Maya (Short Story)

This is a short story I wrote for my daugher Sammi on her 12th birthday. 

November 11, 2011

Dear Samantha,

For most of my life I have been involved in one way or another with the teaching of young people. I am happy that I was able to earn their trust and love enough for them to confide in me about their adventures and misadventures, their joys and their sorrows. About 15 years ago, I came to the conclusion that young women were one of the most powerful forces on earth, and at the same time, among the most foolish. I thought this because I saw the absolute power that some of them held, not just over boys their own age, but over many good men and women as well. At the same time, I saw many young women fall time and again to the wiles of boys that, whether initially good-intentioned or not, reduced them to sobbing caricatures of the selves they had been before they met their antagonists. Often a once-beautiful, confident and seemingly otherwise intelligent young woman would seek a return to her self-esteem through the very means that had once taken it; the affections of good – and sometimes not-so-good – young men and their feminine peers.

But not all the young women were like this.

There were some that never fell into the trap of seeking to “feel good” from others’ opinions. They were few, but they stood out. They were often alone, and they had tears at times, but they generally did not suffer like some of the young women that had chosen easier paths through the world.

What set them apart?

It wasn’t that they were “good” or that they “obeyed the commandments”. There seemed to be more to it than that, a greater depth, an unspoken reason behind their actions. It wasn’t that they had perfect or even good parents -some came from broken homes. It wasn’t that they lived in big houses, had amazing testimonies or perfect grades (although most of them were good students, come to think of it.)

The thing they all seemed to have was a hidden gem – a knowledge that they were loved, no matter what, and not just by their parents. They seemed to understand on some level that they were amazing people, even if they were young, and even before they got here to this life. They had this knowledge of themselves that seemed unshakable most of the time. When they did forget who they were, they always made decisions that brought them pain. The type of knowledge I’m talking about is not the “I am a child of God, and he has sent me here” kind of knowledge. I’m talking about something innate, something that can’t be taught, only learned. It’s this knowledge and the power inherent in it that I am trying to convey in this little story, as well as what can happen when we blindly follow even well-meaning friends. 

You, Sammi, more than most, came to this world with the knowledge that you are amazing, talented, fun, loved and beloved. This world will do all it can to distract you from that, and to make you forget. That is the world’s job. It’s not strictly good or bad, it just is. Thankfully, God – however you come to understand and relate to Him/Her/It, has placed reminders all around you, all the time. If you are not distracted or, more accurately, if you will return to the messages that come to you in stillness after you are distracted, you will make your way with grace in this life. You will be happy. This is your destiny. May you make it so.

Love, Daddy

Note: In the second part of the story, I wrote it like I am reading it to you, Sammi. It’s something you might keep in mind while you are reading the story. If it’s confusing as you read it, just tell me and I will be more than happy to re-write that part!

-          Dad

M A Y A

For Sammi

Once upon a time, deep in the forest, there lived a young woman named Maya.

Maya was a beautiful girl, with eyes the color of the ocean on a clear, sunny day, skin the color of the bark of a mahogany bush, and a long, slender, athletic body. During the day, Maya would walk in the forest, gathering berries, roots and seeds for her food. She would put these things in her dress pockets as she walked. The dress was said to have been given to her by her mother, a radiant Being that Maya couldn’t remember ever meeting, a Moon-Goddess that the forest animals, faeries and gnomes said visited only on occasion. They said she was taught before she came to the forest how to live in it by her Mother. To Maya, the stories about the dress and the very idea that she had a mother at all sounded like far-fetched fairy tales, so she didn’t think about them very often. But since she couldn’t remember either way (and it was a nice thought), she didn’t argue, either.

Once in a while as she walked towards the crystal spring, she paused in the sunlight that filtered through the trees and felt the sun on her face. Sometimes she napped on beds of moss. When she would awaken, she would continue her way to the crystal spring, where she would eat, swim, pray and laugh with the other forest creatures. Almost every day she would grind some of the berries into delicious juice and drink it from a hollow gourd that she had with her always. Maya was generally very happy, and the animals and bugs that shared her world were friendly to her – and she with them.

