Sorry it is so long! I really got into it haha
My name is Miracle. Miracle Eloisa Rodriguez-Gardner. I am sixteen years old. I I want to be a pediatrician. Hmmm...the most interesting thing about me? I guess that would be that I have combined-type ADHD, which is by far the most amazing and worst thing in the world.
WORST, because your mind is only fascinated with the new. Woow, is that a new color? Let's research it. I would love a car in that color...okay, bored now. Woow, is that a new spot on the ceiling. It looks like a flower. What kind of flower? Who knows? What if it is a mysterious flower from a different world. Man, that would make a good book. And so my mind goes on and on...
BUT the great thing is that I can hyper-focus; it is like a superpower. Basically, I can go from a fourteen year old with no ambition but to finish high school to, the next day, a future doctor who will make a legacy. Not only a legacy, but also be specialized. A pediatrician.
That is exactly how is happened too. I didn't know what I wanted to be at the end of freshmen year, but one talk with the guidance counselor convinced me I wanted to go to the career fair, then I caught sight of a doctor and started reading pamphlets. I researched most of the night. Nonstop. In my room. When I did eat, I was only thinking doctor thoughts. I decided I want to be a pediatrician because I like kids, and I want to be the best there ever was. All in one night. Within one week, I had signed up for any and all internships I could for the summer. And so my journey began.
In short, contrary to belief, ADHD is not a lack of attention; it is a lack of the ability to CONTROL what you focus on. It is amazing and confusing all in one; lots of people claim that have it, but I doubt all of them actually do. Having a short attention span, being lazy, a chronic procrastinator, and being naturally energetic are not ADHD. Those of us that live with it know; if you don't find yourself wondering why in the world you are your worst obstacle in living up to your fullest potential, I doubt you have ADHD. If you don't find yourself struggling to stay organized with a mind that wants to take in everything at once without sticking to one thing, you probably don't have it either. It affects every aspect of my life in various ways, but I wouldn't trade it for a neurotypical brain any day...ehrm...MOST days. Needless to say, school has not always been easy for me.
Most days, I find myself getting into trouble before the first class even begins.
"Jerry, hit that beat," Allen remarks as he bobs his head while sitting on a desk. "Miracle you got my backup?"
I nod, clearing my throat.
"Aye, this is gonna be good," Eric, the quarter-back grins bright, his dimples running deep, driving all the girls crazy.
My cousin, Gordon, does a little shimmy and slides on the desk beside me, bumping his shoulder against mine. "Hit it, Miracle."
"OOOOOOOO...."
"Yeah, yeah, my name is Allen Robert the third, they call me 'Big Al.' Grew up on the down south street curb. Was shooting guns and gang banging before I was ten; where I'm from, daddies don't raise better men. Momma worked hard cooking turnips and boiling rice while daddy out drinking, smoking, shooting dice. Momma worked three jobs, take care of me and my brother. Taught us all we got is each other."
"OOOOoooOOOO"
"Yeah, yeah, hit that note, little mama. Things will get better, because one thing good I got is knowing we are together. I promise Beverly Hills in our future, babybirl. Me and you, all the love, against the world."
"Really, baby?? Ayyeee"
"Aye, aye, yes, you got my heart, and whatever happens, nothing tear us apart. Tell me babygirl, are you with me to the end?"
"OoooOOO, my love, don't know why you askin'"
"OO, it's eight o'clock on this school day. Jer hittin that beat. Man, I can feel this rhythm IN MY FEET. Got my girl, tonight, we will be cruising in my drop top. This pretty, pretty little thing. Man, how I get her, GOT-TA be a dream-"
A slow handclap brings our party to an abrupt end, and we jump off the desks right into our seats.
"Hello, class. Well, 'Big Al' I hope you can feel that beat right to detention at lunchtime." Mr. Harrison smirks, his mustache twitching. "And I HOPE you wake up soon because Ms. Gardner is SO out of your league." He takes his seat as the class snickers.
"Burnt!" somebody exclaims, and we all laugh, including Mr. Harrison.
