Amy Adele Allen didn’t have the striking beauty of Tut-Tut nor the cuteness of Julie. Her look could best be described as exotic. Her close-cropped raven colored hair and olive skin set her apart from most and her small, dark-rimmed glasses added an air of studiousness which fit her persona perfectly.
She was called “straight A’s” not only for the obvious reason but also because of her brains. She too had made the Superlative list as, hands down, “most likely to succeed.” She was an auditory eidetic. If she heard a story, a phrase, a speech or a definition once, the words became visible text in her mind. Students and teachers alike were stunned by her perfect total recall.
It was unclear where she got her remarkable memory. Her father was the vice-president of the local steel company and although clearly intelligent, he would oftentimes come home having forgotten to pick up the gallon of milk her mother had just called and requested as he was leaving the office.
Her mother was a homemaker, who ran the house with the efficiency of a well-oiled machine but would sometimes spend hours looking for the cigarettes she had misplaced or important papers that needed attention. Amy once suggested that she make notes. Her mother said she did but then she couldn’t remember where she put the notes.
In school, Amy carried her books with her but never opened one other than for display purposes while in class. When asked how she was able to give a proper assigned “book report” she smiled and said “I read the first page, the middle page and the last page.”
With her extraordinary gift for writing and smooth verbal skills, her reports not only fooled even the most discerning teachers, they impressed them.
She also had an artistic flair. She used to draw figures of beautiful women for boys to hang on the inside of their locker doors. She could whip out a picture with such casual aplomb that it left everybody completely awestruck. She was the one who was always called on to provide illustrations for any upcoming events and was the go-to person for the layout and design of the schools’ yearly annual.
Her art teacher urged her to go to school to pursue a career at the local newspaper, drawing advertisements or perhaps even being a sketch artist for the police department. Amy could have placated her but instead balked at the idea and told her that she had absolutely no interest in an art career. It angered the teacher who reprimanded her with “you have a God-given talent and you are wasting it.”
Amy wasn’t yet sure where she wanted life to take her. She toyed with the idea of doing research and maybe going down in history as the one who found a cure for cancer or maybe she could finally answer the mystery of why people had to sleep. The need for those little slices of death had always fascinated her.
She only knew that she wanted to leave a mark.
To be continued____________________