Maria (standard:drama, 5458 words)
Author: J. Thalia	Added: Jul 22 2002	Views/Reads: 3405/2209	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
What happens when a child isn't cared for? What happens when a child isn't loved? What happens when a child is beaten? Who's to save that child?

Click here to read the first 75 lines of the story


“Just get in the car.” 

She gets into the car, and then he gets into the car. 

They drive for 20 minutes and get to the small elementary school with
Blue Water Elementary written outside on the wall. 

“Ok, now get to your classroom.” 

“But dad, mommy usually walks me to my classroom on the 1st day.” 

“Oh well,” he reaches across the car, opens the door, unbuckles her
seatbelt, and then pushes her out of the car. He throws her backpack at 
her, then closes the door and drives off. 

Sarah is all by herself, needing to find where to go, in this big—yet
familiar school of hers. She goes inside, and starts walking to her old 
classroom, she knew where to go, Ms. Walkins would help her. 

“Oh, Sarah, honey, you don't have to come to this classroom anymore,”
said the teacher. “You're too big for my class.” 

“Oh but Ms. Walkins, I don't know where to go, my daddy didn't show me
where to go.” 

“Aww, you poor thing, he just left you, that wasn't very nice, was it? I
can tell you where to go, I can't leave my room though,” Ms. Walkins 
says, looking at the little girl, Sarah stands there nodding. “You have 
to go down this hall, take a right, then go down another hall, take a 
left, and your new room should be on the left.” 

“Oh thank you Ms. Walkins!” Sarah follows the directions very carefully,
and finally gets there. She walks in to discover that Miss Maxwell's 
second grade classroom was different than Sarah's first grade room. 

Later that day, after introductions, Miss Maxwell asked the class to say
something about their parents in front of everyone else. 

“My mommy's funny,” someone said. “My daddy is big, but my mommy is
small.” Were some other answers. Finally it came down to Sarah. 

“My mommy is nice, she takes me places.” She goes to sit down. 

“Um, Sarah, I think you still have something to say about your dad?” the
teacher asks. 

“Oh, my daddy hates me.” 

Gasps are heard around the room. “Oh, honey, your daddy doesn't hate
you.” 

“He doesn't say he does, but he acts like it.” 

“Well, on the inside, your daddy really—oh” she looks at her watch. “Its
time for lunch.” 

They all got in line to go to the lunchroom. Kids scoffed at the idea of
her not having a loving father, which made Sarah nervous. Miss 
Maxwell's unfinished sentence didn't help much either. 

At lunch, Sarah sits down with her friends that she always played with
last year. 

“What are you doing?” one of them asks. 

“Eating.” Sarah says. 

“We don't want you here.” 

“Why?” Sarah fights off tears. 

“Because no body likes you, even your dad doesn't like you.” 

“You be quiet! My daddy does too love me, Miss Maxwell said so!” 

“No she didn't,” they all laugh, Sarah stands up. “You can sit over in
the corner by Mickey!” 

Mickey came all the way from Pennsylvania. He came to Michigan about 9
months ago, and never made an attempt at making friends—he was thus 
ironically named ‘the new kid'. He was snubbed, sneered, and whatever 
else little children like to do to ‘the new kid'. His glasses, and 
short hair contributed, along with the rear black hair and blue eyes. 
He usually sits in the corner, and eats alone. 

“Hi,” Sarah puts down her bag. “Can I sit here?” 

Mickey looks up. He starts breathing hard, and looks up again. “Um,” he
takes one deep breath. “Ok.” He takes a bite of his sandwich. 

“Thanks...my friends,” she points her thumb behind her, but doesn't
loose her sight on Mickey. “My friends told me I couldn't sit with them 
anymore, would you mind if I sat with you for ever?” 

“Um, I guess.” 

They eat lunch. 

“Um, Do you like to read?” 

“Yeah I guess,” Sarah responds. 

“You know, I have this one book, that my daddy gave me, and I really
like it, and he says that if I can read this, then I can read 
anything!” 

“Wow” 

“What's your favorite game?” Mickey asks. 

“Oh, I don't know, I don't usually play games too often—my parents won't
play with me.” 

“Oh” Mickey takes the last bite of his sandwich. 

“Um, what is your favorite food?” Sarah asks. “I like oranges, cause you
get a lot of pieces,” he pulls out an orange from his bag. “Do you want 
some?” 