Allen rolls his eyes, and I grin at him. He grins back, a smirk. At least we have one cool teacher.
"Alright, class, settle down. Did anyone do their reading?"
Eric raises his hand. "Yo, Coach, why we reading Pride & Prejudice anyway? It's a waste of time."
"Mr. Sanders, the fact that you even know the name of the book gives me some satisfaction." Someone yells "BURNT" again, earning herself detention. "We are reading it because it is classic literature. You should appreciate it."
"Nah, Coach, it's crazy boring. I did read it," Eric complains. "Sorta."
"Good. Please tell me why it is boring."
"Because, it's like all romantic and shi...crap."
"Yeah, but there are so many deeper messages." Mr. Harrison glances around the room. "Did anyone get anything else out of it?"
Gordon raises his hand. "It is a look at the depth of judgement. Who has money, who doesn't. The prejudices of the world. It is not much different than the world today."
"Great answer, Mr. Rodriguez-Turner." He pricks an eyebrow. "Not much different than your little song, today, huh, 'Big Al.'"
Allen rolls his eyes and laughs, "Yeah, you know, Coach, I know a little bit about the world of hardship now."
"Excellent point. Which brings me to my next assignment. A group project. I want each of you to get a partner. I want you to get to know them. From all different walks of life. I will be giving out the partnerships so that no one picks a friend. Partnerships will be posted later today."
We finish our analysis, and I am given my detention slip for lunch. The three classes that pass by before then are not even worth paying attention in. As I walk into the detention room, Ms. Evans slowly lifts her eyes from her book.
"Are you a Rodriguez Gardner, Rodriguez-Turner, or Rodriguez-Ford?"
"Gardner, Ms. Evans. It's me."
She grins, dropping her book. "Ah, Miracle. You have the stuff?"
I dig through my bag and rumble through the brown sack. I deposit the package on her desk.
"What do we have today?"
"Tuna."
"Hmmm...I have PB&J."
I put my hand on my hip. "Now, come on Ms. Evans, you know that is not an even trade." I reach for my sandwich.
"Wait, I will throw in a cookie."
"Chocolate chip? Mr. Evan's home recipe?" I cock my eyebrows.
"Yes, and I DO NOT need to eat anymore," she replies, patting her distended belly full of baby. "And neither does baby Evans."
"Alright. Fair enough." I take my new lunch.
"You know what's on the menu tomorrow?"
"Nope, you know Ma is sporadic."
"Could it be chicken salad?"
"Hmmm, but you KNOW I love my mama's homemade chicken salad."
"Come ON, now, Miracle. I will throw in a deli sub from down the street...AND a bag of chips."
I meditate on the idea for a second. "Alright." I shrug. "That's workable."
"Assuming you have detention tomorrow."
I guffaw. "Now, you know me better than that. Make my sandwich turkey, please, and thank you."
Ms. Evans shakes her head. "No onions for me. Not good for baby Evans and gives me heartburn." She rumbles through the drawer in her desk where she keeps her unhealthy snacks that Mr. Evans banned since they found out they were expecting. "You want a coke? I feel kinda guilty, stealing the cookies Dave made for his meeting at work."
I nod. "Thanks."
"You know you could do better, Miracle."
"I know."
Another frequenter of detention struts in. Sebastiano Jamal Thornton. Ms. Evans sighs. "Especially if you stop interacting with SCUM like that," she mutters so that only she and I can hear.
I take my seat on a desk top among my cousins. If you have not guessed, there are a lot of us here, and we all end up in detention at one point during the week. Why? Who knows? Our grandfather is an immigrant from Puerto Rico that married an African American woman back in the nineteen hundreds when segregation laws looked down on interracial marriage of most kinds. They also got in trouble for being Civil Rights leaders for both African Americans and Hispanics. They eventually had triplet girls: Emilia [my mother], Carlita, and Nina. So, maybe, rebellion is in our blood.
