Only a Storm

Emma and Gil - April 2

Two days prior...

"Emma!" The boy called.

I laughed and spun, darting around him toward the fence. My finger came within a hair's breadth of the latch before the back of my shirt was snagged by a grasping hand. The sudden halt unbalanced me, and I found myself toppling into my captor. We hit the ground with an oomph, me giggling as I squirmed out of Gil's hold.

He didn't let go, instead adjusting me until I was wrapped hopelessly tight in his arms. Gil was ridiculously strong for a nine-year-old. One time, when mommy saw him carrying me on his back effortlessly, (if possibly unwillingly,) she said he must listen to his mommy when she tells him to eat his veggies. When I asked him, he got this funny look on his face and said that he didn't like to eat his veggies either.

I finally gave up on freeing myself, and instead flopped over, hoping to surprise him with my full weight. He remained unsurprised. Next I decided to whine. "But why can't I leave the playground? It's not like I'm leaving the school! I just want to go to Miss Amy's classroom!"

He raised one dark eyebrow and said with infuriating calmness, "Why do you want to go to Miss Amy's classroom during recess?"

I struggled over my answer before sighing in resignation. "Because I want to check her list while she's out here to make sure that we're buddies for the trip tomorrow..." I mumbled.

Gil just gave me a look. "Emma, you know Miss Amy would change the groupings if you asked her nicely." I pouted at his response. It was too reasonable—no fun at all. Then again, that's how my best friend always was.

Since the first day of kindergarten, when Mrs. Wilson—a round-faced woman whose brown hair had just begun graying at the temples—had us all introduce ourselves, Gilead Castilis had been much too grown up and serious. He'd acted like a kid twice his age, and sighed in annoyance when the teacher asked him to come up. After he said his name, Mrs. Wilson asked him to tell us more about himself. He tried to ignore her, walking back to his spot in the circle. I didn't let him. I jumped out of my place, blocking him.

"Our teacher asked you something. You have to answer!" I announced, crossing my arms and glaring up at him.

He stared in disbelief. "I don't want to."

"This is school!" I shot back. "My mommy says that we have to do what the teacher tells us."

Mrs. Wilson interrupted. "It's fine sweetie, we can come back to him in the end if he isn't ready yet."

I nodded firmly, saying "Okay then," and turned to go back to my spot.

I hardly had time to notice how the rest of the circle was watching me with wide eyes when a hand wrapped around my arm. "Wait," Gilead said. "She's already standing up. Shouldn't she introduce herself now?" He stared at me challengingly.

Mrs. Wilson looked despairing, as if the situation was spiraling out of her control, but nodded. "Yes, that's a good idea, Gilead." She turned her attention to me. "And what's your name sweetie?"

I took a deep breath, noting the look on the face of dark haired boy who'd yet to let go of my arm. He thought I was taking a breath because I was nervous. Ha. "I'm Emmuska Magdolna Rozália Mária Jozefa Borbála Batori. I was named after Mommy's favorite author, Baroness Emmuska Magdolna Rozália Mária Jozefa Borbála Orczy de Orci." I enjoyed the shocked looks on every face in the classroom. "But you can call me Emma," I added with my most angelic smile.