“I guess so,” Sarah says. “My favorite food is chocolate, but I only get
that on Christmas.” 

Mickey peels the orange, and gives half of it to Sarah. 

“You're really nice. I like you—like a friend!” 

“I don't know why your other friends won't sit with you, you're nice
too.” 

“I don't have too many friends.” 

“I don't have too many friends, either, but I'll be your friend.” Mickey
says as he shoves a piece of orange in his mouth. “Hey, do you want to 
come over to my house tomorrow?” 

“Ok, I think I have to ask my dad, though. I hope he lets me go.” 

“Me too.” 

Lunch ends. 

Miss Maxwell's second grade class goes back to the classroom, where they
play a game, and then they start reading. Each person has something to 
read, and they have to get up in front of the rest and read it out 
loud. It gets to Mickey; he reads his two sentences quickly. 

“Excellent, Mickey” 

Then it gets to Sarah, she reads the two sentences with ease. 

“I'm impressed, Sarah, because you actually had the two hardest
sentences out of the whole class!” Miss Maxwell praises. “You're a very 
smart girl!” 

The rest of the class recites, and then they get to play for the rest of
the class time. Mickey and Sarah find each other, and go to a table and 
start drawing—Mickey draws his dog. Sarah draws the dog she wished she 
had. The day finishes, and surprisingly, she walks outside to find her 
dad in the car waiting for her. 

“Get in,” he says through a rolled-down window. “I was in the middle of
a painting, and I need to finish it before I forget what it's going to 
look like.” She does so, and they start driving back home. 

“Daddy, can I go to Mickey's house tomorrow?” 

“Who's Mickey?” 

“A boy I met today in school. He told me that his mom would pick us up.”


“No, I never met him or his parents, I need to know if they're good or
bad people. I don't want them hurting you.” 

“Oh, I'm happy you're not mad at me, daddy.” 

“Why would I be mad at you?” 

“You're always mad” 

“What did you just say? You're lucky that I even came to pick you up!
Don't say that! I'm not always mad at you! It's just that sometimes you 
make me angry! A lot of times!” 

They get home. 

When inside, Sarah asks her dad another question. 

“Daddy, how come you don't like to give me stuff? Other kids get books
from their parents.” 

“Well, Sarah, I'm not other kids parents, am I? I give you stuff at
Christmas, what else could you want? Why would you want books? Books 
make people bad.” 

“All I want is a book to read whenever I don't have something to do.” 

“No, I will not get you a book. Now drop the subject!” 

“But dad, Mickey's dad gave him a book. Books don't make you bad! If
they made you bad, why are there so many?” 

“What did I tell you?” He grabs her by the wrist, bends over, and puts
his face right in hers. “Drop the subject!” she whimpers, he throws her 
wrist down, and walks away. She rubs her wrist. He enters the room 
again. 

“That didn't have to happen! You didn't have to make me mad! But you
did! That didn't have to happen! Go to your room. Think about what you 
did.” 

“I brought the book that I told you about yesterday,” Mickey says at
lunch. “Well, you know, I don't really need it anymore,” Mickey bends 
over the side of his chair, and looks in his bag and pulls out a small 
book of sonnets by William Shakespeare. He passes it to her. 

She looks in it, and reads a sonnet without problem. 

“Wow, this book is great.” She passes it back, holding it, she gestures
to Mickey to take it. 

“You have it. I don't really need it any more—besides, I memorized every
one in there.” 

“Wow, thank you, Mickey.” 

“Yeah, my sister lets me read her books too.” 

Even though Sarah brings the same lunch every day, this particular one
was one of the best lunches she'd ever had. 

Later that day, after school, Sarah is waiting outside the school for
her dad to pick her up. After 30 minutes, Miss Maxwell starts worrying. 


“Is he coming?” She asks Sarah. 

“I don't know, sometimes he forgets.” 

“Do you want me to give you a ride home? I don't want you staying out
here by yourself.” 

“Ok” 

They get to the car. Sarah then directs the teacher how to get home.
They get there just as Mike is taking out a bag of empty bottles; he 
sees his daughter and stares into the car. “Who's this?” he points to 
the teacher. 

They both get out of the car. “I'm your daughter's teacher, and school
got out 45 minutes ago, and you never came to get her.” 

“Oh yeah, I forgot,” he mumbles. “That I even had a daughter.” 

