N/A So I wrote this for NaNoWriMo. It's done and I am just editing everything. This is kind of a mature plot, there are some brutal chapters and there is mature language all throughout. I hope you all like this! It is not my best obviously because I wrote this in 30 days, but it's definitely not my worst!
A girl named Emma Kozlov looked at the sign carved on the gate that would take her to her new school. She liked what she saw, but she was terrified nonetheless. She wondered whether anyone would know Russian or Slovak. She knew Italian fairly well but her French was terrible. Her father squeezed her hand, she shot a brave smile his way and they walked through the gates together, she carrying a backpack of stuff over her shoulder, him carrying a duffel bag of her clothes.
That girl with her father was me, the girl who was transferring to a boarding school mid-semester.
Our first stop was the administrative building. The only problem with that I could barely read the map and my father couldn't read it at all. So extremely lost, we were.
"Why don't you go ask somebody? It would give you a good opportunity to practice your French," my father said in Slovak. I tried desperately once more to read the map and gave in. It sucks being in a foreign language speaking country. I nodded slowly and scanned the grounds. A group of students caught my eye. I could see a Japanese girl and a boy who looked German. Maybe one of them would help her? She walked over to them slow and she blushed as they took notice.
"Hello," said a girl with pink hair with a smile. I felt like I would have a heart attack. I think I said something, something in French, hopefully. I tried to tell them I needed directions.
The boy with a purple spike in his hair, yes, one big spike that defied gravity, stood up. "Can I help you?" he asked me in Italian.
Oops, I was speaking in the wrong language. I felt my cheeks burn brighter and I made some sort of nodding motion while shaking my head at the same time.
"It's okay," he said to me with a friendly smile. "What language do you speak natively?"
"Russian," I replied. "And Slovak."
The German boy smiled. "I speak some Russian," he said to me. "What do you need?"
"I need to get to the administrative building, I'm very lost," I said to him in Russian. I tried to speak slowly just in case he needed me to. He nodded in understanding.
"I'll take you there," he said, standing and I beckoned for my father to join us. The brunette led my father and me to the building we needed. We were greeted by a Translator and I waved goodbye and thank you to the boy, who smiled and left to go back to his friends.
"He seemed like a nice boy," my father noted. "They all seemed to be kind to you."
Principal Delmas emerged from his office just then and shook my father's hand. With little effort we finalized my registration and Principal Delmas handed me a schedule, he said I would be put in the ninth grade, because my academic scores were off the charts. He said I would participate in French lessons to strengthen my communication. My father had to leave after the meeting and I gave him the longest hug of my life, feeling as if I would lose a life preserver.
I wanted this; I wanted to come to France for my education. I could do this without him, I knew it, but it was still very hard. After my mother died four years prior, we'd been inseparable.
Principal Delmas offered to show me to my new dorm, saying that I had my own room. The last single room he had to offer. He led me through the campus and I saw the boys who had helped me before. They waved and I smiled and waved back, making a mental note to find them later on and thank them again for helping me.
The Principal showed me to my room. He turned to me just outside my door. "I hope you feel welcome here, Kadic is very lucky to have you." He said it to me in French slowly. I nodded my understanding.
"Thank you very much for having me," I replied. He smiled and left, handing me a key before he left. I assumed it was for the door. I let myself into my room and dropped the duffel bag and backpack on my bed.
The room was small; there was a desk, an armoire with drawers, and a bed built into the wall. New blankets, sheets, and pillow cases were folded neatly at the end of the bed. The walls were a plain white and there was a small window overlooking the school behind the desk. I liked it; it was perfect for what I needed. It was also right across the hallway from the bathroom and showers, which is what I really needed – a shower.
Before coming to France, my father and I had visited relatives in Slovakia, and I didn't have a chance to take a sufficient shower while I was there. I felt really bad; they lived in the lower class part of Slovakia. In Russia things weren't much different. We lived in small family apartments with at least two extended family members at a time. It was never an unhappy place to live; it just wasn't a lucrative environment. If I'd stayed there I knew I would just end up living that way for the rest of my life, which didn't seem ideal.
