Word of Honor

Chapter Four: Evolution

Days, months, years had passed, I still could not move on from my brother Charles' death. Yet Mom and Dad seem to proceed their typical selves, keeping his pictures beside their bed, watching them every night before heading for deep sleep.

Moreover, I am sort of staying in the same place, miserably struggling to take a large step forward. But my illness has been treated well during these times.

The uncovered letter is yet hidden from me and no other clue of it is given. I tumble on the thought of knowing what is in the letter sometimes, but I know it would not happen.

A brand new, no, ordinary surroundings emerges itself into sight. It is a field with one of each known amusement facility; high monkey bars, see-saw ready to be balanced by cheerful children, the merry-go-round with families, swings with children adjoining, and a sandbox, where I am currently sitting. Sand swallows both my bare hands whole as I press them with my might.

Laughter and delight fills the park, the cars not far speeding through the town. The sunlight is not burning so much at this moment, strange.

I giggle, what a promising day to be here! A masculine figure comes in front of me right on the spot. His facial features turn clear after the sunlight flickers. It is my brother Charles.

"Lil' Charmi, let's play together! Do you want to build a sand castle?" He sits down with me and smiles.

When I am about to reach out my hand to him, the scene darkens, and light cuts in.

"Charmi?" Chloe Liwold is waving her hands in front of my drained face. "You dozing off? You still in class, get up."

Being dragged back to the present with massive difficulty, I blink my eyes to adjust to the human-made white and blinding lights. I watch as a man on a podium with lengthy, pitch black robes and thin glasses behind a lecturn nodded at Chloe. The professor must have directed her to wake me up, obviously. Demanding to believe, I went to senior high sophomore recently, and today had merely begun. That dream, which felt so real, made it feel like one hundred years ago.

At the age of sixteen, it does not reach any requirement for me to feel unreal already. I cannot help but think about the fact that this is the age Charles has... deceased. There is no other sinking feeling this severe than this.

I was excited for coming of age before. Nevertheless, events change people's perspectives.

Rows and rows of polished desks circled the podium, which seemed quite old fashioned. Students sitting on their chairs with a backrest cannot remain concentrated for an hour and three quarters properly, and the participation of the class discussions is decreasing more and more as the time goes.

Then, Chloe peeks at the professor and throws me a comfortable pillow to sleep on in secrecy. I smile. She beams, covering her mouth with her palms, too. I turn away from her and spare my blurry eyes filled with tears.

The clock's short hour hand shows eight o'clock sharp as I glance at the back of the classroom, losing track of time. A male classmate catches my eyes unconsciously for a split second and swiftly looks in other directions.

Why do schools need students to wake up so early at seven before midday? It would definitely not hurt to transfer these classes a few minutes later. Surely they understand how traffic is considered an inevitable matter and causes me loads of hurdles? And do not get me started on the days when I arrive at school late.

I could not imagine someone to honestly attempt to welcome my negative thoughts, not until I met Chloe Liwold.

Chloe Liwold is my sublime best friend, she has a habit of putting her hair up to a foolproof high ponytail. Her style tends to be more refreshing, she looks beautiful either way if you ask me though. Chloe is shy when in public, that is for sure. Her beige red eyes, her pale brown bangs, it is too perfect to be true. She only turns loco when she is out of school with me, or in my house, more comfortably. Maybe being too perfect could be tiring.