I HATED high school. I was often the centre of many insulting jokes and taunts. I was scholarly enough to attend one of the most sophisticated and respected schools in the country, but not rich enough to upkeep my appearance, or rather, the appearance deemed worthy by schoolmates for attending a school of such high stature and influence. My mom got a job as a laundress at a private hospital after my father died; so there wasn’t much money to spend on expensive clothes, boots and cellular phones. My mom said that as long as bills were paid, a roof was kept over our heads, and food was on the table, I shouldn’t be unhappy. And I wasn’t unhappy. I understood our situation, and was more than proud of her for the sacrifices she made every day for me, but the children at school would never let me forget my low financial status in comparison to theirs. Some days I felt as if they waited patiently at school just for me to arrive, so that they could start the teasing. I was often referred to as “no-money Cindy,” “old-booty Cindy,” or whatever else they could find to rhyme my name with. Returning to school after summer holidays was the most uncomfortable. When all the other children would talk of their family vacations to various countries or resorts, I had nothing to speak of. My mom couldn’t afford to send me anywhere, so my holidays were always spent at home reading the books she would save up all through the school term to buy. Every summer, she would promise that by the next summer, she would save up enough for us to go somewhere. But it never happened. It was always this bill or the other. Always spending summer at home, cooped up in my bedroom, was the reason I was teased the most.

I told my mother all these things, and begged her to transfer me to another school, but she would instill in me that it wasn’t what people called you, but what you answered to that was important. However comforting, those inspirational quotes used to drive me crazy, especially when I didn’t want to hear them. But my mother was right; I shouldn’t have let the teasing get to me, but it just seemed I never got a break from it. No matter what I did, a fault would always be found. I had no friends in school, because no one wanted to be seen with me for fear of being mocked too.

English Literature class was the worst, mainly because Ashley Henry took it with me. Her father was the Chief Justice for the High Court, and her mother was the leading clothes designer in the entire country. She was the most popular girl at school, and the most cruel to me. She told herself she had it all, and would never let me forget it. I was always the target for her shallow remarks, and humiliating pranks. Ashley befriended me once, just so she could insult me.

Her birthday party was the talk of the school, and I felt so lucky to be invited. It was the first party I had been invited to since attending the school. My mom dressed me up with all her costume jewellery, and I wore the best (hand-me-down) dress and shoes I had. When I arrived at Ashley’s house and walked in, everyone suddenly started laughing. Ashley told them that for her birthday, she would be donating to charity; I was the charity case. I felt so embarrassed and ashamed that I ran home crying. It didn’t help that rain poured that night.

Then, to add insult to injury, about a week later, Ashley came to ‘apologise’ to me. She brought food in a box and gave it to me, and in front of the entire class, she told me: “I couldn’t let my dog eat this, knowing there was someone more deserving.” Of course, I refused it, but later found out it was left over food from her party.

So I hated English Literature class. Ashley made it her duty to have the seat behind me just so she could tell me of which shampoos to buy for my hair, or the best fabric detergent to use to restore the colour in my clothing. She would poke me with her pencil, or leave notes on my desk whenever I tried to ignore her. Complaining to the teachers didn’t make much of a difference, as Ashley’s parents made sizeable donations to the school every year for different projects or class outings.

But I guess my mother was tired of seeing the sadness on my face when I came home from school, that one afternoon she took me back to school to have a meeting with the principal. He reluctantly called in Ashley’s parents for a meeting. But instead of them scolding Ashley, they offered my mother money to forget the whole thing, simply dismissing it as “teenagers being teenagers.”

But it wasn’t that for me; their daughter was making my life hell, and all they could do was offer money. My mother was furious and felt insulted, so she stormed out of the principal’s office, pulling me with her. But the school was a good one, and she didn’t want to transfer me from it. Besides, my grades were always high, and with a recommendation from that school, getting in to a good college wouldn’t be difficult.

I guess that’s the reason my mother learnt all those inspirational and motivational quotes. Without admitting it to her, they did help me cope. Even though I was determined not to let Ashley Henry deter my dreams of finishing high school and going to college, as my mother never got to be so lucky, she made me feel like giving up many days.

I was even thinking of not attending our class trip to the ‘Gracelyn Waterfall’, a waterfall featured and named after the heroine in the present novel we were studying in class. But Mr. Huntley, our class teacher, said the trip and a short assessment there, was for ten per cent of our course work grades. Only if he got a written excuse from our parents, then he would prepare a subsidiary exam. Of course, my mom would not write one for me, so I had to go.

Ashley was more excited than me that I could make it. She was eager to see if I would be wearing the “same old blue jeans and white blouse that I wore on every class outing.” When we had to pair ourselves for the walk along the waterfall, Ashley scrambled my hands and announced loudly that she would be walking with the “poor girl.” I asked for another partner, but Mr. Huntley wouldn’t allow a switch, so I was stuck with Ashley.

I could hardly hear what Mr. Huntley was saying, as Ashley was constantly whispering in my ear about some “luxury” I could not afford, or the many “successes” of her parents. She even went so far as to tell me how “sorry” she was that my mother washed “sick people’s clothing for a living.”

It was hard, but I ignored her. Even when I felt like screaming, I refrained from doing so. Plus, I was not going to give Ashley that satisfaction. With all her focus on me, she stepped on a bump, falling and twisting her ankle in the process. Ashley toppled over the protective fence of the waterfall, and, without realising it, I grabbed onto her hands. She swung helplessly with nothing but air and the roaring waters beneath her, and screamed for me not to let her go.

And for a few seconds, I did actually think of letting her go; it would put an end to her  torment and the misery she caused me. I would have at least eighteen witnesses to say it was an accident. But I saw the look in her eyes that begged to live. I heard the fear in her screams, and for those moments, I didn’t look down on Ashley Henry but saw someone in need of my help. With everything in me, and with the aid of my teacher and a tour guide, I pulled Ashley to safety.

She trembled uncontrollably, and with tears in her eyes, she looked up to me and said “thank you.” The rest of the trip was forfeited, and we had to return to school, where our parents were waiting to pick us up. Ashley had to go to the hospital to be treated for her ankle. A call from her that night at home was the last
thing I had expected.

But surprisingly, we spent almost two hours on the phone, discovering that we had so much in common. When Ashley returned to school, at assembly one morning, she went up on the stage and publicly apologised for every rude thing she had ever said or done to me. She even went so far as to warn other students of continuing in such behaviour because “we might never know when we’ll need a friend in an enemy.”

That was the beginning of a twenty-year and counting friendship. Ashley and I became so best of friends that we attended each other’s wedding. We each even have a daughter named after the other. We do almost every thing together, including family vacations every summer. We are not always sure why we do the things we do; but I am so happy that that day at the waterfalls, I saved Ashley’s life.