Short story for English

Dithering||Invincible

Light fell on the sleepy faces of her wealthy peers as she walked through the entrance. With a sudden shocking jolt the door slammed behind her. The warm summer sun wavered, and was quickly replaced with glaring fluorescent lights as she stumbled down the seemingly endless, eerie corridor searching in a sea of strangers for a familiar face – or a sole friendly one. Instead, she was greeted with scowls or otherwise wholly ignored as the detached teens fiddled with their newest technological devices.

On Sunridge Secondary’s website the building was comparable to a brilliant star – bright enough to be the sun itself. The programs, the grounds, the academics had seemed surreal. On the drive she couldn’t contain her excitement; she struggled to keep her composure as she hugged her dad farewell. He had worked relentlessly over the last there years to stockpile enough funds for her return to private schooling for her grade 10 year. His upbringing had chained him with so many restrictions. As he suffered from his lack of education, he had vowed to create a way for his daughter to soar.

Many of her elementary schoolmates were enrolled here, and she had wandered through the hallways last week (when she picked up her timetable); nevertheless, Shelley became hesitant and felt terribly lost. She was drowning.

She glanced up once more before relinquishing all hope when she saw his smile. Never before had a smile sent such paralyzing confusion down her spine. Never before had she imagined that she would be bewildered by this boy’s simple upturned lips. Though no longer the pudgy eleven year old she remembered, she knew without a doubt that this was Josh Campbell; his hair was the same simple shade of blonde in the same simple short cut and his solid blue eyes still held that distinctive delight for life. She could never mistake that smile.

That smile had stared at her – at the world – day in and day out. It withstood early mornings, always first in the classroom and always the one caught ingesting a bogey. Always the first to release a laugh at the teacher’s terrible jokes or offer encouragement to a student presenting, it somehow managed to tolerate taunting, harassment and cruelty from peers and survived ensuing solitude. Never a silent smile: standing up for those in distress no matter the consequence. His smile allowed him to soar over adversity. Though Josh was her neighbor and classmate, Shelley did not see the strength of his silly smile until the day she thought it was finally shattered forever.

*

The yellow tape blocking off the street in front of her driveway the day his smile melted had caught her off guard. The cop cars around her townhouse complex froze her heart at the thought that her siblings could have been hurt on their walk home. Seeing her family moments later at a neighbor’s house instantly thawed her disposition and she was oblivious to the scene – her loved ones were safe.

It still didn’t hit her when his smile was vacant from the mass of her dimply peers the next day. However, it hit her as her teacher’s tears hit the desk. He struggled to share the news. Josh had been run over.  Josh was so enraptured by the simple, friendly and spontaneous wave of the teacher’s son that he ran towards the son – oblivious to oncoming traffic.

When the teacher found the words, he talked of Josh’s incessant smile. His blurred eyes leaked when he spoke of how immense Josh’s grin would be if he was there that day; he loved school. All the students made cards and posters – hoping Josh’ smile would spread across his face the moment he woke up; bare hospital walls are far from comforting. Shelley remembered her faith slipping as the process of updating cards and letters repeated again and again and again.

He would never smile again; he had been stripped of his wings. Nine months later he finally woke up from his coma. His family moved to a wheelchair accessible house and (no longer neighbors) Shelley didn’t know when she would see him again. She never thought she’d see that smile again.

*

Nonetheless, there it was staring at her – at the world. The sound of his laughter wafted her direction and rendered her guilty. Apparently, he gripped a walker now (rather than stuck in a wheelchair). Though his muscles contracted awkwardly, he was walking down the hallway. The self-pity she had felt coming down the hallway moments earlier made Shelley –fully mobile- feel incredibly self-centered. He was speaking with someone, but with great difficulty due to evident brain damage. What was he saying? Too far away in too noisy a hallway, his simple message still hit Shelley: resolve is the only wing you need to soar.