Reincarnation (Angel Beats)

Ordinary

I flash my eyes open, and I blink the exhaustion out of my eyes as I lay still, enmeshed in a pile of blue blankets. The aroma of my ordinary sunny side-up eggs and turkey bacon wafts from the kitchen downstairs, my every day wake-up call.

I reluctantly sit up, leaving the cocoon of blankets, and go through my morning routine. Boring navy blazer and skirt and high knee socks? Check. Granola bar in bag? Check. Washing and brushing my teeth with that frog toothbrush my mom can never convince me to throw away? Check.

I splash water on my face and give a half-hearted smile at my ordinary reflection, and it's just the beginning of another day of my life. An almost ordinary life.

I hurry down the stairs and walk into the cheery kitchen, mouthing "good morning" to my mom. She smiles at me and says it back, handing me my breakfast. I nod to show my thanks, promptly digging in.

My mother carries fruit salad and a side of fresh scrambled eggs to the table, tucking a strand strand of hair behind my ear as I eat. She takes a heart-shaped pad with purple paper and a pen we nabbed from some hotel, scribbling: Good morning, sweetheart. How are you doing?

I sigh with a mouthful of turkey bacon, accept the pen from her waiting fingertips, and reply: I'm perfectly fine, Mom.

She smiles contentedly at me, and continues: You can tell me if anything's wrong, Mia. We got your progress report yesterday. We understand that you have to adjust to your new school, but this is for the best.

Please stop treating me like I'm five, Mom. I get it.

Alright, sweetie. If you say so. 

I carry my empty plate to the sink, eager to end the awkward conversation, and walk to the living room. I sling my backpack around my shoulders, and wait for the school bus to arrive. As the mauve vehicle that's slightly classier than the bright yellow monstrosities that pull up in front of my five year-old neighbor's home appears in the street, I duck out with a wave goodbye and board the bus.

I mouth a hello to the chubby blonde driver, before making my way to my regular seat in the back row. Avoiding the gazes of the people who always whisper and point when I walk by, I smile politely at a couple of girls whose names I can vaguely remember, the two wearing glasses and Mary Jane flats, murmuring to each other and showing off their A+ grades. There's a dark, dismal girl sitting in the middle amid the chaos of every early morning bus ride, staring pointedly out the window. There are the cheerleader girls, the geeks that frequent the anime club, the tanned volleyball and field hockey girls, that sloppy artist girl who always seems to be scowling. But where do I fit in the mix of things?

Before long, tbus driver pulls up to the curb of the neat, squat brick building with expansive grounds where a group of wearing dark blue jerseys are casually kicking around a soccer ball. I ease to my feet and pad outside, keeping my head down. The air is pleasantly cool and light today, and I can smell the fragrance of newly planted flowers. A gardener smiles at me as he pushes a wheelbarrow filled with rich brown soil, and I give him a little wave in return.

I walk into the lobby, where parents and teachers are milling around, sipping at paper cups of coffee and tea. The skylight lets in warm sunlight, and there's a friendly feeling in the brightly colored windowpanes and the maroon locker. But still, there's a sinking feeling in my stomach every time I walk through those doors. The carefree world of ordinary middle school girls isn't exactly fit for someone like me.

Whenever I go to a class, there's always a smiling Asian woman whose name I can never remember waiting by my desk. I nod absentmindedly as she translates what the teacher's words with her fluid finger motions, and I do my best to quash the churning feeling in my stomach when I see the same few girls gawking at me. Like I'm some freak. It just serves as a painful reminder as to why I'll never be like them.

At the end of my ordinary days, I take deep breath and sigh, hurrying to the abandoned music room. I sit down in front of the dusty piano, letting out a sigh of relief, and run my fingers across the smooth ivory keys.

But this is my purpose. Even though the world is silent, I have my music. Music is my salvation. My purpose in life. Yes, this is where I belong.

The lonely girl with a piano. My music is all I truly need. 

a/n: mia is iwasawa!