Extreme Social Order of Mason High
"Okay, look. You know you’re cute, and you seem to think I should be all over you because at this school, you’re considered ‘popular’. And while at other schools, that combined with the whole ’new kid’ thing might make you desirable, but here, with me, it just makes you... gee, an ass. Now leave me alone.”
That was the first thing my dream girl said to me when I finally talked to her. Then she slammed her locker in my face and walked away. I felt totally rejected and humiliated at the time, and the dimmest bright side of it was there was no one around to see it. So I have no idea why I told my cousin Tommy about it.
“Ouch, man! Rejected by freak-o! Seriously though, it’s kind of a good thing you got that painful bitch-slap in your first two weeks here. Now it can only go uphill. Because you can not do worse then Laurie Torrance!” Tommy pounded my back. “It was like pity thing right? I mean, gawd she’s such a fucking freak-o. Ha… You unpacked your xbox games yet?” He stuffed a chip in his mouth and went to rummage in the open box closest to him.
I rolled my eyes. It was amazing to think I’d overheard girls talking about how charming and deep Tommy was, just this morning. “The only stuff I’ve unpacked is clothes, my computer, my guitar, and my books. And the shit my mom made me unpack. Like bedding and crap.”
“You A-class nerd! Books, and your computer… you don’t even have PC games. What’s the point of a computer if you don’t have PC games? All you do is like, talk to people. Or some stupid shit. Pa-thetic."
I rolled my eyes again as I went to see if my friends were online. I went to go pull my hair in a ponytail, and sighed as my fingers brushed through air. My mom made me cut it all off when we moved. My computer pinged as I rubbed my short hair. I grinned as RolloX12 IMed 'hey' seven times.
"Who's RolloX12, and why'd he message you the same thing so many times?" Tommy asked, abandoning box to look at his computer screen.
"Because it means all my friends crashed Rollo's house." I grinned and made a video call.
"Who the hell is Rollo?" he asked as I shifted the angle of the screen.
"My best friend..." I said absently as I watched the connection load. I grinned again as it finally finished and seven figures crowded the screen.
"HEY!" they all chorused. Two boys in the back burst out laughing and punched each other in the chest.
"Hey, dude! Whoa! Where's your hair!? You're like, practically bald!" said one of the boys off to the side, who was now playing with his own shoulder length hair.
I rubbed my hands through my short hair again, "I know right! My mom made me chop it."
"Bummer." the boy closest to the camera said. "Hey, lemme get my sister." he grinned. "REGIN! Get your fat ass in here! So what's it like over there in Wherever, Colorado, anyways? REGIN!" He grinned, and completely ignored the other boys in his room who were all talking at each other.
"My ass is not fat, dickhead. What do you want?"
The Princess Kyndall Westleah (working title) (There's more, but I am in the process of editing it. The first version was written in 2009.
The Princess Kyndall Westleah stood in the Grand Ballroom of her father's palace, surrounded by happy, chatting nobles in a haze of champagne, each one dressed more beautifully than the last. Lovely music drifted around her, carrying couples along in a whirling, sparkling waltz across the white marble floor. Servants scuttled past with platters of sparkling wine and delicious-looking little tidbits, and the entire evening was shaping up to be one swell party.
Kyndall was bored out of her skull.
The princess stood wrapped in exquisite burgundy satin, her slim figure tightly corseted. The neck of the dress was a very wide heart, showcasing her small bosom rather more then she was comfortable with. It barely covered her shoulders, but the length of her arms, down to her wrists, were snugly enclosed. Her long dark hair hung in loose curls around her pale face, a delicate gold crown dangling little stars into her mane, peeking out like a night sky behind clouds.
Kyndall found it uncomfortable, difficult to move in, and she was tired of nodding and curtsying and smiling to every handsome Lord, Prince, Duke, Count, so-and-so she was so graciously introduced to. Oh no here came another one... Kyndall bowed and smiled to a prince of some country she'd never heard of, and promptly forgot his name, just one more face in a sea of beautiful strangers.
#
That night, after she sent her maids to bed early, Kyndall undressed alone in her chambers, she stared at the painted walls of the room she had slept since she was a child. She had never paid much attention before, but the walls of the room were one large painting; faded with age, showing knights in armor riding horses, battling one another and saving beautiful ladies from dire peril. She sighed. The ladies who always needing rescuing. The swirling colors and lovely images disappeared behind the enormous mirror on her wall, where a knight in white armor charged with a lance.
Kyndall realized she had never seen what was painted behind the mirror where she looked at her own face every day. Suddenly filled with curiosity, she quickly set her jewelry in its box, snapped it shut and crossed to the mirror, to try to pull it out of the way. It was very heavy, and by the time she managed it she was panting and sweating in a most unladylike fashion.
She looked at the wall, where the paint was unweathered and bright, and gasped. Painted there was a snarling dragon, all fiery dark orange scales and gore-tipped white claws, coiling menacingly toward the brave knight. Broken swords, arrows, and spears jutted from it's body, and its eyes were dark and angry. Kyndall put out a hand to touch it, but hesitated. Her caramel eyes flew over the furious dragon, and she pressed her hand against it's body. She could have sworn the painted scales beneath her hand, were warm.
That night, Kyndall dreamed of dragons...
#
Every morning Kyndall was expected to go to the private breakfast hall to eat with her parents. The only morning she was excused from this, was when she was ill, or the morning after parties. She was also excused from her morning lessons.
She awoke surprisingly early. Parties usually made her sleep long enough that she needed to be wakened by her maids, Clare and Beth. There were faint rays of sun coming through her windows, and she quietly opened the door to her balcony. The air was still cold, and she left the door ajar to fetch her robe. She paused to brush her hand along the dragon, then went to get her pad and charcoal.
