In Abscondito: I

Chapter 1:

Born of a pale Caucasian English man, according to her mother, as Aziya never met the man, and a chestnut colored African woman. Aziya stood at a satisfactory five foot five inches, with caramel coated skin and a bird's nest of curls on her head.

In the wee hours of the morning, perhaps around four am, she arose from her sleep at the sound of footsteps. Her eyes scanned her moon lit surroundings trying to locate the source of the sound but to no avail. She laid her head on her pillow once more, deciding the sounds she heard were a figment of her imagination.

A few hours later, the sun was up, so was she. Aziya slowly walked through her family's wooden bungalow, with every few steps a creak was heard. She entered the kitchen, a welcoming smell of roasted walnuts and buttery sweetness caressed her nose.

"Good morning Ziya," spoke the middle aged woman. Her tone held urgency as she hurriedly placed a plate of blueberry pancakes in front of her daughter. "Hurry and eat Dear, you have a big day ahead of you."

I do? Suddenly the realization seeps in, it's her first day at school, the new school. She hums a response, her mother left staring at the untouched plate of pancakes and then at her daughter's retreating figure.

Aziya wasn't a girl of many words, she spoke only when she deemed necessary, to many, she came off as rude and stuck up but she didn't care. She preferred to observe, analyze her surroundings and those in it. Her mind is like a spreadsheet, taking down your strengths, weaknesses and any detail she felt was important. Aziya, despite her quietness, was never bullied, they tried and well, they failed. Aziya knew how to handle situations like that, if she is messed with, she hurts you; Using the things she noticed but nobody else cared to. She knows your innermost insecurity just by observing you but she won't use it against you unless provoked, which is rare.

Aziya stood in front of her full length mirror, she was ready for the day ahead, she carefully looked over her uniform, taking in the details of it. Her navy blue blazer was pressed to perfection, the white shirt under that crisp to the touch. The pleated plaid skirt rests comfortably on her mid thigh. Her nylon socks, just below her knees and her black flats polished to a soothing shine. Her eyes went back up to her tie, she adjusted it carefully.

"That's better" her eyes then darted to the clock "7:30, Better get going then" she ran her fingers through the defined curls on her head, grabbed her back pack and headed outside where her mother stood waiting.

"All set Ziya?" her mother questioned, looking over her daughter's attire, knowing Aziya isn't going to answer she hums her approval. They begin their fifteen minute journey to the school.

There it was Lancaster Hall written in huge Bold italicized letters, engraved on two huge gates in front of a large stretch of trees. The gates opened, and they followed a road that stretched on for another five minutes before seeing a clearing up ahead.

They approached the campus, one huge building stood stall showcasing its age, almost like a castle. It gave off an eerie feel like men as old as the school still walked among them.  Aziya turned to her mother, and noticed a flash of worry consuming her features, it disappeared as soon as it came, probably someone else wouldn't be able to realize.

"Are you okay?" asked Aziya, her mother turned to her and gave her a warm smile. "Of course, You're attending my alma mater, you'll love it here, look there are some fourth years ," she points to a group of girls around Aziya's age "better get going before the orientation ends." Aziya turned her attention towards the group of fourth year students. She nods curtly before exiting the car, closing the door behind her. Aziya made her way towards them, she quickly scanned over each of them. Most were engaging in mindless chatter about what happened in the summer, while others glanced at Aziya, then muttered to their friends. As expected, she's a new sheep among wolves or so they thought. Aziya stood to herself just, looking.

With every passing minute, more and more students came filing in. All conveying different energies, as Aziya liked to call it.

"Hi, I'm Audrey" an overly excited young lady said to Aziya, to which Aziya responded with a nod, skimming over her features. Her auburn hair was placed neatly in a long French braid, her pale face was home to thick rimmed glass. Aziya diverted her attention to her uniform, she was neat, off the bat, Aziya concluded that Audrey is a nervous babbler, a social outcast, and had an irrational fear of the male species.

As if to confirm Aziya's hypothesis, Audrey went on a rant about her left sock that she had trouble finding this morning, "..and then I finally found it under My great grandma's rocking chair," she sighed, "she went completely ballistic when she saw the mess I had made," she concluded with a nervous laugh. She wasn't the least bit rattled by Aziya's seemingly uninterested façade, instead she smiled warmly at Aziya.

"Weird ", thought Aziya.

Her thoughts were interrupted by someone clearing their throat. Aziya looked at the woman standing in front of the group of students. She was dressed in full black robe like garment, and had a very dark and ominous feel to her.

"Attention please, My name is Professor Elizabeth Ainsworth, you are to address me, as well as the other teachers by our full title unless indicated to do otherwise..." said the greying beady eyed lady "I am your year group overseer, and head teacher for years fourth and fifth"  upon ending her sentence, Aziya was overcome with an eerie feeling, goosebumps took over her skin, she drew her blazer tighter.

"Ah! Mr. Barrett, old habits die hard I see" she spoke to the tall male slowly stalking towards the group of students. "It's nice to see you too, Professor Ainsworth," he winked to the mistress while putting his arm around a red headed girl, who giggled at the gesture.

"I'll remind you all of the code of conduct here at Lancaster Hall," she spoke dauntingly, peering at the young man in front of her. "..students are expected to arrive on time and in the correct uniform," she jutted her chin toward the guy, bringing attention towards his shirt, that wasn't tucked inside his pants. The guy ignores her, and Professor Ainsworth, she didn't push the conversation any further.

Fear, she's scared of him, why? Aziya thought to herself. She turned her attention to him, out of instinct she raised her eyes to look at him to find him already looking at her. The minute their eyes  met, that feeling, it came back. He stood with an unreadable expression on his face, Aziya couldn't understand. She tore her eyes from him, feeling slightly flustered.

Within the minutes that passed, the head teacher had droned on about school rules, out of bound areas and was now giving each student a booklet about everything that was just said. "Aziya Johnston," she called, Aziya raised her hand, "..come with me." They made their way up the stone steps, entering the large building. She followed closely behind Professor Ainsworth, moving through a maze of hallways. Finally they entered what looked like the main hall of the school. Her eyes wondered, taking in the paintings, and various trophy cases that surrounded her. She passed by a couple of rooms, automatically assuming it was the first year class rooms.

They had gotten to the end of the hallway and stopped in front of two huge wooden doors. Above the doors marked Headmasters Quarters. Professor Ainsworth pushed the doors open, they entered and the doors shut with a loud bang. Once again, Aziya began to appreciate her surroundings, the walls were covered in books, very few chips in the wood of the bookcases indicated that they had been standing for a long time. Professor Ainsworth stepped out of the office, telling Aziya to stay put while she got her class schedule. Aziya took a seat in one of the chairs beside the doors she came from.

Aziya stood, walking towards a miniature bookcase in the far left corner of the room, her fingers ran over the bridges of the books until stopping in front of one. She pulled it from it's pocket and looked over the cover Within the Unseen by Arnold Ghere. Her thoughts were interrupted by someone clearing their throat.

Unruffled, Aziya turns facing the aging man.