Carlita had two daughters with a small-town farmer, Wilhelm Ford. Heather Rodriguez-Ford. A blue eyed, blonde haired beauty with a permanent summer tan. Co-captain of the cheer squad. In her senior year. And her younger sister, Dream. A brunette. A nerd. The social outcast. Heather usually ends up here for smart-mouthing while her sister ends up here for skipping class to go to the library.
Nina had three boys with a musician named Eustice Turner. Eustice is the great grandson of one of the original blues creators, and music runs in his family. The oldest boy is my 'twin-cousin' Gordon; we look just alike. Then there is Ritmo, who is fifteen, the same age as Dream. And lastly, Tambo, is fourteen. They usually get detention for playing their instruments outside of band class.
Emilia married a journalist, Derrick Gardner, and had three girls and an annoying little boy. The oldest girl is Script with her long black hair and caramel skin. She is smart and going places. She is the president of every club...well maybe not literally, but she holds a position in most. Her favorite is the debate team, and she likes to, well...debate.
"Detention is just another way to keep the man down," Script grumbles. "Don't you just hate it?"
"No one CARES, Script," Heather grumbles, filing her nails.
Script slams her book on the desk. "What are you in here for, Miracle?"
"Our usual," I shrug as Gordon joins me.
"See? See? A lost freedom of speech."
Allen nods. "I agree. I got a story to tell, you know."
Sebastiano sidles up beside me. "Good. You wanna give me the story of why you coming on to my girl?"
The room gets silent.
"Well, maybe if you had been in class," Allen snaps back, and Sebastiano bucks up.
"Hey, no talking. If you are going to fight, save it for off-school grounds. I would like to have a day where I don't see ANY of you in here. ESPECIALLY the Rodriguez clan. GOODNESS," Ms. Evans mutters.
Sebastiano kisses my neck and puts his broad hands at my waist, making my hair stand on end. In only the way he knows how to do. "Hey, Queen."
"She wasn't complaining when she was singing with me," Allen mutters.
"That true?" Sebastiano inquires.
"Nah, Ashtin, it was just a song."
"You still mad at me?" he inquires.
"You promised no more gang fights," I mutter under my breath.
"Last one, but baby, you know I'm a thug."
I avoid his gaze, but he lifts my chin and gives me that beautiful smile. More breathtaking than Eric's. He has been throwing that smile at me since we were eight years old.699Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡiO9ZQirsSb
"Hey, you two, save it for OFF school grounds." Ms. Evans piercing blue eyes stare from above her glasses. "And get your bums in a seat!"
I open my lunch and stare at Pride & Prejudice.
Dream glances over my shoulder. "Good choice. I think you should like it."
"Really? The resounding opinion it is boring as heck."
Dream's hazel brown eyes study me for a small moment. "It takes an articulate mind to understand, Miracle."
"Think there is any hope for me?"
She shrugs nonchalantly, returning to her book. "If you apply yourself..." And just like that she disappears to whatever world she left. Dream has the other spectrum of ADHD. It runs in families. ADHD-PI [primary inattentive]. She lives in a dream world of her own; she does not have a lot of friends, but she knows anything and everything that's juicy, gossipwise. She is easily distracted by racing thoughts. People think she is quiet, but her mind is constantly going with opinions and adventures no one else could ever dream. She does well in school because it is not hard for her; after all, she spends most of her time in books. However, like me, she sucks at responsibility and organization: leaves cabinets open, forgets to lock doors, procrastinates on EVERYTHING, takes a while to get things done, screws little details up, gets frustrated easily...never keeps up with anything...she's just Dream.
I smile at her. Of all my cousins, she understands me the most, believe it or not.
The school day is finally over, and I am glad to get home. My mother works from home, and the smell of fresh-baked cookies greets me. None of my cousins or siblings are here yet. We all live in neighboring towns. The Gardners and the Turners live in the same Georgia suburb while the Fords live on a plot of land inherited from their grandfather out in the country.
"Who brought you home?!"
I toss my backpack on the couch without answering. My mama storms around the corner. Shakespeare could not have been more accurate when he said, "Though she be but little, she is fierce!" She is five feet of fury.