She tucked the hair that came loose out of the braid behind her ear as she absently sent up her drawing pad on the the two foot ledge of the balcony wall. She hummed as she started sketching. Every so often she'd glance up to the sun, eyes squinting at its brightness.
A while later, Kyndall heard calls of, "My lady, my lady, where are you?" from inside her rooms. She glanced at the barely open door, tempted to just shut it quietly and hide out on her balcony for a day. Then she sighed, knowing she'd get into all sorts of trouble. She carefully cleaned and put away her charcoal and even more carefully, stacked her sketches atop each other and nudged the door open. "I'm here." she said simply.
Clare stopped on her way back into her front sitting room and smiled with relief. "Oh, My Lady! You gave Beth and myself quite a scare. Usually you are still asleep now after parties!"
Beth rushed out of Kyndall's bathing room, and smiled. "Good Morning, m'Lady. Are you going to go down to breakfast with your parents?"
Kyndall smiled weakly and into her sitting room to set her drawings on a table. "No, not this morning. I am feeling rather ill, actually."
Kyndall was bored out of her skull.
The princess stood wrapped in exquisite burgundy satin, her slim figure tightly corseted. The neck of the dress was a very wide heart, showcasing her small bosom rather more then she was comfortable with. It barely covered her shoulders, but the length of her arms, down to her wrists, were snugly enclosed. Her long dark hair hung in loose curls around her pale face, a delicate gold crown dangling little stars into her mane, peeking out like a night sky behind clouds.
Kyndall found it uncomfortable, difficult to move in, and she was tired of nodding and curtsying and smiling to every handsome Lord, Prince, Duke, Count, so-and-so she was so graciously introduced to. Oh no here came another one... Kyndall bowed and smiled to a prince of some country she'd never heard of, and promptly forgot his name, just one more face in a sea of beautiful strangers.
#
That night, after she sent her maids to bed early, Kyndall undressed alone in her chambers, she stared at the painted walls of the room she had slept since she was a child. She had never paid much attention before, but the walls of the room were one large painting; faded with age, showing knights in armor riding horses, battling one another and saving beautiful ladies from dire peril. She sighed. The ladies who always needing rescuing. The swirling colors and lovely images disappeared behind the enormous mirror on her wall, where a knight in white armor charged with a lance.
Kyndall realized she had never seen what was painted behind the mirror where she looked at her own face every day. Suddenly filled with curiosity, she quickly set her jewelry in its box, snapped it shut and crossed to the mirror, to try to pull it out of the way. It was very heavy, and by the time she managed it she was panting and sweating in a most unladylike fashion.
She looked at the wall, where the paint was unweathered and bright, and gasped. Painted there was a snarling dragon, all fiery dark orange scales and gore-tipped white claws, coiling menacingly toward the brave knight. Broken swords, arrows, and spears jutted from it's body, and its eyes were dark and angry. Kyndall put out a hand to touch it, but hesitated. Her caramel eyes flew over the furious dragon, and she pressed her hand against it's body. She could have sworn the painted scales beneath her hand, were warm.
That night, Kyndall dreamed of dragons...
#
Every morning Kyndall was expected to go to the private breakfast hall to eat with her parents. The only morning she was excused from this, was when she was ill, or the morning after parties. She was also excused from her morning lessons.
She awoke surprisingly early. Parties usually made her sleep long enough that she needed to be wakened by her maids, Clare and Beth. There were faint rays of sun coming through her windows, and she quietly opened the door to her balcony. The air was still cold, and she left the door ajar to fetch her robe. She paused to brush her hand along the dragon, then went to get her pad and charcoal.
She tucked the hair that came loose out of the braid behind her ear as she absently sent up her drawing pad on the the two foot ledge of the balcony wall. She hummed as she started sketching. Every so often she'd glance up to the sun, eyes squinting at its brightness.
A while later, Kyndall heard calls of, "My lady, my lady, where are you?" from inside her rooms. She glanced at the barely open door, tempted to just shut it quietly and hide out on her balcony for a day. Then she sighed, knowing she'd get into all sorts of trouble. She carefully cleaned and put away her charcoal and even more carefully, stacked her sketches atop each other and nudged the door open. "I'm here." she said simply.
Clare stopped on her way back into her front sitting room and smiled with relief. "Oh, My Lady! You gave Beth and myself quite a scare. Usually you are still asleep now after parties!"
Beth rushed out of Kyndall's bathing room, and smiled. "Good Morning, m'Lady. Are you going to go down to breakfast with your parents?"
Kyndall smiled weakly and into her sitting room to set her drawings on a table. "No, not this morning. I am feeling rather ill, actually."
Colin and Clark
"Hey, can I sit here a minute? I'm waiting for my ride." a guy with short dark curls suddenly sat at her table, and nervous smile on his face. Her eyes rapidly swept over him, taking in his ratty dark blue sweater and green eyes from beneath his floppy curls.
"Sure. If you get your hair out of your eyes and don't mess up my notes." She went back to the large textbook in her lap.
He nodded as he leaned closer to try to figure out what the notes were for; and he slowly tried to shove his hair aside. He tried not to look at her, because he'd been doing that for at least a full five minutes before he asked if he could sit there. He had noticed her when he was walking by the coffee shop, sitting there at the corner table by the window. She had long dark brown hair, and he noticed then, streaks of pale blonde and a few of purple. He realized he was staring at her then and quickly looked down. "I'm Colin, by the way." He glanced back up to see her looking straight at him, her dark blue eyes piercing.
"You seem so nervous," she replied with a small smile.
Colin shrugged, "I guess I don't usually come up to random girls to talk." he was looking at her piles of work again as he tried again to move his hair aside.