“Excuse me?” Miss Maxwell stammers. 

“Get in the house,” Mike says to Sarah. “Get in the house!” she follows
his orders. “Who told you that you could give my daughter a ride home? 
Huh?” he starts yelling at the teacher. She can smell his drunken 
breath. 

“Well, it didn't seem like you were going to come pick her up, so I did
it myself.” 

“Well, I don't remember giving you permission, and I keep telling Sarah
not to talk to strangers, and especially not to get into their car! I 
wouldn't want anything to happen to her.” 

“And what would you do if something happened? Have a party? Get drunk
from happiness, what?” 

“No, I would be very sad.” 

“Probably for 10 minutes,” Miss Maxwell was disgusted by this man, and
was chewing him out; meanwhile, Sarah was looking out the living room 
window at the debacle. “You know what your daughter told me and the 
class? You know what she said? She said that her mommy loves her, but 
her daddy doesn't. I didn't believe her then, but I most definitely 
believe her now! I ought to call the police on you!” 

“Go away, I don't want any bad influences on my child! Leave! Leave
before I get my gun! This is private property, and if you call the 
police and get my Sarah taken away, I'll hunt you down!” 

“Bad influence? HAH!” she walks to her car, gets in, and drives off.
Mike walks back to the house. 

“Sarah!” Mike yells. “What did you tell your teacher yesterday at school
about me?” he screams as he gets inside the house. 

“I told them that you don't love me.” 

“Why did you tell them that?” 

“Because you don't, mommy does.” 

“Aw, you know that hurts when you say that, honey. You're making your
daddy look bad!” he slaps her across the face. “Look what you made me 
do! That wouldn't have happened if you weren't such a bad girl 
sometimes!” 

Sarah, cries, then runs into her room holding her face. She sits on the
floor crying. Inside her room, she hears her daddy yelling. 

“Stay in there, and think about what you've done! You're a bad girl!
Just wait until your mom gets home!” 

Meanwhile, Sarah goes up to her bed, kneels, puts her elbows on the
mattress and starts to pray. “Dear God,” she says. “Please make me not 
bad at me anymore, I hate it when daddy's mad at me. Will I ever get 
out of this, God? God, please answer my prayer.” 

Just as she unfolds her arms, her mother walks in the door. 

“What did you say about your father, Sarah?” 

“I said he didn't love me” 

“Sarah, don't ever say that again, do you hear me? I don't ever want you
to say that again!” She leaves. 

“Why can't you get me out of here, God?” At that moment, she pulls out
the book of sonnets that Mickey gave her. “From fairest creatures we 
desire increase, That thereby beauty's rose might never die, But as the 
riper should by time should by time decrease, His tender heir might 
bear his memory: But thou, contracted to thine own bright eyes, Feed'st 
they light's flame with self-substantial fuel, Making a famine where 
abundance lies, Thyself thy foe, to they sweet self too cruel. Thou 
that art now the world's fresh ornament, and only herald to the gaudy 
spring, Within thine own bud buriest they content, And, tender churl, 
mak'st waste in niggarding. Pity the world, or else this glutton be, To 
eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.” Sarah sits, and thinks 
about what she just read. “Pity the world, or else this glutton be, To 
eat the world's due, by the grave and thee.” She reads again. “I need 
to remember that.” 

8 more painful, fatherly abuse filled years go by 

One day at lunch, Mickey and Sarah eye someone they both hadn't seen
before. Having sat together at lunch for the past 8 years, in more or 
less the same corner of the cafeteria—the two get a birds eye view of 
the entire scene. They see everyone that comes in and goes out of the 
cafeteria. This one particular person must be new, neither Sarah nor 
Mickey had seen her. They eye her slowly walk to a table half-full, and 
notice the people sitting there look down their noses at this girl. She 
moves to another table with even less people, yet she receives the same 
response. Finally, she comes to Sarah and Mickey's table. Having been 
the new people before, they understand the predicament. 

“Mind if I sit here?” the girl asks Mickey who is the closest. She then
takes a huge breath, and holds it. 

The two occupants of the table look at each other and almost
immediately; Mickey turns back to the girl. “Sure, you can sit here.” 
The girl lets out her breath of air. “My name is Mickey, and this is 
Sarah.” He points to her. 

