Loner (5)

This a story about racism I wrote when I was 14 years old.

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - cont

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

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I had Maths after English. I walked out of the classroom and realized I don't know where the classroom for Math is. I looked around for a fellow classmate but couldn't find one. Instead, I found a swarm of older students pass by me. They were all staring at my face, some laughing and pointing me out to their friends. I rubbed my nose, looked at my hand and found nothing. Again I looked up and still people were staring at me.

"Oh no!" I thought to myself "What is wrong? Do I have a bogey stuck on my face!?"

I remembered Corrine telling me where the toilets were. I dashed in and up to a mirror, checking my face for anything that wasn't supposed to be there. There wasn't anything out of the ordinary.

I walked out of the toilet and along the corridors, looking in on every classroom through the door's window to see if my classmates were in any of them. Just when I thought I was going to cry out of frustration, I felt a hand on my shoulder. I turned around and saw a large, rosy cheeked, blond haired, middle aged lady with soft blue eyes staring back at me. She smiled, and asked what was I doing wandering through the deserted corridors.

I told her that I was a new student and that I wasn't able to find my Math's class. She asked me why none of my classmates showed me the way. I shrugged and she clucked her tongue. Five minutes later I entered the class with the rosy-cheeked lady behind me. The teacher, Mr. Gibbons, didn't seem happy that I was fifteen minutes late for his class. He told me off , and I heard some sniggering as I walked to the back of the class and sat down. Miss Heather ( the rosy-cheeked lady) told Mr.Gibbons that it wasn't my fault as I was a new student and nobody showed me the way to his class. He merely nodded his hand and sternly thanked Miss Heather.

Math is my favourite subject. I soon found myself lost in numbers and calculation, my embarrassment at being told off on my first day of school gone. Math does not rely wholly on memorization, but a deep understanding in order to answer questions. A character in a novel I once read said that no matter how different the world's culture and language is, Math still stays the universal way to communicate as it is the same in every language. I believe that maybe one day numbers will be our tool to communicate with extraterrestrial beings. We took simultaneous equations today, and I aced the principle to solving it immediately.

the bell rand and it was time for the lunch break. Everyone filed out into the playground and I followed last. I walked out, looked around, saw Corrine walking a little ahead of me and I ran to catch up with her. She smiled and asked me how I liked the school until now. I said it wasn't bad but it was confusing to get around. She laughed and said that I'll get used to it in a week. We joined a group of girls and boys from our class whom were picking teams for Red Rovers.

Red Rovers is a two team game. Each team must hold unto one another hand, creating a chain. The opposing teams face each other. One side starts by picking a person from the other team to try and break through their chain. The chosen person will rush headlong into a link in the chain, and if they manage to make the link break (the people holding unto each other's hands let go) then the person can go back to their team and choose someone else from the opposing team to join them., making their chain longer. However, if unsuccessful in making the link break, the person must join the opposing team.

Two captains were chosen, and each began picking people for their team turn by turn. I was picked last. To my surprise and confusion, none of the teams wanted me. Why? Do I have some type of disease that they are trying to avoid or do I look like a monster with eight eyes and six hairy legs?

Or worse! Maybe this time there defiantly is something stick to my face!

Immediately my left hand shot up to my face and I began to rub at my nose. A murmur of disgust rose from the crowd surrounding me. Too late, I realized the oddness of what I was doing, and I dropped my arm limply to my side, feeling utterly embarrassed.

Finally, after much arguing about which team should choose the snotty nosed girl, Corrine convinced her team's captain to choose me, and reluctantly he agreed. I stood on the left end of the chain, and I held unto Corrine with my right hand, not daring to use my left in case I frightened her off.

It was a fun game, and everyone had a go at trying to break the link, except for me. Corrine's turn came and she was chosen to try and break the link of the other team. She didn't succeed and so had to join them. The girl who held unto Corrine's other hand wasn't too keen to hold unto mine and said she will on one condition: that's 'd pull my shirt's long sleeve over my hand. This was a bit too much, and I thought to myself that if I'm not wanted somewhere then I might as well not be there.