"It's math, history, and that neat pile is the English essay I haven't started yet. I'm working on psychology right now. Research, mostly."
He stared at her. "Seriously?" he asked, completely stunned. "That is so much..." he then stared at the piles of work. How long have you been here?"
She laughed a little before saying, “Hours. I sit here every day, for hours. I’m on Independent Study. I cannot stand classrooms.” He glanced at her when her voice went hard, and saw that her eyes were closed. Colin’s brows bunched together with both worry and confusion.
“Well, if you have been here for hours, would you want another drink? It looks like yours is empty...” He gestured to her empty white mug. She looked back up at him with a half-smile upon her lips.
“Sure. Just say that it’s for me; I get the same thing nearly every time.” He nodded once and by the time her mug was in his hand, she was already back at her textbook. He stood in line, and kept glancing back at the girl at the table. She was typing now- on a netbook he swears was not there earlier- and she kept pausing and looking down at the book for a short time before typing again. After a few times she grabbed a hi-liter and marked something in the book, and was much faster after that.
“Hey, are you going to come to the counter?” The guy behind the cash register asked; sounded bored and a little annoyed.
Colin hurriedly stepped forward and grinned sheepishly. “Hi, um, sorry. Can I get a Vanilla Tea Latte, and,” he turned and pointed toward the girl, “her usual, please?”
He shifted and worked his wallet out of his pocket and the cashier punched in buttons. “Sure, Vanilla Tea Latte and a Peppermint Mocha coming right up. Hey," he paused. "Do you know her name?"
Colin looked at him as he handed over money. "No. I was about to ask you. Isn't she a regular?"
"Well, yeah. Every day, for almost a year now. But she always goes directly to the pickup area and then to the same corner table. Never gave her name. Never let anybody else even borrow that other chair. Thought you must've known her or something." By now Colin was awkwardly standing to the side of the register as Sam, his nametag read, served the next person in line. "She gets mostly the same thing, and maybe three cups a day, and she also has a water bottle everyday, one of those big reusable ones. She usually brings food too, or gets a panini or sandwich from here, with like you know, the cheese and fruit stuffs-"
"Sir," the barista, a slightly older woman called. "Your tea and mocha. Sam, don't talk so much." Colin nodded gratefully at her as he took the drinks. "Have a nice day." she smiled tiredly at him.
He made his way back to the table, the girl still steadily working. He had set down her mug and settled into his chair when she asked without glancing up, "Learn anything interesting?"
He took a sip of his very hot tea before acknowledging her question with a vague, "Hmm?"
"Sam," the hand that was typing flicked toward the counter, "he likes to talk. He'd probably never stop given the chance."
Colin half smiled. "You apparently don't ever give your name, sit here everyday working, by yourself, are at least semi Eco-conscious and healthy." He took another sip. "I almost wonder what he'd say if I asked for information. I also wonder why you let me sit here and are talking to me since, according to our friend Sam, you don't talk or like company."
She tucked her hair behind her ear as she glanced toward Sam, who was watching them nearly to the point of ignoring the few customers in line.
"Sure. If you get your hair out of your eyes and don't mess up my notes." She went back to the large textbook in her lap.
He nodded as he leaned closer to try to figure out what the notes were for; and he slowly tried to shove his hair aside. He tried not to look at her, because he'd been doing that for at least a full five minutes before he asked if he could sit there. He had noticed her when he was walking by the coffee shop, sitting there at the corner table by the window. She had long dark brown hair, and he noticed then, streaks of pale blonde and a few of purple. He realized he was staring at her then and quickly looked down. "I'm Colin, by the way." He glanced back up to see her looking straight at him, her dark blue eyes piercing.
"You seem so nervous," she replied with a small smile.
Colin shrugged, "I guess I don't usually come up to random girls to talk." he was looking at her piles of work again as he tried again to move his hair aside.
"It's math, history, and that neat pile is the English essay I haven't started yet. I'm working on psychology right now. Research, mostly."
He stared at her. "Seriously?" he asked, completely stunned. "That is so much..." he then stared at the piles of work. How long have you been here?"
She laughed a little before saying, “Hours. I sit here every day, for hours. I’m on Independent Study. I cannot stand classrooms.” He glanced at her when her voice went hard, and saw that her eyes were closed. Colin’s brows bunched together with both worry and confusion.
“Well, if you have been here for hours, would you want another drink? It looks like yours is empty...” He gestured to her empty white mug. She looked back up at him with a half-smile upon her lips.
“Sure. Just say that it’s for me; I get the same thing nearly every time.” He nodded once and by the time her mug was in his hand, she was already back at her textbook. He stood in line, and kept glancing back at the girl at the table. She was typing now- on a netbook he swears was not there earlier- and she kept pausing and looking down at the book for a short time before typing again. After a few times she grabbed a hi-liter and marked something in the book, and was much faster after that.
“Hey, are you going to come to the counter?” The guy behind the cash register asked; sounded bored and a little annoyed.
Colin hurriedly stepped forward and grinned sheepishly. “Hi, um, sorry. Can I get a Vanilla Tea Latte, and,” he turned and pointed toward the girl, “her usual, please?”
He shifted and worked his wallet out of his pocket and the cashier punched in buttons. “Sure, Vanilla Tea Latte and a Peppermint Mocha coming right up. Hey," he paused. "Do you know her name?"
Colin looked at him as he handed over money. "No. I was about to ask you. Isn't she a regular?"