I had spent the greater part of my life studying to earn a scholarship to this school. I knew that I would have a better chance to get a good education to get a good paying job eventually so that I can help my family out of poverty.
The beginning of my life was a happy one, says my father. I don't remember much of it but before my mother got sick, while they both had jobs, they were able to support all of us. When my mother became ill when I was five, she had to stop working and life changed for all of us. We lived in Russia at the time with her family, but when she died when I was ten, my father and I felt like we were intruding on them, so he worked to get us into our own small studio apartment, and then he worked to get us to Slovakia to visit his family before I came here.
I dug through my duffel bag to find an old towel and some new clothes. Luckily in the shower room, there were body wash/shampoo dispensers. I took the warmest, most amazing shower of my life. For most of it I kind of just stood there, soaking up the hot water. I jumped and squeaked suddenly when the water chilled. I turned it off and blushed, realizing that the warm water wasn't infinite.
I dried myself off and put on fresh clothes. I washed my face in the bathroom sink and brushed my teeth. When I turned to walk back to my room there was a black haired girl eyeing me from the door.
"Who are you?" she asked in quick French.
"My name is Emma," I replied. Thank god I knew this much. "And you?"
"I am Sissi Delmas, the principal's daughter! Where are you from?"
"Russia," I said. I hoped she wouldn't inquire further because I didn't know much more French. "Please, excuse me.:
I tried to squeeze around her and barely managed to get past her when she grabbed my arm, turning me around in the hallway. "Where are you running to?"
I just looked at her, feeling the blood rush to my face. "I… I…" She raised an eye brow and gave me an irritated look.
"What are you, stupid?" she asked. "You don't know how to talk or what?"
"Sissi!" A girl yelled from down the hallway. I looked to see the Japanese girl and the pink haired girl storming up to us. The Japanese girl pulled me away from Sissi and the other girl just glared at her. "Lay off, she's not used to French!"
At this point I could only understand snippets. After a minute of back and forth, Sissi stormed back into the bathroom.
"Thank you very much," I said to them.
"What is your name?" The Japanese girl asked with a smile.
"I am Emma Kozlov," I said.
"My name is Yumi Ishiyama, and her name is Aelita Stones," she said. She pointed to herself and Aelita as she said their names.
"It's nice to meet you, Emma," Aelita said.
I nodded, smiled. "It's nice to meet you two, as well."
"We'll leave you alone now, if Sissi tries to bother you again, just ignore her," Yumi said. With that, the two girls walked into another dorm room down the hall. I made a mental note of which one it was just in case I needed their help with something else.
I walked into my room, dropping onto the bed. I took a deep breath and gave myself a small pep talk. "You will get used to it here; this place will be very good for you." I said to myself. "You'll make friends here, you'll learn to speak French better…"
With that I got up and unpacked. I didn't have much, just some clothes, photographs, a small amount of money, and a few Educational leaflets on France. I decided to read through them a few times and practice French on my own before I went back out to the grounds.
I looked at the clock that the school provided for me and saw that it was time for dinner. I pocketed the most useful leaflet and came to the conclusion that now was as good a time as any to show my face.
I opened the door of the armoire to look at the mirror inside. I thought I looked presentable; My hair was drying quickly because of how short it was: just barely shoulder length. It was a copper orange color and it flowed out away from my face. My green eyes were round and as anxious as ever. I was wearing a simple red-orange hoodie and a pair of jeans. My dad had bought me a new outfit for my first day here. My shoes were the same, ratty old sneakers that I'd been wearing for two years. I figured they would last a little while longer before I had to buy new shoes. I smiled at my reflection and closed the armoire door.