One day, however, as she sat by the crystal spring, Maya watched two turtles on the opposite bank, talking to one another like turtles do.

“There are two turtles,” Maya said to herself in her quiet voice, “but there seems to be only one of me in this whole world.”

With that, Maya sank into a deep loneliness.

“Don’t be sad,” a tiny voice said behind her. “You are not alone.”

Maya turned and saw nobody. “What said that?” Maya asked aloud, knowing that there were many creatures in the world, and that not all of them could be trusted.

“Down here, Maya.”

Maya looked and saw Salamandress the Salamander, one of many friendly ones she knew. She smiled. She knew this one well, having swum with her many times in the crystal spring.

“Hello, Salamandress,” Maya said to her friend with a little smile. “I was just wondering…”

“I know, I know,” said the friendly water lizard. “I heard you. And I used to wonder the same thing.”

Maya was surprised. “You wondered why there only seems to be one of me, too?”

“I used to”, replied Salamandress politely.

“And you don’t now? But why not?” Maya asked.

“Because I don’t think you’re alone at all,” said Salamandress. “I think you’re a salamander.”

“What?” said Maya as she laughed. “Me? Why do you think that?”

“Because of the way you swim,” said the friendly creature sincerely. “You swim kind of like me! You can hold your breath for a long time, you like to lie in the sun on a rock when you’re done, you like to eat fish like me…you must be one of us – just a big one!”

Maya considered this. A still voice inside her seemed to say that something wasn’t right, but her friend’s observations were correct and it seemed like a nice concept, so she went along with it.

“Well, what should I do, then?”

“Walk like me!” Salamandress shouted with glee.

And with that, Salamandress slithered along the ground, almost like a snake with legs. Maya did the same. She didn’t worry about dirtying her dress or disturbing the homes of some beetles that she knew. After all, she was a salamander! Maya did not gather her berries and seeds that day. Instead, she stayed with Salamandress all day, eating many tiny fishes- which were nothing more than tiny minnows. Since she was so much bigger, she ate many more than Salamandress. In fact, she ate all the fishes that Salamandress in her home and in her storage as well. And she was still hungry!

“Salamandress, I’m still hungry. Don’t you have anything else to eat?”

Salamandress looked worried. “Well, Maya, nothing that you would like. I don’t eat as much as you do. And I eat a lot of grubs and worms that I’ve never seen you eat. I didn’t even think you liked fishes that much, because I’ve never seen you eat more than one.

“But,” Maya protested, “your fishes were just tiny minnows and if I eat a fish, it’s usually a big trout!”

“I know, I know,” replied Salamandress apologetically, looking worried. “And you usually eat berries, seeds and nuts, and I just don’t have those.”

Salamandress paused and looked at Maya sadly. “I just thought that you were one of us because you swam so well and were so friendly. I could show you where some larvae is, if you want to eat those, but maybe that wouldn’t be enough either and then there wouldn’t be enough for the salamanders!”

“But I thought I was a salamander, too!” cried Maya.

Salamandress just shook her head slowly. “It looks like I was wrong. I’m very sorry, Maya. I hope we can still be friends.”

And with that, Salamandress slithered down into the ground under the root of a huge cedar tree. A hole that was far too small for Maya.  

Maya looked around her at the crystal pool and the colors of the sunset in the sky above it. She was very hungry and she usually did not sleep near the pool because of the larger animals that came to drink just before dark. Her dress was dirty, and there was a tear in one of the pockets because as she was slithering behind Salamandress, it had snagged on a small branch she had not seen until it was too late. She pulled her gourd to her. It smelled like huckleberry juice, but there was none in it.   

Tears filled her eyes.

“Where will I sleep tonight?” she asked in despair. “I need to be somewhere away from the big cats that come here, starting any minute…”

“I can help you…after all, you’re one of us!”

Maya started. She hadn’t known that someone was watching her. She turned to look, but no one was there.

“Up here!”

