in the back. I have only found pain and sorrow with them.
The singing had stopped. I looked up at the treehouse and saw Zoey looking down at me from one of the windows, her bright eyes dimmed with sadness. I mentally kicked myself for brooding around her and climbed up the ladder.
“I worry about you, Ben,” she said as I plopped down on the floor. I just nodded.
“I know, Zo. I worry about you too, too. How can you be so happy when you know you’re dying?”
“Well,” she said with a shrug, “we all will die someday. If I had taken the treatments and possibly survived cancer, I would still die.”
“But, Zoey, you could have had a better life once the treatment was over! Sure, you would still die someday, but you could live longer!”
She smiled gently and shook her head. “I could, Ben,” she said, and that was all. We stayed silent for a moment. I was deep in thought and she was just looking at me wisely.
“I don’t want you to die, Zoey.”
Her eyes turned sad. She nodded and stood, then crossed over to the window. The silence that followed descended on the treehouse like a thick fog, but I didn’t dare break it. After a long while, Zoey finally turned around and looked at me, and I was stunned to see that tears were filling her eyes. Her bottom lip quivered slightly, trying to hold in the cry that desperately wanted out.
“I…I don’t want to die either, Ben,” she said. She dived into my arms then and sobbed into my chest. I let her and did not disturb her. I just wrapped my arms around her gently and held her comfortingly. She finally calmed after a while and sat up, sniffling and wiping her eyes.
“I don’t want to die,” she said thickly, “but this is the road I have chosen, and it is too late to go back.”
Another awkward silence fell. Finally she turned and smiled gently, resting her hand on my shoulder.
“Ben, life is like a wave in the ocean. It ebbs and it flows, eventually coming to crash on the beach.”
I looked at her curiously. Every now and then, Zoey could say something really wise and I wouldn’t understand a word of it.
“What do you mean?”
She laughed gently. “What I mean is that life has its bad times and its good times, but the end is inevitable. You were right in saying that I could have lived longer had I taken treatment, but as I said, the end would still come. That is why we should not focus on the end, but on today.
Today, I am still here. Today, I am still your best friend. Today we still have, so why not enjoy it?”
I smiled at that. She was right. I pulled my notebook out of my bag and winked.
“Sounds good to me, but we should probably do this homework first.”
Finally, the end-of-class bell rang, signaling freedom. I got up and jammed my stuff in my bag and tore out of that classroom like the Roadrunner. Twenty minutes of walking later I arrived at the base of a small hill, at the top of which grew the large oak tree that held in its branches the treehouse Zoey and I called our Secret Place. I could hear the sound of her voice as I trudged up the hill. She was singing.
How that girl managed to stay so kind and so happy while dying was beyond me. I know that I don’t handle pain and suffering well. Quite frankly, I’m a jerk. I’m nice enough to my friends, and especially to Zoey, but I’m not so nice to others. Why should I be? Other people will only stab me in the back. I have only found pain and sorrow with them.
The singing had stopped. I looked up at the treehouse and saw Zoey looking down at me from one of the windows, her bright eyes dimmed with sadness. I mentally kicked myself for brooding around her and climbed up the ladder.
“I worry about you, Ben,” she said as I plopped down on the floor. I just nodded.
“I know, Zo. I worry about you too, too. How can you be so happy when you know you’re dying?”
“Well,” she said with a shrug, “we all will die someday. If I had taken the treatments and possibly survived cancer, I would still die.”
“But, Zoey, you could have had a better life once the treatment was over! Sure, you would still die someday, but you could live longer!”
She smiled gently and shook her head. “I could, Ben,” she said, and that was all. We stayed silent for a moment. I was deep in thought and she was just looking at me wisely.
“I don’t want you to die, Zoey.”
Her eyes turned sad. She nodded and stood, then crossed over to the window. The silence that followed descended on the treehouse like a thick fog, but I didn’t dare break it. After a long while, Zoey finally turned around and looked at me, and I was stunned to see that tears were filling her eyes. Her bottom lip quivered slightly, trying to hold in the cry that desperately wanted out.
“I…I don’t want to die either, Ben,” she said. She dived into my arms then and sobbed into my chest. I let her and did not disturb her. I just wrapped my arms around her gently and held her comfortingly. She finally calmed after a while and sat up, sniffling and wiping her eyes.
“I don’t want to die,” she said thickly, “but this is the road I have chosen, and it is too late to go back.”
Another awkward silence fell. Finally she turned and smiled gently, resting her hand on my shoulder.
“Ben, life is like a wave in the ocean. It ebbs and it flows, eventually coming to crash on the beach.”
I looked at her curiously. Every now and then, Zoey could say something really wise and I wouldn’t understand a word of it.
“What do you mean?”
She laughed gently. “What I mean is that life has its bad times and its good times, but the end is inevitable. You were right in saying that I could have lived longer had I taken treatment, but as I said, the end would still come. That is why we should not focus on the end, but on today.
Today, I am still here. Today, I am still your best friend. Today we still have, so why not enjoy it?”
I smiled at that. She was right. I pulled my notebook out of my bag and winked.
“Sounds good to me, but we should probably do this homework first.”
Lessons from Zoey (Pt. 1)
"Zoey," the balding man in the white coat said, "I'm sorry. You have cancer."
