Listen

*Chapter One*

I carefully made my way to the stage. It was my turn to finally tell my story. This was my favorite day of the school year. We got to tell our stories to our audiences and I knew mine was great. My story was going to win the overall best award and no one was going to get in my way. It was going to 'wow' my teachers and they wouldn't know what hit them.

"A second grader couldn't write something like this", they'd say.

Oh but how terrific the looks upon their cute little faces would be. I'd been raised by my grandmother who'd extended my vocabulary greatly by teaching my to read before I'd entered preschool. It may sound far fetched, but I know what I'm talking about.

I stepped up to the microphone.

"Hello." I said this with a pleasant little smile. Surely they are already thinking I'm going to tell a story of a kitten getting lost in the woods. Sadly, no, the story wouldn't go this way. They peered at me from the front row of the auditorium. Yes, I knew what that was. It was simply not a "stage room" or "a place where people sit and watch shows. No, this was an auditorium.

"Good morning, Lucy. You may begin your reading." They smiled at me after saying this. My name was very retro or vintage sounding. I didn't care, it made me seem more innocent then I was. I smiled back at them and held up my story.

This was it. No one could interrupt any speaker during their presentation. Even if someone swore they couldn't end it. The only exceptions are erotics and extremely gory stories. This shouldn't be a problem considering we were only at the second graders day to read. Things got a little hectic when they reached the tenth graders. I cleared my throat and began reading.

"The Murky Tiger." I stated this loud and clear and smiled afterwards. Boy were they in for a treat. They thought this was going to be a cute story about a tiger. Oh how little they did know. The panel of judges, which was really just our teachers, smiled and looked at me with eyes that said 'go on dear. You're doing well'.

"Once upon a time there was a baby tiger." This represented me. "The baby tiger had an older sister who was also a tiger. The baby tiger looked up to her sister and always strived to be just like her. Sister Tiger was Baby Tiger's role model." I pronounced each word carefully and clearly to ensure the judges were hearing me. They looked quite happy with the generic cutesy story but were a little puzzled over my vocabulary. I brushed it off and continued like the little champion I knew I was.

"Baby Tiger thought something was wrong with her, because Sister Tiger had beautiful and even mystifying stripes. Baby Tiger became sad and told her sister that she didn't want to be plain with no stripes and wanted to be gorgeous like her sister and have Tiger stripes." The judges looked a little confused. Maybe because I was suggesting the tiger had no stripes. If they were smart, they'd eventually understand it.

"Sister Tiger looked down to Baby Tiger and told her that one day she might have tiger stripes and that it would be okay because her sister wouldn't love her any less. Baby Tiger didn't understand what Sister Tiger meant and still doesn't to this day. Baby Tiger did notice that sometimes Sister Tiger's stripes were brighter than the others and very pretty while others were faded but equally as pretty. The faded stripes were softer than the new stripes. Baby Tiger admired each stripe so much that she just wanted to be beautiful like her sister, but she didn't know how to get them." The judges were now unaware of where I was going with this. I think one of them realized what I was talking about.

"One day Baby Tiger was playing and fell down. She peered down towards her leg and found a new stripe there. She ran home to show her sister, but couldn't find her." This was when I revealed my true motives behind the story.

"Baby Tiger was really me. I went to my sisters room and found her with her pretty stripes all showing because she was wearing shorts and a tank top. This time she'd gotten too big of a stripe though and it was making her bleed. She told me she loved me and handed me a paper. It had a tiger on it, but the stripes were red. It even had a note on it, but I'm not telling you what it said. That's for me to know only. She had a pair of scissors next to her bleeding arm. She told me grandma would take care of me. I listened to my sister tell me how pretty I was and how she was sorry. I gave her a hug and told her I loved her. Then the police officers came in and pulled me away. I screamed and kicked and got away and clung to my sister's clean arm. She told the men to let me stay, so they let me until they said she died. I love my sister and she is a beautiful tiger. I still see some tigers to this day, but none as majestic as she."

I looked up from my page to see the judges in awe. None clapped, none smiled, none even blinked. One looked like they were going to cry. Maybe they knew a tiger. I sat there with my legs crossed, curly pigtails high, and waited for someone to do something. Finally after what seemed like twenty minutes, a judge calmly said,

"You may go now Lucy."

I proceeded to walk off the stage. Didn't they like my story? They should have. I used correct grammar and it was a true story! Mine wasn't about two friends who misjudged one another, broke up, and made up. No, mine was true and heart felt.

Sarah would've been proud of me to tell her story. I missed Sarah, but grandma told me she was in a better place now.

"I hope you are proud, Sarah."

I swear, even now with me being sixteen, I heard my sister say, "You better bet your buttons I am, Lucy."