I walked off, mumbling that I am feeling tired and don't want to play anymore. There was still a few minutes left until the end of the the morning break. I walked over to the benches. I noticed heads turning in my direction, and whispers behind me saying "... yeah she's new, only just arrived ... what a strange color, so like chocolate, definatly not the bronze color of tan"

I sat down and watched the kids strolling around the playground. There wasn't much going on, mostly people strolling around and talking. I pondered the reason of why my classmates were behaving so strangely. Back home, I was rather liked by everyone. Even strangers instantly got attracted to me because of my charm and smile, as my Mother would put it. Here, I used all the charm and smiles I could muster but still it seems that no one cared about being my friend. Well, I can't really say no one Corrine sure is trying to make me feel at home I guess. I tried to find a reason for why that girl didn't want to touch my hand. I guessed it was because of me rubbing my nose. To tell the truth, if I was in her place I wouldn't like to touch the hand of someone whom might have some snot on their fingers.

Happy with my conclusion, I made my way back into the school's building as the bell signalling for the end of the morning break clanged loudly.

Loner (4)

Note: this post is espically written for one of my blog readers =P

Oh blog reader, forgive me for keeping you on a cliff hanger for so long xD

This a story about racism I wrote when I was 14 years old.

Previous Chapters:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 2 - cont

Chapter 3

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Chapter 4

Mr. Carter opened this door slowly, for there was little noise coming from inside the classroom. He called out for the teacher to join us in the corridor . I tried to smooth down my clothes and hair so that I'd look presentable but it seems thatI had lost control of my arm at that point of time, for all I ended up doing was giving myself a sharp smack on the thigh.

The teacher also beckoned me into class the same way Hammed's teacher did. However, my mother got a hold of me first. She grabbed me by the shoulders and turned me around to face her. She looked deeply into my eyes, gave me a strong hug and a kiss on my cheek, finally releasing me. My father patted me on the head and wished me good luck.

The teacher called out my name this time as she beckoned me to her once more. She was much younger than Hammed's teacher. Her features were delicate, her smile really gentle. She reminded me of the fair maidens often mentioned in children's nursery rhymes and fairy tales. She put her hand on my shoulder and gave it a little squeeze.

I looked back, wanting to catch a last glance of my parents, but Mr.Carter was standing in the doorway's frame blocking the whole view. He was speaking to the students; something about welcoming new students and making them feel at home.

STUDENTS!

I turned my head jerkily towards the entire classroom. Eyes were all on me, everywhere I looked. I heard someone whisper "black" but I wasn't paying much attention to actually realize what they meant. I remember thinking they were probably referring to my clothes, as I wasn't wearing the school's uniform.

The teacher told me to sit at a desk located at the front of the class. She informed me that her name is Mrs. Mills, followed by her introducing me to the students, telling them my name and where I come from . She then asked the students to introduce themselves individually to me. Many of the girls smiled shyly as they told me their names and I smiled back at them. Corrine, the girl who was sitting next to me in class, got asked by Mrs.Mills to show me where to hang my coat and bag. Corrine was a very pretty girl, with fair skin, light hazel eyes and a long sheet of auburn hair. I followed her to the corridor outside the classroom and she showed me where all the lockers were. She gave me a key and the combination number to one of the lockers ( I suppose she got given these earlier by Mrs. Mills). Finally, Corrine showed me where the toilets were and informed me the school's break timings.

We walked back into the classroom, and I felt myself turn hot in the face due the noise level subsiding distinctively as soon as I entered the class. I seated myself at my desk and concentrated on checking wether my nails were neatly trimmed or not.

Mrs. Mills told me that for three quarters of an hour every morning, the class has"Quiet Moment" where students are to read any book they chose. I loved the idea because I love reading. I have my own personal collection of books stacked on the shelf above my bed, and every night before my bedtime I'd read for an hour. I felt this relaxed me, and I end up with a good night's sleep.

I didn't have a book with me at that moment, so Mrs. Mills told me that I could choose a book from the class' small library in the corner. There were many colorful titles to choose from, but my eyes dropped on a particular book called "Kiss the Dust".

