This Is How It Started . . . One Look

This Is How It Started . . . One Look

by Kiszel Derouche

A girl entered the classroom. The teacher assigned her a seat in the front, but she refused. She walked to the back of the classroom and sat there. The teacher was shocked but didn’t mind it. The teacher projected her voice and said, “New student, what’s your name?”

The girl kept her head down and didn’t respond. The whole class turned and faced her as she sat there in silence. She picks up her head and says, “Morgan, Morgan Smith,” in a low, timid voice. Morgan and her mom Pamela had just moved to Richmond, Virginia to escape Morgan’s wild past and start fresh. Morgan has always been a shy person. She has never really had good friends that she is able to express herself to, which led her to do some crazy things that a person wouldn’t imagine an introverted 16-year-old would do. There was this one time where Morgan was having a terrible day and she was on her way home from school. She passed by a burning house with an extreme fire that was happening two blocks down from where she lived. There were firefighters, police, ambulances, and news reporters. As Morgan was hurrying down the block on the narrow street, feeling frustrated from her day at school, a lady and her crying baby were in the way.

“Excuse me, hello . . . pardon me,” she said in an attempting-toyell voice. The woman turns around.

“I’m sorry. All this baby work is stressful,” she said.

“I’m sure if you had no legs you would be a handicap and have a wheelchair and would be going faster than what you are going at now,” Morgan said in a joking manner to the lady. Morgan never has the best humor.

“Why would you say that?”

Morgan walked past and bumped the lady and the baby. The lady fell and the baby’s stroller tipped. This was all happening while a disastrous house fire was going on.

The next day Morgan and her mom Pamela went to the grocery store and the store’s TV was playing the news, showing the house that happened to be where Morgan just was.

“Here, we see the fire on 77th Street. Everyone in the house survived but were injured.” The news reporting camera shifts and shows Morgan pushing the lady and the baby.

“Karen McLee was someone that was near the house fire but wasn’t inside the house. She was seen on the camera recording with a girl that pushed her. This is what the girl looks like.” (Shows picture.) “Karen McLee was last seen at Richmond Hospital with no legs. If you have information on where to find the girl or know anything please contact us or the police,” the news reporter says.

“Morgan, that’s you. Why did you push that lady and her baby?”

Sighs from people around the supermarket noticing that the girl who pushed the lady and baby was her.

“Morgan, tell me what happened or I will go to the police and figure out what you did and go to the lady in the hospital,” Morgan’s mom said, with her eyes wide open.

Morgan didn’t say a word. She was breathing hesitantly, looking around and her hands were very fidgety.

Overall, the things she has done have gotten her arrested, and when she tries to explain herself, she ends up in therapy. But on the bright side she likes to sing and volunteer whether it’s helping the community by sharing food, cleaning the surroundings, spreading awareness, and many others.

As Morgan passed through the day, going to all her classes, getting the same introduction. “Welcome, what’s your name?” She ignored them like if someone was speaking to a deaf person without using sign language.

“Rude, ugly, quiet girl,” a girl murmured.

After class it was lunchtime. Morgan didn’t know where to go to find the cafeteria but there was a large and loud crowd talking about lunch, so she followed them. The cafeteria was two times as large as her last school. This cafeteria had very large windows, blue polished floors, only lunch booths and three lunch kitchens.

It was a sunny Monday afternoon. Although Morgan wanted to sit with someone, everyone already had someone. So she had to sit by herself; this wasn’t something new for Morgan. Morgan spotted the girl from earlier that called her rude and ugly sitting with her friends.

“Hey,” she called out, “I have class with you and I heard you called me rude and ugly. First off don’t call me anything if you don’t know me.”

“Okay so . . . you’re not so quiet like I thought comin’ here and confronting people.”

“I’m not trying to get hostile with you; I’m just correcting you, got it?” Morgan said in a serious voice.

“Girl, you are not worth my time. I am Taylor Mitchell, the most popular girl in school. I can get one of my friends to beat you up,” she said in a sassy voice.

“Tell your friends to come after school. I dare you,” Morgan said.

After lunch, Morgan had her last two classes which were social studies and math. She could barely focus on the curriculum.

“All right, class, it’s the end of the school day. See you guys tomorrow,” the teacher said.

As Morgan packs up her things, a boy hands her a folded paper he got from Taylor Mitchell. It says “MEET ME BEHIND THE SCHOOL IN TEN MINUTES.” Morgan gathered her belongings and headed behind the school. There were four of them altogether. “Are you ready?” they said.

“I’ve been ready.”

A car drove by, then backed up. It was Morgan’s mom!

“I have to go, my mom is here.”

Morgan walked closely to Taylor’s face and looked straight into her eyes and said, “Go get a knife and stick it into your neck because I don’t want to hear your commentary anymore. You would be doing me and others a favor,” she said with a smirk. After that feisty talk, Morgan walked to the car with ease, and Taylor left shaken.

Morgan went to school the next day like nothing ever happened, and Taylor wasn’t there. Two more days passed and then two more. Taylor hadn’t been in school for five days but on the sixth day Taylor’s mom came to the school and said, “Taylor is in the hospital. When she came home from school on Monday afternoon she came home with a knife in her neck, blood on her neck, hands and clothes!”