"Well, yeah. Every day, for almost a year now. But she always goes directly to the pickup area and then to the same corner table. Never gave her name. Never let anybody else even borrow that other chair. Thought you must've known her or something." By now Colin was awkwardly standing to the side of the register as Sam, his nametag read, served the next person in line. "She gets mostly the same thing, and maybe three cups a day, and she also has a water bottle everyday, one of those big reusable ones. She usually brings food too, or gets a panini or sandwich from here, with like you know, the cheese and fruit stuffs-"
"Sir," the barista, a slightly older woman called. "Your tea and mocha. Sam, don't talk so much." Colin nodded gratefully at her as he took the drinks. "Have a nice day." she smiled tiredly at him.
He made his way back to the table, the girl still steadily working. He had set down her mug and settled into his chair when she asked without glancing up, "Learn anything interesting?"
He took a sip of his very hot tea before acknowledging her question with a vague, "Hmm?"
"Sam," the hand that was typing flicked toward the counter, "he likes to talk. He'd probably never stop given the chance."
Colin half smiled. "You apparently don't ever give your name, sit here everyday working, by yourself, are at least semi Eco-conscious and healthy." He took another sip. "I almost wonder what he'd say if I asked for information. I also wonder why you let me sit here and are talking to me since, according to our friend Sam, you don't talk or like company."
She tucked her hair behind her ear as she glanced toward Sam, who was watching them nearly to the point of ignoring the few customers in line.
Relief in Their Deaths
She stood tall, looking unshakable. Her gray eyes were dry, but stormy. Her checks held no trace of tears, damp nor dried. Her hands were clasped loosely before her. Her face was serene, not even those who knew her best could see a hint of grief.
You’d never think she was the daughter of the man and woman who were being buried that day.
#
6 years old
“Callen, no; just sit there would you?” her mother Diane scolded her when she started to swing her legs. Callen immediately stilled and squeezed her hands tighter in her lap.
“Sorry mommy.” She said instantly, hoping her father hadn’t heard. She tried to sit straighter, and kept her legs as still as she could, dangling above the floor as they were.
“Stop twitching. And no talking or I’ll call your father.” Callen froze with fear. That was the last thing she wanted. She watched her mother bustle around the kitchen, preparing dinner. The window was open, the curtains lightly moving with the wind. But Callen couldn’t smell the chicken, vegetables, or thick soup her mother was cooking; same as every Tuesday. She just felt the fear that came with waiting for her father to come to dinner from his office.
Diane paused next to her and watched her as she picked up the cigarette that had been smoldering in the ash tray in front of Callen. As she took a long drag, her eyes narrowed at her daughter. Callen suddenly panicked. Was she not supposed to be looking at her mother!? She knew that if she looked away now, she’d be punished, if she was supposed to watch her mother. But if she wasn’t supposed to be looking at her, she’d be punished for not looking away. Then she just concentrated on not coughing as her mother exhaled smoke toward Callen’s face.
“Did you finish your homework?” she asked. Callen nodded quickly. “Good. Can’t have you growing up stupid, can we?” Callen paused, and then shook her head as her mother took another drag. She opened her mouth to say something else, when a door shut loudly. Diane quickly put out her cigarette and tossed it out the open window before swiping the ash tray off the table and going back toward the kitchen.
Callen gulped and started breathing slower. She flinched with every heavy footfall, though she tried not to. Diane had her back turned, and was doing something with the vegetables on the stove before her. She once again frozen with fear when the swinging door banged open. “Evening, dinner ready?” Callen prayed for her mother to say yes, even though she knew it wasn’t.
“In a few minutes it will be, and then I’ll set the table and serve.” Callen tried not to react when her father’s heavy hand came down on her back. He rubbed her back twice before sliding it up to encircle the back of her neck.
“Callen will do that.” He squeezed her neck tightly before pushing her off the stool toward the cabinets. Callen stumbled a few steps and quickly retrieved her step stool so she could get the dinner plates from the top cabinets. “How was your day Diane?” her father asked.
“Oh, it was fine. Today we had the meeting for the Thanksgiving event at the club. The girls were so happy to be planning another event. I swear, watching Hilary you'd think the event was in the next three days, not in a month and a half.
You’d never think she was the daughter of the man and woman who were being buried that day.
#
6 years old
“Callen, no; just sit there would you?” her mother Diane scolded her when she started to swing her legs. Callen immediately stilled and squeezed her hands tighter in her lap.
“Sorry mommy.” She said instantly, hoping her father hadn’t heard. She tried to sit straighter, and kept her legs as still as she could, dangling above the floor as they were.
“Stop twitching. And no talking or I’ll call your father.” Callen froze with fear. That was the last thing she wanted. She watched her mother bustle around the kitchen, preparing dinner. The window was open, the curtains lightly moving with the wind. But Callen couldn’t smell the chicken, vegetables, or thick soup her mother was cooking; same as every Tuesday. She just felt the fear that came with waiting for her father to come to dinner from his office.
Diane paused next to her and watched her as she picked up the cigarette that had been smoldering in the ash tray in front of Callen. As she took a long drag, her eyes narrowed at her daughter. Callen suddenly panicked. Was she not supposed to be looking at her mother!? She knew that if she looked away now, she’d be punished, if she was supposed to watch her mother. But if she wasn’t supposed to be looking at her, she’d be punished for not looking away. Then she just concentrated on not coughing as her mother exhaled smoke toward Callen’s face.
“Did you finish your homework?” she asked. Callen nodded quickly. “Good. Can’t have you growing up stupid, can we?” Callen paused, and then shook her head as her mother took another drag. She opened her mouth to say something else, when a door shut loudly. Diane quickly put out her cigarette and tossed it out the open window before swiping the ash tray off the table and going back toward the kitchen.
