Keep Smiling

I know children think their lives are horrible because they didn’t get that iPhone they wanted. Spoiled children cry because they didn’t get one thing. I knew a girl who always smiled even though she had nothing. Her name was Anastasia Hope Christianson.

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Together we sat in the principal’s office at the end of the school day. Just me and Anastasia and a pudgy man who thought he was capable of running a school. And why we were there, we didn’t know.

The office was rather bland and small. Uncomfortable wooden chairs were provided for any student unlucky enough to be stuck in the white walled room. A large mahogany desk was occupying the majority of the room, making it seem even smaller than it was. Papers were organized and placed meticulously on the desk. Next to the papers was an official looking black cord phone. A single picture sat on the desk. And it was not the principal’s family. It was him. Just him.

The “him” was single, and glaring at us from behind his obscenely large desk. His beady blue grey eyes peered accusingly out at us from behind his hideous coke bottle glasses that were perched up high on his hawk nose. The suit he was wearing looked a little tight. Okay, that’s a lie. It looked like it was about to burst at the seams.

“Do you have any idea how much trouble you’re in?” he asked judgingly. Spittle flew from his lips and his double chins jiggled as his mouth moved.

“No sir,” Anastasia said politely. She discretely wiped spit from her face.

“Like I believe that,” he muttered, snorting. Narrowing his eyes, he turned to me. “What about you?” Spit again flew from his mouth and all over me and Anastasia.

“What about you say it, not spray it? Sir.”  Anastasia kicked my calf and gave me a “Stop. Now.” look.

He ignored my comment and launched into a lengthy speech. “You two are here because you damaged school property. Remember those lockers you smashed? Or the walls you wrote profanities on? ‘Mr. Carroll can go suck his dick. Oh wait, he doesn’t have one.’ Remember that? I’m sure you do. I’ve already called your parents. They are not ha-“

“But, sir, we didn’t do those things! You’ve got the wrong people!” Anastasia protested. She was on the verge of panic and so was I.

Mr. Carroll didn’t realize that Anastasia’s parents were abusive. Any slight sign of misbehavior and she was beaten and cut. “Damaging school property” could very well get her killed.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I asked, jumping to my feet.

“Watch your language,” Carroll warned.

“Show me your evidence. Now.”

“You do not tell me what to do young man. Sit down.”

“Show me your evidence,” I demanded, my voice going hard and my eyes narrowing.

Anastasia tugged on my sleeve, her eyes already flooding with tears. I squeezed her hand and pried it off my sleeve. But I didn’t let her go, I never would.

“Sit your ass down, mister. You do not want to mess with me,” he threatened.

My free hand itched to pull my knife out of my pocket. I resisted from going on the defensive.

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No, Mr. Carroll, and you are not going to get into an immature yes-no fight with me, are you? That seems a bit low for your obvious leadership skills, doesn’t it?” My voice was thick with sarcasm.

“You will sit down now, I am warning you.”

“Threatening me, you mean?”

“Do not-“he started to speak.

“I will call the police. Right now, because I feel like I’m in danger. That little comment about how I don’t want to mess with you was pretty scary. I won’t if you call her parents and tell them you made a mistake. Anastasia and I did not commit those crimes, and as I have noted that you have no evidence whatsoever, I will contact the school board as well. Maybe you’ll get fired, maybe not, but I’m sure you don’t want a scratch on that squeaky clean profile of yours, do you? Maybe it’s not so squeaky clean, huh?” Not an ounce of fear for me was present, but fear for Anastasia was another story.

Mr. Carroll was beginning to look worried. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket while motioning to the phone on his desk. “Fix it. Now.” When he didn’t move, I dialed 911 into my phone. My thumb hovered over the CALL key. “You’ve got three seconds. I suggest you get to calling and fixing this.”

“Fine, fine! Stop, and I’ll do it, okay kid?”

“Then do it.”

         “Fine.” He slid his rolling chair closer to his phone and began dialing a few numbers. I moved behind him and peered over his shoulder.

