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                                              Prologue

My heart's pounding as I sit in the back of my mom's 2010 Suburban, my head repeating the words I still can't comprehend “You need to learn some responsibility. We don't want you to live with us anymore” While the shock and horror was still there sitting on my face. There I was just a day before, 15,  excited for my parents to finally give me a proper birthday party. But I guess that's just too much to ask isn't it. So here I am in the back of a Suburban waiting to get out of the car, my parents throwing my two backpacks full of everything I've ever owned. To walk into my brand new boarding school. 

                                 Chapter 1                                       

I’m Tamaya Miller. And if i’m honest, I think my parents hate me, they’ve always neglected me, like treating the neighborhood kids better than me, never showing affection, and saying things like how they never wanted to be parents. I think it was because I was an accidental birth. I thought that they would kick me out once I turned 18, but nope here i am, 15, and sent off to boarding school. Boarding School. Here I am standing in front of Wilma Maurer Boarding School. I pick up my backpack and walk to the door, my head down, clutching my backpack straps like a lifeline.

                                                                                                  ****                                                                        

As I walk into the humongous, prestigious boarding school, it’s quiet, and peaceful. With beautiful architecture going up the walls, tall ceilings, and tall old school columns going up every corner. They're smooth, the engravings making the architecture have dents that make it truly beautiful.  It’s the weekend, so the halls are quiet with everyone hanging out in their rooms. 

As I begin to walk up the winding staircase I hear a noise, Excited. “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!, are you new here?????? Omg your hair is beautiful!!!!” I turn around while feeling my long, dark brown hair, wrapped into a loose braid. I look up to see a girl with gorgeous red ringlets, her homemade tie-dye shirt and headband a riot of colors against her simple elastic waist shorts.  As soon as I turn around, she starts running towards me and grabs my hands. “What’s your name?? What’s your room number? Are you the person that’s gonna be my new roomie? Oh you have to be she was supposed to come today! Where’s your room? Is it 237?” She asked. “Um Tamaya, and yeah it’s 237” I said shyly, my voice cracking from silently crying in the car on the way here “I think this is most someones ever talked to me.” I remarked, finally smiling softly as I said it “Ha! You’re funny! Come on, I’ll show you where your, or our room is” She said, her witty smirk makes me feel, for the first time today, that maybe this won't be so terrible after all.

And then proceeded to run up the stairs, so I followed her until she abruptly stopped at a door labeled with a simple 2. She opened the door widely and the smell hit me like a punch. A mixture of strong perfumes. “Taaadaaa! I will warn you, this is the girls' side of the building so the hallways smell strongly like perfume, except for like the 4th floor, that’s where the people with allergies and asthma go.” the girl said “It’s an um… interesting smell.” I remarked “Well.. um who are you?” I asked. “Oh! Sorry, I’m Amber Smith,”  Amber announced, bowing like an actress “It’s nice to meet you! Come on, let's go.” 

She walked to the end of the hallway to a room labeled 237 and opened the door with a off-white card in her pocket. She opened the door and gestured into the quiet room “I separated the room so you can decorate it however you want!” Amber announced with an excited smile. 

I looked into the room and saw two bunk beds with storage bins stacked by them, in the middle of the room, pushed to the wall, was a bookshelf, not the aesthetic kind with a few books and some pottery, but an actual bookshelf stuffed with thick books and thin books in the little space left on the bookshelf, and the whole bottom shelf filled dictionaries of every language, from English to Brazilian Sign Language. I looked to my sides, seeing desks by the bunk beds, the space below the desks filled with storage bins. I looked at her side of the room and saw colorful patterns everywhere, her desk being turned into a vanity, full of hair care products and fabric paint. 

I walked over to the empty side and set my backpacks down on the bed. I looked around the room one more time and breathed it all in, it smelled like vanilla, cinnamon and… paint? 

“Sorry about the mess.” She said “I was in the middle of making tie dye headbands.” “It’s fine! It seems… homey” I said. I gestured at the bookshelf “So… you're quite the bookworm huh?” “Yeah!” she exclaimed “I love books!  The top shelf is non-fiction books, the next two shelves are fiction, the one right below those two shelves are history, math, and all the textbooks, and the bottom shelf is my moms personal edition, language books!” she exclaimed, making jazz hands “My mom’s a linguistics professor, so like, super obsessed with languages, I was trilingual by the time I finished middle school.” “Cool!” I exclaimed “What languages do you know?” “English, Nihongo(Japanese), Français(French), and I’m learning Espanol(Spanish). Do you know any languages, well, other than English?” She asked “Does Pig Latin count?” I asked jokingly “It could!” she claimed. We laughed.

