One City, One Story 2015 “Tell Your Story” Contest

Category:  Grade 6-8

3rd place

A Young Girl’s Journey: Mexico to America

by Eva Lindholm, Grade 6


Why can’t I be normal? Maybe even be like the others. Mama says that being special and extraordinary is better. In my case extraordinary means having my family threatened and chased out of our small social town of Chiapas and rushing to America before we die. What happens to me the special girl in our family? “Vamos Jessie , América será bueno para todos nosotros” says Mama. Her telling me America will be good for all of us makes me sick to my stomach. I stare out at the blue salt water gleaming with the spray tickling my neck. So this is United States I think. All I can see are tons of people. I see girls in pretty dresses and guys riding pieces of wood that they call skateboards. Men and women with little silver boxes with apples on them pressed up against their ear. I step off of the gleaming black boat and everyone stops in his or her tracks.

They are probably surprised to see a bunch of Latinos and Latinas stepping out of a small packed boat in unusual clothing. My heart thumps and my stomach sloshes. The people all turn away and continue doing what they’re doing. Out of the corner of my eye I see my old friend Beck. Beck has always been there for me but he is extremely small. I could step on him if I tried. Then I see these big tough boys dressed in all black come up behind him and take his bag.

I could see Beck trying to fight back but it’s useless. I run up to Beck to help him and yell at those nasty boys to stop bothering my friend in the toughest voice I can conjure. They just laugh and the biggest, toughest one says, “Why would I listen to a little girl like you?” That’s when I get angry, my face burns and my fists clench. I’m not the sort of person to mess around with. I suddenly feel a surge of pressure in my head and everything turns black. All I can see is the water swelling up behind them smashing into the boys. They fall to the ground and sputter out water while looking at me as if I’m a monster. Since this has happened before maybe I am a monster. I run away in fear of being caught. The reason why I left Chiapas and why everybody in Mexico is scared of me is for a good reason because I am scared of me.

Beck thanks me as he runs after me across the moss covered dock. Right now I’m not in a talking mood. Mama said that I have to control these feelings but they just happen when I get mad or sad. In Mexico these powers were out of control and when  I would get mad someone would die, something would break, and people would break.  I highly doubt that my time in America will be any better than my old life. I run as fast as I can sliding down the dock when I bump into someone and send him or her flying into the water. “Let me help you up” I say, my heart still beating. The girl who is now drenched in moss and water spits it out then looks at me as if I’m a monster like the boys. “Look what you did to her,” says her now surrounding group of friends all as perfect as her. She jumps out of the water and runs away, her once strawberry hair a revolting greenish red. I’m smart enough to know that this isn’t a good time to stay. Oh why did we have to come here? I feel the hot tears pressing at my eyes  like big oceans spilling out. So off I am again a whirlwind of emotions pushing at me waiting to spill. I can’t let them spill because we know what happens when they do.



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