Jessica Ng (11) – STAFF REPORTER
“Hello”, said a young boy.
He sat on a wooden park bench beside a brunette girl who was drawing in her sketchbook. She wore a light blue dress with a bow in her hair to match.
Just a small word. A little word which can make a big difference to someone who’s alone. It wasn’t everyday another person would approach her.
She looked over to the boy and waved in response. The boy was her age, about 13 years old. He was wearing a gray shirt and black pants with red sneakers. She saw him in the neighborhood but never knew his name, for she didn’t go outside to play as much as other the children did. The young female continued her sketch, looking up every so often to see if her image matched the park scenery.
It was an early September afternoon. A beautiful clear sky hung above the world as the birds were chirping on their trees. The park was filled with kids on the jungle gym, swinging on the monkey bars, and sliding down the slides. The young artist smiled to herself and continued her art piece. It was rare that she got to be outside on a day such as this.
“Your drawing is really amazing. You’re very talented.” stated the boy.
The girl didn’t look up. She minded her own business as if he wasn’t there. It was as if she had no other care in the world but her simple hobby. Since she probably didn’t hear his comment, the boy decided to repeat himself. Suddenly, a small breeze blew past the children and then the young female quietly sneezed.
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The girl said nothing, still looking down at her drawing paper. Why wouldn’t she respond? He was only trying to be nice. He decided that he should introduce himself. Maybe he had come off strange to her. She was probably a kind person who was just shy.
“So my name’s Myron. What’s yours?” he asked.
Yet again there was no reply. He waited for a few minutes, but she didn’t say a word. Nothing at all.
“Gosh, it’s girls like you that think they’re so much better than everyone else. What’s wrong with you? No wonder you’re always alone.”
He stood up and walked away abruptly, getting the female’s attention. The boy looked back in disgust. Only then did the girl realize what happened.
It was too late. She was all by herself, sitting alone on the empty seat. Little did she notice that tears began to fall down her face as she continues to draw. The boy’s bitter expression had been just so cruel.
Then, she took out a piece of paper from her dress pocket and looked at it, sighing. A tear fell on a card that wrote in black letters: “Sorry I can’t understand you. I’m deaf.”