“Well, enough about me!” she said with a smirk still plastered on her face “Tell me about yourself, why boarding school?” she asked with a sudden interest “Well, it wasn’t really my choice,” I exclaimed, “My parents sent me off here, said i needed to “learn some responsibility” and “learn to live by myself” I exclaimed using air quotes “That’s messed up, who just drops off their kid to get rid of them” she argued. “Well, you seem cool, tell me more about you” she said “Well what about me?” I asked “I don’t know, umm…. Ooh! What do you do for fun?” she asked. “Um… code, I made some small websites” I explained “Oooh, that’s legit!” she gasped, “Uh, I wish I could do that, but all those numbers confuse me.” “Fair enough.” I said. I layed down on my bed and soaked it all in. This is where I’ll have highschool I guess.

                                Chapter 2

I  heard a knock on the door and a stern voice coming through the door “Girls, come out here immediately!” I looked at Amber with a confused expression “Sounds like Ms. Winters” She claimed. We went and opened the door and saw a tall woman in a professional grey suit, tight bun, and rectangle shaped glasses. Next to her was a short woman dressed in a gray Stanford sweater and patterned patchwork jeans. “Hello Ms. Miller, it is lovely to meet you, I am Ms. Winters and this is” Ms. Winters continued “Is Ms. Anise” Ms. Winters said with a distasteful voice, “We are here to welcome you and give you a little… welcome basket you can call it” she said handing me a basket full of textbooks and school supplies “Thank you, Ms. Winters,” I said “it's nice to meet you, you as well Ms. Anise”. Ms. Anise nodded her head politely. “I would hope that you made her feel comfortable, Ms. Smith?” Ms. Winters asked with a condescending tone “Yes, Ms. Winters.” Amber said, the most shy I’ve ever heard her. “Good,” Ms. Winters claimed. Then, looking back at me, she said “Ms. Miller, I’m your english teacher, and Ms. Anise is your history teacher, have a good rest of your day, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I shut the door, my back leaning against the wooden frame and setting the basket down beside me “Well that was…  interesting. Is Ms. Winters always like that?” I asked, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah, pretty much, she thinks the only way for students to learn is to repeat the same stuff over and over until it’s drilled into our brains. When we had our Shakespeare unit, she had the class read 37 pages of a Shakespeare book of our choice for our final project from memory!” Amber claimed. “Is that even legal?” I asked jokingly. “Nobody would care if it wasn’t!” Amber exclaimed “She’s super respected and like all that, cause she's been teaching for like, 43 years.”

 “Well what about Ms. Anise?” I asked “She seemed like… the polar opposite”  “Yeah, she’s the complete opposite of Ms. Winters. The same time Ms. Winters was doing her Shakespeare unit, Ms. Anise did an Improv show of what we remembered from the cold war.” She said “She’s the kind of teacher to have the class make up a song about government branches, literally no one’s failing her class because she finds the most creative ways for everyone to remember. She's low-key an awesome teacher, but she doesn’t have much respect because she’s fresh out of college.”.  “That sucks” I said “She does sound like an awesome teacher though”

“It’s getting late,” Amber said, her red hair bouncing like a spring. “You want to head down to the food hall?” “Sure, I could eat” 

                                                                                             ****

We went down to the food hall, the hall not quite as prominent as the entrance columns. But keeping the high ceilings and huge windows, banners with the school colors of blue and white in a beautiful picnic table pattern stapled above them, the picnic tables are a gorgeous cyan color with white lining.

It's not finished yet

 I need someone to rate my story that's not a robot:

                                              Prologue

My heart's pounding as I sit in the back of my mom's 2010 Suburban, my head repeating the words I still can't comprehend “You need to learn some responsibility. We don't want you to live with us anymore” While the shock and horror was still there sitting on my face. There I was just a day before, 15,  excited for my parents to finally give me a proper birthday party. But I guess that's just too much to ask isn't it. So here I am in the back of a Suburban waiting to get out of the car, my parents throwing my two backpacks full of everything I've ever owned. To walk into my brand new boarding school. 

