Uncomfortable

A Personal Essay by Hailey Kate Chatlin

“When Citizens prefer comfort to principles, much that ought to be valued is not.” -Joel M. Allred

Zoey Davis sits alone at the lunch table reading a book. She wears a green short-sleeved shirt with a tiny pink bow sewed onto the chest. Her plastic cheetah print headband has shifted to the back of her head allowing strands of curly brown hair to cascade around her face.. I should sit next to her. She’s only reading to fill the silence, I should sit down… but my friends are waiting for me upstairs. What would we talk about? I brush past the table giving Zoey a small smile and wave.

“Risk your comfort.”

Grandpa wrote a book. It took me three weeks to open it, another week to attempt to read it. I opened the book at 11:30 pm snuggled in the corner of my bed, the lamp providing refuge from the shadows lurking in the corners. A quote jumps out at me, “Practice Inclusion. Do not discriminate.“ My mind flashes back to the cafeteria and Zoey’s bowed head. I close the book. I wondered which would win out, my guilt or my stubborn pride.

“Stand when others sit. Speak when others don’t.”

It’s reading time in English and Zoey is crying again. The teachers are too fast and she can’t follow what’s going on. I hear the sniffling coming from the back of the room. I should go back there and try to explain the assignment. Maybe it could help her feel less overwhelmed. I shift in my seat to face the back of the classroom, three students glance in my direction. Zoey’s face is buried in her arms. She probably doesn’t want my help. When she rejects me, it will be awkward to walk back up to the front of the class. I’ll sit closer to her next class period, maybe. Someone drops their water bottle with a bang. The class groans.

“Dare to abandon your circle of privilege.”

Zoey trips in the hall. The back of her calculator pops off and the batteries burst outwards like sun rays, bouncing against edge of the hallway. I don’t have time to help look for them. I need to get to Mr. Henderson’s classroom to set up for my presentation. I pick up her purple Legend of Zelda notebook and her homemade quilted pencil pouch, I have to leave. I hand Zoey her things with a smile as I hurry on my way. Mr. Henderson didn’t arrive to unlock the door until two minutes after the bell had rung.

“Bless the lives of those you love. Bless also others.”

On the bus I add the finishing touches to a doodle I’d been working on, pausing with each bump and shutter as we careened towards our respective homes. Emma notices my drawing and asks to look at it. She lifts it above her head and shouts in excitement, “Guys! Look at what Hailey drew!” My smile grows as the paper is passed around to awed faces and exclamations of amazement. A couple people want their own doodles, I write their names down. The sound of ripping paper reaches my ears and I turn with wide eyes towards the back of the bus. Jack Ross sits there grinning, half of a piece of paper in each hand. A couple people chuckle before the bus goes quiet. I breathe slowly through my nose as the silent moments pass and we sway to the beat of the bus’ engine. “Not funny Jack!” Kelly yells as she grabs the real paper from his lap and walks up the aisle to my seat. The tense silence breaks when she sits down next to me. She asks if I would add her to my list of requests. With tear filled eyes and a grateful smile I nod and put her name at the top of the paper. Why couldn't I do that for Zoey?

“Conquer your fear.”

I’m at the end of the lunch line humming to myself when Zoey lines up behind me. Her nose is buried in a book and she only looks up to make sure she doesn’t run into anyone. Her shirt is light blue with faded horse heads neighing majestically towards the wind. She has her jeans rolled all the way up to her knees and her hair is exploding out of her messy bun on top of her head. As we stand there I notice damp spots on each of her sleeves just inside her wrists. Her eyes are red and her nose is runny. She’s been crying. I hate talking to people who know I’ve been crying. I’ll sit next to her in English today, then will be a better time to… My hands slightly tremble so I clasp them securely together. Taking a deep breath in through my nose and out of my mouth, I close my eyes, and turn around.

“Hey Zoey, how have you been?”

Reference

Allred, Joel M. Peace Is Not a Seamless Web. 2007-2009. TS Collection of Joel M.
        Allred. Salt Lake City, Utah