Her steps were gracefully orchestrated by the fluctuations of high and low pitches of singing violins; her physique and natural posture exhaled the ghastly essence of a femme fatale from a noir film (or, in her circumstances, the post-credits of one). She was not all that fragile. Her natural state contrasted with her modes of expression. She had the ferocity and spirit of the animal kingdom: the tranquility of a sleazy sloth, the pride of a Safari lion, the patience and determination of a victorious tortoise, the fangs of a skilled cheetah. She walked a paradoxical walk. An unknown universe with clashing and exploding worlds. Valentina was inspiration itself. She danced a toy ballerina's dance and her words wounded themselves up to spin and sing to a lovely song in my mind forever.

    Due to my circumstances, I re-entered school fairly late: near the end of November. While I was still learning how to distinguish the words "weather" and "whether" in fourth grade, the other kids were working on their complex-sentences, constructing graphs, testing what creates erosion, and multiplying up to the number 12. There were many snickers at my progress. Unlike my old school, this new school, P.S. 121 (public school), was where all the more well-off students studied. Their standards were clearly different from mine. I heard the snickers at my ignorance and their transparent words of derisive mockery made me tremble from a falling esteem. So much shame engulfed my body until the pressure exerted itself into my body and I cried. I was not like the others. I was the bottom barnacles hanging onto the boat which was my school. I went along with their voyage but never participated in their journey.

    The thing with "friends" is that they are a first-come-first-serve type of service. They will not aid you unless you had your first impression with them face-to-face. Their group bubbles were exclusive to foreigners like me. I did not get attached early enough in their spider webs to receive friendliness but I guess, now that I think about it, I did not need to get caught up in their circles anyways; they would not have done me any good. But my girl self could not accept this reality. She bursted from the peer-induced-stress and cried to the only person who was available to her: the stranger, Valentina. In my younger mind, there were increasing levels of water that surrounded my body and the vast emptiness was extremely intimidating. The only savior was the person who sat on the small beach; the only problem was that a cesspool was consuming me and jumping in would be unwise. However, Valentina did not take up her gear and plopped in to intervene at the sound of "No one likes me at school" and "I have no one to talk to anymore". Instead, she removed the cigarette from her lips and stared, with her cold and jaded eyes, at my distress. She simply lipped learn how to swim.

    "You never need people like that in your life hon. That kind of want is trash if you think about it (phew). Why rely on mere seaweed when you can pull yourself out? You're obviously different,” she paused, “in a good way. You have way more than them." I, who had nothing, was struck by her wrongful words. "More?"

    "Unlike the rest, you're lips are already kissing the dirt. You already have the stance of a humble monk. You just gotta embrace the gifts that come with your," pause, “circumstances.” She takes another huff and puff of her cigarette, her voice getting softer and more raspy, "you will grow (phew) like an oak. That's your advantage. You are watching the oak grow while others dream watching the sky. You have the ultimate surprise." For an 8-year-old, these sentiments were confusing. I kept on making the same complaints over and over and she kept repeating the same message, in different forms, and then my complaining slowed down to think before ceasing to be. I wasn’t able to comprehend the meaning of her words until they echoed as a memento and I grew into their style. The self-reliance that came from Valentina's ideals were like wearing a huge clad of armor. But in my case, at the time, I was not mentally prepared to uphold its weight with my weak mind.

    I adopted a little bit from time to time. I no longer craved for companionship since it never sailed its way to me. No. I didn't try to change to a judgemental audience. My tears started to change into the markings of a warrior. I did not want to cry anymore. I wanted to be stronger. Though, I did not know what really defines the word strong. I at least had the strive to explore its depth. A treasure, I still am trying to find in its purest form.

    When school ended, Valentina, on her breaks, would be found waiting for me while polluting the entrance of the school grounds. When we got home, she would leave me with something to eat before going back to work until 8 during which she cooked a mighty meal that we ate together while reviewing homework. She'd grab my materials, scanning and playing with the idea, before spewing out what she got from it into my brain. Sometimes she'd yell at me for my lack of focus. She was like a pair of retainers and I was like a set of shaky teeth. We'd practice over and over, going over lessons from the beginning to present, until she rented and brought home an algebra book from the library one night. That's when she made life a boot-camp. "Look here," she pointed while I was eating cheap ramen, "this is what will make you tough; this is what will give you a future." I did not get to play with toys. I was always hitting the books with reluctance and strife in my lungs. It felt unfair but I could never demand anything from Valentina. The only subject she could not help me with was English which she claimed to be more difficult to do for her since she explained it was easier to talk good than write. I managed a C in science which was sufficient for her since she hated it too. She just wanted me to play with numbers in my head. She thought if I knew math well then the rest would follow. Because she wanted me to grow to do the hardest things first before learning the easier subjects.

    The relationship we had got to be familiar with each passing day, month, and year. Valentina did not use any filters because she wanted me to be knowledgeable of why she did things the way she does. She would make sure I knew why she washed the dishes, saying that “I have to put love into whatever I do so I can make my company feel secure with what I give (phew). I gotta be careful with the glass and watch for hiding blotches that could gross them out and lose trust in my hospitality.” Sometimes she would make me weary about things like rape or crimes people can impose on each other and on me. She’d always explain things in a personal manner that would get me paranoid when I overthink about it. What would happen if this or that or that? There were many things that could have resulted in the bad things Valentina talked about but she would always remind me to always stay calm and not think too much about it. She just wanted me to know things before I made decisions on my own. “Ever heard of ‘think before you speak or do’?”

