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Link Details for: | A Beautiful Tree |
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| Link ID# | 156 |
| Link URL | http:// |
| Submited By | Travis Boucher |
| Added On | Fri_Dec__3__2004 |
Description:
Champo gazed through the frost-layered window into the outside world. That’s where he wished to be. Champo wished to be away from it all, away from the class, away from the school and away from society. His eyes froze into a deep stare as he observed a tree out side. It looked as grey and rough as elephant skin. The twigs and branches were as bare as the dry icy flagpole, which shivered in the wind as it stood not to far from the tree. Champo read the flag, which quivered in the early, rough, winter winds, “Ruphidius Jr. High: School of the Smart and Proud.” Champo was puzzled on how the flimsy navy blue cloth with gold stitched print could wave so proudly, nobly and gracefully while withstanding a harsh atmosphere. Although, he hated the fact that it was the school flag, he actually hated everything about his school. That was except for two things: One of them was the tree. This was because it resembled him. It had no meaning, it was just there. There was nothing special about it it was bare with no vibrant colored leaves that blanketed the treetops of all the other wooden plants in town. Even in the spring no leaves sprouted from it’s naked arms. It wasn’t pretty or ugly it wasn’t tall or short. It was a naked tree with no reason to live it was just there. The other thing Champo liked was the flag. This was because it was the complete opposite of him. It had a meaning. It stood tall and proud in any conditions. It said something to everyone who saw it. It said, “Look at me, up here on this grand enormous pole! Look at me as I wave my body in the air so you can notice my existence. I live for a reason, I posses vibrant colors which people appreciate and observe in awe as my body waves in pride with the wind. I am liked, I am popular, I am not just here...I have a purpose!” Champo sighed as he once more looked upon his “role model-flag” as it bellowed in the breeze. Champo then turned away from the window and towards Ms. Pompez, the 8th grade language arts teacher. He watched her as she spoke on and on about today’s lesson. Her quadruple chin gobbled up and down as she rambled on. Her beady, pea-like eyes beamed from student to student as if we were her dinner. Overhangs of lard mostly overlapped her puny ears, which were almost half the size of her wide, bulky nose. As she spoke, her cheeks, almost the size of pillows, covered the lower half of her eyes, and to boot, she had a caboose the size of a desk. As a result of this, students referred to her as MS. Pompis (Spanish for butt). Champo had no idea what the woman was blabbing about so he just pretended to know what was going on, and look interested. He’d stroke his chin as Pompis’ evil glare focused upon him, then nod his head as if he understood it finally. Champo was as lost as an ant in the Grand Canyon whenever it came to English class. So as he put on his act every day he thought about more exciting and important things, like how in two weeks he’d be with his family back down south enjoying a delicious Thanksgiving dinner with some “down to Earth” people. Not vain, materialistic, snotty demons from hell which surrounded him all day at school wishing he were dead, or something horrible just so they know there’s one less loser in the world. Draining that thought from his head he remembered the great time he had last thanksgiving at the family-farm. The sun was brighter than ever, disputing warmth throughout the countryside! Perfect, fluffy, white clouds made a beautiful contrast of color against the cerulean blue sky. He played with his cousins out in the field and soon came inside the enormous farmhouse for a wonderful Thanksgiving meal. He can still taste the tender bites of turkey, and soft, buttery, lip-smacking taste of mashed pota-“Owe!” Biggory Buckman launched a hard pen directly at Champo’s head. It knocked his glasses right off his face. He sat next to Champo in language arts class, and hated every minute of it. “What the hayeck buketoothe!” “Shut up reject, or I’ll ring your neck till you choke up some cows and chickens, HEH-HEH!” After that kind of a threat from a big, popular, jock, like “Biggy Bucktooth” (as Champo called him) it was his cue to shut-up, or else he was dead meat. “Yeah-WHAT-WHAT, yeah that’s what I thought stupid farm-boy” So much lard clogged Pompis’ ears, and the fat pillows on her face blocked off too much of her vision, she could neither see or hear what was going on. Anyway, Champo was used