Eleanor's Dead

Primary School

Mom had set up a 'table' for me to eat breakfast; an upside down cardboard box with a table cloth folded in fourths covering it.

I had loved that 'table'. Unfortunately, that excitement only lasted for that one morning, something I didn't appreciate enough as I ate my cornflakes in my purple plastic bowl, carefully not filling the spoon too much and scooping slowly, trying my very best to not let a single drop of milk splatter onto my brand new uniform.

I liked this uniform. Liked how the tie was purple and black instead of brown and red. I liked that I had finally outgrown my old mary-janes and that my new ones had flowers on the rubber soles of the shoe that left imprints when I walked through mud.

Mum had taken special time on my hair that day; I sat still for once, observing my reflection in the dusty mirror that had come with the flat as she pulled my blonde hair (that turned darker as I grew older) into dutch braids, ending in purple ties.

Purple, if you haven't yet realized, used to be my favourite colour. Now it's green.

Walking down the still unfamiliar streets, my Mum led the way to the school. We'd left with plenty of time to spare, allowing us to stop to appreciate the little wonders we'd find down our path; Ms Perendale's flower shop, bees buzzing through the early morning mist from flower to flower; The Golden Bakery, the smell of freshly baked bread gently taunting us to go inside; The charity shop that only opened later in the day, which Mum promised to take me to after school ended...

Before, the walk to school was shorter. That day I found my legs slightly aching by the time we reached the tall metal gates, still vacant of parents bidding their children goodbye due to the early hour.

Mum pressed the button next to the gate, and a crackling voice emanate from the speaker.

"Who is it?" The voice asked.

"Maria Torres, It's my daughter's first day." Mum replied, squeezing my hand a little.

A few seconds of rustling papers and low muttering later; "Come in."

The small door embedded in the gate buzzed open, and we stepped inside.

We continued our way down the path leading into the main building. Paper snowflakes lined the insides of some of the windows, others had colourful flags strung up by string, some were barren, but only those on the top floor. Next to my feet, small sprouts broke their way through the bricks that marked the path, some blossoming into small flowers, others just tufts of grass, which were slowly invading from the well-kept gardens on either side of the walkway.

Now standing in front of the door, it too buzzed open, revealing a rather short woman that reminded me of my loving grandmother - that was until she opened her mouth.

"Isabel Torres?" She snapped, looking down at her clipboard through her dark-framed glasses.

"Yes." Mum replied, her face showing a restrained reaction to the woman's tone.

"You're early." She said, looking down at me through magnifying lenses, making her eyes look beady.

"We were told to be."

She hmphed. "Follow me."

---

Ms Krane's classroom seemed okay.

Finger-painted paper and scrappily made collages served as wallpaper covering the pale orange walls, and underneath the whiteboard a colourful carpet lay innocently, the complicated-looking projector hanging above it. On the door, there was a sign proudly announcing that this was the 'Panda Class'.