“Students, if you know anything, please come to the main office.”

Taylor’s friends that were there behind the school told them everything that happened. So, eventually, Morgan was called into the office by Principal Larry to discuss the situation. “I heard you gave a death threat — is that true?” the principal asked.

“Maybe. All I said was, ‘Go get a knife and stick it into your neck,’” Morgan said.

“That is not okay and, because of you, that was most likely the

reason Taylor Mitchell stabbed herself and, for this, I would have to expel you. Please pack up all the things and your guardian will be here to pick you up,” Principal Larry said.

Morgan packed her things once more and waited for her mom to pick her up. Morgan’s mom walked in with the same face she had when she was expelled from her last school; she didn’t even face Morgan. When she signed Morgan out, she didn’t even give a sign she was leaving. Morgan just followed behind. They both got in the car and she faced Morgan. “It has only been your first week of school and look at what you have done. What is wrong with you, you’re going back to therapy because I don’t know what else to do,” Morgan’s mom said, crying out.

“Tomorrow, get ready to go to therapy and get out of my car and go walk home,” her mom said.

“What? Ugh,” Morgan said.

As her mom drove off, she thought, “Is this what my life really is?” This lady approaches Morgan and says, “You look like you are lost.”

“No,” Morgan said.

She gives Morgan a hug. “You look like you need it,” then she quickly backs off.

“What are you?” she whispers.

“I am a fortune teller and also part witch.”

“I think I need to go now,” Morgan said.

“No, I’m serious. It’s true, come to my office.”

Morgan’s mom would always tell her to stay away from people like this but her mom was already mad at her so Morgan went anyway. As they were sitting down in her office she told Morgan that when they hugged she felt a shiver through Morgan’s body and knew she was the one.

“People would tell me I’m crazy because I say I am a fortune teller and part witch. I wouldn’t say I’m crazy. I would say I am gifted, I don’t know how I got it but I do, that’s why it’s a gift I was given,” the teller says.

“All you need to do is close your eyes and relax and I will do my part,” the fortune teller said.

They both close their eyes and relax. The silence was loud. Morgan opens her eyes. “So aren’t you going to say something like a-br-ka-da-br-a?”

“I was already starting, it’s a mind thing not verbal.” So they both resume their concentration.

A shocking sigh came from the teller. She said, “You have a gift, you have the gift of compulsion.”

“What?” Morgan said confusingly.

“Also you told a girl a death threat, now you got expelled.”

“How did you know?”

“I’m telling you, I have a gift. You need to be careful what you say because compulsion can get out of hand once you are looking at them straight in the eye. The compulsion goes straight into effect.”

“Wow this makes sense now, that’s why Taylor did it. Thank you for telling me. I have to get home now.”

“I will get you an Uber,” the lady said.

“Ok, bye, thank you.”

Morgan arrives home. She was so excited to tell her home the news but she didn’t tell her mom because she was still very angry.

It’s the next day. Morgan and her mom walked into the therapist’s office.

The therapist led Morgan into the office and her mom waited in the lobby, and many topics came up like the death threat, the fortune teller, and Morgan being alone. But at the end of the session the therapist told Morgan’s mom that her situation needs to be taken up to a mental center.

The therapist took some deep breaths while she was walking towards Morgan’s mom.

“Here are some documents listing the best centers in Virginia and their contact information,” the therapist states. Going forward Morgan’s mom knew what she had to do . . .

“I know what I need to do now, thank you,” Pamela, Morgan’s mother, said in a determined tone.

Morgan and her mom headed home. All through the drive Pamela was breathing heavily like she was ready to burst with tears.

“Mom, please don’t send me there, you just don’t understand and you won’t believe me.”

“Then tell me, let me know what’s wrong. I am your mother. I deserve to know when my child is going through something, is it depression?”

“No it’s not depression. I have . . . powers.” Pamela looked at Morgan like she was crazy, her eyes wide open.

“Morgan Smith, I love you and I am going to help you by taking you to the mental center!” Morgan’s mom shouted.

“That’s why I didn’t want to tell you. I knew you wouldn’t believe me and this would even persuade you more to take me to a stupid mental center that I don’t even need,” Morgan screamed.

For the rest of the car ride, there was no noise. Morgan stared outside the whole car ride and did not dare to look anywhere and her mom drove but soon after she turned on the radio to stop the silence. An hour has passed and the ladies are at the door. Pamela is searching for her keys.

“Great, I found it. Morgan, when we get in the house, go take a bath and prepare for bed. It has been a long day.”

“Okay,” Morgan said quietly.

Beep Beep Beep Beep Good Morning. That was the sound of Morgan’s alarm clock. The sun was shining brightly this morning. Morgan headed out of her room to say good morning to her mom.

“Good morning, Mom.”

“Good morning, Morgan, I am heading out for work now, call if you need anything, see you later.”

“Okay, bye.”

Pamela wasn’t going to be back until 5pm but time flew by. Morgan did her usual routine — brushed her teeth and made breakfast (pancakes and bacon with tea). Today was different but the same. She was expelled, it wasn’t her first time. So, afterwards she sat down and watched TV, and later on she read a book.

