A CHERN for the best

I stared down at a blank piece of college ruled notebook paper, as my unruly long blonde hair began to tumble over my glasses. The blue and red lines stared back at me menacingly, almost as if they were challenging me. 

“Fill us up with words, April,” the lines on the page chanted in unison, “Give us life, give us meaning.”

Writing. Why did my downfall always come to writing? Even when I was a young kid in elementary school, writing workshops had always been a nightmare. Most, if not all of the other kids had their eyes glued to their papers during those times, scribbling anxiously as they concocted their latest literary masterpieces. 

As for me? I sat in my chair and stared at the paper, just about the same way I was doing now. I kept my eyes peeled at all times to make sure my teacher wasn’t wandering through the rows of desks.

Even though my writing skills didn’t matter much back in elementary school, now it was much different. Now I’m a highschool freshman, and my English teacher just happens to eat essays for breakfast. In fact she probably eats them for lunch and dinner too, maybe a midnight snack.

Her name was Mrs. Chernich, and I knew that we probably wouldn't get along when the first thing she told us was that she loved to grade essays more than anything. 

On top of that Mrs. Chernich was old school, and just plain old at that too. On the eve of our first deadline her old gray self declared that she wanted each of our essays handed in as hard copies, no matter what. Why, you may ask? Because of her favorite prized writing utensil, Her ballpoint red pen. By the time Mrs. Chernich was done editing a student's essay, it had more red on it than a bloody apple in the middle of the Ohio Buckeyes Stadium.

To be honest, I was completely befuddled when our first essay was handed back. I couldn’t tell if the paper was my old essay or an abstract art piece the way strange shapes and words appeared all over the document. I’d done essay’s before, but I had never seen them marked up like this. It made it seem like every other English teacher I had was very pitiful for me, or very underqualified. Mrs. Chernich found problems in my essay that I didn’t even know existed until her ref pen marked them to my attention.

To make matters worse, that particular essay was supposed to be the easy one, because we just had to write about ourselves. That was pretty straightforward, because we all know ourselves. It was nothing like our current assignment, and this one was much more of a predicament. Our current assignment bore the prompt from Mrs. Chernich that asked us what exactly we would change about the world. 

Sure the world was messed up beyond belief but that was the problem. I was struggling with complete choice overload. Sure, I also believed that the world would be a better place if I had a million dollars, and I could probably write an entire essay on the stuff I would buy with the money. However Mrs. Chernich gave us one limitation, we could not be superficial. She wanted us to be benefactors in a sense, make the world better for not only us, but for others.

I hastily snapped back to reality and sure enough while I had been out of it, aimless doodles had appeared on my page. It has become a bad habit of mine recently. I exhaled quickly, and crumpled up the piece of paper, and chucked it behind my head to the general direction of my wastebasket. 

Suddenly, front doorbell rang and echoed through the house, and I tried to tone it out. It was probably someone from my moms stupid book club.

“Honey, come here for a second,” my mom called from the front of the house. I hoped this wasn’t another stupid ploy to get me to come read with her and her creepy friends.

I raced down the hallway to the front door wondering what she could possibly want when she pulled a large box into my vision. I was confused until I saw the company’s logo on the side of the box, FusionSpark Technologies.

“You actually ordered it?” I asked, her jaw nearly detaching her skull. I knew my family wasn’t exactly the best financially, and making a big purchase like this surely had to put some sort of strain on our finances. “You did NOT!”

For the past year I had been talking about a special computer that I wanted more than anything in my life even though I know our chances of getting it were extremely slim. I was the child in the family and I never got any new technology, even when I argued that I could use it for school. Both my TV and graphing calculator had come from thrift stores.

“Of course I bought it sweetheart,” my mom assured me, when she saw my shocked face. “Believe it or not, I actually bought it from a third party website and got a pretty good deal. Leave it to your mom for some frugal shopping, huh? We figured we could splurge on this since you can use it for college and highscool.”

I rolled my eyes at her mom playfully, still in shock. It was still hard to believe, even with the box in front of me.

“Third party, I hope it wasn’t some sketchy website,” I continued, feeling suddenly skeptical. The last thing I needed was a computer assembled at a Temu factory, sure to break down in a couple days.

“What are you waiting for,” my mother coaxed softly. “Open the box already!”

I didn’t have to be told twice, as soon as I heard my mothers words of encouragement, I dropped down to the floor and began slicing the packing tape with her sharp fingernails.