“My name is Lilian. I just moved here from Maine.” She sits down. They
talk about things; about their teachers, which to stay away from, which 
people are geeks, which are ultra-cool. Then they got to the subject of 
parents. Mickey and Lilian were the main people in this conversation, 
Sarah quieted instantaneously. 

“So, Sarah, how about your parents?” Lilian asks. 

Sarah doesn't say anything; she drops her head, and lifts up her sleeve.
Lilian gasps, she sees bruises all over her arm. Sarah then pulls her 
sleeve back up and doesn't look up. 

“Did your parents do that to you?” Lilian asks. 

“My, my...my father.” Sarah trembles. 

“Wow” 

Three days later 

“Hey Lilian,” a girl from another table yells during lunch just as
Lilian walks into the cafeteria. “Come sit with us, we have a seat 
saved for you.” 

“Ok!” she doesn't even look at Mickey or Sarah; she just walks over to
the table from which she is beckoned. 

“Hey, you friends with those geeks?” the girl asks Lilian. 

“Um...” Lilian looks into the eye of the girl. “This could make or break
me, I think this girl is a cheerleader.” She thinks to herself. “If I 
say yes, she could kick me off her cool table and I'd have to go sit 
with them, I like them, but I want to be popular. I want to be popular 
so bad! But I like Sarah, and Mickey is pretty cool too, but 
popularity! Who could pass that up? 

“No. They're losers, huh? I can't believe I sat with them for so long!” 

“Oh jeez,” Sarah whispers to Mickey. “They've sucked her in. I was
waiting for them to suck her in.” 

“Who are they, and why did they pick her to sit with them?” Mickey asks.


“They used to be my friends, I can't believe I was friends with them! I
don't know why they picked her; she's only been going to this school 
for three days. They cut me off of their group after we'd been friends 
for 3 years!” 

For the next week, Lilian had been sitting with her new clique. 

“Looks like we've lost her.” Mickey says sporadically while looking at
the table. 

“And guess what?” Lilian tells the other girls at the table. “She's got
bruises all over, cause her dad beats her! She tries to cover it up by 
wearing long clothing. She showed me the bruises!” 

“Oh my gosh! Haha, what a loser! I thought she was lying when she said
her dad hates her!” One of the girls says. 

The bell rings, and as always, Mickey takes a couple of minutes after
the bell to get his things together. Sarah waits for him. The other 
girls walk by the table, most of them laughing and pointing at Sarah. 

“Got any new bruises?” Lilian taunts, and all the surrounding girls
laugh and leave the cafeteria. 

“Don't listen to them, Sarah, you don't need to listen to them.” Mickey
encourages. 

“I know, I know, but how would the other girls know about my bruises? Oh
wait, remember on the first day when Lilian came? I showed her my arm! 
That little...ooo! She told them about my dad! Come on, Mickey, let's 
get out of here!” they leave to go to their next class. 

10 more painful, fatherly and gossipy abuse filled years go by 

“Just move it in here” Sarah's aunt Stacey directs the movers. Stacey
walks into Sarah's new apartment in uptown Chicago. “Wow this is a nice 
place,” she opens the door, and walks into Sarah's room, where Sarah is 
sitting in a chair in front of a mirror. “Where'd you get the money for 
all this, babe?” 

Sarah looks into the mirror at the reflection of her aunt. “I told you,
I never leave the place, I work all day. You know, my internet 
business?” 

“Oh that's right, should I have the movers move your dresser in here? I
think it would look good in the corner over there.” She points to an 
empty corner across the room. 

“No, the movers will not come in here.” 

“What? They're nice men, heck, you might be able to score on one of
them!” 

“You know how I feel about other people around, I'll move it later.” She
turns her head, looking at the floor on her right. 

“That thing is pretty heavy.” 

“Then you'll have to help me, Stacey, I really don't like other people
around me—you're the only one I can trust.” 

“Hon, I know you had a bad childhood, and all, but you've gotta let
things go, you know, you gotta forgive what you're parents did to ya'” 

“Stacey, please drop it.” 

“Fine,” she leaves the room. 

About a week later 

“Ok guys, right in here, number 332.” She tells the movers. 

Sarah walks out of her apartment, to take the trash to the chute, when
she eyes a young woman about her age moving into the apartment next 
door. Before she can get 2 feet away from her door, Sarah feels a hand 
on her shoulder. 

