This story first appeared in the November/December edition of Vacaville Magazine.

Elijah Williams’ football helmet and jersey can only hide so much. His disfigured face and arms are impossible to conceal, and the 11-year-old’s life would be much easier if he could do so.

Williams has become accustomed to people staring and asking about his condition. He is more than willing to share the story of the accident nearly 11 years ago. He truly has nothing to hide.

Fun is the name of the game for Williams, who never backs away from contact. He dishes it out.

“Football’s a cool sport,” he said.

His Junior Pee Wee teammates with the Vacaville Junior Bulldogs already know Williams’ story. They prefer to measure Williams by his determination rather than count his skin grafts and scars.

“Kids can be brutally honest,” said Williams’ head coach, Pariz Nunez. “They treat him like anybody else. I don’t think (teasing Williams) has crossed their minds. I’ve never had to deal with that.”

Any player to pick on Williams would have to deal with his cousin and teammate, D’Ontae Harvey. The two might as well be brothers, Nunez said, because they are as close as close can be.

“They have a special bond,” Nunez said.

 Nunez has been a youth football coach long enough to have compiled a list of players he will never forget. Williams may not be at the top of the list, but he certainly counts as one of Nunez’s favorites.

“He’s a hard worker,” Nunez said. “It’s just his attitude. He never complains. I treat him like any other kid because that’s the way he wants to be treated. He doesn’t want to be any different.”

Williams is different, however. He tackled more adversity in his first year on this planet than some people will face in a lifetime. One day in his grandmother’s kitchen changed his life forever.

 “I just have to deal with it,” he said.

Williams has several scars. They will always remind him of his misfortune, but he will not let them define him. He has no memory of the accident, being that he had not reached his first birthday.

His mother, Lakisha, went shopping for Christmas gifts in December 2000 and took her son to her mother’s house. Annie Price kept an eye on Williams as she was cooking in the kitchen.

Williams was just learning to walk and had a habit of grabbing anything within reach to lift himself from the floor. The handle of a kitchen cabinet got him started, but Williams reached out again.

His hand found its way to the cord of a deep fryer. Williams yanked on it in trying to stay upright.

Price turned to find her grandson covered in scorching grease. She called 911, then her daughter.

“I thought (Price) was lying,” Lakisha recalled. “Then she called me by name – “Lakisha, listen to me!’ That’s when I knew something was wrong. I went right to her house to see Elijah.”

By the time Lakisha arrived, Williams had been loaded into the ambulance for a trip to UC Davis Medical Center in Sacramento. The paramedics did not allow an emotional Lakisha to see her son.

Lakisha saw him for the first time in the emergency room and learned her son’s life was in jeopardy. Williams suffered third-degree burns over 40 percent of his body. His face had disappeared.

“They didn’t think he was going to make it,” Lakisha said. “He was burned pretty bad, and grease burns are one of the worse. His face was bad. His arms were worse. But he made it. He did.”

Williams’ road to recovery went from UC Davis Medical Center to Shriners Hospital. His face was repaired with a single skin graft. His charred arms took much more work to mend Lakisha said.

Once the doctors were finished, Lakisha began the task of rebuilding her son’s spirit – especially once Williams was old enough to figure out that he looked different than other children.

Lakisha started by telling her son about the accident and followed by coaching him on how to respond to questions. She knew they would be coming whenever her son wore short sleeves.

“I notice people asking him what’s wrong. They’re just curious,” she said. “I always tell him to tell them the whole story. A lot of people don’t see burn patients. He’s the same as anyone else.”

There are many chapters still to be written in Williams’ story, and Lakisha looks forward to reading them.

“I’m always telling him that he’s handsome,” Lakisha said. “He doesn’t surprise me. He amazes me.”