Why So Sneaky?

Amanda Mell

Ms. Oliver

World Lit Honors Period 2

24 April 2014

Why So Sneaky?

                   Stella vigorously wiped her bloody hands on her black running shorts. The dark fabric conveniently hid any sign of a visible stain. Gently, she pushed the side door of the garage open, took a step inside, and softly closed it until she heard the barely audible click of the lock. Her eyes scanned the dim, dusty room, and she started walking towards the far left corner, where there was a jumble of cardboard boxes filled with discarded books, old toys, and clothes from when she was young. The boxes were piled so high that the window behind them was completely blocked, and it was impossible to see inside or outside. From her distorted shadow on the wall, it was clear that she was lugging something along with her, slowly and carefully. She struggled, repeatedly stopping and adjusting her hands to get a better grip on it. As she dragged it across the room, the sound of the object chafing against the concrete floor overlapped with Stella’s heavy breathing. She stood still until she spotted a large sheet overflowing from one of the boxes. Lurching forward, she yanked it out, threw it over the thing, and tucked the edges under it, trying her best to make it look haphazard. She frantically arranged more boxes around it and threw some junk on top to disguise the white blob of fabric. Finally satisfied, she rubbed the sweat off of her forehead, rested her hands on her hips, and closed her eyes for a second to calm herself. Hiding it made her feel less vulnerable. Even though she didn’t know how to get rid of the evidence, she could at least tuck it away for a while and forget about it until she figured out what to do. No one ever came in here for anything anyway. She sighed deeply, and her body crumpled to the floor. She crossed her legs and lay her head in her hands. She was still in shock that she had gotten herself into this mess. Exhausted, she rubbed her temples in an effort to regain some sense of normality, but everything felt off. In a sudden act of impulse she had done it, and there was no going back now.

                  Outside, the sun was glowing warmly, but Stella cowered in the shade by the garage. Her older sister, Christina, was the only person home, and Stella was trying to gather the courage to go inside. She was reluctant because she didn’t want her sister to confront her. Fortunately, engaging in a conversation with Christina wasn’t necessary and could most likely be avoided if she was able to shut herself in her room fast enough.  Being gone all day would only increase suspicion and worry, which would ultimately bring her whole family into the mess. Because she hadn’t completely gained control of her emotions yet, she doubted that she could handle being the center of attention, especially among a group of concerned family members. She didn’t know if she could even speak to anyone at all, but she would have to stay composed so that no one would think anything was wrong. She debated with herself for a few minutes longer until the churning of thoughts in her mind came to a halt and she made a decision; she would go inside. Adrenaline surged through her, and gritting her teeth, she took a deep breath and started walking up the path to the house.

                   The front door opened and Stella stepped across the threshold with one foot. Her other foot remained hesitantly on the doorstep, and she peeked inside. Christina was watching TV on the opposite side of the room, and the staircase was right behind the couch where she was sitting. Stella’s goal was to get to the staircase, run upstairs, lock herself in her room for the rest of the night, and then decide where to go from there. She hopped inside and pulled the door close. She began to cautiously venture across the room, exaggerating each step and placing her weight lightly on her toes. Every few steps, she would pause and pivot quietly in her sister’s direction, glancing over to make sure she hadn’t noticed. The staircase was only a few feet away now, the pathway to safety. She needed to get behind that locked bedroom door.

                   “Why so sneaky?” Christina exclaimed. She muted the TV, fully turning around. She smirked. “It wouldn’t hurt you to say hi.”

                   Stella’s eyes widened. She wasn’t prepared for this. She responded nervously with, “Um, what are you talking about?”

                   Christina’s eyes narrowed. “I’m talking about your unusually quiet and burglar-like entrance, which was not very impressive, I must say, for someone who is obviously trying as hard as they can to go unnoticed. You could’ve at least climbed in through a window. The front door is a pretty standard way of walking into a building, like, people are usually, you know...visible.”

