how to live a life

Chapter two

"Alcina Monteiro?" My mother touches me by the arm as if I hadn't heard the secretary's call myself and I follow her to the office of my new principal Senhora Botelho. She smiles at me and I instantly know that she loves her job. Pretty sure she knows the name of every student in her school. The secretary leaves us alone and closes the door. "Please, take a seat", Senhora Botelho says and my mom and I do what we follow her demand. "We're a little late because of the traffic", my mom lies. I'm sure the principal notices it, but she answers still friendly: "Yes, the traffic in this city is annoying, so everything's fine. I just wanna make sure Alcina knows what she has to expect at her first day, after that I won't take your timer any longer." "Thank you, Senhora Botelho", I interfere because I had the feeling I should contribute something to this conversation as well. "Good, you already know my name. Do you have your Agenda for the day?" "I do", I reply and point to my bag which I just put down next to my chair. "Good. Since you're in class 11, you won't get much help, so it's important that you can organize yourself." I nod. "Absolutely no problem." My mom showed me how to manage my life alone before I knew what math or reading even is. I look at her proud smile and try to not think about these old times. Stop. Remembering. I breathe slowly and focus again on my principal. "Alright. You're already late, so I don't want to stop you anymore. Welcome at our Colégio Gonçalves - your new school. I hope you have a wonderful first day." She looks to my mom and adds: "All forms have already been filled out online." "Yes, thank you", my mom answers with a short smile. "Thank you, Senhora Botelho", I say, stand up and almost get a heart attack when I look at the time. Already five minutes late for the first lesson. Perfect. I follow my mom out into the hallway again. "I gotta go, Mamãe", I murmur. She grins as she hears the Portuguese word for mom which I don't us for her pretty often. "I know. Have fun, meu todo." I hug her briefly, then I turn around the corner into the next hallway. One second. Two seconds. Only when I hear my mom's steps fade in the other direction do I rummage out my timetable and look for the room number of my next subject. Math. It's getting better and better. Finally I discover the room number: 137. So also on the first floor. I sprint to the next best stairwell, up to the next floor and then continue along the hallway. 114, 115, 116. I run past another dozen doors. Room 137. Finally! I take a short breath and then knock energetically. "Come in," a male voice comes from the inside. I open the door, nod briefly to the gray-haired teacher and sit in the only free seat next to a boy my age. I only briefly look at him from the corner of my eye. Dark brown hair. Ice blue eyes. Corrosive grin on the face. I focus on the teacher again and frown when I notice that the two students who have just discussed a task have fallen silent. Just like the rest of the class. Even the teacher stares at me as if a corpse had entered his classroom. "Why is everybody staring at us?" I whisper to the boy next to me. He smirks and leans back on his chair with his arms crossed. "It's the first time I've let a girl sit next to me." Itry to process his answer for a few seconds. I spend more seconds understanding his arrogance. And then I answer so angry that my own voice scares me: "So you seriously believe that you have the power to forbid a girl to sit next to you? I think rather all the girls who ever had the pleasure of sitting next to you were so fucked up by you that they voluntarily sat down somewhere else." The boy only raises his eyebrows while the class falls into stunned silence. "Sweet," he says, "Really sweet, Angry." I hate it when people I don't like give me nicknames. I hear an angry clearing of the throat and turn around to the teacher in shock. "Welcome, Alcina Monteiro. If it doesn't bother you, I would continue with the lesson now." I swallow and look rigidly at the blackboard. „Sure, Senhor..." „Silveira", he finishes my sentence, still annoyed. „Yes, Senhor Silveira." „Thank you." Senhor Silveira continues with his lesson while I give my seat neighbor an evil eye. He smiles so confidently as if I had just complimented him. I immediately look back at the blackboard. What a great start.