Qunae 'Ahmar and The Stolen Word

Did I Just Get Attacked by a Crying River Lady?

•Qunae 'Ahmar•
Chapter I

Dancing is the most beautifully complicated thing in the world. Because with each step, you release a zap of energy, swaying and twirling and spinning, waving your arms like ocean tides or slapping your palms together, you communicate feelings. Slow means solemn, melancholy. Fast means thrill, chase. And the way your body moves to each beat is what you portray.

But dancing is so much simpler than working life your way. I'm Qunae 'Ahmar, my name meaning mask red, in that order. I'm a sixteen year old teenager with worries worse than passing my chemistry test.

How bad? Enough that I'm sure my blonde hair will all have fallen off in a few more years. Or turn white and lose the blonde dye I have.

Summer just ended. School starts today. That's enough stress to cope with already. Not to mention, I attend a prestigious private all girl boarding school and only come here because of scholarships offered in interest of my grades. My parents always brag about it which puts more pressure on me to keep things up. Only thing I look forward to again are the dance activities. Every year I learn different dances from different cultures--salsa, merengue, cumbia, tango, hip hop, waltz, bachata, flamingo, disco, ballet--and it's the most amazing thing ever--I'm boring, aren't I?

This morning was quick. Shower. Dress. Pack. Bus. Go. My classes go by quickly too. And finally, what I waited for, dance class. The teacher plays tango music in the background and all the girls along with me do our stretches. A few girls talk to each other but I stay focused on my stretching.

"Qunae," somebody says.

I look up at my classmate and smile softly. "Afternoon."

She smiles. "I'm really excited to see you perform this year! What will you be doing?"

I think for a moment and lightly shrug. "Absolutely no idea. I usually just wing it. Though my comfort zone is Spanish music."

"You are really good. The best I have ever seen. Though, you have tough competition this year I hear," She says slowly, as if waiting for me to panic about it.

"Is that so? Interesting." Is all I say, not really knowing how to feel about it. I stretch to my side, holding my position for a bit.

With twitchy fingers swaying, she says, "she's in this room too. New student. Not too...friendly."

"You spoke with her?" I ask curiously, switching my position to stretch to my right.

The girl's sudden calm and kind appearance changes to utter fear and nervousness, like if this person is a monster of some sort. "Nobody dares talk to her. She can act like a real bitch."

Curiosity peaks my interest and I question, "where is she?"

The blue haired classmate gestures with her pointy chin to my left corner, where a pale girl with black hair and mono-lid eyes stands. Her cold look sends chills and she gracefully does a split. Something I have been struggling with.

I take in a deep breath, clench and unclench my fists, and approach the short girl. I am not the kind of person that just takes the word of another about other people. I like learning about people and sometimes I meet the most fantastic people that way.

"Hello," I say, attempting to start a conversation.

The girl doesn't say anything. She doesn't even bother pausing her stretches to acknowledge me.

But I'm stubborn. And I want to understand her. "My name is Qunae 'Ahmar. What's yours?" I fiddle my fingers like my classmate and decide to lace them together behind my back to control my bad habit.