chapter 4-the first day of school
Today marked the commencement of a new chapter—the first day of our new school. The glaring digits on the clock indicated a time far too early for any semblance of sanity, yet Kreacher, our ever-efficient butler, woke me from my slumber. There was an array of tasks awaiting completion before I could go off to my first day at my new school.
The morning ritual commenced with the obligatory shower, followed by a rushed breakfast.
"Miss Black, please follow me," Kreacher intoned, breaking through the chaos of the morning rush. “Master Misses Black has prepared a surprise for you." I sighed. The surprises from my birth giver weren’t exactly… let’s just say they were more for her instead of me even if they were addressed to me.
Intrigued by the promise of novelty amidst the familiar, I trailed behind Kreacher as he led me to a room within our sprawling new mansion—a room I haven’t glanced at yet. With a sense of anticipation, I pushed open the door, revealing a woman of approximately thirty-five waiting me.
"Good morning, Miss Black," she greeted me with a forced smile. "I'm here to attend to your makeup and hair today. Misses Black is adamant that you make a lasting impression on this important day”.
Her directive was clear, and with a gentle gesture, she indicated the chair awaiting my occupancy. Following her orders, I reluctantly sat down.
The minutes stretched interminably as she did her job, her deft fingers weaving intricate patterns amidst the tresses of my hair and applying cosmetics on my face.. With each passing moment, I felt closer to crying. The air dryer was way to loud and texture of the make up hurted. Don’t even get me started on the lights. Concentration Lucida! Now was not the time for such childish behaviour. My mothers voice shrilling in my mind. She would certainly not be pleased if I threw an act now.
Finally, she declared her task complete, granting me permission to return to my room.
Stepping before the opulent full-length mirror that adorned the walls of my chamber, I beheld a visage that felt alien and unfamiliar—like a stranger staring back at me from the glass. "This doesn't feel like me at all," I murmured to my reflection, a sigh escaping my lips as I wrestled with the disconnect between appearance and identity. It was then when I broke down. Not really broke down more gave up. The tears filled my eyes and a tear escaped it. I wiped the singular tear away. Luckily it was the only drop who has escaped my eye. I felt sort of numb. That’s good. If I’m numb, then I can’t fell the pain. I forced a smile and took one last look on the oak wood mirror of my room and made my way to my brother .
Entering his domain, I found him waiting in the doorway, a mischievous grin playing upon his lips. Despite our differences, there was an unspoken understanding that bound us together—a silent pact forged in the crucible of our shared experience of parental unattainable expectations, mothers’ outbursts and fathers coldness. Growing up in a household like this forged strong bonds between us.
Our parents' rules were clear, reflected in the carefully chosen outfit my brother wore: a clean white shirt, a bright red tie, and tailored pants that showed what was expected of us.
But beneath the facade of compliance, I detected a glimmer of rebellion—a spark of defiance that belied the facade of obedience. Whatever mischief he had in store, I knew one thing for certain—our parents would not be pleased.
As I entered my new classroom, the weight of unfamiliarity hung heavy upon me. This was my first day at the village's singular educational institution, a consequence of our recent relocation to this remote corner of Scottland. A little anxious, I navigated the sea of unfamiliar faces, looking for the ideal place for me to sit. Due to my height, it wasn’t easy for me to see over the heads. Sadly there were only 4 places in the last row and one in the second-to-last row. I picked the last row.
I successfully managed to blend into the background, unnoticed between the other students. This classroom, designated for students spanning from years 4 to 6, bore the hallmark of our village's isolation—its solitary existence amidst the vast expanse of wilderness that surrounded us. With no other educational options for miles around, this institution served as the school for the children of this area.
Unlike my brother I knew that. I had already asked my father Orion, it is very important for me to know what I’m getting myself into.
My attention was soon taken over by the entrance of a familiar figure—Sirius, my brother, Engaged in lively conversation with a group of boys. I really wonder how he aways finds friends so fast. The first lesson hasn’t even started. Among his newfound companions were the faces I recognized from the bridge—James, Peter, and – boy who I hadn’t seen on the bridge the earlier day. He had scars scattered across his face and wore nerdier clothes.
Sirius was looking in my direction. Quickly I dug in my head. Too late. “HIIIII REGGIE MY BABY SISTER, WERE IN THE SAME CLASS” “oh fuck you Sirius” “no thanks” He walked up to me, and the four boys sat directly behind me. Oh god, this was going to be terrible. Hopefully they wouldn’t be too loud. The time the fourth lesson rolled around, my hopes have vanished, and their voices had reached a crescendo, threatening to drown out the teacher's instructions.