to this type of treatment at school, though the worst “tormentor” was Biggy, Biggy Bucktooth. But Champo has been dealing with it for almost four years now, so he expects it every day. As soon as he heard the bell of last period sound he shot up and speedily walked to the door trying to escape any crude remarks and insults for the end of the day. But just as his foot was making it through the doorway, someone (take a wild guess who) was holding him back. Champo felt a great JERK, and was in the air for a split second then, “WHABAMM!” He hit the ground. Champo was flat on his back. He raised his bruised head and looked directly at Bucktooth. He grinned, “ Haven’t you learned the rules by now country-crap, losers last!” Champo’s cheeks turned as red as a ripe strawberry, his blood was hotter than the grease that coats freshly cooked bacon. As Bucktooth exited the room Champo gave a very crude hand gesture to him. He collected his scattered belongings and left the classroom with hatred dwelling in his mind. At this point in the story you may be wondering why Champo McDoogle seems to be the …loser of the school. Champo is a 13-year-old boy who grew up in the south, working on a farm with his family. As a youngster, home schooling was his source of education. As he grew, his parents became to old to for teaching and constantly working on the farm. So they decided to move up north to New York where they could stay in a temporary home until they went back to the farm for the summer (as well as holidays). So while Champo attends school in New York, the McDoogle family members back down south tend to the farm. Champo attends Ruphidius Jr. High on the outskirts of New York where it’s a more rural setting. He has an accent that makes him sound like he just learned English. He wears overalls almost everyday, along with high, white, red and blue striped tube socks, and brown dress shoes. He was as thin as a twig and his hair was as brown as cow dung. Three strands stood straight up in the middle of his flat head of hair. So, as you’ve probably come to realize, his appearance definitely has a negative impact on his horrible reputation. Champo never sticks up for himself he lets people walk all over him. As the year went on for Champo things flowed normally. Until one day, something happened to Champo, something that would change his life… It was around the middle of wintertime and everyone was in the cafeteria eating lunch. The delicious smell of fried chicken swept through the air as well as crispy salted fries and mushy, mashed potatoes the scents tiptoed through the atmosphere and peeked into the childrens noses, driving them mad with hunger. Everyone was talking so all you could hear was muffled chatter in the background. A chilly breeze snuck through a minor crack in one of the windows, sending a chill down the spine and chatter to the teeth of every kid at the table closest. Champo felt like a starved, chained up, lion as he stood in the long lunch line, watching the others walk away with their meal, and the hot, tender, steamy food being prepared on plates then distributed to the next hungry kid in the line. As Champo received his prize a great smile broke upon his face. As he was walking back to his table (which only he sat at) he felt the warm tray of food resting in his hands. The anxiety building up inside of him was causing him to walk faster. Of course this became the perfect opportunity for someone to trip him, and so it happened. Some boy watching from the sidelines had held out his leg and waited for the fall. Champo’s foot stayed back at the boy’s leg as his body flew forward, fast. The tray of food flew out of his hand and disappeared over the top of his view as he flew straight down towards the ground. He new he was going to hit the ground bu he didn’t know where the tray landed-WHAM! Champo hit the ground… he-SMACK-SQUISH! “That would be the tray of gushy delicious food,” Champo thought to himself. The whole cafeteria was silent, Champo was groaning in pain with his face remaining squished into the, greasy, black, rock-solid tile floor. Suddenly, people were gasping left and right but surely it wasn’t for him, no, never in a million years. No one cared about him. Then, “clip, clop, clip, clop, clip, clop, clip.” It was the sound of footsteps, and Champo could hear them getting closer to him! A pair of mashed potato covered shoes approached Champo. They weren’t just any shoes though, they were Biggory Buckman’s, brand new, $80.00, Nike Air Force 1’s. Champo was guessing that the tray that flew out of his hands, landed directly on Buckman. Champo didn’t dare look up. Because Champo thought Bucktooth was going to beat the living daylights