“Ughh, I’m bored,” Morgan said, sitting on the floor.

Morgan came up with an idea that she should watch a movie. That would help speed up time. She decides to watch the movies on her computer. Soon after, she falls asleep.

“Morgan, I’m home . . . hellooo,” Pamela says.

Morgan’s mom checks her room and sees that she’s sleeping so she leaves her alone.

Morgan is awakened by the noise she hears, she checks her phone and sees it’s 6:15pm. Now that she is fully awake, she notices that it’s her mom speaking on the phone to someone concerning the mental center. So, she storms out to her mom.

“Please, Mom, don’t send me.”

“Go back to your room,” Mom said.

“No please, Mom,” Morgan says, crying out to her.

“GO NOW!” Pamela demanded.

Morgan walked to her room with tears ready to pour out of her eyes. She slowly closed and locked her door, she sat down behind her door and cried her eyes out. This moment for Morgan was different than any other. Although she has been expelled before, suspended, arrested, and been to therapy Morgan did not come out of her room even if she was hungry, thirsty or needed to go to the bathroom.

“Morgan Kaliee Smith, open this door now; I want to talk to you!”

“Whatever you have to say, you have to say it now because I am not opening the door.”

“You’re going tomorrow, you need to be there for 12pm. It’s a 2-hour drive. We will leave here at 9am. You are staying there for six weeks.”

“Wha—”

“I am doing this because I love you. I have been through so much with you, especially being a single mother and your dad working as a flight attendant. He’s always traveling so it is not easy . . . do you think I want to do this . . . no . . . goodnight, Morgan,” Pamela said crying.

That was just the end of their night.

Beep Beep Beep Beep Good Morning. When the alarm said good morning Morgan said it with the alarm clock. It would be the last time she heard the alarm go off for the next six weeks. Morgan looked at the alarm clock and said “6:00am.” Morgan’s mom knocked on the door and Morgan opened it.

“Good morning, Mom.”

“Good morning, Morgan.”

They both worked together to pack Morgan’s clothing and everything she needed after Morgan brushed her teeth and took a shower, as did Pamela.

“We will take breakfast on the road,” Pamela said.

“Okay.”

“We are good on timing. Let’s head to the car — do you have everything for six weeks?”

“Yes, I’m pretty sure I have everything, Mom. Also you don’t have to remind me that I have to stay for six weeks.”

“Morgan, let’s go.”

Morgan took a look around not to see if she was missing anything but to remember what it feels like to be home. Then, after a minute of

reminiscing, Morgan took a deep breath and headed out.

“We have been on the road for a while. Now let’s pull over to this McDonalds — what do you want to eat?” Pamela asks.

“Can I have bacon, egg and cheese Mcgriddle and orange juice? Ugh, I’m tired.”

They got their McDonalds. In fact, they both got the same thing but, instead of orange juice, Pamela got coffee. Pamela drove into the parking lot to eat and take a break. They had an hour left until they arrived.

Yawn. “How far are we?”

“15 minutes away.”

“What, nooo . . . Mom, let me tell you this now because I do not know when I will ever have the right time . . . I have no control over what I’m doing. I feel like I have no one to talk to, even my own mother. You are physically here but not mentally, I tried telling you already I don’t know what else to do, so can you really blame me?”

Pamela starts tearing up, thinking: Am I not a good mom? Have I failed?

“We’re here, let’s unpack the car and get you settled in.”

“Welcome to Advanced Mental Clinic, how may I help you today?”

“Hi, today we are checking in.”

“Okay, great is this for you or her?¨

“It’s for my daughter, Morgan.¨

“Okay, great. I found her in the system. She will be here for six weeks. She will have no use of her phone because this place is to help you, not a sleep-away camp. Her way of communication is writing letters — if there is any emergency you will be contacted. Any questions?”

“No questions from me. Morgan, do you have any questions?”

“No, I just don’t want to be here!” Morgan said blatantly.

“I will transport your stuff into your room and you can exchange hugs,” the worker said.

“Come here, give me a hug. I am going to, surely, miss you. It will definitely feel different.”

“I am going to miss you and I am definitely going to write letters to you.”

“Ready to go to your room?”

“No, but I have to.”

“Bye, sweetie, I love you.”

Pamela left and Morgan’s journey began. Although Morgan doesn’t deserve to be there she has six-weeks of free time . . . or so she thought.

Day One, Day Three, Day Five, Day Seven.

Dear Mom,

I made it to my first week at this headache of a place called a “mental center.” From the things I have seen to late night screams, strange noises, people whispering things in my ear that make me wonder, and people that come in stranger shapes. Mom, I don’t think this is the place for me. I don’t feel safe. I say this with true honesty. I’m scared most of the time. I don’t want to sleep because I have the worst dreams about people here. They treat me like I’m a baby. Mom, I know you said you put me here to help me but I don’t think this is the way to get to that. I have 35 more days here. I don’t know if I can handle this, I’m not exaggerating! I might come out crazier than you think.

Love, Morgan Smith (The girl in a mental center that’s your daughter)