Murky Waters

I want to take this opportunity to thank those that helped me get to the finish line that is graduation and encouraged me all the while that my dream of becoming valedictorian was closer to becoming reality than I ever realized. To my parents, who offered support in the only ways they knew how, with uplifting words of affirmation littered around our two bedroom apartment, meals prepped so I wouldn’t have to worry about a nutritious snack for track practice or dinner after late tutoring sessions. Thank you for being so loving and understanding even when I became the worst version of myself under more stress than I’d ever known, for making the light at the end of the tunnel shine just a bit brighter, even when I refused to see it.

To the friends I’ve loved since we were those unsure fourteen-year-olds walking through unfamiliar halls for the first time, banding together with those as intimidated and fearful as we felt within ourselves, I couldn’t have done this without you. To the numerous library cram sessions jammed into already tight schedules, to crying in one another’s arms when we failed tests and thought the world was crashing down around us. When the concept of morphing identities scared us, we braced the untraversed territory together, hand in hand, and emerged the people we were meant to be. We did it, guys.

To my wonderful teachers, who pushed me, albeit a bit hard at times, because they saw the potential in me I often deemed cloudy, shrouded by the shortcomings I’d been used to experiencing academically. To Ms. Tomás in particular, who saw my passion for science and helped me soar to new heights, revealing to me my deep love for all things only minutely understood, allowing me to find my purpose in becoming a biochemistry major.

There were times I didn’t think I’d make it through high school, as absurd as it may seem now in retrospect. Even freshman year classes seemed like a far cry from what I’d learned mere months ago in middle school. I needed a release, one I was hard pressed to find. It felt as though I’d been tossed into the deep end of a pool before I’d even waded in the shallows and was told to float. It felt as though I’d barely escaped the prospect of drowning several times over when Riles was taken from me.

To most people here, Riles was known as Riley Scott, a devoted member of our class with an unbridled passion for the arts and all things in life that were showered in a color it often seemed as though only she could see. I’m going to be honest here and say when I first met Riley, I thought she was the weirdest person on earth. It was an odd sensation that struck me when I’d heard her laughter floating down the halls that first day of classes all the way back in 2021. I turned to the sound as it grated against my ears, wondering how someone could be enjoying themselves when it wasn’t even lunchtime and I was struggling to find my way to my next class. The sight of skin tanned by the Argentinian sun, chocolate brown eyes and a smile to stun wasn’t what I expected, but, afterall, I hadn’t expected much but a face to place to the source of my annoyance. In the split second I gave myself to observe, I saw she was everything that I was not. Bubbly. Flamboyant. Captivating. Though I wouldn’t have admitted it at the time, a sort of curiosity was growing within me, a curiosity that begged to be explored. But I ignored it, stifled the cry in my heart and listened to my head instead that told me to be rational, that she was someone who couldn’t match my then growing ambition and would only slow my propulsion to the top, whatever that was to me then.

Fate had other plans, however. That class I couldn’t find? I made it eventually with aid from a kind teacher–shoutout to Mr. James. When I finally arrived flustered and partially drenched in sweat from the September heat, there she was, beaming, as she locked eyes with me. Of course, the only seat available was beside her. I stifled a groan and stared up at the ceiling for a moment, binder in hand, and asked God why He was torturing me. As it turns out, He was actually placing the single person in my life that truly understood me at the time.

The going was slow initially, strained small talk started at the beginning of each history class with a random question spewed from lips reddened by her favorite lipgloss. I thought it was the most irritating thing ever, but I was never brave enough to speak up and tell her to stop talking to me. As odd as it sounds, I’m beyond thankful for my meekness back then. Before I knew it, this girl I once barely knew, thought was a nuisance even, became the sister I never had, the confidant I never thought I’d find. Riles seemed to understand people on a deeper level, sometimes seeming as though she understood them better than they knew themselves. It wasn’t an egotistical factor of her character; it was simply who she was. Forever kind, forever understanding, forever in pursuit of the goodness often buried deep within, Riley was someone who saw people for who they were, but was also somehow capable of seeing who they wished to become. She saw in me, the shy, easily irritated girl, a deeply passionate person who may have been uncertain about life and what it had in store, but was strong enough to brace herself for the storm ahead instead of crouching to cower, seeking to allow it to pass me by. She saw the person standing before you all today who was able to brave its approach, heading into its eye instead of fleeing in terror of the unknown. She urged me on, knowing the promise I held even when I couldn’t see it for myself. She was my biggest cheerleader and my greatest competition. Our rivalry was born of a desire to see one another grow, to watch as we each took a few steps closer to the manifestation of all that awaits us.

Five months ago, Riley and I headed on a walk to clear our heads after an especially brutal exam week. In retrospect, it was stupid of us to go out after dark, but the calm we desired was waiting on the other end of what was then unfounded fear. We’d been walking along her street behind her neighborhood for no more than ten minutes when someone approached us from the shadows, sharpened knife in hand. We froze in place, the steady beats of realization gradually working their ways into our minds, but her brain was always quicker than mine. Without thinking, seemingly without an ounce of fear, Riley stepped in front of me with her arms raised in surrender, whispering as quickly as her growing terror would allow her to. Go, Lilah. I thought I’d misheard her, that the panic building within me was somehow changing the words she was speaking into the insanity that had laced my ears. It came again as our pursuer neared with a gleeful smile in tow. Go, Lilah. Instead of the initial force, there was a sense of resignation, of finality, of knowing that this was where her journey of life ended. I didn’t know when the tears had started flowing, when my limbs started to tremble, but my thoughts narrowed and all I could do was respond. I love you.

And I ran. I ran like the coward that I am, not even turning back when her agonized screams rang out, as her attacker defiled my best friend and took her from me before her life could truly begin. I lived with that guilt as the investigation mounted, as her parents wailed for all around to hear. I lived with that guilt as the search for her body ended, as law enforcement regretfully informed her mother that there was no trace of her. I live with that guilt still, knowing that my cowardice cost my best friend her life. I live with it knowing that it’s nothing short of a mockery that the light she was is gone from a world that so desperately needs it, while I remain with mere memories of her warmth.

But I knew Riley, and I know she wouldn’t want me to torture myself with the wretched words of if, how and why? I knew Riley and I know she would want us to continue on using her example as our guide for our approach to the challenges of this race we call life. Riley was never found, but in her absence, a strength I didn’t know existed within me was. I challenge us all here today, adults and students alike, to preserve her memory in all that we do. Even in the seemingly inconsequential things, like watering flowers or watching loved ones. Water your roses with the care you know Riles would. Care for that sibling with a love in your eyes you know Riles would hold for the person before her, known or unknown. Continue to live with reinvigorated hope knowing that Riley would want us to be the versions of ourselves she sought to stir, to bring to life.

I miss you, Riles. I hope the riverbed is treating you well.