One City One Story 2016 Writing Contest: “A Vivid Memory”
Honorable mention
Category 2: Grades 6-8
“Sidekick”
by Karla Ortiz Burden
Grade 8
Southmore Intermediate School
There was a girl in my preschool, I remember. She was crying. Most of her black hair was on her face, wet, due to her tears, and stuck to the fats of her rosy cheeks. One hand made a fist on her ironed skirt, while the other was clutching to the hem of her mother’s dress. The girl hiccupped, pleading her mother not to leave. “Please, mommy,” she pleaded, “please.” Her glassy, coffee-colored eyes were strained from tears.
I looked away from the scene and scanned the classroom. No one made a move to go help the poor girl, aside from the teacher, Mrs. Corado. I frowned, ashamed. I thought to myself, I was a supposed to be a hero, was I not? So, ignoring the looks among my peers, I strode over to her.
“Hello, I’m Karla, a future DC member! What’s your name?”
I stuck my hand out like my mother taught me. Her eyes looked away from the carpeted floor and her gaze fell on me. She hesitated, looking up at her mother for approval before her sight was back on me, and shyly took my hand. I grinned and shook our hands, more for her sake than mine.
“Ashley,” she said.
It took me time to register what she meant, but when I did, I laughed. She was startled when I did. I was always a loud person.
To Ashley’s dismay, her mother had to leave. I looked up at her mother and said that it was, “A-Okay,” and, “Ashley is in good hands with me,” while giving Ashley a thumbs up. But Ashley didn’t budge.
“N-no,” she cried, “Mommy, don’t leave!”
I cocked my head to the side, wondering what to do.
“Be my sidekick!”
She gave me the look of a confused puppy, until she asked what I meant.
“Every superhero needs a sidekick, like a Batman and Robin, Mario and Luigi, and Jimmy Olsen with Superman. I’m a superhero, or will be, so till then, be with me till I do so you can be one!”
Then she gave me a smile full of sunshine and rainbows. “Yes,” she said. “Thank you.” Before she knew, she let go of her mother’s to my hand, and it stayed like that. It stayed for eight years.