A Prose With No Direction

she with the eyes as black as mine

Today, I'm helping Ms. Lou, or Kelly, as she likes me to call her, do her spring cleaning.

I hate cleaning. I hate organizing, I hate dusting, I hate wiping. I do not like to clean at all. And I had no intention of cleaning the boy-across-the-street's house today, but since I came over to hang out with Hugh, Kelly insisted that I help her out while Hugh finishes his last day of school. I would've said no, but I thought that if I did, I would seem rude.

Usually, I wouldn't feel shame in declining people when they ask for help.

But since Hugh and his good-hearted, helpful nature is rubbing off on me, I feel obligated to say "yes" whenever others ask for assistance.

It's funny, really, how much impact one person can cause in someone's life.

Hugh's doing a pretty good job as a penny.

Since I'm slowly learning and changing.

"Clara, could you dust off the pictures over there near the tv?" Kelly asks, cocking her head towards the empty bookshelf next to the television set filled with pictures and medals.

I nod, approaching the area with my duster. As I begin dusting, I observe the frames filled with childhood pictures of Hugh as well as his athletic and academic medals.

I smile as I come across a baby picture of Hugh, his round head covered in a navy blue bucket hat as his small body sits on a bed of sand, one arm holding a bucket and the other a shovel. Even as a baby, Hugh still wears his pretty-boy smile, his bright expression matching his bright, ocean-colored eyes.

Next to that picture, I find a framed medal, reading: 1st place, Hugh Bishop.

Due to my overwhelming curiosity, my hand picks up the frame, body turning to Kelly as she mops the floor.

"What's this medal for?" I ask her, showing the frame. "Hugh's won a lot of stuff, hasn't he?"

Kelly laughs, her hand on her hip as her eyes reminisce the memory that came along with the medal.

"That's the medal he won for this debate competition he participated in," she answers me, her mop stick pointing at the medal. "He's a real good speaker when he tries to be. Very articulate and confident. Out of all the medals he won, that's my favorite."

I look at the medal.

Of course he won a debate contest.

After all, Hugh likes to talk.

I return it back to the shelf and continue my dusting.

"So is Hugh a good student at school?" I ask her, voice creating noise in this quiet room.

"Oh, yes!" Kelly says in her proud-mom voice. "He's a smart cookie, that one. Not to brag or anything, but he took after me." She chuckles the same way as Hugh does. "He was valedictorian in eighth grade, too! I was so proud of him that day. However, sometime in high school, his good student record went a bit down. But that was because he wanted to lower it."

Kelly chuckles again, sighing. "He's sometimes crazy, to be honest," Kelly says. "But even though his grades went down, he was still as smart as ever and still won debate and academic decathlon competitions. By around junior year, though, his bad boy days ended, and he returned to being a good student."

I smile. "That took a lot of courage for him to bring down his grades like that," I comment.

"Oh, I was so mad at him!" Kelly exclaims. "When I saw that report card, it was the first time I yelled at him." She sighs, mumbling to herself. "But it was my wakeup call, too."