Summoning the courage to intervene, I turned to face them, mustering all the authority I could muster in my newfound role as the enforcer of classroom decorum. Yet, as my gaze fell on Sirius, I couldn't help but notice the mischievous glint in his eye. Oh. That’s the reason for his grin, his lips had to its usual red tone a bit of violet too. And there was only one violet lipstick at our house “Do you like it?” “ You realise that THIS is our mothers, it costed her 256 pounds.” But he just shrugged with his shoulders. “Who cares?” “Who cares about what? “ asked the scarboy. “Nothing” we both replied instantly. Maybe it was okay for men to wear make up in medieval times, but if you do such thing in the 70´s. I can guarantee you that you will get called a poofter. My brother had luck. With his sharp masculine body and face no one would ever think of him like that.
For while his antics may have garnered admiration from me or maybe even his friends, they were sure to incur the wrath of the one woman whose approval he should try to get, his mothers.
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The lunch bell echoed through the empty halls, signalling the start of my brief respite from the chaos of the cafeteria. I settled into a bit hidden spot in the corridor, finding solace in the quiet surroundings. As I unwrapped my lunch, I noticed a girl approaching—a familiar face with an awkward smile. What was her name again? Pandora, I think. But I’m not too sure anymore. Because she seemed very kind, I greeted her. "Hey there," she greeted me, her voice a little too loud for the empty corridor.
"Hi," I replied, offering a small smile in return. She hesitated for a moment before sitting down beside me, her movements hesitant yet determined. I couldn't help but feel a sense of curiosity about her. She may look like she is 16 but I still couldn´t help but wonder why she wasn’t in my class. From her personality judging she could be 13 as well
"What year are you in?" she asked, her words rushed and eager. "I'm in year 4," "Oh, I'm in year 7," she said, her tone seeming amused as she spoke. "Looks like we're not in the same class." Then she giggled. Why did she giggle? My mother has taught me that it is very rude to make sounds during a conversation. I nodded, my voice steady despite the sudden influx of questions. I wondered why she would laugh about it. "Do you want to be friends?" she blurted out suddenly, her words catching me off guard. I blinked, surprised by her directness. Friendship was a concept I struggled to grasp. Understandable since the last time I’ve had an actual friend who wasn’t my brother was in kindergarten. And I couldn’t help but wonder if it was a dare. But I agreed, nonetheless. Maybe my mother would be proud of me. She has always wanted me to get a friend. Communicating wasn’t too bad. And she didn’t force eye contact like my mother.
She squeaked and jumped. I could tell that she was very happy about it. Maybe she doesn´t have any other friends either and it isn’t a dare. The clock ringed and signalled the beginning of our next lessons. “Lucida, I have an idea. You obviously don’t have to… But maybewecouldhangoutafterschoolandmeetatthebridgeovertheriver?” she asked visibly nervous. "Sure," I replied, a smile tugging at the corners of my lips. Her face lit up with excitement, her enthusiasm infectious as she reached out to shake my hand. "We are friends" she said, her voice filled with genuine warmth.
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As the final bell rang, telling me that the school day was finally over, I found myself feeling surprisingly hopeful about the prospect of spending time with Pandora. She seemed different from the other kids, unburdened by the social norms that often left me feeling out of place. With her I didn’t feel like a total freak.
Before making my way I just had to inform my brother. He seemed to be proud of me. At least I think so, he smiled after all. And that’s something that proud people do.
I made my way to the bridge, my heart racing with anticipation as I scanned the area for any sign of Pandora. She was already there, her face lighting up with excitement as she waved me over.
"Hey, Lucida!" she greeted me, her voice filled with genuine happiness.
"Hi, Pandora," I replied, returning her smile with a sense of newfound confidence.
"I have something amazing to show you," she said, her eyes sparkling with excitement as she told me to follow and led me into the forest.
We began to talk (about astronomy, what else should we talk about?) and I got more comfortable with every step I took. I found myself feeling freer than I had in a long time, unburdened by the expectations of others.
When we finally reached our destination, I couldn't help but feel a sense of wonder at the sight before me—a vast field of flowers stretching out before us, bathed in the warm glow of the setting sun. at the cliff, a stone platform from where you could probably see the entire village.
"It's beautiful," I said, my voice filled with genuine awe.
Pandora beamed with pride, her joy contagious as she watched my reaction. In that moment, I felt a sense of connection with her—a shared understanding that transcended the barriers of social norms and expectations. And for the first time in a long time, I felt truly happy.