                   Stella was suddenly angry. Of course she should’ve tried to act as normal as possible. This is exactly what she didn’t want to happen! “Can you just stop trying to be witty? I didn’t do anything! God…you think you’re so clever,” she snapped.

                   “Okayyyyy,” Christina said, “I see you’re in a weird mood. Well, go on then. Continue with your secret mission, I won’t bother you. By the way, you have a lot of scrapes and cuts on your leg; well, actually just the entire left side of your body. So you might want to check that out.” Christina swiveled around again and turned the volume back up. She was so over her little sister’s puberty mood swings.
                    Stella looked down at herself, startled. She had forgotten about the fall, and the blood. She was too busy desperately trying to hide her sister’s mangled bike. Wow, she thought. Good thing Christina is so self-absorbed. I don’t know what I would’ve said if she had asked what happened. She stifled a laugh. The idiocy! The stupidity of the entire situation suddenly hit her. On Monday, her sister would need her bike to ride to school, as usual. Stella gave up on her elaborate plan, realizing that she wouldn’t be able to hide the accident forever. Her family would look for the bike, or her awkward, guilty behavior would give her away first, and then she would have to face the consequences. She thought of how disappointed they would be in her, and her lingering smile dropped into a frown. She stared pensively at her feet. This was something that she had to take responsibility for. Her life was now a whole lot simpler because she knew exactly what to do. The idea flashed across her mind as if it had been there the entire time, concealed by her instincts of self-preservation. It was the truth.

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Analysis

                     In my story, I describe a girl named Stella who takes her sister Christina’s bike without asking for permission, and ends up falling off the bike, crashing it, and hurting herself. She is so upset and scared of getting in trouble that she goes to great lengths to cover up what she has done by hiding the bike in her garage. When she finally goes inside the house, she tries to sneak past her sister and avoid confrontation, but she is stopped and questioned. Her sister, who doesn’t think that anything serious is going on, doesn’t press her too much, and instead returns to watching TV. However, she points out all of Stella’s cuts and scrapes, which Stella had forgotten about because she was so preoccupied with the ordeal. Suddenly, Stella realizes that she completely overreacted. Trying to cover up the accident was a mistake because her family will probably find out what happened at some point anyway. She acted on instinct, and her first impulse was to save herself from punishment. However, she didn’t think about how her behavior would affect her other family members. They would be disappointed in her, even more so because she did not take responsibility for her actions. Stella finally accepts responsibility and decides to tell her family the truth, even though she will be punished.

                     My fictional story communicates the same idea that is shown in One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich. Ivan Denisovich, or Shukhov, lives in a Russian work camp, and he is forced to adapt to terrible conditions. It’s freezing cold, he works long hours every day, and he doesn’t have warm clothes or nutritious food. Some people in the camp receive packages from their families all the time, but he never does. Instead, he is completely reliant on himself to survive. He could easily ask for packages, but he refuses:  “He wrote to his wife and told her not to send any more...Better keep it for the kids. Though it was easier for Shukhov to feed his whole family back home than it was just to keep himself alive in the camp, he knew the price they paid for these packages and he knew he couldn’t go on taking the bread out of their mouths for ten years. So he’d rather do without” (109). Like the main character in my story, Stella, Shukhov realizes that he cannot only think about himself and his own well-being. He sees how his actions could affect his family and he accepts the responsibility of taking care of himself despite how difficult it is to stay alive. This is similar to how Stella decides to tell her family the truth even though she will be punished for it, but she realizes that it is the best and most honorable thing to do: “She would have to face the consequences. She thought of how disappointed they would be in her, and her lingering smile dropped into a frown. She stared pensively at her feet. This was something that she had to take responsibility for.” Therefore, both characters make sacrifices to do the right thing and avoid hurting their families. They accept the realities of their situations and decide to act out of love for their family members rather than for their own self-preservation.