                                 Chapter 1                                       

I’m Tamaya Miller. And if i’m honest, I think my parents hate me, they’ve always neglected me, like treating the neighborhood kids better than me, never showing affection, and saying things like how they never wanted to be parents. I think it was because I was an accidental birth. I thought that they would kick me out once I turned 18, but nope here i am, 15, and sent off to boarding school. Boarding School. Here I am standing in front of Wilma Maurer Boarding School. I pick up my backpack and walk to the door, my head down, clutching my backpack straps like a lifeline.

                                                                                                  ****                                                                        

As I walk into the humongous, prestigious boarding school, it’s quiet, and peaceful. With beautiful architecture going up the walls, tall ceilings, and tall old school columns going up every corner. They're smooth, the engravings making the architecture have dents that make it truly beautiful.  It’s the weekend, so the halls are quiet with everyone hanging out in their rooms. 

As I begin to walk up the winding staircase I hear a noise, Excited. “Hiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiii!, are you new here?????? Omg your hair is beautiful!!!!” I turn around while feeling my long, dark brown hair, wrapped into a loose braid. I look up to see a girl with gorgeous red ringlets, her homemade tie-dye shirt and headband a riot of colors against her simple elastic waist shorts.  As soon as I turn around, she starts running towards me and grabs my hands. “What’s your name?? What’s your room number? Are you the person that’s gonna be my new roomie? Oh you have to be she was supposed to come today! Where’s your room? Is it 237?” She asked. “Um Tamaya, and yeah it’s 237” I said shyly, my voice cracking from silently crying in the car on the way here “I think this is most someones ever talked to me.” I remarked, finally smiling softly as I said it “Ha! You’re funny! Come on, I’ll show you where your, or our room is” She said, her witty smirk makes me feel, for the first time today, that maybe this won't be so terrible after all.

And then proceeded to run up the stairs, so I followed her until she abruptly stopped at a door labeled with a simple 2. She opened the door widely and the smell hit me like a punch. A mixture of strong perfumes. “Taaadaaa! I will warn you, this is the girls' side of the building so the hallways smell strongly like perfume, except for like the 4th floor, that’s where the people with allergies and asthma go.” the girl said “It’s an um… interesting smell.” I remarked “Well.. um who are you?” I asked. “Oh! Sorry, I’m Amber Smith,”  Amber announced, bowing like an actress “It’s nice to meet you! Come on, let's go.” 

She walked to the end of the hallway to a room labeled 237 and opened the door with a off-white card in her pocket. She opened the door and gestured into the quiet room “I separated the room so you can decorate it however you want!” Amber announced with an excited smile. 

I looked into the room and saw two bunk beds with storage bins stacked by them, in the middle of the room, pushed to the wall, was a bookshelf, not the aesthetic kind with a few books and some pottery, but an actual bookshelf stuffed with thick books and thin books in the little space left on the bookshelf, and the whole bottom shelf filled dictionaries of every language, from English to Brazilian Sign Language. I looked to my sides, seeing desks by the bunk beds, the space below the desks filled with storage bins. I looked at her side of the room and saw colorful patterns everywhere, her desk being turned into a vanity, full of hair care products and fabric paint. 

I walked over to the empty side and set my backpacks down on the bed. I looked around the room one more time and breathed it all in, it smelled like vanilla, cinnamon and… paint? 

“Sorry about the mess.” She said “I was in the middle of making tie dye headbands.” “It’s fine! It seems… homey” I said. I gestured at the bookshelf “So… you're quite the bookworm huh?” “Yeah!” she exclaimed “I love books!  The top shelf is non-fiction books, the next two shelves are fiction, the one right below those two shelves are history, math, and all the textbooks, and the bottom shelf is my moms personal edition, language books!” she exclaimed, making jazz hands “My mom’s a linguistics professor, so like, super obsessed with languages, I was trilingual by the time I finished middle school.” “Cool!” I exclaimed “What languages do you know?” “English, Nihongo(Japanese), Français(French), and I’m learning Espanol(Spanish). Do you know any languages, well, other than English?” She asked “Does Pig Latin count?” I asked jokingly “It could!” she claimed. We laughed.