Maya looked up. Straight above her, there was a mother raccoon, with six babies on the limbs around her, staring at Maya with fascination and curiosity.

“Oh, hello,” Maya said politely, wiping the tears from her cheeks. “I didn’t see you up there. What’s your name, and why do you say I am one of you?”

“My name is Racconnie, thank you, and these are my children. We have been watching you for a long time, Maya, and I have been waiting for the chance to talk to you!”

“Really, why?” Maya asked curiously.

“Because, like I said, you’re one of us!” Six miniature raccoons giggled uproariously.

“But why do you say that, Racconnie?” Maya said, smiling at the giggling raccoons. “I don’t look like you.”

“Well of course not exactly, but you have four legs, eyes and a nose.  And your eyes are dark and you love to eat something besides moss and tiny minnows…”

Racconnie’s children all giggled again.   

“You saw that?” Maya asked, embarrassed.

“Honey, we see EVERYTHING! We’re raccoons, like you! We’re experts at watching things from the bushes, rocks and trees.  That’s how I know you like to eat berries and nuts and roots! I’ve seen you running with the deer in the moonlight on a full moon, too, so I know you like to be outside when the moon is up, just like us!”

Maya remembered that running with the deer during a full moon was among her most favorite things to do. She loved to see the full moon through the trees, the way it blinked, almost laughed with her and her friends on those special nights. When she was out with the deer, she stayed awake almost all night until she would curl up with one of them on the moss and sleep deeply. Still, something inside herself told her that something wasn’t quite right about what Racconnie was saying. But she wanted to believe her, so she decided to try, even though it hadn’t worked out so well with Salamandress.

“So what then, I’m a raccoon?” Maya asked, hopefully.

“Yes!” They all yelled happily. “Come on,” the raccoon children all yelled together, “we’re going hunting!”

Just then, Maya’s belly growled so loudly that all the children and Racconnie heard it. The children laughed so hard, the smallest one nearly fell out of the tree and Maya blushed and smiled.

“Come on, dear, let’s get you something to eat,” Racconnie said graciously with a smile. “Climb up; we have hundreds of pounds of nuts and dried berries that we’ve collected just for this occasion.”

Maya jumped up and caught the first branch and swung her sun-bronzed legs up expertly. In no time she was high up in the tree at Racconnie’s hollowed out hole in the trunk, feasting on her favorite nuts and berries, dried expertly by her hostess.

“This is SO GOOD,” Maya exclaimed joyously, her mouth full. “And look at the moon!”

The sun now set, the moon had risen behind them, full and glorious, like the very keeper of the heavens.

Racconnie and all the children stopped and looked behind them. No one breathed. All was still in the woods. Still that is, until the smallest raccoon burped, and the uproarious laughter burst out again.

Racconnie smiled at Maya. “Things are never too still around here- not for long anyway!” Then she added over the cacophony, “Come on, children- time for our nightly hunt!” And with that, Racconnie started down the trunk of the huge tree.

Maya smiled and started to move, but even though her belly was full, the lack of food that day and the crawling she had done with Salamandress suddenly made her inconceivably tired.

“Can I just take a little rest first?” Maya asked sleepily.

Racconnie stopped and turned around in amazement as her children continued carefully down. “Honey, we raccoons don’t sleep at night. That’s when we hunt. You’re a raccoon, remember?” She smiled at her and patted her cheek like she would one of her children and continued down.

Maya sighed. “OK, I’m coming” she said as she started to climb down.

Maya had a great time with Racconnie and her kids…for a while. But as much as she wanted to believe she was a raccoon, as much as she wanted to belong to this fun family, when she fell out of her third tree onto the hard ground as she struggled to keep up with Racconnie and her acrobatic kids, Maya lapsed into tears.

“Racconnie, I just can’t keep up with you anymore,” she sobbed, “I’m so tired - all I wanna do is sleep!”

Racconnie climbed down the tree she was in while her children looked after her. The smallest one covered her eyes.