“Excuse me, do you live in 330?” the hand turns Sarah around to face the
woman. “Cause I just moved in next door, and I wanted to introduce my 
self.” 

Sarah pulls her shoulder out of the woman's grasp. She doesn't say a
thing, her eyes avert to the floor. She thinks the sonnet: “Pity the 
world, or else this glutton be, To eat the world's due, by the grave 
and thee.” She says to herself. 

“I'll take that as a yes.” The woman chuckles. “My name is Maria.” 

Again, nothing from Sarah. 

“Are you ok?” 

Sarah quickly moves to her door, puts her hand on the knob, and stops.
She pauses. Maria just stands where she was, watching Sarah's move. 
“Sarah” she says. She pauses, and then speedily enters her apartment. 

Later that day, Sarah gets a knock on her door, which has never really
happened to her before, except when the man who brings her groceries 
comes. The person knocks again. Sarah knows it's not the grocery man, 
he comes every other week, she also knows without even looking that 
it's Maria. She slowly moves to the door. She opens it, but only a 
small bit. 

“Hi Sarah, I just wanted to let you know that I'm now moved in, and that
if you need anything, that I'll be glad to do it for you.” 

Sarah doesn't make eye contact, and softly says “Thank you.” She then
closes the door, locks it, and goes into her office to do work. 

The next day 

Sarah takes a deep breath, and again doesn't make eye contact with Maria
who's come back again to borrow some sugar. Sarah takes the measuring 
cup, closes the door, goes to the kitchen, gets the sugar, and then 
opens the door only enough to fit her hand through. 

The next day 

Sarah gets a knock on the door. “Ugh, does she ever leave me alone?”
Sarah says under her breath as she walks to the door. She opens 
it—again, Maria. 

“Hey, Sarah, um I was wondering if you'd like to come over for dinner
tonight. Or maybe I could come over to your place?” 

“N...n...no, I don't think so.” She tries to close the door, but Maria's
foot is blocking it from closing. 

“Why won't you be nice, and let me in for a change, or come over? You
never leave your apartment. Why not?” 

“I, I don't like people.” 

In the action of talking, Maria had accidentally moved her foot; Sarah
snatched the chance, and closes the door. She locks it—as usual—and 
then walks back to her office. Maria stands on the other side of the 
door, knocking, but knows she won't get any response. After about the 
third try, she gives up and walks back to her apartment. 

The next day 

Again, a knock on the door—Sarah answers it, as usual. 

“Sarah,” Maria says. “I was just running down to the grocery store, do
you need me to pick anything up for you?” 

“Um...” She gets flustered. “Um...” Accidentally, she recites softly out
loud: “Pity the world, or else this glutton be, To eat the world's due, 
by the grave and thee.” 

“You know—Wait, what did you just say?” 

“It's from—” 

“Shakespeare, a sonnet, right? My brother used to always read a book of
sonnets that my dad gave him. I was so glad when he gave it away, he 
was always reeling off those things.” 

Sarah just stands there blankly. 

“You know, I just moved here from Boston, and I haven't really made any
friends yet, and I want to become yours—if you'll let me.” 

Sarah pauses. “There is one thing you must know,” she says in her
quivering, small voice. “I don't really like people. They scare me.” 

“Well, you definitely shouldn't be scared by me, Sarah. Do you mind if I
come in?” 

“I, I don't think you should,” She starts to close the door. “Have a
nice time at the grocery store.” She then closes the door all the way. 

As usual, the daily routine, Maria stands at the door and knocks. This
time, Sarah gets halfway to her office, when she stops. She thinks 
about what she's doing for a second, then turns around and goes back to 
the door. She opens it. 

“I was wondering when you'd warm up to me.” Maria grins. “Are you gonna
let me in, or am I just gonna have to bang on this door for the rest of 
the night?” 

“Well, um...I never really have had anyone in here, except my aunt. I
don't know...” 

“Sarah, I assure you that I won't bite or anything. But I also will
assure you that I won't come in until you give me permission.” 

Sarah pauses, then responds. “Ok,” she opens the door all the way. 

“I'm glad you warmed up to me.” Maria comes in. “Wow, you've got a
really nice place!” she walks over to the couch. “Mind if I sit down?” 
she sits, and Sarah sits in a chair across the coffee table from Maria, 
and they talk. 

