Porcelain

I Skipped School One Time and Now I'm Scarred For Life

My story is not one I like to tell or remember. The only people who knew the full, emotional details of this account were myself and the Head of the Program.

It was simple and, yet, not so simple at the same time.

I was born in Honolulu, Hawaii on November 16, 1997 to a Mr. Abraham Rivera and a Mrs. Sophia Rivera. My father was of Spanish descent, my mother of Filipino descent.

When I was 5 years old, my dad had realized how much he'd hated the real estate business. He dragged my mother and my toddler self to Everett, Washington. My mom always hated the weather, but she grew to love the scenery.

My dad was a free man, shuffling around to different jobs. He had experience with plenty of work, had a military background, but nothing ever seemed to stick. 9 months of surviving the town, my dad got up one morning and decided to go to school to become a police officer.

It took the long process of two years, but my dad eventually became a cop. He had a great record, and he became a favorite of the Chief. When I was 9, my dad had easily been promoted to Chief of Police in Seattle.
While this went on, my mother had been hired as a cook at a 4-star restaurant, and I was growing into an intelligent social butterfly.

After 3rd grade in a rowdy, crowded public school, the prestigious Red Academy showed interest in my academic abilities. My parents wanted the best for me, but we just didn't have the money.

At 10 years old, my dad had been awarded a medal for his work as the Chief of Police, and my mom became the head chef at the now freshly managed 4-star restaurant, a new star trailing the four. My intelligence was at its peak, and we were managing very well.

In the summer before 6th grade, it was decided that I would be attending Red Academy on a scholarship that funded half of the tuition.

During that summer, several kidnappings of little girls were brought to the public's eye. In concern, my dad had enrolled me in martial arts and self-defense classes.

And then Kaylee White, the 9-year old daughter of the Vice Mayor was kidnapped.

The kidnappings had been going on for at least 10 years, but they were so subtle at the time, no one had given it enough priority. Until that one girl was taken.

This raised so much hell for my father, and I remember him being absent for two months. He eventually made the decision to alert the state through the power of media. He appeared on the news, alerting the kidnapper of his inevitable capture. Telling him that Chief Rivera would save the day. Be the hero.

The threat worked-- for a while.

The kidnapper was quiet for a couple of months. And one day, I was walking to school. I was turning 11 in a month, and I remember how cold it was, since it was October.

I had passed the convenience store near the school and no one was around. Suddenly, someone was behind me. Rough hands grabbed me, subduing me before I could even think about what was happening.

It's safe to say that I was absent that day.

I wanted to add a little something, noting the bombings happening in Paris right now. A little hope for them and the families and friends there.

Thanks for reading!
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~Amira.