Savvy

Savvy

By Braeden Hughes
Westford School, Grade 8

I danced over the recently hayed field, letting the wind choose my path. I spun and ran with the cool autumn breeze, brightly colored leaves flashing past me. The sky seemed huge, its dull gray expanse revolving around me like a carousel. It felt nice, not thinking, not caring about anything, but just feeling everything at once. Feeling the rough ground beneath my feet, feeling the caress of the hair on my neck. I rejected the thoughts that popped into my head; I was here to let go of my worries, not to ponder them. When I was so dizzy that I felt drunk, I stood still and let the world stop spinning crazily. After a few moments of rest, I began the jog through the woods. Up the slope I ran, branches and thorns cruelly slapping at my legs and exposed feet. My lungs shrieked for air and my hamstrings ached, but I kept running. I deserved this pain, the pain and everything else. The less significant external throbbing, and the agonizing internal suffering, would be mine to bear.
The next day, at the torture more commonly known as recess, I was at one of my usual haunts, reflecting on why I had no friends. Maybe it was because I just wasn’t cool enough. Maybe it was because I dress differently than everyone else. Maybe I had unintentionally insulted someone. Maybe little green aliens from outer space had taken over and everyone was acting on their orders. Maybe, maybe…. Ugh. My brain needs to shut up.
The thick river of students clogging the hallway pushed against me as I fought my way to my locker. Loud voices assaulted my ears, and someone ran into my backpack, sending me flying into the nearest person. Ow. Finally I reached my locker and got out my LA textbook. The girl next to me had a mirror in her locker, which she had carelessly left open. I glanced at its surface, studying myself. The girl who stared back wasn’t a knockout, but she had her own kind of fiery, dark beauty. Intense blue eyes stared out, framed by dark brows and curly brown hair. Also there, was that stubborn acne that refused to leave no matter what, and those ribs that I still had to grow into. I sighed and walked to class, feeling even crappier than before.
Finally, school was over and I was free to do as I pleased. Judging looks and nasty rumors could be ignored until tomorrow. I looked up at the sky; I had a while until sunset. I did some homework and practiced drums while I waited, killing time. At last the time came to leave. I jogged across the field, and into the woods. I ran a different course than the one I had taken last night, this one taking me diagonally across the hill instead of straight up. Trees and plants were a green blur in the receding light as I dashed up the rocky incline. Higher and higher I climbed, heart racing until… I was there. The majestic pine rose at least a hundred feet in the air, straight and proud like a soldier. I wasted no time in swinging myself onto the lowest branch and taking hold of another. I quickly scurried up the tree, the thick, reliable branches making it easier. When I was over halfway up, I stopped and perched on a limb. The scene before me was breathtaking. Splashes of red, yellow, and orange turned the hills aflame, attractive, but in comparison, dulled by the sky. It was a gorgeous, deep fiery red, streaked with orange, pink and purple like an artist’s canvas. I was entranced. A bird twittered its song behind me, but I was too captivated to notice. As I watched, the stunning streaks of color faded into a deep, dusky purple. I turned then, and stepped back into the peaceful quiet of the woods.
One year later…
In hindsight, I realized that my 7th grade year was the hardest one yet. I changed a lot of who I was, redefining myself. The way I dressed, who I hung out with, the way I thought, all changed during that year. It was a rough time for me, but I think that I am a better person for it. I learned a lot of important lessons, but mostly I learned not to be afraid to be yourself.

"To be nobody but yourself in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight; and never stop fighting." ~e.e. cummings, 1955