“Ohh, do you need a knife for the tape?” my mom asked, excitement filling her to the brim.

This behavior was typical of my mother. Even though this was a gift for me, she was probably even more excited about it than me. My mom much preferred being a giver than a receiver, and she wouldn’t have it any other way. For every gift giving holiday that we participated in, my mother was sure to get everybody what they wanted. 

Even if the gift was so completely out of reach you couldn’t even fathom receiving it, like this very moment. She always found a way to come through, the more difficult the gift was to obtain, the more fun it was for her.

“I’ve got the box covered,” I confirmed, prying the cardboard box flaps open, revealing its contents. Sure enough it wasn’t a Temu computer to my great relief. It was exactly what I was expecting. The FusionSpark Technologies SuperComputer Two. All of the technology from the world’s best machines packed into the size of an average laptop. 

“This day couldn’t get any better,” I whispered, barely audible. “What website did you find that was affordable?.” 

I thought of some of my friends in the technology club at school. A lot of them, just like me, would die to get this computer for a good price. Since these things were brand new, they were sold out practically anywhere, and fetched a pretty penny second hand.

“Sure let me find the website I used,” my mom said, unlocking her phone and scrolling through her internet browser. “Huh...weird.”

“What is it?” I asked, inching up to get a better look. Peering over her shoulder, a simple but frustrating message appeared.

Error. Webpage not found.

“That is weird” I said, perplexed. “Well send me the link if you can get back to it.” My suspicion was that it probably was some sort of scam website, and it was nothing short of a miracle that the package arrived, much less that our credit card info wasn’t stolen. At least I hoped our credit card wasn’t stolen.

“Alright, I'll let you get to it,” my mom smiled brightly, breaking my thoughts up. “I have a book club soon, the girls will start arriving any minute, and I know you have a big essay due soon.”

Right. My stupid essay. Thanks for reminding me mom. I trudged back to my room in disdain, toting the sleek device between my right arm and my body.

When I got back to my desk, I got to admire the true beauty of the laptop. It had a sleek black finish, which I cracked open immediately. The interior boasted a light up keyboard, and the keys had a clicking sensation that sounded like perfection in my ears. The compact, but perfectly sized screen was glossy, clean, and illuminated brightly with the company’s logo when I powered the laptop up.

I quickly sped through the personalization settings so I could use the computer. I opened up the document editor and after some careful consideration I decided to take a shot in the dark and began to type on the keyboard.

“For me I would make the world a better place by easing my family’s financial problems,” I repeated to myself as I typed the words slowly. This felt more genuine than any more of my other ideas. My parents had been struggling financially since I was born, and they’ve never been able to completely get their footing. Something always happened to set us back financially. First it was our attic caving in after a big snowstorm, then it was our basement flooding during a dam break, then my dad was laid off from his job at our steel factory, and he had to settle for an entry level position somewhere else making quite a bit less money.

I sat with myself for a couple minutes, completely lost in my thoughts when somebody knocked at my bedroom door. I closed out of the document quickly, embarrassed of the contents and started pretending to play a game that came preloaded with the computer called Lost Lumberjacks.

“Come in,” I called over my shoulder, expecting my mother. Surely she had to be curious about the new laptop, who wouldn’t be. To my astonishment my dad appeared in the doorway, with a strange look plastered on his face. 

“Your mother told me the new laptop came today, and I figured I'd come take a look,” he said, peering at my screen and catching a glimpse of my game. “Hey, aren’t you supposed to be writing an essay?”

“I guess, so, just figured i’d have a little fun before I have to focus,” I mumbled, my face flushing pink with embarrassment. “You know how much I love writing, i’m not exactly eager to get to it. Was there something else you needed?”

My father’s cryptic look was really throwing me off. Something weird about my father was that he was absolutely horrible at keeping secrets. When I was younger he’d accidentally leaked the information to me that my goldfish had died, when my mother had told me a story where he escaped to the ocean. Understandably this information had me in emotional turmoil, which my mother was not happy about. His face now was the same sly look he always had when he was keeping something behind closed doors. 

“I guess, the cat’s out of the bag,” he said, eyes glued to the floor. “I was going to wait until after dinner to give the news, but what the heck. I was selected for a big promotion at work!”

I thought he was kidding at first but his demeanor remained dead serious.

“How big of a promotion?” I asked, holding my breath. 