“Maya,” Racconnie said with mock sweetness through snarled lips, “maybe you’re not a raccoon after all, if you can’t keep up with us. We’re NOT slowing down. This is what we do, and if you can’t hang with us, maybe you should just stick to playing with deer…or playing alone.”

And with that, Racconnie sprang up the tree and called to her children. She looked over her shoulder at Maya and asked, “And are you coming?”

Maya looked up at her and shook her head, sadly.

Racconnie looked at her with disdain, shaking her head, then said, “Come on children, let’s go.”

“But what about Maya?” the smallest one said.

“Well,” Maya heard Racconnie saying to the little one as they vanished into the night, “sometimes someone just doesn’t belong…”

Maya’s tears sprang from her eyes like water from a faucet and dripped down her pretty face to the moss-covered forest floor. She looked up to the moon through her blurry vision. It shone beautifully against the deep midnight sky.

“Why am I alone? Why don’t I have friends? I don’t understand…please help me!” she sobbed.

With that, Maya lie down on the moss against a huge fir and fell asleep. What she dreamed, in answer to her cries that night, was the beginning of a change in her life and the way she understood it.

Chapter 2:

Daddy and Sammi Visit An Old Woman Named Maya

Many years later, Sammi, you and I are walking up a long path to her cottage to hear the story of Maya’s Dream. You’d heard that there was a crazy old woman that lived in the forest nearby and you were afraid. But when I told you that she was not only not crazy but really amazing, you agreed to come meet her. So we are walking on a path on a Saturday morning in the woods.

The forest is deep and dark, even in midday. Greens, browns and subtle shades of grey are everywhere. We can hear a bustling creek nearby, but we can’t see it. We can’t see her cottage yet, either, and we have been walking for over an hour, talking, listening and noticing things.  A blue and gray sky peeks through fir and cedar trees, some a hundred feet high. The dirt path, carefully lined with large river rocks, has a soft layer of pine needles and forest detritus that feels good even under our shoes (we’re both wearing 5 Fingers shoes…niiiiice). You’re a little freaked out because you’ve heard so many things about her- good and bad- that you’re not sure what to believe, now that we’re here. But you remember that you believed me when I told you good things about her, which was why you had decided to come along. Even so, you’re definitely nervous and we talk about it. After a few minutes of talking about why you might be scared, we come to the conclusion that you’re just not used to the silence of the forest.

“My imagination can get the best of me sometimes,” you say sheepishly.

I look at you, rolling my eyes. “I wouldn’t know anything about THAT!”

You feel better, but you grab my hand anyway as we walk the path.

After a few more minutes you whisper, out of fear or reverence, I am unsure, “Are we almost there? Does she know we’re coming?”

I look down at you and smile. “Right around this huge cedar up ahead. I didn’t tell her we were coming.”

“But…” you begin to protest, and then a familiar voice inside you says it’s going to be alright.

As we walk around the cedar, we see an adorable little cottage with a roof made of growing forest plants like ferns, moss and even a few small trees. The idea that the little home might be made of gingerbread pops into your head and you notice fear start to arise again. But you bat it away with a smile to yourself. “No, Sammi,” you think, “this is not the witch from Hansel and Gretel!”

An aroma like freshly baked bread hits our noses at the same time, and your grip on my hands loosens just a little. You look up at me and smile. Her baking, I told you, is legendary. It smells like Dad was right, anyway!

As we approach the cottage, Maya comes out the door. She is a tiny old woman with a deeply tanned complexion. She is wearing a colorful dress with a brown apron that is smeared with flour. Her hair is long and snow-white, braided expertly with the braid coming down the front of her left shoulder.   Maya sees us and smiles through the most beautiful, radiant blue eyes you have ever seen. They look like the eyes of a woman decades younger than she really is, even though they are lined with wrinkles. They laugh and play, even though she hasn’t said a word. You instantly feel at peace.

“Eric and Samantha,” she says with joy, “you’ve come. I knew you were coming so I baked fresh bread with freshly churned butter…just out of the oven!”

You squeeze my hand and whisper to me as I smile a greeting back to Maya, “But I thought you didn’t tell her we were coming!”

