The Treasure

                All red hair people are the same; they always get annoyed for anything you tell them. Well, at least I knew one who was the total opposite. He was the nicest ginger I’ve ever met, and he was incredibly smart too. His name was Zack, and he was my brother. Zack never got mad at anyone, and he was always in a good mood. He used to play baseball. He was a left-handed too. If you mixed those two things together, you’d get Zack’s most valuable treasure.

            Zack’s treasure was a left-handed fielder’s baseball mitt, which had poems all over the fingers and pocket written in green ink, so that whenever there was no batter up, he could have something to do. Like I said, he was smart. He really was. Zack had turned a used old mitt, into the thing he most loved, plus, he had a piece of his favorite things: baseball, poetry, and even me. I had given him that glove and that was why he valued it so much. The day I got that glove was just my very lucky day. It was like a miracle.

            We’d spent all morning looking for a lefty mitt and surprisingly, we had absolutely no luck at all in the 3 stores we tried. Zack wanted that mitt very badly; he needed it to join the team. After we checked the third store, he had no hope left. Old Zack was too disappointed by not finding his mitt, so he didn’t come to the movies with me that day.

            After I got out from the theater, I was lost in thought with poor Zack and his non-existing mitt, so I decided to go to this sports store down by central park. It was pouring rain that afternoon but I didn’t mind, I’d do anything for Zack’s happiness and the store wasn’t that far. I turned the corner and I noticed I was suddenly running towards the store, and I must have been very wet because when I came in the store, the man looked as if he wanted to dry me up as soon as possible. I sort of smiled at him, but my eyes searched the store for the baseball section and I felt extremely nervous. What if there were no mitts left? I wouldn’t want to think of seeing Zack disappointed when I got home, but there it was, sitting on the shelf along with ten others, a left-handed fielder’s mitt, as if I were meant to be here to find it.

            I bought the mitt with the biggest smile on my face-despite how soaked and cold I was–I dashed home across the wet streets. I kind of felt like Santa on a rush, taking the last present to the boy who most deserved it.  And indeed it was that way, Zack’s smile spread from ear to ear as soon as he touched the mitt. It sent the electrical current through his body and lit his whole face up.

            Zack played like a maniac. He loved that glove, and loved me for it. I noticed he had put some poems all around it and then later on I saw him reading on the field while no one was batting. He used that glove for every single game he played and even though it was getting weary, Zack seemed to value it even more. Zack was very brilliant. He knew that some things are more valuable than others, even though they don’t shine. At home, my mom always use to get letters from the teachers, saying what a pleasure it was to have a kid as smart as him in their classes. They really loved Zack, but then again, who wouldn’t?

            I bet you already noticed the “was” when I’m talking about him, that’s because he’s dead. He died at only eleven years old; he was only two years younger than I was. It happened in Maine, at our cousin’s house during the summer. It was devastating. Zack died from Leukemia. It completely broke my heart, and I was so pissed that I slept in the garage that same night. I was irate, furious, ten times as much as that. There are no words for how I felt. I took it out on the windows of the garage. I broke them all with my fist. It really hurt, but Zack’s loss hurt even more.

            I can’t make a good fist now because I broke my hand. So besides the mitt, I also have the permanent injury of my hand that reminds me of Zack, every single day. After the window incident, they wanted to send me to a psychiatrist, they thought I was mad, but I didn’t mind, all I wanted was to have Zack back. I really miss Zack, and the pain in my hand is nothing compared to the pain of going through Zack’s loss, it’s just too much. His treasure is now my treasure; it’s the only thing I have left from Zack, the only red haired I have ever loved.