“Almost double my current salary,” he said, a smile tugging at the edges of his lips. “This family isn’t going to have to worry about money anytime soon.”

My eyes widened to the size of pie plates, and I took a good look at dad. The sparkle in his eyes had returned for the first time in a while. He seemed truly happy.

“I don’t know what to say,” I said “Congratulations.”

“Thank you April,” he smiled. “It's about time this family got back on its feet. I'm going to take us out to dinner tonight, so get ready to go soon.”

When he left my room and was out of earshot, I sprinted to the door and locked it quickly. I ran back to my laptop and flipped it open.

Quickly I reopened the document editor and stared at the words that I had typed again. I was completely speechless, as I reread the sentence over and over again. How could this be possible? Did my writing trigger my father’s promotion? That couldn’t possibly be it, right? 

I guess there was only one true way to find out. What else could make my life just a little bit easier? I spun around in my chair a bit, and thought about my assignment. What were the chances that I could make this essay assignment a lot easier for myself? I quickly typed in the words right below my previous sentence.

I wish I could write better essays.

As soon as I pressed the enter key my body entered a frenzied state in which I had nearly no control over. It felt like I was watching a movie in fast forward, except it was my own life. My fingers moved quickly over the keys in ways I had never seen any other person do before, at speeds that were inhuman. After only thirty seconds, It seemed like my work was finished. I looked over at the page counter and to my surprise, it said there was already eight pages of text

“Eight pages?” I shouted in disbelief. That couldn’t be possible. No human could type thousands of words in less than a minute. I looked at the essay, and to my disdain the topic was something about classical music, not a relevant topic for my needs.

My dad interrupted me by knocking on the door.

“Moms in the car, we’re ready when you are!” He shouted from the other side. “We’re going to Winston’s, your favorite!

I rolled my eyes and set the laptop back on my desk.

“I guess the world can wait to be changed until after dinner,” I said under my breath. As my dad left down the hall I had an immediate thought, and ran back to open the laptop. I had to type in one more thing so I wouldn’t forget it. 

I wish I could find happiness.

Three hours later 

I couldn’t have had a better time at that dinner. Both of my parents were in amazing moods for the first time in ages. Our waitress was amazing, and she constantly cracked jokes. We all tried something new from our favorite restaurant and loved it. My parents opted for something a bit more expensive than usual. Steak and onions for my father, and lobster tail for my mother. She didn’t even bother to ask about the market price. This was our special night. 

By the time we got back home I was so worn out, and full of food I could hibernate until winter was over. But I still had a big project on my hands. During dinner I thought about exactly what I needed to type into the document, and I did just that. I just needed to be a bit more specific with what I wanted this time. 

I wish I could write an A-plus essay for Mrs. Chernich without a single thing for her to mark with her red pen.

Sure enough, the power of the laptop consumed me again, and I typed at a frenzied lightspeed pace, until my essay was all but completed. I quickly pressed the print button, as I admired my work. Five tight pages detailing the struggles of my family and my wishes to make them happy. The word choice was immaculate, the grammar was spot on.

“If only writing was always this easy,” I muttered, stepping out of my room and down the hall to retrieve my essay from the printer. At least from now on, it seemed like it would be.

“Need any help with that essay honey?” My dad asked from the living room. “I’m probably going to go to bed soon, your mother’s already brushing her teeth.”

“Nah, I think it’s perfect,” I said, smiling.

a

“You don’t even need me to proofread?” he asked from the couch, his face scrunched up with confusion. I always asked my dad for help with homework. 

“Nope,” I said confidently, holding the stack of papers up proudly . “I have a really good feeling you or Mrs. Chernich won’t find anything wrong with this essay.” 

“If you say so,” he said, switching off the television. I guess we both better get to sleep then, we’ve got a long day ahead of us. 

That was true. Dad started his new job tomorrow, as I had learned at dinner. I nodded quickly to him and we went our separate ways.

“Wait,” my dad said, stopping me in my tracks.

“I love you April,” he said, smiling with the warmth of a million sunshines.

“Love you too dad,” I told him.

My mind raced with a million thoughts as I tried to nod off to sleep that night. I couldn’t wait to see Mrs. Chernich’s reaction when she graded it. She would probably completely flip her lid when she couldn’t find anything to mark off. To me some things were worth a lot more than money and power. As for my other wish, I think it already came true. I already possessed the power of being happy, and that came from the undying love and support from both of my parents