“I didn’t,” I whisper back with a smile.

“Oh…” you say, wide eyed.  

You look through her small home as the three of us chat. As you do so, you see many things. There are pictures of her children, now moved away, and her dear deceased husband, gone 20 years. You see small objects that look like rocks, leaves or dried knick-knacks and wonder silently what they are there for. What you don’t know, (but that I will tell you on the way home) is that most of them were presented to Maya by all manner of forest creatures throughout the years. Even the faeries and forest gnomes have left gifts on her doorsteps- but to the untrained eye and unbelieving heart they look like worthless things hoarded by a crazy old woman, hence the stories.  

With warm bread, we sit on her porch, each of us in a rocking chair made by her oldest son as a gift to her. I ask Maya, “Will you tell us the story of your dream as you have done so many times in the past? I’ve told Sammi about the day you had before the dream itself, with Salamandress and Racconnie.”

Maya smiles at you. “I suppose that this is as much for this lovely young woman as it is for you?”

 

“More so,” I reply, “although I’m stoked to hear it again!”

She smiles. Radiates, really. 

Maya’s Dream

“Oh, I was so tired, and so frustrated with Racconnie that night. Of course she and I have been dear friends now for decades, but that night! Oh, I could have killed her! I was sure I would be found by a cougar or eaten alive by mosquitos before I awoke. Funny how the small things like mosquitos can be as scary as the big things like cougars, isn’t it, Samantha?

You nod, thoughtfully. Yes, that’s exactly how it is sometimes.

“I can be as terrified as getting a bad grade as I can about a nuclear war,” you think to yourself.

“At any rate, after my day with Salamandress and my night with Racconnie, I was frustrated. But the most important thing I did that night was say those words to the sky, to the moon, from the deepest part of me. Now, I wasn’t praying to the moon. I believe in a God, a Supreme Creator. But the moon represented something to me then, as it does now. It represents the graceful feminine power as opposed to the much more obviously powerful and masculine sun that we see every day. The moon throws a soft light that we can approach, through our vision, anyway. We can look right at it, can’t we? And the light itself never burns us. You’ve never had a “moon-burn”, have you? (She laughs). And yet on a full-moonlit night in the forest there is all the light we ever need. And what I needed that night was a mother, someone to gently hold me and tell me that I was not alone, that I was ok no matter what, and that I somehow fit into my world.”

Maya pauses and looks into your eyes to make sure you understand. You see their years and her kindness and goodness. She reminds you of your Gramma Peterson, your mother and your favorite friend all in one.

Maya continues. “As I was sleeping, I dreamt that I was sleeping in the forest, against a huge fir tree. Actually that’s exactly what I was doing, of course; sleeping against the huge fir. But I saw myself from a distance, from far above the earth, almost like I was in a helicopter coming down. All I could see at first from that distance was what looked like a little light on the forest floor. But as I floated down through the trees to the ground I could see that it was me and I approached my “little-girl” self. As I walked up to my body, I could see that this girl was so loved! I could see that she was almost revered by Ones she did not yet even know. I comprehended that she could not know these things at this time in her life. I saw that this had caused - and would cause still - some problems for her, at least until she learned who and what she was. I looked closely at the sleeping girl’s face and saw, even though her face was dirty and streaked with tears, how utterly beautiful she was; how young and vibrant, so full of life, and of the promise of life continuing.”

“And then I smiled at this girl, sleeping on the ground. As I did so, I saw light beginning to grow and grow and grow around me and the girl (who was also me, of course), even though it was night.”

“Now, if it hasn’t been confusing enough, it may get more confusing now; because in my dream, I was now the sleeping girl, myself. And in my dream, I awoke in the forest. What I saw, Samantha, I will never forget. I’d heard stories of Forest Goddesses, of Water Faeries, of other manners of ethereal, holy feminine Beings before. I was raised with them because people who are connected to this World know that these things never really vanished, but are simply invisible to those that would not appreciate them or their messages.”