Callen gulped and started breathing slower. She flinched with every heavy footfall, though she tried not to. Diane had her back turned, and was doing something with the vegetables on the stove before her. She once again frozen with fear when the swinging door banged open. “Evening, dinner ready?” Callen prayed for her mother to say yes, even though she knew it wasn’t.
“In a few minutes it will be, and then I’ll set the table and serve.” Callen tried not to react when her father’s heavy hand came down on her back. He rubbed her back twice before sliding it up to encircle the back of her neck.
“Callen will do that.” He squeezed her neck tightly before pushing her off the stool toward the cabinets. Callen stumbled a few steps and quickly retrieved her step stool so she could get the dinner plates from the top cabinets. “How was your day Diane?” her father asked.
“Oh, it was fine. Today we had the meeting for the Thanksgiving event at the club. The girls were so happy to be planning another event. I swear, watching Hilary you'd think the event was in the next three days, not in a month and a half.
Who I Met on Angel Island
My name is Trace Sunders, and I’m fourteen. My father works as an officer in the offices of Angel Island. I work on the docks with the incoming and outgoing ships.
A lot of kids go by, and it’s a sad sight, to see such young kids hurried on to the docks so roughly. Some of the boys stare at me, when I’m helping tie the ships in, some girls do, but not many. I don’t think I’m handsome enough for them to stare at. Of course, my mother says that I’m plenty handsome and that the girls are just shy. But mother are supposed to say that sort of thing. My father says I look well enough, but not as good as he when he was my age.
Anyway, I’m one of the oldest kids on the Island. So when I’m not working, most kids are with my mother, she teaches on the Island. The kids who are older then me, think I’m too young and ignore me.
Because I’m bored a lot, I sneak into the yard where the young immigrants are allowed to play. They don’t play with me though. I suppose it’s because they don’t know English.
Today there was an Asian girl who was holding a bunch of flowers made of paper. She looked about my age, and stared at me for a long time until someone pushed her ahead. I think she kept glancing back at me, because I felt like someone was watching me.
#
My name is Taree Mitsu. I am thirteen years old, and I have come to Angel Island with my mother, Yei. My sister, Natsuki, and her new husband stayed back home in Japan.
When I got off the ship, there was a boy working to help bring ships in. I had watched him before we were fully docked. He looks so strong and so young at the same time. I realized I had been staring for a time when someone pushed me. I know he had looked at me; I had clutched the origami flowers my mother taught me to prefect coming over. I couldn’t help it; I kept glancing back at him, working the docks.
A lot of kids go by, and it’s a sad sight, to see such young kids hurried on to the docks so roughly. Some of the boys stare at me, when I’m helping tie the ships in, some girls do, but not many. I don’t think I’m handsome enough for them to stare at. Of course, my mother says that I’m plenty handsome and that the girls are just shy. But mother are supposed to say that sort of thing. My father says I look well enough, but not as good as he when he was my age.
Anyway, I’m one of the oldest kids on the Island. So when I’m not working, most kids are with my mother, she teaches on the Island. The kids who are older then me, think I’m too young and ignore me.
Because I’m bored a lot, I sneak into the yard where the young immigrants are allowed to play. They don’t play with me though. I suppose it’s because they don’t know English.
Today there was an Asian girl who was holding a bunch of flowers made of paper. She looked about my age, and stared at me for a long time until someone pushed her ahead. I think she kept glancing back at me, because I felt like someone was watching me.
#
My name is Taree Mitsu. I am thirteen years old, and I have come to Angel Island with my mother, Yei. My sister, Natsuki, and her new husband stayed back home in Japan.
When I got off the ship, there was a boy working to help bring ships in. I had watched him before we were fully docked. He looks so strong and so young at the same time. I realized I had been staring for a time when someone pushed me. I know he had looked at me; I had clutched the origami flowers my mother taught me to prefect coming over. I couldn’t help it; I kept glancing back at him, working the docks.
Miss English Gyspy
“I am Roma! Not English, you gadjos!” The young woman said in harsh accents, glaring at the two large men. Who were so very English, she thought, with their fancy accents and prejudice against the Romni. She could feel the heat of the fire behind her, and the annoyance radiating off the two men who had told her she was ‘Miss Lansder’.
“Miss de Lansder, you are the half-sister of Lucian de Lansder, Duke of Morland.” The larger of the two said, Mr. Chresler.
“My name is Nydiline. And how does Lucian de Lansder, Duke of Morland, know about me?” she asked scathingly. For once she was happy her mother had made her learn English. She could yell at them and they could understand her.
“Your mother had sent your father a letter. He died three years ago, and your brother got it. He sent for you.” The smaller of the two men told her, his breath stank of slate ale. “Can you just come with us please?” he asked, growing angry.
Nydiline whirled, her emerald skirt whipping about her bare feet. She remembered the letter that her mother had written. Her mother had started writing it before she turned sixteen. It took her weeks to write it, in English, so it was readable. She remembered what her mother had told her, and her younger half-sister Jaelle, that it was to Nydiline’s father, an English duke. She tried to remember all of what she had been told of her father. She had his eyes, she remembered her mother had told her of her fathers green eyes, flecked with black and gold. Her father had been wealthy, and her mother wanted a better life for her, and that was why she sent the letter to him, before she died.
Nydiline never imagined her mother had actually sent the letter.
How could she live with gadjos? How could she dress like a gadji? She closed her eyes against the horrible thought of wearing all those clothes the fancy gadjis wore. And her hair wouldn’t be able to stay tamed. She liked her hair long, and free down her back.
“Hold on.” She said and walked toward camp, ignoring the men, to find her sister. She found Jaelle sitting in their shared tent, hugging a pillow. She knew Jealle was curious about gadjos. “Jaelle. Those men want me to go stay with my half-brother. My father died.” She sat facing her sister, but didn’t look at her. “What do I do Jaelle? He wants me to live among gadjos. Live like them.”
