They Called Her Izana

The Bench for Introverts

The day of the admission test had finally arrived. Izana hadn't eaten anything since the morning. The school was on the other side of the city, where she lived, and she wasn't friends with transport vehicles. In short, She always starts vomiting after three minutes of sitting in any vehicle.

Izana arrived at the university among the first. Carefully, she registered herself and signed all the important documents. Then, she gave one secretary lady the choker she had made, it would be waiting for her in the test room, where she would face the group of professors.

After completing the formalities, she sat on the introverted bench and observed the other Nasussian her age. Three-quarters were male. She had expected a larger majority.

Everyone, like her, was dressed exceptionally well.

Another thing Nasussians were obsessed with was old-fashioned clothing. All the sweaters, ties, blouses, long skirts, and tuxedos looked like somebody stole them from a museum.

She pretended not to know anyone. But she did—almost all of them. She had attended school with some of them and others from her father's business trips. Another perk of being born with a silver spoon in your mouth. Everyone knows you, and you know everyone. Some even greeted her. She responded politely, Izna hoped that she managed to inform her father about the exam faster than the so-called "quick gossip."

At the appointed time, her surname echoed from the classroom, followed by the ugly sound "Izaniko." She moved her glasses and, under the gazes of those who wanted to make sure it was her, disappeared into the room.