Ravens

There are things you do when you are little that you forget for as long as you live. The most painful part of that memory is if you thought it wasn’t bad at all. There was a girl in my class all through school, and her name was Amethyst or Amy, and everyone always thought she was strange. But before I bring her into the story, I need to introduce myself.

I was a very spoiled child, very trendy, I had always been the most popular girl in my class. I always had the nicest clothes, and listened to the trendiest music… I could never have imagined that a girl, who had never even heard of Taylor Swift or didn’t own a single pair of jeans, could be a far better person than me. I always assumed that the things I was popular for actually mattered.

Now, back to Amy. Even as a little girl I remember her wearing black and deep purple clothes, and she had these long pendulums that she would wear. She always seemed sort of dark and unfriendly. A cold soul who never had any friends. We knew she had a black cat, and we called it the Witch's Familiar. If any of us had actually met the cat, we would have known it was a charming rescue cat who loved nothing more than cuddles.

It was sometime in middle school, maybe 8th grade. around October, and everyone was very excited about Halloween. I was laughing with my friends in the hallway, as usual. And my friend Layla mentioned that Amy was like the life and blood of Halloween. I laughed along in agreement and didn’t notice, until my sister Katy jabbed me in the ribs, that Amy rushed down the hall next to us. When I got home I was bored, as I often was, and tired, as I always was. That was most likely what caused me to post the following on social media:

Hey people! If you want to find Amy on Halloween she’ll be busy haunting and playing with the ghosts. You know, the ghosts are her people! #ghostgirl

She was indeed nowhere to be found on Halloween. People were laughing and talking and saying that she was indeed out haunting with the Witch’s Familiar. I laughed along and said that she probably was going to curse us all! After school, I went by to the park where I was supposed to meet my friend Angela. Somewhere in the park, I hear the peculiar sound of crying. I followed it behind a large oak tree and then discovered Amy sitting in tears and cradling a hurt pigeon. Someone might as well have punched me in the stomach. I was shaking from head to toe and tried to think through what to say to her, when she noticed me and said, sharply, “I’m not haunting. I ran away because I had a panic attack and this pigeon flew into the tree so I’m helping it. Yes, helping. Something you will never understand.” She looked down at the hurt pigeon, cradling it like a baby. “I forgive you,” she said, softly. “Playing with ghosts would be cool,” she mumbled. It took a second for my brain to snap into place. Then I ran away. Away from the truth that I was a terrible person.