Introverts

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Bel

It is right after lunch when Maman calls me. Her voice sounds panicked.

"Allo? Ana? I need your help!" Her accent is thicker than normal, which happens when she's worried.

"Maman? What's wrong? Are you alright?"

I hear a deep sigh. "I am fine, but your sister isn't. She has been crying ever since she woke up wanting you. I swear I could tell people she is your daughter and they would believe me. Can you calm her?"

She isn't wrong. "D'accord (alright), ok, uh, just put her on the phone." I grin. The little one definitely loves her big sister.

Suddenly I hear a small voice. "Vio? Est-ce vous? (Is that you?)" She may be only four but her French is better than most high schoolers learning it.

"Oui, minou, it's me. Why is maman calling me telling me you have been crying for me? You know that I can't stay with you when you are sick." I sigh as she sniffles. "I know, but I always feel better when you're with me." The bell rings signaling class has begun.

"Well Lottie Lou, can you please not cry and wait until I'm out of school? Please? For me?" She hiccups. "O-ok, I will. I will see you after school, no?"

Chuckling, I respond, "Oui Lou but I will be gone at seven until after you are asleep. But I know that you are a big girl and will be ok, right?" She whines. "Yes, Vio... I love you." She seems a bit more content. "Alright, I love you too, bye-bye." She sniffles once more and hangs up.

Ever since my mother and father went missing, Charlotte has become more and more restless. Although it happened when she was only 2 years old, her subconscious seems to still realize something's missing. Thankfully we've had Maman, my grandmother from France, come down to help us until I'm of age and can take care of Charlotte on my own. You would never guess Maman was seventy-eight by looking at her. I guess it's true when people say that black don't crack.

"Anabelle, can you please explain to me why your phone is still on your desk?", the teacher snapped.

I don't know. Can I? The sarcasm that I know so well gets stuck in my throat and I reply with a choked "Sorry ma'am, it won't happen again."

The worst part about being from another country and not only that, but being black is that six other white girls in the rows among me are on their phones.

With nothing to do (besides listen to the teacher's lecture over how bad cell phones are to our generation) I begin to daydream.

I wonder how tonight is going to go. All of my small circle will be going, and it's a movie I can't wait to see, so why do I feel anxious? Oh... right. Mark has invited Louis along. I don't blame him. I mean, he is a part of the symphony (a very significant one, of course), but things have been even more awkward than usual, considering this year had to be the year Louis grew into his lanky body and his surprisingly tall build. Hopefully all will go well and I can overcome my beating heart for everything to become normal again. After all, it's not too often that a boy like him likes a girl like me.

•

After the last bell, I get home as fast as I can and comfort Charlotte. Maman says she's just got a little cold, but Charlotte couldn't be any more dramatic. The only words coming out of her whimpers are "I'm dying. I'm dying." I kiss her on the forehead before leaving because I know I won't be back before she's asleep. I'm so nervous about tonight that I'd rather be the one home sick.

Guess who's back? So I kinda wrote half of this in 15 minutes so if it sounds weird tense wise, I'm sorry, I'll clean it up later. The top photo is a photo of my high school field house from the seventies btw. Like and follow, loves!! ✔️🖤