What She Gave to Me
There are things in life that are meant to be treasured: your pets, your grades, your parents. But people rarely think about words being treasured. There are a few words in the English language that mean amore than anything else in the world.
Love.
Faith.
Kindness.
Beauty.
Strength.
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There was this girl I knew once. She wasn’t really one of the girls in school that cared what other people thought, which made her a mystery and an instant outcast. It was a novel concept, a girl who didn’t care about makeup or hair or fancy clothes, at least where I was from.
At my tiny high school, the most popular girl was the one in the cheerleader’s uniform, her arm looped with the quarterback’s. She was Homecoming Queen and was always busy on Friday nights. She was blonde.
This girl, though, the mystery, she was…something else.
Her name was Ellie. That’s what I really remember. I can’t quite recall her height or her eye color, but she had dark brown hair and was a bit round in the middle. Girls that passed her in the hall would call her Ellie Belly. Boys shoved her and tossed her books into puddles, left pornographic drawings on her locker.
But I never saw her react. And that shocked me. When other girls were picked on, they would cry or shove or tell a teacher or something. Ellie never did. Ellie had a blank face when she took down the papers from her locker or picked up her soaked textbooks. She didn’t respond when girls shouted at her from the other end of the hall. She was… Well, I guess the best way to put it would be that she was indifferent.
When I was in my junior year, Ellie came to school wearing a shirt that said, “Love.”
I didn’t really think anything of it at the time. Then, the next day, her T-shirt said, “Faith.” And then, Wednesday, “Kindness.” Thursday, “Beauty.” Friday, “Strength.”
I’m not going to pretend that I didn’t even notice her in the halls. I thought she was beautiful. I had daydreams where I stood up in class and went to go sit with her or where I picked up her books for her for waited at her locker for her after school. But I could never tell my friends that—they wouldn’t hang out with me anymore if they knew I was thinking about talking to Ellie Belly.
Still, that week, I noticed her more than usual. Thursday, most of all.
Mark and Anna were the golden couple of the school, the cliché football quarterback and head cheerleader. They were leaning against Mark’s locker that Thursday, eating each other’s faces off, when Ellie walked by in her “Beauty” shirt.
Anna laughed. Ugh. Her laugh, just remembering it, still sends shivers down my spine. It was pure evil hidden underneath a high-pitched tinkle of a giggle. But that laugh maybe Ellie’s steps falter.
“Excuse you, Ellie Belly—do you think you’re beautiful?” Another laugh. Like nails on a chalkboard.
Ellie kept walking.
“Hey, I’m talking to you!”
She didn’t stop.
And then Anna pushed her boyfriend away and tore straight through the other people to get to the girl, grabbing her by the back of her shirt and forcing the brunette to face her. “Nobody ignores me.”
“Maybe it’s because the shrill octave of your annoying voice drives them insane and they just want you to stop yelling at them.”
The whole hall froze. I had never heard Ellie speak before that.
“Now, I’d appreciate it if you could let go of me. I have to get home.”
“Y’know what?” Anna hissed, shoving Ellie away from her. “Go home. And cry to yourself because no one will ever love you. And you should burn that shirt. You’re only lying to yourself.”
Ellie’s face held no emotion as she walked away.
Strength. That’s what her shirt said on Friday.
I thought about it all day. Strength. That’s what Ellie had. And it’s what I was lacking. Courage. Bravery. I wasn’t strong enough to not care what my friends thought about me talking to her. She was never at lunch. She didn’t talk in class. And hearing her stand up to Anna… It did something.
I made up my mind to talk to her the following Monday.
She wasn’t in any of the classes we shared, though. She wasn’t at her locker before or after school or between classes. She wasn’t there all day. She wasn’t there all week. In fact, she was mysteriously absent for the rest of the month.
Until one day when there was a man taking things out of her locker. He had tired eyes, wrinkles, grey hairs in a spattering of brunette.
“Excuse me,” was the first thing I could think of to say. “Is Ellie not coming back to school?”
He didn’t even look at me. “No.”
“Mind if I ask why not?”
“She’s dead.”
“…how?”
“Cancer. Passed away two nights ago.” He glanced over at me. “Were you friends with her?”
“Uh, no. I… I never… I kind of had a crush on her. From afar.”
His smile was tired. Pained.
“I’m sorry for your loss.”
“You too, kid.” He closed Ellie’s locker and then he was gone.
I wasn’t sure what to do after that. It felt…weird. Empty. Lacking. Then, somehow, even though I never told anyone, the news that Eleanor Cook had died spread like wildfire.
The following Monday, there was a poster on her locker with the word, “Love,” decorated in pink and red, hearts and smiley faces. Tuesday, a piece of printer paper with the word, “Faith” written on it appeared. Different handwriting. On Wednesday, I caught a football player taping a poster that said, “Kindness” to the metal. Underneath it, the signatures and apologies from every member of the team. A few girls from my AP English class added “Beauty.” And Friday morning, in front of everyone, I added, “Strength.”
Most of the school didn’t care. I still believe the football coach made his boys put up their poster. But there were a few of us that did.
Ellie suffered through her disease, chemo, and the bullying without losing her love or her faith in the world. Her kindness and her strength inspired me. Her beauty—inner and outer—was unsurpassed by anyone at school. She’s the reason I joined the anti-bullying club at school. She’s the reason I became a doctor.
And I don’t think I’ll ever forget what she taught me: the most important things in the world are the values you keep close to your heart.
Love.
Faith.
Kindness.
Beauty.
Strength.