"Ashtin," I mutter.
"Did you ask permission? Tell anyone? How many times have I told you to put your backpack upstairs?! Everyday with you! Miracle Eloisa..." She goes on in Spanish, the usual scolding for my scattered mind. Then she takes a breath. "I'm sorry. I know you cannot help it sometimes. Miracle, babygirl, I got a call from your principal. Detention again?"
"It ain't my fault."
"Whose fault is it then? Gordon's? I don't understand why ya'll can't stay out of trouble."
"Mama..."
"Did you check your grades?"
"No, umm...I forgot."
"I thought I told you this morning," she replies, pulling up the desktop. "Miracle, were you listening? You said 'si'."
"Mama, I really was, but I...forgot. I went outside to feed the dog."
"I told you NOT to feed her. She had a vet appointment today...so that's why she threw up in the car. I almost blamed your brother." I blink. Mama smiles encouragingly, as always. "Its okay, Miracle. We will have a better morning tomorrow. I was rushing with the dog and the kids this morning. I forgot to write everything on the fridge. You have a notification. Apparently, partners for the English assignment? You are riding on a C in that class. You need to get that grade up. You are to talk to your father as soon as he gets home and ask him to help you. Do you understand? I am writing a note on the fridge now." She says over her shoulder, "And your math teacher says you have not been paying attention in class again. Your grade is dropping, a C on the last test. Talking and clowning with Gordo?"
"Sorry, Mama, I will do better," I promise through a mouthful of cookie. "Mama, do you think we could have chicken salad tonight?"
"Do you think you could stay out of trouble?" she sighs.
"I could try," I reply with a grin. "I really will do better."
"Ah, Miracle, what am I going to do with you, chica?"
"Mama, can I ever do anything right?"
"Who told you that you couldn't?" Her Latin temper is boiling.
"No one has to say anything. I can see for myself."
"Aye, Miracle, babygirl, you are going to be such a wonderful doctor. I just know it. That is your dream. And do not worry about haters. As long as people are hating on you, then you know you are doing something worthwhile, worth paying attention to, eh?" She pats my cheek.
I grin.
"So, me and my sisters talked earlier. The youth pastor is starting his fellowship group for young adults tonight at the Le Cafe. We want you all to go."
I freeze my computer clicking and turn to her. "Mami, really? Church is for Sundays."
"Yes, it will be good for you to meet other people. Maybe forget about that Ashtin boy."
"Mami, how could you say that? Ashtin and I have been friends since third grade."
She fixes me with a meaningful stare as she pulls out ingredients for chicken salad. "Miracle, I am not saying to forget the boy, really...it's just...people change, and he is getting into dangerous things. I don't want you to get hurt."
"Yes...ma'am...I know."
"Anyway, just go to the fellowship. You may like it. Your cousins are going."
I laugh. "Heather is going to catch a fit, having to miss practice."
"So, is that a yes?"
"From me, but have fun convincing the rest of them."
I turn back to the computer and open my notification. My partner is...Sara? You HAVE to be kidding me! She STINKS. And she is incomparably WEIRD. I mean, like, MAJOR, weird.
"So, do you like your partner? Who is it?"
"PLEASE don't make me go through with this, Ma."
She shrugs. "Sorry, babygirl. I think this assignment will be good for you. I read the description. It is amazingly creative. Get a look into a different side of things. You might be surprised."
I cut my eyes at the door as Gordon storms in. "Partners are up!"
"Yeah, I know. Who'd you get?"
"Gregor."
"No fair! You got a rich kid?! I got Stank Stank Sara."
"Miracle, cuida tu lenguaje!" Mama snaps from the kitchen.
"Lo siento, Mama."
"You should be happy," Script grumbles, depositing some strange doll on the couch. "You aren't partnered with a deadbeat dad and carrying around this stupid electronic baby. I hate this class. Another way to demote us back to the olden days, where all women did was carry babies and keep house."