I felt the air sucked out of the room at his words. Zoey had cancer? It wasn't fair! She was only seventeen, and had so much to give to the world.
I looked over at her and her parents. They looked devastated, but Zoey just nodded.
"How long do I have?" she asked.
"Well," the doctor replied, "if you go through treatment, you might come out of it and survive."
"And what if I don't?"
"Judging by how far along it is," the doctor said slowly, "you have three months."
That was one month ago. Zoey had decided not to go through treatment. I still can't understand why. We've been best friends all our lives, and I thought I knew her. I guess I have more to learn...
Zoey was always a very happy person. She was very rarely seen without a smile on her face and a spring in her step, even facing her death as she is now.
She was a bit short, around five feet and two inches. A petite girl of seventeen. Her hair was light brown and shone almost like gold in the sun. It extended down to the middle of her back. Her nose was small, yet strong, with a little bump in the middle of the bridge. Her bottom lip was slightly fuller than the top, and she had a well-defined cupid's bow. She had wide, hazel eyes that tipped more toward brown than green and always glinted with some hidden joke or mischief, perfectly centered and symmetrical on her face. Her cheekbones were high and pronounced, slightly pink with blush. She never wore make-up. She didn't have to.
I stepped into the school cafeteria and spotted her a few tables away, holding a spork loaded with sweet potato loosely in her hand. She took a bite and smiled softly. Nothing could bring her spirits down.
I walked over and sat across from her, setting my books down on the table. "What's up, Zo?" I asked. She looked up and smiled brightly.
"Ben! I'm doing alright. Just enjoying these sweet potatoes I made. Try some?"
I pulled my spork out of the plastic wrapping and took a bite. Tears came to my eyes as soon as those sweet potatoes met my tastebuds. I was in love with Zoey's cooking.
"Zoey, these are fantastic!" She giggled, and I took another big bite. She raised an eyebrow and smirked.
"I'm glad you like them, but at least save some for me, Benjamin Perkins!"
I blushed and set down my spork. "S-sorry, Zo. I got carried away..."
She looked at me seriously for a moment, then threw her head back and laughed gently.
"It's alright, Ben," she said as she pulled another container from her bag. "I made some for you, too!"
I smiled and thanked her. We ate together in silence for a moment before I spoke again.
"How are you feeling today?"
She shrugged. "I'm feeling alright. My chest has been hurting a bit lately. Otherwise, I'm fine."
"You'd tell me if you weren't, right?"
"Of course I would, Ben."
The bell rang. I packed up my stuff and gave Zoey a hug.
"Meet at our Secret Place after school?" she asked. I nodded and smiled.
"Of course, Zoey. I'll be there."
I felt the air sucked out of the room at his words. Zoey had cancer? It wasn't fair! She was only seventeen, and had so much to give to the world.
I looked over at her and her parents. They looked devastated, but Zoey just nodded.
"How long do I have?" she asked.
"Well," the doctor replied, "if you go through treatment, you might come out of it and survive."
"And what if I don't?"
"Judging by how far along it is," the doctor said slowly, "you have three months."
That was one month ago. Zoey had decided not to go through treatment. I still can't understand why. We've been best friends all our lives, and I thought I knew her. I guess I have more to learn...
Zoey was always a very happy person. She was very rarely seen without a smile on her face and a spring in her step, even facing her death as she is now.
She was a bit short, around five feet and two inches. A petite girl of seventeen. Her hair was light brown and shone almost like gold in the sun. It extended down to the middle of her back. Her nose was small, yet strong, with a little bump in the middle of the bridge. Her bottom lip was slightly fuller than the top, and she had a well-defined cupid's bow. She had wide, hazel eyes that tipped more toward brown than green and always glinted with some hidden joke or mischief, perfectly centered and symmetrical on her face. Her cheekbones were high and pronounced, slightly pink with blush. She never wore make-up. She didn't have to.
I stepped into the school cafeteria and spotted her a few tables away, holding a spork loaded with sweet potato loosely in her hand. She took a bite and smiled softly. Nothing could bring her spirits down.
I walked over and sat across from her, setting my books down on the table. "What's up, Zo?" I asked. She looked up and smiled brightly.
"Ben! I'm doing alright. Just enjoying these sweet potatoes I made. Try some?"
I pulled my spork out of the plastic wrapping and took a bite. Tears came to my eyes as soon as those sweet potatoes met my tastebuds. I was in love with Zoey's cooking.
"Zoey, these are fantastic!" She giggled, and I took another big bite. She raised an eyebrow and smirked.
"I'm glad you like them, but at least save some for me, Benjamin Perkins!"
I blushed and set down my spork. "S-sorry, Zo. I got carried away..."
She looked at me seriously for a moment, then threw her head back and laughed gently.
"It's alright, Ben," she said as she pulled another container from her bag. "I made some for you, too!"
I smiled and thanked her. We ate together in silence for a moment before I spoke again.
"How are you feeling today?"
She shrugged. "I'm feeling alright. My chest has been hurting a bit lately. Otherwise, I'm fine."
"You'd tell me if you weren't, right?"
"Of course I would, Ben."
The bell rang. I packed up my stuff and gave Zoey a hug.
"Meet at our Secret Place after school?" she asked. I nodded and smiled.
"Of course, Zoey. I'll be there."
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