The repeated bang on my door is blaring; like a thunderstorm, it eradicated any hopes I had of remaining in a deep slumber. I knew the culprit behind the unscrupulous actions because this had become a daily routine. My life had practically dawned the new age of a mundane storyline, and like coffee without sugar, it was tasteless and bland. Perhaps it was because of the torrential flow of rain pouring down outside or the blistering wind that cast over our hometown, further dampening my mood, but I had no objections to the way I lived. Learning from years of experience, my train of thoughts coincided with "it is what it is" and I make no apologies because that thought helped me through the roughest of times. Although I have no doubt people would assume the worst of me for having an enervative mindset. Twenty-three years went by like this, most of it a meaningless blur. The only thing in my life that gave me purpose was the same person behind that door causing such a ruckus, and if it were anyone else raising mayhem, I'd have retaliated.
Growing up in a place where nothing too out-of-the-ordinary happened, there hadn't been a scandal to paint this town in ignominy for years. Though I couldn't speak for what happened behind closed doors but if walls could talk, I wonder what secrets they'd tell? I don't assume that everyone in our so called 'pitch perfect' home town were saints either, we just hadn't heard anything contradictory. It's a little coincidental that the town we were living in was called Saint Gardens. That being said, I was swiftly dragged back to reality when my alarm clock in human form cried out.
"Aria, get up!" It was Julian, my older brother. Groaning, I rolled over to the left side of my bed, and in a silent protest, I lifted my middle finger up in the air.
"Don't throw that finger up at me. Get moving before you miss your first day at work," he chastised. It was times like this that made me question whether or not he was secretly telekinetic, or perhaps he just knew me like the back of his hand? After all, we only had each other.
Gurgling something along the lines of piss off praying that he would just go away, I found myself attempting to drift somewhere far away. It wasn't until I repeated what he said in my head that I realised
Shit
I have work.
Expeditiously opening my eyes, I flew out of the bed at inhuman speed, and without further ado, I'd risen from the dead. Surveying the hermit cave I'd been inhabiting for the past few days, I came to the conclusion that my room was a freaking mess and that it needed cleaning. It was a miracle finding an outfit amongst the cluster-fuck I had created, but within a matter of minutes I'd successfully grabbed what I needed before manoeuvring to the shower.
I took some time to cleanse myself under the scorching belts of water that cascaded down my body. I felt a surge of energy course through me, warming the pinnacles of my heart. Without forgetting to lather body scrub across my lean figure and wash my hair, I jumped out of the shower to get dressed. Anyone would think I was running a marathon with how quickly I put on my outfit. After subtly reaching the bottom of the stairs, I bee-lined towards the kitchen for breakfast. I knew I'd eventually bump into Julian before he left for work.
He was a lawyer working at a prestige law firm in Cape Grove City, and as a hotshot defence attorney, he'd represented some of the most notorious criminals. Whether or not that made him corrupt was a matter of perspective, for virtue is in the eye of the beholder. Besides, there was no room for personal beliefs or opinions in his line of work when dealing with clients, guilty or not. After all, taking the job meant one's precious moral compass was a separate consideration entirely. I certainly wasn't going to judge him, though. All I know is that he's a good man, a provider, and someone who always brings something to the table. He'd been that way ever since our parents passed away; he'd gone through immeasurable lengths to help us both survive. Aside from my love, my appreciation overpowered any other outlook I had on my brother; it was a biassed judgement, but none the less, I wouldn't be deterred.
"Have a good day today, and thanks for waking me, Julie." expressing my gratitude, I walked over to the hot jug, pouring some water into a cup for my morning dose of coffee. I heard a snicker coming from behind, conveying clear distaste for the girly nickname I mentioned.
"Don't call me that," he grumbled, wrapping an arm around my shoulder as a sentimental gesture. Much to his disappointment, it had never stopped me from saying it. Like everyone else blessed with a sibling, as audacious as it sounds, I secretly got a twist out of pulling his leg. Minutes later, I watched him waltz out the door, hopping into his car as he waved goodbye.
The clock droned away in the background, similar to the sound of my heart thumping, as a reminder that I was still living in this colourless world. Tick, tick, tick, it went. I had about thirty minutes before the better part of my day officially started. I was scoffing down some cereal before I got up to prepare a minuscule bite for lunch.
It wasn't until I walked out of the kitchen, down the hallway with my lunch, and work bag that it dawned on me how bare the inside walls of our house looked. It almost knocked the wind out of my sails, and I'd completely lost the ability to smile. Overwhelmed with a familiar sense of sadness to see that we'd taken down all of our family photos because it was too much to handle looking at them.
