Leilani Ramirez
“Mom, do I really have to volunteer at the treatment center?” I asked, aggravated that my own mother did something without my permission. My mother sipped her coffee slowly and set it down. “Lei, I did it when I was young, and it helped me become a better person!” my mother exclaime.
“But-,” I tried to respond, but was cut off by my mother’s annoying voice. “No but’s, missy. Your first day is today – and I don’t want you screwing up!” she said, her body filling with anger. “Mom!” I shouted. “Leilani Mari Ramirez, I demand you to go there immediatly!” she yelled. I groaned in disappointment. “Fine,” I mumbled, grabbing my shoulder bag. “What’s the address?”
“Check on Google. It’s the Promises Treatment Center(Real place in LA). You will start today and you will be doing it from July up until mid-September. The date isn’t official yet when you’re going to be done.” I gasped of how long I will be going to the center.
“3 months!? I’m going to be there for 3 months? No offense, mom – but I’ve got a life and-” my mother interrupted me once again. “That is no such language to use! How about the people in the center, huh? They’ve got a life, but they can’t live it well if you don’t go there and help them!” my mother replied, completly angry.
“Alright, alright. I’ll do it.” I said, finally giving in.
“Here it is – Promises Treatment Center,” I mumured, gulping nervously. I’ve never been near so many strangers before, not including school. And – these were people who were disabled! Not that they offend me and all, but I’ve never been near people with disabilities before. I’m not sure if I’m going to be good near them. I kind of admit – I’m a total goof.
I’m clumsy and I’m such a clutz. I don’t even know if the person I’m going to be helping is going to like me. Probably not. I’m going to mess everything up. But, I can’t let my mother down. She’s going to be devastated if I don’t go. So, I will do anything for my mother. I breathed in and out, before sauntering into the building.
There were people walking around, and talking. And some were scared out of their mind, holding onto someone else. I guess some people have phobias. I shrugged my shoulder as I went up to the front desk. There – I spotted a woman; about forty, with her head down facing the keyboard. I cleared my throat as she looked up at me. “Hello, there! What’s your name?” she said in an enthusiastic voice. I guess someone’s a little bit excited. I chuckled to myself. “Hi, my name is Leilani Ramirez. My mother signed me up as a volunteer here.” I said, totally professionaly, smirking in victory. “Oh, right indeed! You are assigned to,” she said looking at her computer for my name, putting her glasses up that were perched at the end of her nose, “Raquan Smith.” she said.
She gasped slightly. “Oh – he’s a tough one. All he does is sit there playing video games, watching TV, and sleeping. He also has lalophobia. That’s why he was brought here,” she said, standing up and coming beside me. She told me to walk with her to Raquan’s room.
“You see – lalophobia is the fear of talking. A woman saw him in the park cutting his wrist painfully. She took him here, and we found out that he had lalophobia. We knew he had it because he wasn’t talking to anybody, and he had the common symptoms for it. Such as – nausea, dizziness, shaking, shortness of breath, and plenty more! We’ve tried so hard to get him to talk, but sadly, we’ve failed. Hopefully, you can turn him around!” she said with a sincere smile.
“Thanks for all the information,” I paused, not knowing her name. “Lisa,” she said. “Lisa!” I responded, finishing my sentence. She laughed. “Alright, there’s his room! 24-A. If you need any help, I’ll be right at the front desk. Also, everyday, you must come at nine a.m sharp, and you must leave at five p.m.” she said, with a toothy grin.
I nodded my head. “Okay, good luck!” she said, as she opened the door. There revealed a tall boy, a lot of inches taller than me, sitting on his bed cross-legged playing a video game, which seems to be, Halo. Oh, how I love that game. “Hey,” I whispered, putting my bag on the chair beside him. He paused the game which made me excited. But all of a sudden, he un-paused it and started playing it again. “I’m Leilani. I’m going to be visiting you everyday,” I said, nicely. He paused the game, and slowly turned his head so he was facing me. I gave a brief smile, as he just sat there staring at me for a second, before turning his head around to the TV and un-pausing the game. I sighed in boredom. This kid really does have lalophobia. But, I’ve got to admit – he was pretty cute.
In anger, I stood up, grabbed the controller from him, paused the game, and set it aside. I turned off the TV screen too. All he did was look at me like he was some lost puppy. “Can you please talk?” I asked him, sitting cross-legged in front of him on his bed. He scooted away from me like he was scared. Raquan looked down and fiddled with his thumbs.
I huffed. “So, what’s your favourite color, Raquan? Mine is purple.” Raquan looked at me like I was some dumb idiot trying to make conversation – and I was. He raised an eyebrow before pointing at me. “What?” I asked, dumbfounded. Raquan scooted closer and pointed at my shirt. I looked down, and saw that it was the color. “Oh, I see.” I said, smiling a bit.
All of sudden, he climbed under the thin white blanket and was about to go to sleep. “Raquan, stop. Please don’t sleep! I just got here. Can I ask a few more questions?” I tried to say, but I heard light snoring.
I sighed. “Let’s see, how old are you? I’m eighteen!” I exclaimed. Raquan slowly rose up from his bed and stared at me for a few seconds, blinking repeatively in the process. Then, he gently picked up the TV remote from beside him and turned on the TV.
He then pushed the numbers 1 and 8 – revealing the channel, 18. “That’s great! We’re both the same age! We must have a lot in common, right?” I said happily, but all he did was stare at me stupidly, before slumping back in bed. I sighed before getting up from the bed and sitting on the chair beside him. This is going to be a tough 3 months.
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