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 Mai sisters story chap. 1

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Oliver
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PostSubject: Mai sisters story chap. 1   Fri Mar 26, 2010 4:48 pm

Sorry, the other one was LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG so I'll do it chapby chap nao.

Chapter 8: August (don't worry, it is spossed ot be laik dis)
The first day of school always reminded me of a piece of paper with just one sentence written on it.
***
And I wish it would stay like that.

Chapter 8.5: Still August
August always gives me a feeling of nostalgia for summer and for that moment when I would enter the school at the first day of school. It seems to innocent, almost, that moment, when we know we can start anew. If I had to repeat a single moment for my life, it would be one of those moments.

Hi, Hannah. Hi, Adelaide, I repeated to myself endlessly as my two best friends came over. I didn’t say it out loud, tough. I just looked up, and sent an electric spark across my lips that would have them look like an almost smile. Human perception is so amazing, that they recognize that as a wave and come over anyway. I don’t like standing out.

This is the first chapter (well, 1.5th, but who cares) so essentially I, as a good narrator, should introduce the characters. But, I should also allow the characters to have personalities, so I will describe them as Josefa “Josie” Ramirez the character, not as Josie the narrator. That is, with minor facial expressions. (Well, none of Hannah’s expressions are minor but...)

Adelaide has blue eyes that make you feel secure. You can tell how she’s feeling, just with her eyes. Her smile would never falter, except when she wants to express those emotions in another way. When sad, the corners would dip, and the skin would sag a little, her eyes becoming seas of confusion. When angry, they would sharpen and clarify, but her eyebrows never furl. She is never angry, really. When happy, her skin would winkle and stretch where it is pulled, and they would dance and sparkle. Her hair is made of cloud fibers caught in the sun that shine. In short, Adelaide is perfect. Her emotions are pure, and her outwardly way of expressing them even more. But her default expression would be one of responsibility, of a desire of caring for you.

Hannah. Her real name is Cười Thị Hồng, being Vietnamese American. (Cười is her surname and Hồng her first name) I think that But if you call her that, You better run for your life. Her default expression is one of happiness, with eyes like saucers and skin bundled around the mouth. Her skin also bundles at the top of the forehead a little, if you look close enough. Angry, her mouth would purse, and the skin be pulled tight. She widens her eyes and furl her forehead. If she ever got sad (which rarely happens) her eyes would narrow, and her mouth would drop, as if not finding a comfortable position and giving up. Her skin would be pulled tight, but down, towards the corner of her lips.

So, how am I friends with these people so dramatically different from me? Honestly, I have no I
idea. We sit at the lunch table, pretending to have adapted so quickly to the school routine after three months at home. I doubt that´s how it happened. Maybe Adelaide, but not Hannah. Not me.
All the teachers have finished introducing themselves. I don’t really want to meet any more people. I already know most of the people in the room. And it’s not as if You instantly know a person just because you know their name, likes, dislikes, and favorite color. No. Knowing a person is looking on their faces and having a feeling you know what they’re thinking. Knowing a person is being able to see trough their eyes based on something more than their defining traits. Knowing a person is laughing at something not even funny. Knowing The minor facial expressions down to the tightness of their skin. That is what knowing a person is about.

I hate lunch. Wow. I probably stimulated the hate of a million people with that statement. But it’s true. I hate how, in a conversation, silence sets in and suddenly everything is louder, all the other conversations drilling into your head, and you want to clasp your hands around your head until silence sets in. Then you feel compelled to say something, and the other person nods stupidly, because they have nothing else to do. And how, when you are sitting with your friends, and they keep talking but you don’t, and you feel like nothing, omniscient maybe, looking at everything from another place. That is why I hate lunch.

Of course, if you play sports, there’s no problem with conversation. But I have been traumatized out of sports since the accident, and so I can’t. I hate that. And you know the worst part? Not saying anything. Not saying anything about it ruins friendships. So, at dawn, I go out to the roof, and look at the stars, and when I close my eyes I don’t feel so alone anymore, as if the stars invited me to join them. That is when I shout my problems for the world to hear. It is a habit of mine to wake up before dawn and go to the roof. It is the only way I can speak of my problems. And think. And join in the dance of the stars.

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