Our parents, I mean.
Convinced that I was living in a distorted reality, my heart broke, and those wounds I buried deep inside were renewed with an uncured form of pain. The only small sense of relief I had was knowing that they died together. Harbouring those thoughts made me realise two things: first, that there is something terribly morbid between sympathy and pain; it was something I knew all too well. Second, the concept of my parents dying together as a final assent to their love was something I could only hope to one day resonate with.
Sliding into the black SUV I owned, it was only seconds later that my fingers fluctuated against the steering wheel. Leaning forwards just an inch to get a better glimpse of the road ahead, it was difficult given that the rain was plummeting down against my windscreen, alleviating my vision. Somehow, possibly by a miracle, I made it safely to the local primary school, where I was hired to work as a teacher. Despite the horrible weather that imitated my despairing spirit, I'd mastered the perfect smile. It was one I'd honed to perfection over the past few years, helping me to conceal my true emotions that were helplessly tangled in ruins amongst my heart.
Striding through the hallways, I was headed for the staff room office, where I gracefully greeted the other teachers, most of whom I found bounteous. Perhaps God was on my side today, for I was fortunate to be working with friendly colleagues.
"You must be Miss Williams," said a soft, chirpy voice coming from the left side of me as I placed my work bag down on the desk. Slightly turning to the side, I came face-to-face with an elderly woman wearing a soft smile. It was her eyes that I noticed first; they held a vigourous amount of wisdom and kindness.
With my hand out in midair, I greeted her, saying, "Yes, but call me Aria. It's nice to meet you..." My voice trailed off waiting for her to put a name to the face.
"Oh, I'm Evelyn, but Eve for short. I'm teaching in the classroom next to you; if you need any help, don't hesitate to ask," she said, making me smile brightly in agreement.
"Thank you, Eve," I replied instantly, giving her a smile. We exchanged a few more words before I scurried off to my classroom.
Setting foot inside the space I planned to work in for the next few years, I reached the decision that I would reorganise the classroom during my free time. Something about the desks lined up in rows made it feel as though I was conducting a military mission. Moreover, the walls were a little too dark and quite depressing; they needed more colour. Heck, it almost reminded me of the bare walls back at home.
Not too long after, students rushed inside, breaking me from my thoughts. Some students began taking a seat while others were laughing. They all seemed like frail little creatures, untainted and oblivious to the pretentious world we were living in. One day they'd all grow up, and they'd come to realise just how valuable these early moments in their life would be, for the hard days were yet to come and anyone who thought otherwise was a fool. It's not that I desire for them to suffer, but it was inevitable either way. Everyone goes through tough times at some point in their life, but it's how we choose to deal with it that matters.
A few minutes later, I realised all the noise in the room had ceased to exist, and not even a whisper was heard. Lifting my head, I witnessed the reason for the lack of commotion.
There he was, a young blonde boy in a grey hoodie who'd strolled into the room, pulling one of the free desks at the front right to the back of the class. He'd bulldozed through whatever was in his path with a look of determination to reach his final destination. From the looks of it, he was a force to be reckoned with, and while the other kids were staring wide-eyed at him, I couldn't help but think he was rather
Peculiar.
"What are you all looking at?" The boy snapped.
Almost immediately, the entire class turned away as if they'd been whiplashed. The boy who seemed agitated only seconds ago with everyone staring at him finally relaxed. Although I admit I had a few questions, like, Why did everyone react differently around him? I couldn't help but also think that he kind of reminded me a little of myself. Given that in my more theatrical days as a kid, I caused many distractions in class, not to mention how temperamental I was. I'm sure I'm not the only one who can relate?
Despite my ability to empathise, I had to interfere. Who knows why? Maybe it was the reasonable side of me, or perhaps it was because it was my job.
"Excuse me? Can you move that desk back to where you got it from and then take a seat?" My voice echoed to the back of the room, gaining the little boy's attention.
The awkward silence that followed may have caused other teachers to fumble, but I didn't have such a soft stomach. Most of the kids who sat looking uncomfortable gave me the impression they knew something I didn't. At first, I thought they were scared of the little boy because that much was obvious from the fact that everyone hushed when he walked in. Now that I think about it, though, they all looked a little scared for me. I wonder why? I thought.
"No."
His voice cut through the air like a knife to my throat. To say I was shocked would be an understatement. I should've known from the disgruntled display he put on when he showed up that it wasn't going to be as easy as ABCs to teach this kid.
Remind me why I signed up for this job? I silently cursed myself.