It's written by Elizabeth Laird and told the story of a thirteen-year-old Kurdish girl names Tara, along with her family, as they struffle to stay alive and together in a time ravaged by war. In the opening, Tara and her best friend Leila are walking back from school when suddenly two army Jeeps appear. Their horns blaring, the two Jeeps screech to a halt infront of a mosque. There are boys standing infront of the mosque, one of them holding a paper. An officer grabs the paper, tears it, then gets ready to shoot at the young boy who was holding it. Suddenly, an old mullah runs out of the mosque waving his arms and pleading with the officer not to shoot at the boys. The officer fumbles with the revolver, points it at the old man and shoots. The young boy tries to escape, but was not fast enough. A soldier stuck his foot out and tripped the young boy, and shoots him as he lay face down on the ground. Tara and Leila watched all this happen right before their eyes, hardly believeing what they saw.

The street with all the shocked peeople, the dead old mullah, the dead young boy, Tara and Leila suddenly melted into the classroom as I heared the voice of Mrs. Mills break in. She announced that "Quiet Moment" was over. The bell rang and we had English for the first period with Mrs. Mills.

Loner (3)

This a story about racism I wrote when I was 14 years old.

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Chapter 3

I woke up in the morning four days later and immediately ran into the toilet to throw up. I felt terrible. I was my first day in a new school in a whole other country. Plus, I was just starting highschool. Woe is me.

I looked at myself in the mirror and noticed some bags forming under my eyes. I sighed, splashed some water on my face, brushed my teeth and started to dress up for school. I hardly slept in the night. I had many nightmares, and always woke up jerkily after each one. I think I got out of bed four times just to make sure that I had everything ready and that nothing had mysteriously disappeared; clothes, accessories, books and school shoes. I looked through every single item one more time and, happy that everything seemed to be in order, dressed up.

I finally went down to have breakfast after another two emergency trips to the toilet. I slouched down in my chair and started at the bowl of cereal infront of me, whatever left of last night's dinner threatening to come up. I tried to concentrate on something else, looking around our newly decorated kitchen.

The last three days have been very busy. We went to the local mall and spent an entire day looking through all the shops, especially the furniture one. I have chosen the color green as the theme for my new bedroom and so far managed to replace the brown curtains with pale green ones, in addition to purchasing lime green wall paper (which I am yet to cover my walls with). I also bought appropriate clothing, as winter was looming close and all I had with me were light summer clothes.

I was considering purchasing more furniture to fill in all the empty corners of my bedroom, when the entrance of my brother, whom I noticed had a very off glum expression on his face, interrupted my thoughts.

"Geez" I thought to myself "Why won't he just lighten up a bit?"

Both of our parents accompanied us as it was our first day in a brand new school. The headmaster, Mr. Carter, welcomes us graciously, with as many a bow, a wave and a smile that I was beginning to think that he must have mistaken us for the royal family. He took us on a short tour around the school, showing us all the trophies and awards the school has won in its past 23 years.

We took Hammed first to his class. the classroom sounded very noisy from the outside, but once Mr. Carter namged the door open all turned silent. A rather shaken dark haired lady greeted us, Hammed's homeroom teacher. She beckoned him into the classroom with an encouraging smile. Hammed looked rather pale and was chewing his bottom lip nervously as he entered the classroom. I heard him mutter under his breath "Be cool like a fish in a pool".

I smiled. This was one of the mottoes my father lived by and always used it whenever my mother or I were panicking. I tried to get a glance of the students but my parent's large bodies blocked it from sight. My mother was waving and blowing kisses frantically at Hammed. Mr. Carter finally shut the door after a few words to the students about welcoming newcomers. I managed to catch a glimpse of Hammed through the classroom door's glass window. His face was buried in his left hand and the tops of his ears were red. Poor guy, my parents made a real show of embarrassing him.

I was grinning while we walked through the school, thinking about how humiliated my brother must be feeling, when we suddenly came to a halt. I looked around my parent's back to see what was the hold up.

Suddenly, a jolt went though my body and I came crashing down to earth with a sinking feeling in the pit of stomach. I felt sick and wanted to throw up again.

Loner (2 cont)

This a story about racism I wrote when I was 14 years old.

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Chapter 2 (continuation)

They had a hard time in the airport. We were required to open our entire luggage so security guards could search through them, even though they had been through the luggage X-ray twice. After that each member of my family was individually searched. They even searched me while I was dozing on the bench. My father had the hardest time as he was required to take his coat off, empty all his pockets and even take his shoes and socks off. Finally, the guards were convinced that we were free of whatever they were looking for and they let us go. None of the other passengers were treated in such a manner.

