Her Name Was Nikki

How is it that some days, you can’t recall simple, mundane things while other days, your memories are like flashbacks; vivid and all consuming?

I’ve been feeling moody all week. Frustrated. Agitated. Then your Dad had me watch a documentary with him for movie night that highlighted the injustices of America’s school system and that’s when I remembered - a woman, stopped at a red light waiting to make a right on Holden Road. I was taking Daddy to the office. She looked Hispanic. Dark curly hair with big, round eyes and a thin, heart-shaped face. Wearing a purple top.

The first non-Asian friend I made was in second grade. Miss Lim’s class. She was a skinny, frail Mexican girl with dark curly hair and big, round eyes. Her name was Nikki.

Nikki came into our class in the middle of the school year. Our teacher didn’t seem to like her very much since she talked a lot in class. Anyway, Nikki said out loud that she forgot her pencil one day, so I gave her one of mine.- a pink Hello Kitty lead pencil. The next day, she gave me a coveted grape-scented eraser and that’s how we became friends. We would check our answers together and pick each other as reading partners. We talked a lot together and Miss Lim would call us out from time to time. Most of my friends were shy and timid, and I admired Nikki’s demeanor and spirit.

But one day she came to class and you could tell something was wrong. She was so quiet. She told me that her mother’s boyfriend had hit her “here and here.” She tucked her hair behind her ear, turned her head and by the nape of her neck, a big purple bruise. She then pointed in between her legs.

We were seven.

I asked her if she wanted to tell the teacher and she said no. When we had to turn in a worksheet later, I heard her softly say “ow” getting up and it made me want to cry.

And then she stopped coming to school. The second day I didn’t see her, I told myself I would tell Miss Lim. I got as far as walking up to her desk when I finished an assignment. But Miss Lim was in a bad mood that day. She was usually nice to me and that day, she gave a curt “What?” and I lost my nerve.

On day three, I finally asked. She was no longer attending school. I never saw Nikki again. I never told anyone.

The day she told me what had happened to her, she was wearing jean shorts and a purple t-shirt.

I should have helped her and said something, and I didn't.