“What stood before me in my dream was nothing less than a Goddess, a Creator. She was in the middle of a great, white light. She was so beautiful, Samantha! She was smiling at me with such kindness, with such acceptance, that all the disappointment that I had felt that day simply vanished. The thought came to my mind, as if she told me with her voice, that no matter what I did on my life it somehow would all be ok. When this idea came into my mind, she spoke to me.”

““Dear daughter,” the Goddess said, “yes, you are my daughter! I have seen you today and watched you frolic with Salamandress and Racconnie and her children. It is good and appropriate for you to recognize all the ways you are similar to these worthy creatures. But as you found today, there are many dissimilarities as well. There is one Being that you will meet in your lifetime that is most like you, and it is not what you would call an animal, a bird or a fish.””

“Who am I alike then? And when will I meet her?” I pleaded with her.

““You’ve met her already, dear Maya,” the Goddess spoke. “The Being you are most alike…is me!””

“I couldn’t believe my ears! How could I be like this angel? I remembered that I was filthy, and that I had been crying, and that my hair was a mess. Even my gourd was missing! And I was supposed to believe I was like this angel, this Goddess? I must have frowned, because of what she said next.”

““Maya,” the beautiful apparition softly spoke, “it is appropriate that in this place, on this earth, you forget that you are like me. It’s what happens here, by design. We planned it that way. But one of the most important things you will do while you are here is to learn to forget the fact that you are like me for shorter and shorter periods of time. One day, no circumstances under heaven will make you forget that you are my daughter…and that you are, ultimately, me.””

“She was saying that I was not only like her and that I was her daughter, but that in some way I WAS her! It made no sense.”

She laughed, so kindly and with such compassion for me as a confused little girl!

And then she said, “Don’t try to think it out, Maya. You haven’t been given the tools to think it all out, not while you’re here. Some truths you will only be able to feel…the concepts behind them are beyond your ability to explain in words, even to your own mind. You have to feel them with your heart, and your heart alone. It’s like when Salamandress told you that you were a salamander…there was a little voice, wasn’t there?”

I told her that I had remembered that, and I couldn’t believe she knew!

“And what did the voice say?”

I was embarrassed to say, but I told her that the voice said that I wasn’t really a salamander. “But why did I go along with it, Goddess? Why did I let Salamandress convince me of that?”

I had to ask the Goddess this question because I was so distraught and even embarrassed that this beautiful Being knew me so well- she knew everything about me! And there was so much I did not understand at the time… but this is what she told me next.

“The point is that YOU – your deepest self, the Owner of the small voice inside of you – were never really convinced! You went along because you were feeling alone. Your feelings of being alone were louder inside of you than the message that you are my daughter, and the fact that you more powerful than you can understand. But had you stopped long enough, you would have been reminded in not too much time– I would have SENT reminders – that you are not alone…and that you are not a salamander!”

I laughed out loud when she said that, and I remember her eyes sparkling like the stars.

“Always remember, Maya, that you are not alone, even if you are by yourself. I am always with you and I will never leave you. You will become acquainted with me in those “alone times”, when there are few distractions, because the truths that I tell you are too important to be taken lightly. They will sustain you through childbirth, through the death of your husband someday, through challenges and changes that you have no idea about yet. Your life is not to be easy, because you are inherently strong. You are me, you are my daughter, and you are a goddess that has just begun. ”

I felt something warm in my heart as she spoke these words. And then she added, “I will go now, beautiful child. But I will return in a million forms, in a million ways. Just watch, and try to listen to the voice of your heart, along with those of raccoons and salamanders; but only when they speak in ways that agree with your voice!”

“I watched her ascend into the trees, into the light of the full moon…and then I woke up.”

“So in your dream, the Goddess said that you were her daughter AND that you were her?” I ask.

“Yes,” Maya answers, “I didn’t understand it either at the time, and I still can’t explain it. Later, I ran into Bible verses where Jesus says similar things, though. And the Buddhist, Hindi and Native American teachings all have stories or traditions that hint that we are Gods and Goddesses that have lost our way, forgotten who we are.”