The security search caused us so much delay the rental cab my father ordered was nowhere in sight when we stepped out of the airport's arrival terminal. My father searched and searched for another taxi to take us to our new home but none were willing. However, after forty minutes of inquiring one of the drivers finally agreed but only if we payed extra.

That was all the insight I got, as my brother looked down at the grass deep in thought again. At that particular moment I did not understand why he was so upset. I guessed he was just ticked off because of the holdup the security guards caused. As the days passed in our new foreign "home", I slowly came to realize the real reason for why he was so upset.

Loner (2)

This a story about racism I wrote when I was 14 years old.

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Chapter 2

I was so excited about the prospect of moving. I've never moved houses in my entire life, let alone countries. I tried to smuggle out all my belongings but my mother caught me red handed. I was given three large boxes to fill in with pretty much my life, and I made sure they were used up to their maximum capacity. The hardest thing of all was leaving my friends. I felt tears threatening to form in my eyes when we had to say farewell at our last get together. I really wished that my friends were like my belongings, and that I could pack them and take them wherever I desire with me.

Come flight day and all my unhappy thoughts were wiped clean out of my mind. I was practically brainwashed with excitement, It was a really long journey; in the range of eleven hours. I couldn't sleep due to all the butterflies that fluttered in my stomach. Eventually all the fluttering and queasy feelings must have drove me to exhaustion for I finally nodded off during the last hour of flight on my brother's shoulder.

I woke up the next morning to find myself in a strange little room. It was bare except for the bed I was lying on, a wardrobe and ugly brown curtains. I made a mental note of getting rid of the ugly curtains. I walked down the stairs and heared some voices down the hall at the bottom of the staircase. I found my family sitting around a square dinning table, having eggs and toast. I joined them and for a while we discussed how were to decorate the house. I then asked my father when was I due to start school. My brother and I were to attend our new school four days later. We would have to walk instead of being dropped off in a car. This was a shock to me as back home we were always dropped off and picked up from school with a car.

My father showed us the way to school in the afternoon. It was a short five mintues stroll, but we had to walk up a hill which was very tiring. By the time we reached the top we were huffing and puffing so badly we had to rest a little on the grass. I looked around and smiled. Everything was so green, unlike back home. There were snails everywhere! The creatures amazed me, for the only one I saw was a tiny midget when I was about six years old. The snails here were so big! I looked up at my brother to tell him this, but I stopped dead. He had his serious expression on and I knew better than to interrupt his chain of throughts. However, I mustered up the courage to do so this time, and thankfully didn't get a swear word for an answer. I asked what was bothering him so much, as everything felt perfect and good to me. Hammed filled me in on the details of the rest of our journey adter I've fallen asleep.

Loner (1)

This a story about racism I wrote when I was 14 years old.

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Chapter 1

I woke up with a start and instantly groped for the alarm clock on my bedside table. I finally located it, switched it off and turned stiffly in bed to face my bedroom window. I pulled th pale green curtains apart, and a world enveloped in warm golden sunshine opened up before me. I yawned, stretched my body and sat on my bed, watching the birds chirp and bask in the warm glow. I watched a group of infants holding unto each other's hands with smling faces behind their supervising adult. The lollypop lady holds up the bright yellow stop sign for the cars to wait as the infants walk across the street. Everything outside looked so peaceful and perfect; too bad this wasn't how I felt inside me.

My name is Dana, and for the past few months life hasn't been good to me. It all started when we moved away from home to a foreign country. That was about a year ago. I'm twelve and my older brother, Hammed, is fifteen. My father is a surgical doctor. He deals with the removal of tumors and other alien bodies mostly around the abdomen area. My mother does not work, and spends most of her time with chores around the house.

Being a doctor, my Father wished to broaden his specalizing horizon, therefore choosing a universty in a foreign country as his fortress of education. My mother wasn't thrilled about moving away from our home. Then again, she wasn't keen either on the idea of spending the next three years of her life without my father. She relelnted in the end, but I'm pretty sure that deep down inside her she was glad that she hadn't conquered this argument. So naturally my brother and I just tagged along, since we were definatly not going to be left behind.