Perspectives

1. Hero

The first time I heard about her was in first grade. I remember playing on the playground and hearing a couple girls talking near the slide. I walked over to ask them what they were talking about. They looked at each other and shrugged as if to say I guess we can tell her. They told me a story of a girl who had magic. I didn't believe them at first and it took them a lot of explaining for me to realize that they were probably telling the truth.

 When I went home, I asked my mother about this girl. Her eyes flashed into an expression of fear at first and then went directly back to normal as she resumed the fake smile that she wore constantly. Due to my "gift" of intense intelligence, I understood ,even then, that she was simply an adroit actress. Even if I pretended to, I wouldn't fall for her act, no matter how far in to it she got. She simply told me that it couldn't be true. She told me not to worry about it and continued her work. Even if she didn't say it, her tacit words hurt. I knew that she meant to say, Go away Hero.

 After that moment, I vowed to find out everything I could about that girl. My research was scant at first, but after my dad, who was constantly telling me to do my best, died, I pressed myself to go further. I worked my hardest and expanded my "gift" to the highest possible ability. However, even after all these years, I still haven't figured out much. My ten pages of notes may look like a large amount, but when the amount of time I spent on them is considered, it looks simply like an inconsequential paragraph.

 "Hero, what is the answer to that question?"

 "Eight valence electrons, sir," I said snapping back to reality, even after several minutes of daydreaming. His eyes narrowed into ugly slits, his gaze packed with anger, with annoyance because I answered the question correctly. Mr. Burns was constantly looking for a time to catch me daydreaming. He hasn't succeeded yet for, despite my constant daydreaming, I am always paying attention.

 My name is Hero Caste and I am in eighth grade at Clifton Middle School of Monrovia, California. I have long black hair and pale green eyes with dark skin. I am one of the skinniest, most awkward people I know. Despite the way it may seem by my attitude, I have a very low self-esteem. I live with my mother,  and our dog ,Ellen.  I used to have a very strong, close bond with my father, but later on, tragedy struck. When third grade had finally come and I thought there was nothing to worry about, my father had an intense heart attack.  He was rushed to the hospital and died shortly after.  Although I have moved past the initial shock of it, my lack of a father still utterly depresses me.

 He was constantly telling me to do my best, and I did.  I worked my hardest, stayed up late, and would do everything I could to make me a better person from getting up in the morning to going to bed at night.  But it wasn't only my incessant effort that made me the smartest in my class, school, and possibly state (not to mention how hard I tried to increase my extensive athletic and artistic abilities).  I was born with an extraordinary gift that most parents wished their kid would possess.  I was unusually smart, which was discovered when I was a very young age. It has been decided by my school's honors program, Monrovia High School, and several colleges who wanted to have me attend their school, that I am to entirely skip high school.

 The bell rang again, saving me from the horrible depths of class. I walked out scooping up my purple backpack quickly. I walked from the classroom quickly and in doing so, I saw our principal Miss Caple with a member of the school board. I walked quickly in hopes that she wouldn't see me. When I was almost out of the quad, I heard my name:

 "Hero, come here and meet this woman," I turned at Miss Caple's diplomatic voice. I walked over to her.

 "Hero," she said, "This is Mr. Lament, the president of our school board. Mr. Lament, this is Hero Caste, our smartest student."

 "Oh," he said, clearing his throat to reveal a deep voice, "You must be the one who will be skipping high school."

 "That's me," I said with a fake smile.

 "Well, Hero," said Miss Caple, "I won't keep you from your break." She waved at me and I walked away to find my best friend. This was most of my life: grades, school, my mother, meeting people, and my best friend. Ironically, this was who I was. This was Hero.