HM
Control by Layla Brindisi
I had been told my entire life that you shouldn’t let one person control your entire life. And I wished I had listened. I let Maria Elizabeth Rocksin control my life. It all started in second grade. It was the first day after winter break and everyone had just gotten to class. We were all putting our things in our cubbies, chatting about what we had gotten for Christmas, and hugging people we had missed. Then our teacher Mrs. McClaire clapped her hands to grab our attention. “Okay everyone, let’s take a seat on the rug for the morning meeting, and I have some fun news!” Mrs. McClaire announced. Everyone’s faces lit up at the thought of fun news. Everyone hurried to the rug, and took seats next to their best friends. But I sat alone. I sat in the back, watching everyone else chatter away about what this news could be. I stared down at my lap, not wanting to have any sort of attention. There was a brisk knock at the classroom door, before Principal Gross walked in. Everyone stopped talking and sucked in a breath. Principal Gross only came to the classrooms when she had bad news. She cleared her throat and said to us in her loud, commanding voice: “Hello students, meet the newest member of your classroom, Maria.” She then stepped aside to reveal a short girl with black hair, pulled behind her in a neat braid. She hugged a My Little Pony backpack to her chest, and wore a pair of leggings and a white shirt with pretty ruffles lining the bottom. I wished I had such nice clothes. I wore old, hand-me-down jeans, and a baggy tee-shirt. I was the youngest of six kids. I immediately wanted to be friends with this girl. But everyone else didn’t seem to agree. That day Maria had sat alone at lunch, at the end of our classroom table. That day spaghetti was being served, and two boys loaded their spoons with the bright red sauce and hurled it at Maria, and laughed loudly as it splattered against her white shirt, covering it with the sauce. I could see tears form in Maria’s eyes and I heard a sniffle escape her. I whipped my head to the boys and gave them a menacing glare. They glared right back and yelled: “What are you looking at four eyes!” I had never understood that phrase. My glasses were obviously not eyes! I went and grabbed tons of napkins, and headed over to where Maria sat. I handed her the napkins and sat across from her. “Don’t rub, dab. My mom taught me that,” I told her. She smiled and dabbed at the sauce. After she got most of the sauce off I told her: “ I’m Alice by the way.” “I’m Maria.” She mumbled to me. After that day we would eat together every day at lunch and soon became very close. We had been inseparable all the way to eighth grade. We helped each other through every boy who broke our hearts, every rumor spread, every friendship lost. Then, the summer before eighth grade started, tragedy hit.
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