“Well, enough about me!” she said with a smirk still plastered on her face “Tell me about yourself, why boarding school?” she asked with a sudden interest “Well, it wasn’t really my choice,” I exclaimed, “My parents sent me off here, said i needed to “learn some responsibility” and “learn to live by myself” I exclaimed using air quotes “That’s messed up, who just drops off their kid to get rid of them” she argued. “Well, you seem cool, tell me more about you” she said “Well what about me?” I asked “I don’t know, umm…. Ooh! What do you do for fun?” she asked. “Um… code, I made some small websites” I explained “Oooh, that’s legit!” she gasped, “Uh, I wish I could do that, but all those numbers confuse me.” “Fair enough.” I said. I layed down on my bed and soaked it all in. This is where I’ll have highschool I guess.

                                Chapter 2

I  heard a knock on the door and a stern voice coming through the door “Girls, come out here immediately!” I looked at Amber with a confused expression “Sounds like Ms. Winters” She claimed. We went and opened the door and saw a tall woman in a professional grey suit, tight bun, and rectangle shaped glasses. Next to her was a short woman dressed in a gray Stanford sweater and patterned patchwork jeans. “Hello Ms. Miller, it is lovely to meet you, I am Ms. Winters and this is” Ms. Winters continued “Is Ms. Anise” Ms. Winters said with a distasteful voice, “We are here to welcome you and give you a little… welcome basket you can call it” she said handing me a basket full of textbooks and school supplies “Thank you, Ms. Winters,” I said “it's nice to meet you, you as well Ms. Anise”. Ms. Anise nodded her head politely. “I would hope that you made her feel comfortable, Ms. Smith?” Ms. Winters asked with a condescending tone “Yes, Ms. Winters.” Amber said, the most shy I’ve ever heard her. “Good,” Ms. Winters claimed. Then, looking back at me, she said “Ms. Miller, I’m your english teacher, and Ms. Anise is your history teacher, have a good rest of your day, and I’ll see you tomorrow.”

I shut the door, my back leaning against the wooden frame and setting the basket down beside me “Well that was…  interesting. Is Ms. Winters always like that?” I asked, one eyebrow raised. “Yeah, pretty much, she thinks the only way for students to learn is to repeat the same stuff over and over until it’s drilled into our brains. When we had our Shakespeare unit, she had the class read 37 pages of a Shakespeare book of our choice for our final project from memory!” Amber claimed. “Is that even legal?” I asked jokingly. “Nobody would care if it wasn’t!” Amber exclaimed “She’s super respected and like all that, cause she's been teaching for like, 43 years.”

 “Well what about Ms. Anise?” I asked “She seemed like… the polar opposite”  “Yeah, she’s the complete opposite of Ms. Winters. The same time Ms. Winters was doing her Shakespeare unit, Ms. Anise did an Improv show of what we remembered from the cold war.” She said “She’s the kind of teacher to have the class make up a song about government branches, literally no one’s failing her class because she finds the most creative ways for everyone to remember. She's low-key an awesome teacher, but she doesn’t have much respect because she’s fresh out of college.”.  “That sucks” I said “She does sound like an awesome teacher though”

“It’s getting late,” Amber said, her red hair bouncing like a spring. “You want to head down to the food hall?” “Sure, I could eat” 

                                                                                             ****

We went down to the food hall, the hall not quite as prominent as the entrance columns. But keeping the high ceilings and huge windows, banners with the school colors of blue and white in a beautiful picnic table pattern stapled above them, the picnic tables are a gorgeous cyan color with white lining.

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                      Crying

 I start to cry and it starts in sniffles. I'm trying to hold it in but in a few tense seconds salty tears start pouring down my face from my eyes. Then, I begin to sob. Loud cries fill the quiet evening air. I’m breathing heavily while trying to calm myself. Trying to control my sobs but you can’t control your tears. I’m trying to breathe but my breath is so shaky it rattles my insides and comes out in short gasps.

 For a minute I wonder if the tears will ever stop. *My face is all hot and spit is coming out of my mouth because I can’t stop the little animal noises from coming out of me, until there aren’t any more tears left in my eyes, and it’s just my body shaking like when you have hiccups, and my whole head hurts like when you drink milk too fast.* Then my tears come to an abrupt end and I tell myself that crying won’t fix anything.         

 Yet I cry anyway.

