The Eye of a Hurricane

Isabel

All the kids here seemed pretty happy, but I'd never felt more alone.  I never really liked school.  I loved reading, but math was always super hard for me.  Other kids seemed to get things so quickly and it just took me forever.  My teachers got frustrated with me.  I wondered how fast the teachers would figure out how dumb I am.

After Uncle Lin had left, I looked at my schedule and map.  I managed to find my way to my first class.  I went straight to the back of the room, hoping to just hide away.  Other students streamed in, talking and laughing, and gave me a quick glance.  The teacher walked up to me and smiled.

"You must be Isabel!" she said warmly, holding out her hand for me to shake.  I shook it hesitantly, not making eye contact.  "My name is Mrs. Duncan.  We're so glad you're here."

"Thanks," I said quietly, just wanting her to leave.

"I'll get you a textbook," she told me, walking towards a cabinet nearby.  She passed me a massive social studies book and I slipped it into my backpack.  I wondered if this school gave much homework.

The class began and I tried my best to keep up.  I thought I knew a couple answers but there was no way I was going to raise my hand.  I let myself blend in to the room and luckily the teacher left me alone.  The rest of the morning went about the same.

Lunchtime came, a terrifying time for any middle schooler, let alone one new to the school.  I ducked my head and found an empty table in the corner of the room.  I wasn't very hungry and barely ate my food.  I got out my book and read until the bell rang.

The kindergarten classroom was in another wing of the school, but I made my way down after lunch just to check on Luna.  As I figured, she was laughing and talking with her classmates.  She made friends so easily and for me it was like climbing Mount Everest.  I was a little jealous of how easily she could talk to people.

By the end of the day, I was buried in homework.  Was it going to be like this every day?  I was exhausted when Uncle Lin met us in the front of the school.  Luna was practically jumping up and down, wanting to tell him all about her day.

"And we went to art class and we got to use paint!" she told him excitedly, her humongous backpack flanking her little frame.

"That sounds fun," he said as we walked towards the door.  I trailed behind, happy to let Luna lead the conversation.  I didn't really want to tell them about my day.  Luna kept talking as we made our way to the subway station.  Uncle Lin held her hand as we walked down the stairs underground.  She talked the whole way and I just closed my eyes, picturing my bedroom back in Puerto Rico.  I wondered what my friends were doing.  Our school had been destroyed, so they wouldn't be going to school for a while.  Would they have to repeat sixth grade?  I wished I was there and didn't have to go to school but then felt guilty.  They probably were still struggling just to get enough food every day and I was complaining about going to a perfectly good school in New York City, with a wonderful home and plenty of food.  What was wrong with me?

We took the elevator up to our apartment, Luna still babbling on and on.  I dropped my heavy backpack by the door and went straight to my bedroom.  School was loud and I just wanted to be alone in the silence.  I climbed the bunk bed and laid down, letting out a huge sigh.

Uncle Lin came in to check on me about fifteen minutes later.  He was way more attentive than my dad.  I wasn't sure if I like that or not.  I just liked to wallow in my feelings, not try to explain them to someone.

Uncle Lin leaned against my bed, reaching out to rub circles on my back.  That felt nice, but I wasn't going to tell him that.

"You okay?" he asked me gently.

"Yeah I'm fine," I told him quickly.  I had so many feelings I wouldn't know where to start.  Conflicting feelings.  I liked being here, but at the same time I missed home.  I liked that he asked me how I was feeling, but I also didn't want to tell him.

"You sure?" he asked me after a pause.  "You can tell me."

"I know," I whispered, then turned my face away from him.

"Pippa's coming over for dinner," he told me.  "She's gonna make us chicken and rice.  Does that sound good?"

"Uh-huh," I told him simply.

"Good," he squeezed my shoulder.  "And you know, she's a really good listener.  If you want to talk to her, she's more than happy to listen."

I just nodded, wanting him to leave, but also wanting him to stay.  He gave my shoulder one last squeeze then left me be.  As soon as the door closed, I started crying softly.