The KIA Chronicles

Chapter 4: Sorry

"I already apologized, like five times, Alia!" I chased after her as we walked up to Humanities, the next day.

She glared at me, and marched inside.

"Dude, you must have really messed up..." Sammy whispered to me, as I sat down. "This is, like, Jennifer level angry."

"Good to know." I muttered, turning to Sam. "Why can't she take a joke? She said it was Jennifer's joke, so-"

"Wait, you repeated something Jennifer said?" Sammy was suddenly serious and I was a bit weirded.

"Well, yeah. So?"

"Have you considered that maybe, just maybe, what you said was a bit insensitive?" Sammy looked over at Alia, seeming worried.

Before I could answer, Mr.Collins walked up to the board and wrote: UN-Empathetic Actions.

"So class, what are some historical examples of miscommunication?" Mr. Collins turned to look at us, and his eyes scanned the classroom. He always does this. It's like he can tell when somethings up and changes his lesson to fit whatever is going on with us. Actually, he probably knows because Alia is wearing her 'pouty mad face'. Her 'pouty mad face' is scary.

Janice shyly raised her hand.

"Would the bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki count?"

Mr. Collins nodded.
"The bombings were caused by a misunderstanding that occurred when a message from Japan got mistranslated, which made the USA think Japan wanted more war, when they trying to make peace. As a result, the US decided to bomb the towns of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. This misunderstanding caused the deaths of innocent people."

He sat down on his desk, and looked at Alia.

"Now we all have small misunderstandings in our day to day lives. They haven't caused a mass death, yet, but they are still important. These small misunderstandings can be caused by unempathetic actions. Sometimes, we don't realize that we' hurt someone we care about. Think about your actions, and how they affect the people around you."

I walked into the common room from the boys dorms. Alia was sitting there, long after everyone else was asleep, strumming on her guitar. She ignored me and started singing.

"Hate and Love, are things of war... My icy heart to melt once more.

They see trees, I see flames... Cause when we burn there's no one else to blame.

And I see fire, they see stars! And they see pain, that's just who we are...

Cause this our life running from ourselves trying to live out on the higher shelf.

You pushed me down, I fell through the cracks... And now I'm seeing black...

We carry our weight, we carry our pain, we carry our guilt, but there's nothing left to gain.

You pushed me down, I fell through the cracks, and now I'm seeing stars in the black..."

I sat down next to her, as she put down her guitar. She slowly unraveled her headscarf, and held it in her hands.

"You know why I wear this everyday?" She regarded it as if it were a part of her.

"You're Muslim... right?"

"No, my father was. I'm Hindu "

"Oh."

Silence. It seemed less tense the our conversation, but the silence still felt awkward.

"Did he convert or..."

"He died."

I stared at her blankly, in shock. She looked like she was on the verge of tears.