epiphany | damian x anya

09｜ripple of courage

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"No, I don't wanna study!" I squealed, my little feet pounding the plush carpet as I darted around the living room like a comet escaping its orbit. "No!"

"Now, hold on. We agreed to start studying at 5 pm." Papa's voice was calm and steady, an anchor in my tempest of protest. He effortlessly scooped me up from the floor, my small form light in his strong arms.

"Ugh! No! No!" I squirmed in his embrace, my efforts futile against his gentle but firm hold.

To be honest I would've gotten a higher mark if I had chosen the right person to copy from. Turned out Ava-Rose, who was sitting near the window, was terrible at Maths. Next victim was Becky.

Anya's going to start figuring out who's the best to cheat off from now. And which subject each of them is good at. Then, Anya will get the perfect score! I plotted with a mischievous grin, envisioning my academic shortcuts as a thrilling caper. It was a brilliant plan, really. The best plan, actually. I intended to prove to Papa that I was ready for his spy missions.

This is going to take a long while. The realization loomed over me like a dark cloud.

There are other ways of earning Stella Stars besides academics. I heard Papa's thoughts, hope floating through his mind. I could feel it. And it was starting to influencing me too.

"Hmm...how about we start doing some art instead of studying?" Papa suggested, disrupting my schemes with a tempting alternative.

"Yeah!" I cheered, my mood instantly brightening.

Father fetched some art supplies from an old, weathered toolbox—an eclectic mix of crayons, colored pencils, markers, and paint. After a moment's deliberation, he chose crayons, their familiar waxy smell bringing back a flood of memories from the orphanage.

"Good luck, Anya." Mama's hand rubbed my back.

Father watched with curiosity as I guided the yellow crayon across the white sheet of paper, followed by streaks of blue, purple, and, finally, the one and only pink one. To draw the eyes and mouth.

"Hey, that's pretty cool. Um, is that a cheetah?" Papa guessed, his eyes squinting slightly as he tried to guess.

I shook my head, my hair ornaments bouncing.

"No...wait...it's a panda!" He corrected himself.

Again, I shook my head.

"A horse?" Mama suggested, her eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

"No, it's moo cow. From school," I stated plainly, my lips pursing in a serious pout.

"Oh."

Next was music. Father handed me a small, elegant instrument that looked like a mini guitar but with a stick.

"Uh, no Anya. That's not how it's supposed to work." He quickly reclaimed it just as I started to strum. "This is a violin. You don't play it like a guitar. You play it like this."

A beautiful melody filled the room once Papa glided the bow across the violin's strings, the sound rich and warm, floating through the air like a gentle breeze.

"Lemme try!" I insisted, my eyes sparkling with determination.

What followed was anything but melodious—a screech that made Papa wince slightly and Mama cover her ears with a laugh.

"Let's try something else!"

The last trial was sports; Father handed me a "rope jump". Finally something that I knew. I recognized it from the playground where the older kids showed off their skills.