"Sometimes the person who believes in you is the bridge between the broken version of yourself and the person you were always meant to become."
(Listen to the song as you read)
Kiekie's POV
I was too numb to cry.
I went to my room and changed my clothes. I had been in such a rush that morning that I didn't clean my room before leaving. I quickly tidied it up before going downstairs to prepare dinner for myself, since my parents didn't leave any for me.
Daddy had said I must make sure Chuck doesn't get punished.
I would have to beg Miss Cary and Mr. McKendry not to have them expelled. I would ask them to change the punishment… and then I would do Chuck's punishment myself. Not just his—but also the punishments of his followers.
I hated my life.
I really did.
Back then, I wished I had never been born.
I quickly prepared some potato salad and vegetables, then went back to my room to study.
---
The next day, I went to school early.
It was recess. Cleo and I were at our favorite place in the world—the library.
Cleo's father was similar to my parents. He believed he had the right to choose his children's careers. Her mother had been a journalist, but she was killed when Cleo was only seven years old.
Sometimes I wished she had known self-defense.
Cleo admired her mother deeply. She became a writer because of her. One day she asked me to let her write my life story, and I happily agreed.
She said my story would teach others how to become stronger—emotionally and physically.
And here it is.
You are all reading my life story that my best friend wrote.
"Pumpkin," Cleo called.
I only nodded because I was completely absorbed in the book I was reading.
"Babe!" she said, suddenly pulling the book from my hands.
I groaned and shot her a mean look to show my displeasure. She simply smiled at my reaction.
"Now I have your attention all to myself," she said proudly.
"Of course you do," I replied, rolling my eyes.
She leaned forward, suddenly serious.
"Alright. What I'm about to tell you, I want you to listen carefully. Keep that mouth of yours shut. There will be no buts to what I'm about to say."
"But—"
"Shhh!" she snapped. "I said no comments."
"Okay," I agreed.
Lord… please don't let me regret this, I prayed silently.
She gave me a suspicious look.
Narrator: And you didn't!
Keke: I said SHUT UP!
Narrator: Okay, boss!
Keke: Good girl.
---
"Last week," Cleo began, "I applied for you to participate in the Modern Periodic Distinction Competition."
"WHAT?! Why?! No way!" I nearly shouted.
"Ah-uh." She shook her head. "We made an agreement, remember? A promise is a promise."
Her golden-brown doll eyes sparkled. Those eyes were impossible to resist.
"Do you really love me?" I asked.
"I love you more than you can imagine," she replied softly. "Now let me finish."
"Okay," I whispered.
"The competition is next week. I wanted to tell you yesterday… but you know what happened yesterday."
She sighed.
"The competition was organized by the U.S. Ambassador, McQueen McCarthy. She wants girls in Liberia to become more involved in chemistry and the sciences."
She leaned closer to me.
"I trust you, Kiekie. I believe in you. I know you can do this."
Her voice grew stronger.
"It's time to show the world the real you. It's time to live your dreams. It's time for a new beginning."
My chest tightened.
"I'm scared, Cleo," I whispered. "I don't want everyone in the district bullying me. Please…"
My voice trembled. Tears blurred my vision.
"Enough, Kiekie Isabella Johnson!"
Her voice cut through the quiet library like thunder.
I had never seen her that angry at me before.
"Do you want to live like this forever?" she demanded.
Her hands grabbed my shoulders.
"Do you want people to bully you until the day you die?"
Her eyes burned as she stared at me.
"Why do you think so little of yourself? Why are you letting your parents' words control your life? Why are you letting them control your subconscious mind?"
She shook me lightly.
"Wake up, Kiekie!"
Tears streamed down my face.
But she was crying too.
And in that moment, I realized something terrifying.
If I didn't listen to her… I might lose the only person who truly loved me.
"Please, Kiekie," she whispered.
"This is your chance to show the world you're not the broken girl they think you are. This is your chance to save yourself."
She wiped her tears.
"Think of it as redemption."
"The world will never know who you are until you stand up and show them."
She squeezed my hands tightly.
"They will never know that an incredible person named Kiekie Isabella Johnson exists until you show them who you really are."
Then she spoke in French, her voice shaking with emotion.
"Dieu vous a créé d'une manière unique.
Tu es belle, spéciale, intelligente et merveilleuse.
Dieu t'a rendu spéciale.
Lève-toi, Isabella, et montre au monde que tu es une création spéciale de Dieu."
(God created you in a unique way. You are beautiful, special, intelligent, and wonderful. Rise up, Isabella, and show the world that you are God's special creation.)
"There is only one you on this earth," she continued through sobs.
"You can never be them… and they can never be you."
Her voice softened.
"Please do this, Kiekie. Do it for yourself—not for me."
I wiped my tears, then gently wiped hers with my other hand.
"I'll do it," I whispered.
Her eyes widened.
"I'll do it, Cleo."
Even through my tears, I managed a small smile.
"I know you love me. You would never let me get hurt."
She wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug that nearly crushed my ribs.
"I love you so much, Isabella," she said, looking into my eyes.
"Je t'aime tellement, Cléopâtre.
Tu es la meilleure chose qui me soit arrivée.
Merci de m'avoir appris l'amour.
Merci d'être ma sœur et mon amie."
(I love you so much, Cleopatra. You are the best thing that has ever happened to me. Thank you for teaching me love. Thank you for being my sister and my friend.)
She kissed my forehead gently.
And for the first time in a very long time…
I felt hope.