Gordon laughs and picks up the baby. Script snatches for it, but he races up the stairs with Script hard on his heels, spitting threats at him in Spanish.
I roll my eyes and stroll outside, where our one year old American bull dog, Lavendar, lives during the day. She wags her tail at me, and I roll my eyes. "You have such a wonderfully simple life, Lava."
She picks up her chew toy, and I engage in tug of war, then we run around the yard. Later, my little brother joins us along with Gordon and Ritmo. We run and climb until dinner. After dinner, we clear the table.
"Alright, so give me a description of everyone's day," Daddy encourages.
Our usual. We go around the room and give our honest accounts, like good journalists. He puts his hands together on the table top and raises his eyebrows at me. "And is there a reason you were carrying on like this in class?" He looks from me to Gordon to Script.
"Ummm...it won't happen again?" Script offers.
"It had better not, young lady. No good lawyer gets detention as much as you. Neither a pediatrician." He turns to me then Gordon. "And you wanting to be a movie producer? You better get yourselves together. Now, I think that this group with Pastor Vince will be good for you."
I stroke Lavender absentmindedly.
"And, I expect A-plus on all these projects, understood?"
We nod.
"Let's go."
The group meeting takes place at a local café, Le Cafe. Our youth pastor is a great guy. He really is. So that makes me feel more comfortable.
The only one of us inconsolably angry is Heather. She strolls in wearing blue jeans and a pink blouse. WOW, she actually has on clothes. Dream is almost done with the book she was reading earlier. I glance drearily at Pride & Prejudice in my lap. Wish I could read that fast.
I am suddenly upright next to Gordon as an unexpected figure makes her way shyly through the door. Red hair covering her eyes. Sara? Has she always been a part of our youth group? I would feel so guilty if I had not noticed her this long.
"My mom, um, said I should come? She wants me to make friends," I hear her whisper to Pastor Vince.
How can he stand to be that close? Ugh, that was mean. God forgive me.
"Please, join us. Before I start, I would like us to all introduce ourselves. I am Pastor Vince Johnson from True Word Church of Faith, where eberyone from all walks of life are accepted. I started this fellowship group/class because I know that this is a difficult time in your lives.
"You're growing up. You are figuring out who you want to be as adults. You're experimenting. You feel like no one is listening, but I want you to know that you have some place to come to be honest and to be accepted. We have no judgement here.
Any bullying will get you thrown out. Can we all agree on that? If you don't want to be here and abide by the rules, please leave now. " Heather stands up. "Ms. Heather, your parents gave me special orders to exclude you from that invitation." She sits back down.
"I will also have a hotline just in case you should ever want to talk personally. Some of the other youth leaders will be here next time, and they also help run the hotline. We have a diverse group of five people, men and women. We are here for you. We are here to fellowship and build one another up. Understood?" We all nod in agreement.
"Um, would you like to go next, Sara?"
Sara twists what's left of her braid and stares around the room, blue eyes dilated like a deer in headlights. "My name is Sara, and I am sixteen. Um, my father owns Pizza Network."
What? That means she's rich! Man, as Dream would say, NEVER judge a book by its cover. But then, why...
We clap.
"Thank you, Sara. Who's next?" Pastor Vince offers the floor.
"My name is Gordon Rodriguez-Turner. They call me Gordo. My dad's a musician, and my mom is a Puerto Rican Taino; so I'm named for the guiro, a traditional Taino gourd instrument." He grins and does a little beat on the table.
"Nice, Gordo," Pastor replies amusedly. "As usual, I know you will be just as fired up tomorrow for practice for Sunday."
"Oh yeah, Pastor V, you know it. Ritmo and I have been working on this new beat."
Ritmo grins. "Yeah, my name is Ritmo. They call me Mo. My name is Spanish for rhythm, which I have plenty of! I play the keyboard!"
"Miracle, you next?"
"Oh, certainly. My name is Miracle. Miracle Eloisa Rodriguez-Gardner. I am sixteen. I want to be a pediatrician...Hmmm...the most interesting thing about me..."
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