Who am I?

FOUR

Back in the apartment, I sit on my bed and figure what to do. Three minutes ago, I finished all the chores I needed to do relevant to the concept of moving in. Now I rest on my back on the blanket I had just set up, the sunshiny yellow patchwork smiling up at me. I like this colour. It reminds me of summer in Spain.

Wow. One day and I'm already reminiscing. Tomorrow I'm off to Leman Manhattan Preparatory School, and Summer goes there too, so hopefully I won't look like a total loner. Mamma already bought my uniform at the shopping centres, and right now she's washing them and ironing them. 

Spain was familiar and more neighbourhood-y, so there were small houses, three-storey buildings at the most, lots of gardens and footpaths. More like a community, not like skyscrapers and towers that barely anyone can remember and navigate.

I lie on my bed for another half an hour, and a hollow knock bangs on the dark wooden door. I call for them to come in and it's Mamma, along with some shy-sounding chatter.

"Sweetie," she says nervously. "I thought you were a little lonely, so there are lots of young children in this apartment, and there's this babysitting and playing with each other club, so I though since in Spain you liked entertaining the younger kids..."

I cut her off. "But that was Spain. Not here, where I don't live on the ground, where I don't know any of these kids, where I don't even have all my clothes or things!" I shout. The chatter immediately dies and I calm myself. Deep breaths. Mamma looks hurt and walks away, gently pressing her hand to her forehead.

I feel bad as soon as she's gone and want to apologise, but whoever-or whoevers- who had been talking come into the room.

There are three kids, one boy and two girls. And also a girl my age, but it isn't Summer. The older girl has luscious thick blonde hair, stunning pale blue eyes coloured dark purple on her eyelids and porcelain skin that is perfectly smooth and the same pale colour, but not the slightest bit translucent. 

The boy has black hair, brown irises and dark skin. He looks mischievous as he has high cheekbones and a devilish twinkle in his eyes. The two girls look like twins, with the same wispy brown hair, dark complexion and grey dull gentle eyes.

"So," the girl says smugly. "I'm Audrey, and we're here for socialising club? Like, your Mum signed you up for it, and we were placed into groups of three children and two teens or whatevs."

"Um... I do not understand." Great. More sympathy that I don't want or need. But strangely I don't get that, only an eyeroll and a bunch of sarcasm. 

"Honestly, your mum can speak better English and you're just straight up-or straight down-bad," Audrey complains in a whiny, annoyed voice. The girls looks at each other and one of them did something with their hands. The boy stands with them. 

"What is the thing with hands, and names of kids?" I ask, drawing the attention away from whatever Audrey was talking about. 

"Urggh. I hate introducing new, non-English speakers," Audrey snaps, "The one with the pinafore dress is Violet, and her twin's Elanor, who is lame and deaf. That's sign language. The boy is, ew, I dunno because he's a boy."

"Lachlan," the boy says solemnly. 

Violet smiles at me. "You can't hear either?" 

"I can hear, not speak good, though," I admit, but not grudgingly at all. Glaring at Audrey, who seemed glowing green with envy, I ask, "Are you Violet?"

"Yes!" she says cheerfully. Violet drags Elanor into the scene, who was timidly brushing away her hair with her fingertips. "She is Elanor." She nodded her head grimly. "She is deaf, and shy. Say hi," she ordered her sister.