"I'll give you five seconds to move that desk back to where you got it from; otherwise, you can sit in the principal's office and explain to him why I sent you there." I voiced having no choice but to give him an ultimatum.
Surprisingly, he still hadn't moved. It was like we were having some unspoken contest as we stared each other down, waiting for the other to forfeit. I pondered the silent question as to why this kid seemed hellbent on a challenge; it was far too early to be this uncooperative. Without breaking eye contact, I started counting down from five, and by the time I reached two, he actually moved on his own accord.
Reverting my attention back to the class, I cleared my throat, notifying everyone that we were about to start class. Judging by the looks on the students faces, they seemed surprised that the little boy listened.
"Hello everyone, I am Miss Williams, your new teacher." I smiled, looking towards everyone, to find that each of them was watching me with curiosity. I wondered if perhaps, at that age, I was a curious little being. After all, we do tend to live in a completely different world from adults when we're kids-at least most of us. Some unfortunate souls have no choice but to grow up and become adults a lot earlier, and I do empathise with those who do. I mean our childhoods are the foundations of all our future learning, behaviour, and health; hence, it is important that kids be kids.
"Nobody cares. You're just going to leave like the rest of them anyway," the same little boy from before interrupted. He rolled his eyes as if to show that my presence was nothing but a nuisance.
I let myself breathe for a few seconds so as not to get into another kerfuffle with an eight-year-old kid for being so disrespectful. Once I knew I was calm, I replied, "Well, I plan to be here for quite a long time, so think of me as your new and final teacher."
That earned a few smiles from the class and seemed to lighten the mood back up, which I was glad for. I could see the little boy was still not convinced, but I refused to indulge in the matter and turned back to the board. Perhaps later he and I would have a talk about why he seemed so hostile.
"Can you all introduce yourselves? We can go around the class, and one at a time, you can say your names loud and clear for me to learn," I said with an authoritative yet soft tone.
I smiled, encouraging the first girl who was closest to me to go. "Hi, Miss Williams, my name is Daisy, and I hope you stay our teacher forever," she said, making me smile towards her. After that, the introductions carried on, and everyone in the class began to say their names.
"My name is Bailey."
"I'm Demi"
"Hi, I'm Tristan."
Finally, after most of the students introduced themselves, we all waited for the final introduction to finish. It was the little boy who interrupted me before and had yet to tell me his name. The look on his face was as if this was the last place he wanted to be. I gave him a few minutes to tell me his name, but he wasn't interested. At this point, I don't think his lack of interest in participating in the class was a surprise. That doesn't mean I didn't want to know who he was, because it was obvious that I was curious. After a few minutes, though, it was clear he wasn't going to say anything, so instead I nodded, deciding not to press on the matter.
Now, some teachers might have pushed him to give them his name; some teachers might have just sent him to the principal's office already; and some might have ignored him completely. I didn't want to do any of that; I guess all I wanted to do was show him that I understood when he was ready to tell me I'd listen, and clearly that time wasn't right now. Part of me also didn't want to feed him the attention he was seeking, at least not until I got to the bottom of why he was acting this way.
I started handing out white, clear paper to each of the students because I wanted them to write a few sentences or draw pictures about what they did over the last weekend. Like a recount story, they'd be able to give me an idea of who they are through their pictures or stories.
When I placed a sheet of paper down on the little boy's desk, it took him a few seconds to notice; his head shot up, and he looked towards me with a glaring gaze. Lifting an eyebrow I waited, and before I knew it, he opened his school bag to pull out a pen to start writing.
By the end of the last period of class, everyone had finished their schoolwork, and I decided to give the kids homework. I instructed everyone to go home and tell their parents one thing they enjoyed doing today and to come back and tell me what their parents response was during our next class.Everyone happily agreed and then left before saying their goodbyes.
I packed everything I needed before walking outside, heading towards my car. On the way there, I heard a piercing laugh. It was the type of laugh that filled your heart with warmth and made everything in the world slow down. I halted on the spot and reared back to check where the noise was coming from, only to see Evelyn talking to that same boy from my class, whose name I did not know.
Deciding to walk towards them to get a closer look, I couldn't help but wonder, Where was this side of the kid when he was in class today?
"Is everything okay over here?" I asked with a smile, glancing towards the boy from my class. I had hoped to get a smile in return, but to no avail; only Evelyn acknowledged me.
"Yes, we are fine here. I'm just watching Ethan until his father arrives to pick him up," Evelyn said, to which I nodded my head in understanding.
Ethan
So that was his name.