Another offering for my faithful readers. I feel like I need to sleep more before I write, but when will I find that time?
Chapter 1: Nature
Chapter 2: Nurture
Chapter 3: Nurture
Chapter 4: Nurture
Chapter 5: Nature
Chapter 6: Nurture
Chapter 7: Nurture
Chapter 8: Nurture
Chapter 9: Nurture
Chapter 10: Nature
Chapter 11: Nature
Chapter 12: Nurture
Chapter 13: Nurture
Chapter 14: Nature
Chapter 15: Nurture
Chapter 16: Nurture
Chapter 17: Nature
How could the second day of school compare to the first? Nerves have settled. Connections have been renewed. New friendships might even have seeds planted in young hearts. And even so early in the year, some lucky kids already had something to look forward to each day. For some it was the chance to see friends. Others can’t wait to learn. Then there’s me, looking for my sister who wasn’t my sister though I felt I had known her since before she was born.
Maggie found me outside the school, so I could walk her to class. She declared this the best part of her day before we parted with a hug that reassured me she would feel exactly the same excitement on the last day of school. I returned her hug and offered a grin that mirrored her own. With one last backward glance, she disappeared into her classroom. I turned toward my own, ruminating on the expectations of a second day some more.
Teachers had been assessed. Seats had been claimed. A certain order had fallen into our young lives that summer never seemed able to offer. Of course, we weren’t orderly enough to already know the new schedule and expectations of a new classroom and a new teacher.
Ms. Compton smiled at us from under her tight, dark curls as she gently rapped on her desk to attract our attention. Her sharp, dark eyes focused on those who didn’t immediately look up until she claimed the attention of even the most wandering minds.
“Silent reading time has ended. Not that you were as quiet as you could be, please focus on me now.”
As our minds followed our eyes to concentrate on her, a solid knock resounds from the open door. A tall slender figure stands just inside the doorframe with a smaller figure hiding in his shadow. A well-worn, dark suit hangs from his shoulders with folds of cloth speaking of weight lost since its purchase. He glanced around the room, smiling at the familiar faces that have now turned to us.
“If I may, Ms. Compton,” he gestured with his hand for an invitation to enter.
“Of course, Principal Johnson,” she smiled up at him.
He shambled into the room with his shadow slowly following in his wake. Even from my vantage toward the back of the room, his blue eyes startled me with their light shade. Shaggy golden hair fell like a fine mop over his forehead and covered them for a moment. He threw his head back to reveal those eyes once more, but he quickly tilted his gaze back toward the floor to avoid making eye contact with any of us.
The principal leaned in to whisper quietly to our teacher. She nodded understanding and turned back to the class. “We have a new student this year. Please get to know him and make him feel welcome. His name is…” she paused to look at him as her lip quirked upward, “Doll Lindquist.”
He frowned at her and turned pale, rebellious eyes toward the classroom as snickers erupted around me.
“You may sit in the empty seat next to Opera,” our teacher waved her hand magnanimously in my direction. “Raise your hand, Opera.”
I raised my hand reluctantly. Doll bobbed his head and shuffled toward me with whispered voices for theme music. The teacher turned her eyes back to the principal as he leaned in to say something more. I turned to whisper to my new neighbor.
“Your name is Doll?” I blinked as I met his unflinching gaze.
“It’s short for Rudolph. What of it?” He glared at me so severely that the chuckle in my throat stifled and faded away.
I cleared my throat and extended my hand, hoping to distract him from the shame coloring my cheeks. He grinned at me and took my hand in a firm handshake. I sighed at the implied acceptance of my unspoken apology.
“So your name is Opera?”
Now I tried not bristle at his teasing tone. “Yes, it is. What of it?”
“I like it,” he offered a shy smile.
As the teacher and principal continued their whispered discourse, other students found bravery.
“All the girls want to play with their doll,” the other boys chanted, “Especially Opera.”
“Cover your ears before she sings.” One of the boys chortled but no one joined in his gaiety, too dense to get it or too smart to laugh at such a poor insult.
I rolled my eyes at them and turned back to our conversation with a raised voice, “They’re just jealous.”
Ms. Compton cleared her throat. Then we realized the principal had stepped back out of the room. As if we practiced synchronicity, every student turned to face her, folding our hands in front of us on our desks.
She shook her head at us, “That was very rude of you. It is time to return to learning, but first I will remind you that we practice kindness in our classroom.”