    A summer passed and so did my hardships when I realized how ahead I was in comparison to the other students. Within a new year, I had much more to offer and I demonstrated what I had learned in the summer and in the year prior. I excelled exponentially in all my classes, finding the resolve to ace my assignments regardless of their difficulty. My world changed as I felt empowerment for the first time. My new teachers would praise me for my rapid growth and their words stuck to me like glue and glitter; I wore it and made sure everyone saw my proud smile. I even gave out a little song that described my achievements and I made sure I sang it loud for everyone to hear in the hallways. I extremely prided my progress. One day my joy got caught between the teeth of the ex-smartest girl, Petunia, who scoffed at my achievement and confronted me one day with her nose held up high to see her snotty personality. "You are such a big stupid show-off. There's a reason why you have no friends. It's because you're nothing. No one likes you. Where are your friends? No one likes you!" Her words stuck on like a black cloud and I questioned, with the same snottiness of Petunia, Valentina the validity of her damning statement. I expected her to defend me. I talked as if I had crossed the horizon and back and talked about how no one had the right to judge me in that way since I worked harder than the rest of the kids who had everything. Her ocular nerve twitched a bit and I witnessed her wrath for the first time with the side dish of malodorous disgust. "Okay, Ms. Smarty-Pants. Be judgey. Become trash like them. What do you bring to my table? Show me. I'd like to fucking see." She kept pressing me to show her my accomplishments but I was too scared to move or say a word as she petrified me with her never-before-seen attitude. Show me she repeated over and over with more spite in each successive barrage. I never felt more betrayed. I ignorantly fought her in my mind as she grinded down on my results with her heel like one of her finished cigarettes, arguing this and that until I sadly accepted the fact that it was all futile and that her words still stood as is. I hated her that night until I slept and woke up with a new torporific ashened state. She took me to school without speaking to me. It was unlike her. Valentina's eyes shown no traces of light. Just a darkness that narrowed her vision away from me. And I no longer felt hate. Just guilt.

    I carried the new wound to school where Petunia and her friends waited to ambush me at the mouth of the gated entrance with more crude attacks. She spat what she wanted to say and so did her friends who backed her up. I felt like the villain. I did not care about them. I cared about the relationship I had with Valentina. Her perspective of me was all that mattered. She was my mirror and out of all the images people portrayed me as her reflection of my persona was the most truthful. The devastation of abandonment crept on me and I knelt down to Valentina in my mind. It was a matter of time before Petunia and her followers shoved me to the ground, taking my backpack and emptying its contents onto the concrete floor. All the items scattered. Then she spat on me and called me trash. Her gang fired with different variations of insults ("Trash!", "Loser!", "Idiot!") before leaving at the sound of the bell. But I remained and gathered my things. Students were supposed to talk to the ladies in the office to get marked as tardy but I had no intentions of doing so. I walked into class late without a pass, feeling the stinging of stares and also the stinging sensation that trickled down my knee and elbow. The clothing concealed my punishment. I think I heard the teacher make a joke about my late arrival and the rest of the class laughed. I saw Petunia leering at me but I was not afraid of her. I did not care what happened throughout the day. I just wanted to apologize to Valentina.

     That school day flew by and I saw the situation I mentally prepared for. She leaned against the gate waiting for me. And we started walking home.

    It was silent at first. All silent until we neared her apartment. Then I started to sob and asked her to forgive me. "Please, I-I am sorry," I hicked, "Please don't ignore me anymore I-I'm sorry! Please don't leave me alone. I d-don't wanna be alone anymore, please! I love you please don't leave m-me!" I lost the script I was going to read for verbatim and stammered at the bumpy emotions that tripped out from my heart. I spewed whatever came into my mind. It was an awkward situation that squeezed more sorrow from my heart and onto Valentina's cardigan. I exposed my despair and what I received in return, through the vines of tears in my eyes, was her cutting impish smile. She grinned as if I had accomplished something very important.

    "It's alright Ada (phew). It's alright Ada, hon," she pulled me closer to her stomach and she embraced my childish form, melting away all the cold sorrow that was trapped in my body, "I promised we were going to make this work. Shhhh hon. It's okay. I care for you," her voice changes to something poetic, "I must be cruel, only to be kind." When I quieted down she explained to me that life was hard and that she wanted me to overcome what others would face at an older age. Pride and attention was the anathema of the arete I was building. Valentina saw that wavering pride as a poison that conformed me with others. She didn’t want me to integrate with unhealthy habits and inconsiderate children. She wanted to make sure I didn't feel a pain that was going to topple over a thin tower pride. It had no bulk to back up its boasting and lies. She wanted to make sure that I knew that the world never cared for people like us; that we gotta continually be strong in a whirlwind of adversity. She also wanted me to be better. She wanted me to be someone who was built to provide altruistic compassion. All that matters, she concluded, is to be the better version of myself. I felt like a new page was turned that moment. I read from my author’s words and took in her knowledge and wisdom. Valentina was my guardian angel. And I never fought her statements as I did then. I learned how to fully trust her and the more I grew up with her the more I started to enjoy life. I realized, at the age of 10, that there were trials to be conquered; the death of my parents was a distant past. I tried my best to look on to the horizon, the future, and prepared to build the courage to cross its long and painstaking path which was the oncoming present.

    Valentina bequeathed to me the first steps to being a better person: the ability to be humble while improving on one's self. However, it still wasn’t enough to give me understanding of how to achieve my happiness.