“Will you go? What will happen to me?” Jaelle was her responsibility. Nydiline stared back at her sisters wide eyes. She was twelve.
“Our mother wanted me to go. I’ll go, but I shall take you with me. Do you want to come with me?” She asked, suddenly uncertain.
That Other World
"Pills, ma'am." Leila looked at the small tray that slid out of the slot beneath the bathroom mirror with a sigh. Why did they have to take them every day? What were they for anyways? She sighed again before moving to put her toothbrush in the cup. "Pills, ma'am." The tinny voice repeated.
She gently swept them off the tray into her hand. "Thank you," she said softly. What would happen if she didn't take them?
"Leila, are you all right?" A knock sounded against the bathroom door, starling her.
"Yes. I'll be out in a moment." She quickly popped the pills into her mouth, swallowing them down with a gulp of water. She quickly checked the tight bun her hair was in before opening the door. "I'm sorry." She said to her younger brother, Jonah. He just shrugged as he slid past her into the bathroom.
She went down the hall to the room on the opposite side of the bathroom and shut herself into her bedroom. She sat on her narrow bed in the corner of her room and jumped when the tinny voice, this one slightly more feminine sounding. "Thursday ma'am." The wall to the left of her bed slid upward and the usual loose, pale blue dress appeared. Beneath it were her underclothes, and dainty white shoes.
She gently swept them off the tray into her hand. "Thank you," she said softly. What would happen if she didn't take them?
"Leila, are you all right?" A knock sounded against the bathroom door, starling her.
"Yes. I'll be out in a moment." She quickly popped the pills into her mouth, swallowing them down with a gulp of water. She quickly checked the tight bun her hair was in before opening the door. "I'm sorry." She said to her younger brother, Jonah. He just shrugged as he slid past her into the bathroom.
She went down the hall to the room on the opposite side of the bathroom and shut herself into her bedroom. She sat on her narrow bed in the corner of her room and jumped when the tinny voice, this one slightly more feminine sounding. "Thursday ma'am." The wall to the left of her bed slid upward and the usual loose, pale blue dress appeared. Beneath it were her underclothes, and dainty white shoes.
Lonely Road
I yawn as I turn down the road toward the cabin Marlene was letting me use for the summer. I glance at the time on the dash, unsurprised to see that it was just after midnight.
"Three hour drive, my ass," I whisper. It had been five hours. Granted, there had been more traffic then expected on a Tuesday at seven. "So much for the spa bath in the giant tub." I sigh, knowing I'd lug my bags out of my little red Kia Rio and not bother to unpack before collapsing onto the first semi-soft surface I find.
I still wasn't even sure I would enjoy this mini vacation. I was more then thirty miles from the nearest town, and this cabin was literally in the middle of nowhere. I suddenly thought about internet or a cell signal. Crap, what would I do without those things. I'm a simple girl, but I need my internet at least.
"What-" Without warning, I see a small figure moving on the side of the deserted road, and I slow down to see better. It looked like a child! The kid had a grey and pink backpack and a floppy blue hat on. Suddenly the child stops, and turns around. I slowly drive forward, trying to figure out why this young child would be on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere at this time of the night.
Beneath the blue hat, the child had long curly black hair. The hair and the soft face with wide eyes made her think it was a girl. She was wearing a too large grey sweater and purple pants. I rolled to a stop when the girl was level with the passenger door. "Are you lost, honey?"
The girl did nothing but stare at me. "Do you need a ride?" The girl glanced away, but hesitantly nodded. "Well, come in honey. We'll get you home and in warmer clothes or something. Food..." She hesitated for so long, I thought she wouldn't even respond. Then she slowly opened the door as she slid her dirty pink and grey backpack onto the floor and got into the car. She closed the door so gently it barely latched shut, then huddled away from me.
I kept driving, repeatedly glancing at the little girl, who was staring at me with wide eyes. "What's your name, honey?"
"Three hour drive, my ass," I whisper. It had been five hours. Granted, there had been more traffic then expected on a Tuesday at seven. "So much for the spa bath in the giant tub." I sigh, knowing I'd lug my bags out of my little red Kia Rio and not bother to unpack before collapsing onto the first semi-soft surface I find.
I still wasn't even sure I would enjoy this mini vacation. I was more then thirty miles from the nearest town, and this cabin was literally in the middle of nowhere. I suddenly thought about internet or a cell signal. Crap, what would I do without those things. I'm a simple girl, but I need my internet at least.
"What-" Without warning, I see a small figure moving on the side of the deserted road, and I slow down to see better. It looked like a child! The kid had a grey and pink backpack and a floppy blue hat on. Suddenly the child stops, and turns around. I slowly drive forward, trying to figure out why this young child would be on the side of the road in the middle of nowhere at this time of the night.
Beneath the blue hat, the child had long curly black hair. The hair and the soft face with wide eyes made her think it was a girl. She was wearing a too large grey sweater and purple pants. I rolled to a stop when the girl was level with the passenger door. "Are you lost, honey?"
The girl did nothing but stare at me. "Do you need a ride?" The girl glanced away, but hesitantly nodded. "Well, come in honey. We'll get you home and in warmer clothes or something. Food..." She hesitated for so long, I thought she wouldn't even respond. Then she slowly opened the door as she slid her dirty pink and grey backpack onto the floor and got into the car. She closed the door so gently it barely latched shut, then huddled away from me.
I kept driving, repeatedly glancing at the little girl, who was staring at me with wide eyes. "What's your name, honey?"