         “Strike one. Wrong number. Try again or we could discover that your profile isn’t so clean.”

         He dialed in Anastasia’s number correctly this time, his hand shaking a little in the process.

         “Hello?” I heard the familiar voice of Anastasia’s father on the other end.

“Hello, yes, this is Mr. Carroll. I called you earlier about your daughter.”

“Yes, yes, she will be aptly punished, I can ensure you that.”

“Oh, no, there’s no need sir. We have discovered that she was not the one who damaged the property. It was just a girl who looked a little like her.”

“You’re bullshitting me, Carroll. There is no way there is another girl in that school is even a little bit as ugly as my daughter. No way. She’s too ugly. It was her, I know it was.”

“Sir, you don’t understand. It was not her.”

“Yes it was, don’t you lie to me, Carroll.”

And with that, there was a click. Anastasia looked as I hopeless as I felt.

“Congrats, Carroll. You just saved your career.” I grabbed my bag off the floor, took her hand in mine, led her from the office, and slammed the door shut as hard as I could.

As soon as we got out into the hall, Anastasia finally allowed herself to cry. I pulled her into a tight hug. “It’ll be okay, babe, I promise.”

She sniffled, and looked up at me. “I know. Keep smiling,” she told me, smiling in turn as she poked my face in an effort to make me smile. I ruffled her hair and walked her to her locker.

“You should have had him call your parents instead, you know.  Calling mine won’t do any good.” She crammed her backpack full of books and slung it over her shoulder. She sighed heavily before taking my hand.

“My parents don’t care about what I do, you know that, Anastasia. They’re too busy drinking to really care.”

She gave a bitter laugh. “Our parents are the exact opposite. Mine need me to be absolutely perfect, yours don’t mind if you trash a school.”

In all honesty, it was true. My parents thought I would never amount to anything, so why bother with discipline? But Anastasia’s parents thought she was going to be President of the World some day and they would do anything to get her there, even if anything meant beating her. Once while I had been over at her house her father said something along the lines of “If this one bites the dust, we’ll just make a new one.” And of course, her mother laughed and agreed.

I sighed just as heavily before heading out the door with Anastasia. I stopped her before I walked her home. I took her hands in mine and pleaded with her. “Please stay with me tonight. Every night. I want you to stay with me where you’re safe. Please.”

She shook her head. “I can’t, I really can’t.”

I fought the urge to just pick her up, carry her to my house and lock her in. If it meant she would be safe, I would do it. But I couldn’t. I sighed.

“Fine, I’ll walk you home.” We walked in silence for a while.

“Everything will be okay, I promise,” I said finally.

“I’ll hold you to that.”

“I’ll keep it,” I said, stopping on the lawn in front of her house.

“Good,” she said, placing a quick kiss on my lips. “Keep smiling. See ya tomorrow. Love you!” This was the first time she had ever told me she loved me. And it would be the last.

“Love you too,” I said with a sad smile, wishing she could stay with me. With that, she disappeared into the house.

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That was the last time I saw her. Alive at least. I saw her a week later, her hands folded on her chest while she lay forever still in her coffin. She was peaceful. But she wasn’t smiling, and she never would again.

I would never agree with her father. Anastasia was the most beautiful girl I’d ever known, inside and out. Before her burial, her unruly hair had been tamed, and the bruises on her face and neck had been covered with makeup. The slit in her throat had been covered by some sort of artificial skin graft. She wore the black dress she had worn to junior prom with me. Her blue eyes were forever closed, and her features were frozen. And then she was lowered into the ground, and I realized then that I would never be able to hold her again, and she would never age past seventeen. I honestly wanted to be buried with her.

There was some justice to this, though. Her parents were both sentenced to life in prison. Carroll had been fired and sentenced fifteen years of probation for being an accessory to murder. A small closure for me, I guess. But I’ll never be able to fulfill my promise, and she’ll never smile again. And I think those are almost worse than her death, because they died with her.