The Girl With No Last Name (The Girl #1)

Ready?

Chapter 4:
Ready?

When we get home, I go and sit on a chair in front of the TV and wait for Ahmed's questioning to start.

"What happened?" he commences.

"I couldn't hold back on what I knew. I got a thrill out of answering questions I guess,"

"Okay. So certainly they're gonna put you somewhere not your age. And then you'll be somewhat free to participate and flaunt your knowledge all you like, but it will also mean you'll gain attention." He grimaces.

I sigh, "I know. But I just couldn't..."

"It's okay." He gives me a we'll-figure-it-out look.

*****

Over the next few weeks, there's sort of a brimming tension in our lives. It continues to increase as the days pass. We are to receive my admission email on the 1st of August, giving us a month and a few days to the first day of school. We bought my uniform a few days ago. It was the standard white chemise, navy knee length pleated skirt, shin length white socks, and black classic shoes. I also went and got my vaccinations (ugh! not a pleasant experience) hence I am completely ready for school and just awaiting my material list and the school handbook.

On the night preceding the 1st of August, I hardly slept at all. I kept thinking of which grade I'd be put in and kept dwelling on the what-ifs. Unsurprisingly, my worries chased me into unconsciousness where they presented themselves in the form of extremely vivid dreams...

I am at school and am surrounded by a mixture of students and teachers who look at me with accusing eyes, and I feel a sense of embarrassment and irritation. One boy steps forward and says with a ringing voice, "I know what you are" and all of the on-watchers step backward rhythmically and the circle slowly dissipates and I am left in a spotlight of darkness and loneliness, when that same mirage of a lion appears, glowing like the sun. The darkness abruptly fades and the retreating figures gather again with awe and happiness replacing the unspoken accusation on their faces. I feel a surge of gratitude towards the apparition, and I feel like we're suddenly the best of friends.

I wake up feeling optimistic as opposed to my apprehension last night. Must be my subconscious' way of telling me everything is gonna work out. Well, it certainly fared much better than dad's attempts at cheering me up. Another appearance to my lion. I owe him big time now; first the incident in the street last... well, you remember it, then the day with the scrambled eggs, and now cheering me up like this. I really need to know what that thing was.

Abruptly, words I've forgotten itch at the back of my mind: control me, master me and I'll help you. And then there was that presence and voice at the interview. What if it was the same thing, what if they were all linked!

How could I control that mirage? I try to remember what dad had said about me calling it. He had said I'd spoken a different language. How could I speak a language without knowing? Comparing the different incidents, I realize it came out only when I was in immediate danger. Reaching out with my mind, I concentrated on summoning my perpetual savior. Hey, you there? I felt utterly stupid, calling to my mind, but what other options did I have? I make a couple more futile attempts before I give up.

Still wrapped up in my good mood, I skip down the stairs. Grabbing a box of cereal and a carton of milk, I prepare my breakfast for the day.
"Did you check your email yet?"
"Hmmm?" Apparently, I'd pulled him out of another train of thought.
"No, not yet."
"Well, will you?" I jump up and down in excitement.
"Okay. Okay" he holds his hands out as if taming a wild animal. He takes his phone and taps a bit and says, "come look." I zoom towards him, catch the phone in excitement –it nearly slips from my hands in my hurry–, and start reading.

Dear Mr. Said,
We're pleased to inform you that your child has been accepted at Penn Elementary and Middle School. She will commence her courses of eighth grade on the 7th of September. Please find attached the material list and the school handbook.
Best Regards,
Lucia Jones.
Penn Elementary and Middle School.
Too stunned for words, I keep staring at the phone. Eighth grade is a bit too much, even for me. Looks like it will be an interesting year. When I get over the initial shock, I ask excitedly, "when can we go get the materials?"
Ahmed turns to me with a smile on his face. "Whenever you want."
"Oh, can we please go today? Please please pleeeeeeaaaaaase." Chuckling at my childish attitude, he nods. "Of course."