Raped (crappy working title)
I was in the chip aisle, wondering around the grocery store out of boredom, when a girl around my age turned into it. She was pushing a stroller with a sleeping baby girl, and she held a hand basket, and looked tired. Her dirty blonde hair was pulled into a ponytail high on her head, and she was wearing Nike shorts and a Team USA soccer tshirt. I looked back at the chips in front of me when the old woman also in the aisle cooed at the baby.
"She's so precious! Your little sister?" I winced at the question, knowing there was a possibility of the baby being hers.
"No. My niece." she was glaring at the woman when I looked up again. "Sissy. Come here." A younger girl, about fifteen slowly turned into the aisle, arms held loosely around her torso. I frowned because she was wearing heavy black jeans, a long sleeve shirt and an oversized black sweater; and it was the middle of summer. "What kind of baby food did you say you wanted?" She slowly moved her long brown hair out of her face as she scanned the wall.
"She likes the carrots... Organic if it's here. I'm going to get the bread for us." She leaned down to gently kiss the top of her baby's head. "And we need to find an organic store here." She again, slowly walked past me, looking at the ground when I smiled at her.
"She was raped." the girl told the woman shortly, who had been looking at her sister and the baby disapprovingly. "And kidnapped to be raped. Never look at anyone like that if you don't know their story. She kept it because she's against abortion and didn't want to put her up for adoption because she loves that much. Our parents kicked her out because of it. Don't look at people like that." I watched her, shocked as she calmly took about five cans of baby food off the shelf. She stared at me as she passed, I tried to smiled but couldn't, so I nodded at her. Her eyes flickered, and she stopped at the end of the aisle as she turned the corner, and nodded back.
I turned back to stare at the wall of chips and pretzels before, and randomly picked a bag. “Child out of wedlock… Disgrace…” I heard the woman in the aisle muttering.
“Excuse me, did you not hear her? Her sister was raped. I think that that is an acceptable reason for having a child out of marriage.” I turned to respond to her. She looked down her nose at me.
“Please young man. Like that is true. Any one would abort a rape-baby. And if they didn’t, they would send the demmed thing away.
"She's so precious! Your little sister?" I winced at the question, knowing there was a possibility of the baby being hers.
"No. My niece." she was glaring at the woman when I looked up again. "Sissy. Come here." A younger girl, about fifteen slowly turned into the aisle, arms held loosely around her torso. I frowned because she was wearing heavy black jeans, a long sleeve shirt and an oversized black sweater; and it was the middle of summer. "What kind of baby food did you say you wanted?" She slowly moved her long brown hair out of her face as she scanned the wall.
"She likes the carrots... Organic if it's here. I'm going to get the bread for us." She leaned down to gently kiss the top of her baby's head. "And we need to find an organic store here." She again, slowly walked past me, looking at the ground when I smiled at her.
"She was raped." the girl told the woman shortly, who had been looking at her sister and the baby disapprovingly. "And kidnapped to be raped. Never look at anyone like that if you don't know their story. She kept it because she's against abortion and didn't want to put her up for adoption because she loves that much. Our parents kicked her out because of it. Don't look at people like that." I watched her, shocked as she calmly took about five cans of baby food off the shelf. She stared at me as she passed, I tried to smiled but couldn't, so I nodded at her. Her eyes flickered, and she stopped at the end of the aisle as she turned the corner, and nodded back.
I turned back to stare at the wall of chips and pretzels before, and randomly picked a bag. “Child out of wedlock… Disgrace…” I heard the woman in the aisle muttering.
“Excuse me, did you not hear her? Her sister was raped. I think that that is an acceptable reason for having a child out of marriage.” I turned to respond to her. She looked down her nose at me.
“Please young man. Like that is true. Any one would abort a rape-baby. And if they didn’t, they would send the demmed thing away.
Seven Brothers and a City Girl (also a crappy working title)
The bell above the door rang, and Tyreece looked up to see a mass of windblown curls and a lot of tanned skin. He raised his brow and heard his younger brother's low, short laugh. "Can I help you, miss?" He asked, doubting that she was in the right town, let alone the right store.
"OMFG. Is it always so windy in this place?" She snapped large sunglasses off her face and left them hanging out of the pocket of very short shorts. She groaned and started raking her fingers through her hair, de-tangling knots before they formed.
His brother Zeke laughed and stretched before getting off the stool that he'd been sitting on for three hours, reading some new book. "Pretty much. In the summer, it's worse because it's hot, and any wind is just as hot."
She groaned again, "Are you effing kidding me? It's not hot now?" she flipped her hair off her face. Tyreece held his breath, because even with her nose scrunched in disgust, he was sure she was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen.
"It's still mid-Spring," Zeke said, "It's practically cool." He left the book open, and unclipped his keys from his belt loop to drop them on the open pages. "Can we help you with anything?" She walked forward, disdainfully eyeing everything she walked by as she neared the back counter.
"I'm looking for Claire or John Barker. I'm expected," she smirked cooly at them.
"They aren't here right now." Zeke said, apologetically.
The smirk dropped from her lips. "I'm expected. Can't you call one of them, or something?"
"They're busy today, doing inventory, off-site. Can we get your name? -there might be something here for you." Zeke glanced at Tyreece before he started shuffling through the paper on the counter from various customers, or from their parents to the brothers working.
She rolled her eyes, and scoffed at them. She pulled a phone out of her back pocket that seemed too big to fit in the shorts she was wearing. She tapped at the screen, ignoring the two boys watching her. She sighed, and half turned away from the counter. "Daddy! They aren't even here! You said they were expecting me! Why the fuck did you make me come here!?" Zeke and Tyreece glanced at each other, eyebrows raised, then settled on their elbows to watch her. "No! They aren't here. There are two-" she turned to look at them through narrowed eyes, "dudes in ugly tshirts with the store name on them."
