The First Guardian

Chapter 5: School and the Villains That Come With It

A/N: This chapter is probably the most boring out of the five chapters I have so far. :/ The end will make up for it though, methinks. So, without further ado, yer chapter. Remember to vote, comment, and read! XD

        ~ E

I cradled the girl's head in my hands.

 She stirred and opened her eyes. "Oh gosh. School. I'm late!" The girl jumped up, stumbled, and ran. I followed her curiously.

 The girl was running to a huge building with a bell on it. It was ringing loudly and I covered my ears and continued to follow her.

 She slipped into a room with many other children her age (I reserve the right to call them children because right now I am about 8,000 years old or so. But ... time travel is a funny thing. It hasn't really been a year since I became a Guardian, I don't think. I was about 14 when I became one, and now I'm like ... I don’t know, 8,230 years old? But really 14? I'm confusing myself. Am I confusing you? I hope not, but at the same time I hope so ... Oh let's get back to the story!) who were all seated in uncomfortable looking chairs.

 From what I saw in the synagogues, the boys there sat on plush pillows and studied scrolls. What were these other things and why were the children sitting in uncomfortable chairs?

 There was a woman at the front of the room who started speaking in a language I didn't understand. Apparently it was English. The children started nodding their heads and saying things like "uh ...." and then words I did not understand. After a while, I began to notice a pattern. When a person raised their hand, the woman pointed at them and all the other hands went down. The person who won said something.

 I wish I knew English. I thought sadly.

 This was too hard for me to understand. Sighing, I walked out of the room.

 I walked down the corridors in lament. I wanted to learn things so badly! So, so badly. But, words couldn't be translated into Hebrew.

 Thinking back on that one scenario, I breathed out slowly. Why could I understand the drunk's foul language, but not the teacher's? It was something to ask Lupa.

 "Let's start at the very beginning."

 Wait ... that's Hebrew! I thought. I listened closely.

 "What comes first? A, B, C!"

 I followed the voice hesitantly. I was afraid it was my mind acting up.

 I reached a room with little, little children in it. They were looking at a teacher with big, adoring eyes. They were sitting on plush pillows, like they should be.

 I smiled and walked in, sitting behind a young girl.

 The woman at the head of the class pointed to a triangular object with a line through the top. It looked like this: A

 "What is this?" the woman asked.

 The girl in front of me shot her hand up.

 "Yes?"

 The girl replied in English. "A." I could barely pick out what she said, but that was okay because I was learning English!

 "Very good. Brunhilda, what's this letter?" She pointed to an object in the room that looked like this: B

 "B?" Brunhilda asked slowly.

 "Are you asking me or telling me?"

 "B." Brunhilda said decisively.