                   Breathing 

As I'm walking through the noisy halls of my middle school I can somehow hear my heavy breathing. Long gasps rhyming to the beat of my footsteps. Step breathe, step breathe. It’s this perfect harmony that's kind of calming. Like the perfect air at the beach. 

Oh the beach. I wish I was at the beach right now, a wave of happiness rushing over me. Nothing but a happiness I can't describe flowing through my veins. My favorite place. I suddenly snap out of my daydream.

 I can't forget the anger I’m feeling. It is nice though. My breath is calm and steady. But then my breath gets faster and faster and more intense. I feel like I'm running out of breath. It's not calm anymore. It feels panicky. I take a deep breath because I will stay calm. Then my breath goes back to being calm, a slow symphony like the ocean breeze on a warm summer's day. For a moment I’m ok again.

                     Laughing

Laughing. Happiness. Chuckle. Crack up. Joy. Cheerfulness. Satisfaction. Pleasure. Bless. Enjoyment. Cheer. Cloud nine.  It all starts with a giggle then a laugh then I’m laughing my heart out. It’s a continuous thumping in my heart. I’m smiling until my cheeks hurt. My face and the sounds I’m making says it all. I’m happy, and I feel joy leaking out of me like a hole in a boat.

 It feels like the laughter will never stop and honestly, I hope it never does. I feel like I’m gonna pee my pants! Oh sorry tmi. I laugh until my heart hurts and I don’t even remember what I’m laughing about. After many rounds of non-stop laughter and aftershock giggles, my laughter dies down. 

But I’m still happy and there's a sense of a calm, beautiful happiness in the room. I don’t know how to explain it other than that. But it’s a calm happy feeling when there’s not much of that in the world that sticks around as long as that one did. I wish it would’ve stayed forever but all things end eventually.

                   Screaming

I feel rage building up inside me, it’s so strong I can’t hold it in. I run as fast as I can to the nearest empty room and scream with all my might. A rhythm in my throat and chest.  It's coming out so loud that if someone was there they’d have to cover their ears. But I'm the only one here and I don’t have to cover my ears because I'm so blinded by rage that it’s not loud enough to make me feel better. 

I scream until I run out of breath. Then I stop. My knees are weak and I crash on the floor and sob. I’m asking myself millions of questions. What did I do wrong? Why did this happen to me? And why did I hold it in this long?

                    Walking

The thunder of my footsteps goes on and on. I'm so mad I think the floors are gonna break as I storm angrily into my room. I feel like dark storm clouds are clouding my head as I slam the door shut as hard as my footsteps thundered.

It’s so different from a few minutes before when I was calm. The rhythm of my feet sounded like the tapping of the rain on the roof. Tip tap tip tap. But at last that calmness is gone. I take deep breaths. Being angry won’t do anything. I know that

                    Thinking         

I’m on a boat in the middle of the sky, flying fish float around me..…...I hear a bang on the table. “ Do you know the answer?” I stare at my teacher. “Uh, no” I feel my face turning red. I hear little giggles around me. Someday I’ll learn to listen but for today I'll just think. 

Because thinking is my calm place, it’s where nothing else matters. In my own world, I’m the main character and I’m allowed to think whatever I want. I go back to thinking. I’m so lost in thought that the world around me collapses and all I can hear or think is my thoughts.

It’s an amazing feeling really, It’s like my brain can finally be calm and not pay attention to all the other one hundred million and three distractions happening around me. 

I can for once, be myself.

                    Blinking      

When I blink, It’s like I'm taking a short nap 20,000 to 30,000 times a day you blink, 20,000 to 30,000 short naps where you can shut off the world around you. But..I wish I had more time to blink, because to be honest, everyday, every time I wake up, I wish I could just stay in bed. 

                     Hearing

I hear everyone talking around me, but all I hear is mumbles, the world around me turning into static, white noise. Nothing matters to me anymore ever since I found out. I miss you even though you're fine. I have mixed feelings because I miss you so bad, but I know this is a great opportunity for you and I’m proud of you. I just wish you didn’t have to go for so long. I wish I could come. 

So try to stop thinking about you. I listen to the little conversations around me. “What do you want for dinner?” “I need you to reschedule my four o’ clock meeting to five.” “Can we get ice cream?” and it makes me think, it makes me think about when life was simple. It helps.

I hope you like this! I worked really hard on it for MONTHS.

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