out of him, he tightened his muscles, ready for a pounding. His body was a tense and stiff as a metal rod. He felt if he moved it was bye-bye life. He waited and waited but no punch, kick, or pain. Just dead silence, then out of no where Biggory began to talk and said something Champo McDoogle would never forget, “I’m just gonna hold back this time on the physical part, I don’t think you realize how mad I am, as well as all these other kids in this place, but there is one thing we all know, even you! It’s what you are, NOTHIN’! A big zero, no one likes you and you have no reason to live. YOUR NOTHIN’!” Buckman brushed off some food onto Champo and calmly walked away. RING! It was time to transition to class, so everyone left leaving behind a trail of hollow silence in the cold cafeteria. Champo just laid there as the words that came out of Biggory’s mouth drilled and ate away ate his head. He felt like dying, there and then. And so he laid there for an hour or two missing class and not caring about anything in the world. Then out of no where Champo heard approaching footsteps again (which brought back bad memories). But when the foot steps stopped and an old man’s raspy voice spoke, “Oh get up, you pathetic thing you, you actin’ like a big baby. Here take my hand.” Champo had never heard such nice words come from someone outside of his family. Champo turned off his stomach and rolled onto his back. He saw a black man’s hand reached out towards him. Champo didn’t know who it was but he pulled out his arm and grasped the man’s hand. He was pulled up and saw a tall black man, with grey caterpillar eyebrows he had some white hair on his partially, bald head. His overalls said, Ruphidius Jr. High : Janitor. “Why you let people walk all over you like that boy?” Champo’s Cheeks turned bright red as he slowly looked down at the floor. “Exactly, there is no reason to why you should let these people do that to you, you have got to make a stand, show them they cant treat you like this son. It’s not their decision whether you’re nothin’ or somebody. It’s your decision, you are what you say you are, not what others think or say. It’s your life kid, not theirs, you’ve got to show them that! You can have bright colors you can shine you can be a somebody! You have a purpose, all you have to do is break out of your cage these kids have built for ya an' show'em who’s boss, set’m straight. Just tell’m out plain an’ simple, ‘I ams, whos I says I ams! Back off and let me live my life, you worry bout’ you and I’ll worry bout’ me, understand!’” Champo put his chin up and smiled at the man, “Why thanks Mr., no ones ever told me that before, EEVERRR! I’ll remember this always and forever, you were my hero today.” Champo thanked the old man more than enough times and began to walk out of the room when the old man yelled out to Champo, “Oh and kid-” “Yeah,” Champo answered. “-Lose the outfit!” “Will be done, sir, will be done!” He jogged out of the cafeteria By then the school day was over and Champo smiled the whole night through knowing that someone did notice him, knowing that he can be a somebody, knowing that he isn’t a loser and a zero and he does have a purpose. He is Champo McDoogle and he is a somebody and not “just there” As time progressed people started noticing a difference in Champo. His attitude toward life had dramatically changed and was starting to have major effect onto others. They began to realize that he wasn’t the “nobody” he used to be, he wasn’t the type of person you could walk all over like before. Even Biggory Buckman slowly realized that his ways of tormenting and torturing Champo soon had no effect onto the now, strong hearted boy. People started to see Champo as a new person and not just someone who was there for no reason. That old man had really changed his life. On the last day of school that year Champo sat at his desk with a smile on his face in last period class with Ms. Pompis. He knew his life was going to be better from this year on. Champo scanned the faces in the class and not one of them gave a dirty look or evil expression. It was either a smile or a nod to the head like ”what’s up.” He was more grateful than you’ll ever know for the old man in the cafeteria that gave Champo a life. Champo heard Ms. Pompis ramble on about something, he once more, was clueless about. He turned his head towards the window to look at the outside world, he saw the weathered flag lie still in the still summer air, and as he looked down at the tree he saw a sight his eyes had never seen before, he made a huge grin and watched the no longer naked-tree shine with pride, nobility, and grace. |
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