About ten minutes later, when the conversation starts getting to a lull,
Sarah stands up. 

“Well,” Sarah pauses. “Maria, its, uh, its been...nice. I really must
get to work.” 

“Oh...I see. Ok, I better get going anyways.” They both walk to the
entry. 

Maria opens the door, and as she's half way out, she hesitates, turns
her head back to Sarah and says, “You know Sarah, I went to your 
website last night...it was great.” 

“How'd you—” before she could finish her sentence, Maria closes the door
behind herself. “Find out what it is?” she softly continues to herself. 


The week is then filled with Maria showing up at Sarah's at around 4,
they talk until exactly 4:10, and then Sarah asks Maria to leave. 

One night, however, changes this cumbersome routine, when Sarah hears a
knock at her door at 4:30. She opens the door, and sees Maria. 

“Sorry I'm a little late, but I was picking up something for you.” She
pulls her left hand from behind her back, she holds out a hand filled 
with a bouquet of flowers. “I knew your apartment needed something—I 
decided—it needs flowers.” 

“Wow, no one's ever given me flowers before.” Sarah takes them. “I don't
know what to say.” She says looking at the bouquet. 

“You don't have to say anything, it's a gift—I don't expect anything in
return. Hey, I have a funny story to tell you about my day today, let's 
talk.” 

In fact, they talk for 2 hours, about life, about their past, about
anything. “Wow, I gotta get home—it's time for dinner.” 

“Yeah, I, uh, I ought to have some dinner too.” They both get up from
their chairs. 

“I had a good time, Sarah maybe we can do more of this. I'll call you,
hey by the way, what is your number?” 

“Oh, well I never really had any friends, and if I never see my parents
again, it'll be too soon. I don't actually have a phone.” She looks to 
the floor. 

“Oh that's ok, I guess I'll just knock on your door then.” She walks to
the door to the hallway. She puts her hand on the knob. “I'm not joking 
Sarah, if you need to talk, my door—and ears—are always open.” She 
opens the door, and takes one step out, and pivots around to face the 
apartment. “Have a good evening, Sarah.” 

“Oh,” Sarah stammers. “You too.” 

This happens again the next night. 

And the next. 

And the next. 

“Wow, great talkin' to ya again, Sarah. I guess I'll talk to ya later.”
Maria leaves the apartment after the usual 2 hour talk. 

Sarah then closes the door, but keeping her hand on the knob, she
doesn't move. “Should I invite her over for dinner?” she asks herself. 
“I really want to—oh my gosh, is she the first friend I've ever really 
had? I think I should.” 

She pulls on the handle. The door opens, she pulls again, and it opens
wide. She sees something she wasn't expecting to see. Maria was still 
standing outside the door, with her hand poised, ready to knock on the 
door. They both start to laugh. 

“I was just about to ask you if you wanted to come over for dinner.”
Maria offers. 

“Funny,” Sarah grins and opens the door all the way. “I was just about
to ask you that same question.” 

“Well, how about this, I have a great recipe for scallops, and I can
bring it over, and we can eat at your apartment, I'll bring food.” 

“That would be wonderful. You can let yourself in when you come back.
I'll set the table.” 

Later that night 

“You know Maria, you're my first real friend.” Sarah says as she sips
some water. 

“I'm glad. You want to know something else? I wasn't too popular back
home, so I didn't have but a few friends. My only real friend was my 
brother, Mickey.” 

“I don't believe it.” 

“Well, you should—it's true. I—” 

“No, I used to have a friend named Mickey back in high school.” 

“Really? Didn't you say you lived in this area?” 

“Yeah, Mickey moved away after we graduated.” 

“Did he say where he went?” 

“I don't remember, but you said your brother had a book of sonnets?
Well, you'll never guess who he gave them to.” Sarah gets up, walks 
into her room, and gets the book of sonnets. “He gave it to me in 
second grade. I had no idea what they meant, but I learned how to read 
on this book.” 

“Well, I'll be...” 

“You know, I loved this book so much, cause the only real thing that had
ever been given to me on a day other than Christmas, was a beating.” 
She takes a breath as she picks up another scallop on her fork. “Thank 
you, Maria, thank you.” 

“For what?” 

“Oh I don't know, for being my friend, for, not making me afraid of
people anymore...you're so nice to me, and I haven't really been all 
that nice to you.” 

“Well, you're welcome.” 


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