They both glanced down at their work shirts, small frowns gracing their faces. Zeke waved his hand beneath the logo, looking at Tyreece as if for approval. Tyreece shrugged.
"OMFG. Is it always so windy in this place?" She snapped large sunglasses off her face and left them hanging out of the pocket of very short shorts. She groaned and started raking her fingers through her hair, de-tangling knots before they formed.
His brother Zeke laughed and stretched before getting off the stool that he'd been sitting on for three hours, reading some new book. "Pretty much. In the summer, it's worse because it's hot, and any wind is just as hot."
She groaned again, "Are you effing kidding me? It's not hot now?" she flipped her hair off her face. Tyreece held his breath, because even with her nose scrunched in disgust, he was sure she was the prettiest thing he'd ever seen.
"It's still mid-Spring," Zeke said, "It's practically cool." He left the book open, and unclipped his keys from his belt loop to drop them on the open pages. "Can we help you with anything?" She walked forward, disdainfully eyeing everything she walked by as she neared the back counter.
"I'm looking for Claire or John Barker. I'm expected," she smirked cooly at them.
"They aren't here right now." Zeke said, apologetically.
The smirk dropped from her lips. "I'm expected. Can't you call one of them, or something?"
"They're busy today, doing inventory, off-site. Can we get your name? -there might be something here for you." Zeke glanced at Tyreece before he started shuffling through the paper on the counter from various customers, or from their parents to the brothers working.
She rolled her eyes, and scoffed at them. She pulled a phone out of her back pocket that seemed too big to fit in the shorts she was wearing. She tapped at the screen, ignoring the two boys watching her. She sighed, and half turned away from the counter. "Daddy! They aren't even here! You said they were expecting me! Why the fuck did you make me come here!?" Zeke and Tyreece glanced at each other, eyebrows raised, then settled on their elbows to watch her. "No! They aren't here. There are two-" she turned to look at them through narrowed eyes, "dudes in ugly tshirts with the store name on them."
They both glanced down at their work shirts, small frowns gracing their faces. Zeke waved his hand beneath the logo, looking at Tyreece as if for approval. Tyreece shrugged.
Computer Boyfriend (another crap working title)
Hailee: So are you really gunna make all your friends come with you to meet me?
Kevin: ya totally. The only reason we r even going is cuz I want 2 meet u! I came up w the plan, and got all their parents ok w it
Hailee: I still can't believe you're actually coming. :D
Kevin: I KNOW! I cant wait 2 actually c u. Pro pics just arent enuff u kno
Hailee: I know. I'm sorry my crap computer is old and unable to video chat. And you're two years older then me! Can't you type correctly?
Kevin: ya, hold on! I gotta go see if Tara is actually asleep. I'm babysitting tonight.... Did I mention that?
Hailee: oh wow! Geez, Kevin! You need to actually watch her when you're babysitting. Last time she left and your parents brought her home when they drove by the park where she was with her friends.
Hailee smiled and turned around in her desk chair and watched her new, as yet unnamed, english cocker spaniel puppy sleepily gnaw on a small dog bone. She had run herself into the ground, tiring out that adorable fluff head.
Kevin: She's not asleep, but she's in her room and she yelled at me to get out because she was like, Skyping her friends, or whatever.
Haillee: Thank you for typing correctly.
Haillee: Did I send you a pic of my ADORABLE fluff head....That's what I'm calling her for now...?
Kevin: Your welcome. And no, you did not. Send it to my phone, if you pleeeeease.
Kevin: Aw, my jizzness. That is one aptly named adorable fluff head.
Haillee: I KNOW RIGHT!? I'm going to go to bed early, because I was playing with her all day long, and am exhausted. Talk to you in the morning?
Kevin: Lucky you. Talk to you later. Love you.
Haillee: I love you too. xo
Haillee logged off, stretched and put her computer to sleep. She smiled when she turned to see that her puppy had fallen asleep with the bone in her mouth.
Kevin: ya totally. The only reason we r even going is cuz I want 2 meet u! I came up w the plan, and got all their parents ok w it
Hailee: I still can't believe you're actually coming. :D
Kevin: I KNOW! I cant wait 2 actually c u. Pro pics just arent enuff u kno
Hailee: I know. I'm sorry my crap computer is old and unable to video chat. And you're two years older then me! Can't you type correctly?
Kevin: ya, hold on! I gotta go see if Tara is actually asleep. I'm babysitting tonight.... Did I mention that?
Hailee: oh wow! Geez, Kevin! You need to actually watch her when you're babysitting. Last time she left and your parents brought her home when they drove by the park where she was with her friends.
Hailee smiled and turned around in her desk chair and watched her new, as yet unnamed, english cocker spaniel puppy sleepily gnaw on a small dog bone. She had run herself into the ground, tiring out that adorable fluff head.
Kevin: She's not asleep, but she's in her room and she yelled at me to get out because she was like, Skyping her friends, or whatever.
Haillee: Thank you for typing correctly.
Haillee: Did I send you a pic of my ADORABLE fluff head....That's what I'm calling her for now...?
Kevin: Your welcome. And no, you did not. Send it to my phone, if you pleeeeease.
Kevin: Aw, my jizzness. That is one aptly named adorable fluff head.
Haillee: I KNOW RIGHT!? I'm going to go to bed early, because I was playing with her all day long, and am exhausted. Talk to you in the morning?
Kevin: Lucky you. Talk to you later. Love you.
Haillee: I love you too. xo
Haillee logged off, stretched and put her computer to sleep. She smiled when she turned to see that her puppy had fallen asleep with the bone in her mouth.
Suicide Notes
Not written enough to put up!