You ask, “And was she right, Maya? Can you really count on her?” 

“Samantha,” she says in her old, kindly voice, “she was right, in a million ways. I counted on her when I was giving childbirth, and when my husband died, as she said I would. When I plant seeds in the ground, I think of her. When something strange happens in the forest, I often hear her voice in my heart, telling me what it means. Eventually, after many years, I began to understand her voice more and more. And now it is my voice. That’s how I knew you and your Daddy were on your way today…she told me this, using the voice of the forest, the voice of my observations, the voice of Me. And that has all brought me closer to the Creator, to God.”  

We thank Maya after visiting a while longer and walk out of the forest together. As we drive down the forest road, you see an old female raccoon looking at you from a high tree limb…she seems to be smiling at you!

EPILOGUE

Amanda is the most popular girl in school. She’s a cheerleader type; very pretty, very funny and smart. Her Dad is rich, too, and she dresses like a magazine model. You’ve heard she’s a little wild, though, so it hasn’t bothered you that you and she aren’t great friends right now. But it looks like she wants to change that.

“Hey Sammi,” she says to you after math class, “Todd, Rob, Alex and Sally and I are going to hang out after school then go to the high school football game…wanna come?”

You are immediately flattered that the most popular girl in school would ask you to hang out! And go to a football game, too! It all sounds so…grown up and kind of exciting! Your independent spirit cheers! It doesn’t hurt that Rob is going…he’s a good friend, but you also think he has a crush on you.

You are about to say “yes” when two things happen.

The first is this: Amanda sees you thinking about her proposal and says, “Come on, Sammi! You’re one of us!”

When you hear that, you also hear a small voice in you that says that this is not the right time to hang out with this group. You don’t know why, but you feel that it’s not; the voice inside you says so.

“I don’t know, Amanda…” you say, buying time, hoping the feeling changes. It occurs to you that there is nothing wrong with any of these kids- they’re all pretty good, even if they can be bratty at times. You can’t think of a real good reason not to go, except that voice…

Just then, Sally comes up; the second-most popular girl in school. Rumor has it that she will get a Ferrari on her 16^th birthday, just like her older sister did. You don’t like her as much as you like Amanda- she’s just plain mean sometimes to other kids.

“Is she going?” she says to Amanda as she looks at you as if she’s daring you to say no.

“Come on,” Amanda pleads with you. “It’s gonna be three boys and three girls…and Rob likes you, I think…” she says teasingly.

You look at Sally with her black eyeliner. She reminds you of a…a raccoon?

“I’m sorry, guys. My Dad and I are going to a movie tonight,” you say, hoping you can call me to set that up on short notice so you’re not technically lying, “there’s no way I can get out of it. Sorry!”

Amanda smiles apologetically. “Ok, Sammi, no big deal. Maybe next time?”

“Sure,” you smile. “I hope so!” You want to believe that that she’s always this nice.  

Sally looks at you like you’re a piece of trash as she turns away to go with Amanda. She whispers, loud enough -on purpose- for you to hear, “Maybe she isn’t one of us after all.”

You see Amanda shove Sally with her elbow and say something to her, but “rude” is all you can hear. Is she talking about Sally being rude…or you, for not going with them?

A sense of loneliness begins to sweep over you, when you see another girl running towards Amanda and Sally as they walk down the long school hall, arm-in-arm.

“Sal! Amanda!” the girl cries to get their attention. You see Sally turn around with a sneer to the girl for daring to approach her.  

You can’t suppress a smile as you think to yourself, ““Sal-Amanda” sounds like salamander!”

The loneliness decreases with the humor of the play on words, but it’s still there when you get a text from your mom.

“Just thinking about you, princess.”

Something warm starts in your heart and begins to radiate through your whole body. You remember Maya’s words.  “Maybe this is how my own goddess tells me I’m never alone…through things like this,” you think to yourself. Suddenly, their acceptance is not as important- after all, someone far more powerful is already on your side!

“Princess?” you think with a growing smile, “I’m a goddess, and I gotta call my Dad so we can hit the early show!

THE END