Issue date:
May 16, 1997

The Phoenix

By Jovi Jordana
St. Mary's Academy, Englewood, Colo.

"Would you like some more tea, Betsy?" I asked the silent figure sitting beside me. Her once golden hair is now dismal after years of stroking. Betsy's round pink cheeks have marks of old age on them. Instead of opening her eyes to the world when I pick her up, only Betsy's right eye lifts. Her left eye remains closed, as if she, too, couldn't stand to look at me -- like the rest of them. Her dress was torn in places, and I had lost her pink satin shoes long ago. The lovely doll had been given to me by my grandparents several Christmases ago.

"Is that enough?" I asked Betsy after I had filled her plastic tea cup with lukewarm water. The white plastic teapot now has yellow streaks running through its flower designs. The miniature table at which we sat had paint chipping off its corners. My father had painted the table and three small chairs in my favorite color. He had given them to me for my 8th birthday.

I could feel my skin tighten and pull against itself as I frowned. I straightened my face right away to relieve the tension and pain my face. I could neither make frown nor a smile without causing myself pain. I reached over with my gloved hand and touched my upper left arm. Mother had cut the tips of my medical gloves so that I could hold objects more easily, but at the same time wear under the gloves the cream the doctor had prescribed. Under the elbow-length gloves, my skin felt like it was surrounded in Jell-O. My fingertips still were sensitive, and some of my fingernails had been removed. The doctor didn't want infections to build under the blackened nails.

To tease or torture me, the flames had skipped small portions of my body --- leaving them smooth and soft so that I would never forget the body that had been taken away from me. I placed my hand on my shoulder to remember that seven months ago, I was a normal child. Many even thought I was beautiful. I remember my grandmother saying to my mother, "Jade will one day be stunning, Linda. She has quite a life set out for her." I had been behind the oak tree, watching my mother and grandmother conversing. Grandma never complimented me in person. She thought that I would become vain.

"God gave you a gift to share with the people around you, not to flaunt it to others who aren't as fortunate." I remember her exact words because I believed them to be true. In fact, I would usually secure my golden curls into tight braids after my mother told me it was my best feature.

"Jade? Jade, come down to dinner!" My mother's shouts jerked me out of my memories. With a scraping sound, I pushed away from the blue table and stood up. The bandages I wear on my legs and arms is like a second skin, hampering my movements. Walking across the room and into the hall, I leaned over the wooden rail and looked down at my mother standing in the kitchen.

"I'm coming, Mommy," I answered. My raspy voice was not strong enough to be heard from a distance and my throat hurt too much to shout. I walked down the stairs carefully while holding the railing tightly, not trusting my legs to support my entire body weight. My mother watched from below as I descended the stairs. She smiled at me, and the love I felt for her encouraged my legs to keep moving forward.

"You're getting stronger every day, Baby," Mother coaxed. I smiled at her, but the medical mask I wore didn't allow her to see it. Again I felt the pain in my face so I stopped. At last, I reached my mother's arms and, taking her hand, walked with her to my seat at the dinner table. I heard my brother coming in from the back yard with our dog, Bert. I had been allowed to name him after my favorite Sesame Street character. My father came in from the garage, complaining about the transmission fluid leaking onto the driveway of the garage again.

Looking at my family busily walking around the house, I felt as if I was looking at my family through a window. Standing on the outside looking in. Suddenly, it was too much for me. I could feel tears forming in my eyes. A couple of hours alone in my house had changed my life forever.

That day I had accidentally gotten too close to the fireplace that heated our living room. I hadn't noticed that the worn-out material of my dress had caught on fire until it was too late. In a matter of seconds, the pain became too much to bear, and I fainted. Later, in the hospital, I found out that my brother had heard my screams and had yelled for my father as he put the flames out. He saved my life, and now he helps me live and be happy again. I had cried in physical pain only a couple of times during my hospitalization, therapy and recovery at home. Now the emotional pain was worse than the attack of flames on my body. My head drooped forward and my chin rested on my chest. Silently tears burned in rivulets down my face.

"Jade, what's wrong, Baby?" Father asked me as he came around to sit at the head of the table. He put his huge hand on my shoulder and felt my quivering. Acutely aware of their children's feelings, my parents never asked what was wrong. They sensed our need for them, and they opened their arms to us. Putting my head on my father's shoulder, I let the tears finally spill forth.

"Why, Daddy? Why did it happen to me?" I whispered hoarsely. Deep, in the shadows of my mind, I knew that my father couldn't explain why my body was severely burned. I knew that it had been an accident and, yet, I wanted an explanation. Maybe it would make it easier to get up every day and look in the mirror. To get dressed and play with my dolls or have conversations with objects that would never respond to me. Always remaining in my house because the sunshine felt like bee stings on my sensitive skin.

"What did I do wrong, Daddy?" My voice was small and weak already from crying.

"Nothing, Baby. You didn't do anything wrong," my father answered me. His whisper was like a shout in my ears, but I barely heard him. My father placed his comforting arms around me gently, knowing that any contact with my skin could hurt me. He stood up with me in his arms and walked toward the stairs.

"Linda, Jeremy, go ahead and start dinner. We'll be right down after Jade feels better," my father suggested to my mother as he disappeared upstairs. I saw my brother as I looked over my father's back. His eyes were misty knowing that he couldn't help me in any way except to love me.

Upstairs, my father settled me on the bed and looked down at me. He took a deep breath, and I could tell that I would finally have answers to the pain.

"Baby, God did this because he loves you. He wants to show you that, beyond the burns, you are strong and beautiful. No one else could rise from the flames and live as you have done." Tears were in his eyes as he looked down at me. I could feel that my accident hurt him as much as it did me. The pain in my body subsided, and I could feel my eyes closing in sleep from exhaustion. I looked at my father one more time, and I knew that I had my answers. That was all he needed to say.

Each of these students receives a $75 gift certificate for books or software. Sponsoring teachers get $50 gift certificates.