Before leaving my room, I locked it up and put the key in my shoe. I walked down the steps and out of the dormitory building and located the building nearby that the Principal had pointed out as the cafeteria. I walked in to find there were already a lot of people in line. I got a tray and followed the line through, mimicking other students, picking up side dishes until I reach a large cafeteria lady.
"Lasagna or spaghetti and meatballs?" she asked with a smile. I made my choice and left the line.
Now came the hard part, finding a table to sit at. I knew that just sitting with a random group would be a bad idea, but I couldn't find an empty table anywhere.
Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I jumped. I turned to see the boy with a purple spot in his hair balancing a loaded tray of food with one hand. He smiled. "Hi, how is your day going?" he asked me in Italian.
"It's going alright," I replied. "Your friends saved me from a mean girl earlier… Aelita and Yumi?"
"Let me guess. This mean girl had black hair and bragged about being the principal's daughter?" he asked, smirking. "Yeah you will get used to her. Would you like to sit at my table? We have an extra seat."
I nodded, relieved that the hardest part of eating dinner was overcome. I followed the boy to a table next to the windows. I saw Yumi and the German boy already sitting there. I sat down and they stopped talking and waved hello to me.
Aelita showed up then, with another boy I hadn't seen yet. "Emma, this is Jeremie Belpois, he was hiding in his room earlier so you haven't seen him yet. His name is Ulrich Stern, in case he didn't already tell you, and I'm Odd," the spiky haired boy said to me in Italian. "Odd Della Robbia."
"Pleased to meet you," Jeremie said. I nodded.
"Thank you all for being so nice," I said to them. "I promise I'm not as helpless as I probably seem."
Ulrich and Odd laughed at that, finding it funny. "We know. And we understand, being in a foreign country can be hard," Ulrich assured me.
"I'm going to practice my French so we can all talk together without confusion," I said. I said it in French, and apparently I got it right.
Score One for the Russian.
"So you're from Russia?" Ulrich asked in French.
"My mother was Russian, and my father is Slovakian," I explained.
"Was?" Odd asked and frowned.
"She passed away from an illness four years ago. Its fine," I assure him. "She suffered much too long and now she isn't."
Odd nodded. We all stayed quiet for a little while. We ate our food and then I heard a beeping sound coming from Jeremie's back pack. I looked at it, and then looked at him. He scowled and pulled a laptop out of the bag, opening it. Everyone was looking at him expectantly.
"Hey, Emma, I'm sorry but Jeremie, Aelita, Ulrich, and I need to go work on a project. Will you be fine hanging out with Yumi?" Odd asked me. He glanced at Yumi and she nodded. The four of them stood up, discarding their trays as they left the cafeteria. I watched them leave, confusion written all over my face.
"So, Emma, what kind of stuff do you like to do?" Yumi asked calmly. She took a bite of her spaghetti and looked at me, waiting for an answer.
"Um, well I like to take photographs," I said to her slowly. We were getting into uncomfortable territory. My French vocabulary didn't stretch very far. I knew how to say this only because I'd looked the particular phrase up.
"Oh, that's great. Photography is cool," Yumi responded. She obviously sensed my discomfort. "Sorry that I can't talk to you in a language you're more familiar with."
"It's okay. I hope soon I will be more fluent in French." I finished off the last bite of my food and chugged the last of my beverage. "Anyway, I'm going back to my room. I will see you another time."
I threw my trash away and discarded the tray and left the cafeteria, making a run for the dormitory building. I climbed the steps two at a time and reached my floor, rushing to my room I locked myself in and tried to even out my breathing.
Why did I run away? Yumi was willing to just sit with me, I could tell. I kicked the door lightly, next time I would just stay calm. I did feel a little abandoned; I felt as thought Ulrich and Odd were the only two who I could really talk to. Aelita and Yumi were very nice, but it was harrder to talk to them because of the language barrier. I really regretted not practicing more of my French before I left Slovakia.
The truth was that I'd practiced nonstop for months; the problem was how nervous I was. I walked over to my bed and extracted a journal from my backpack. Just then a flash of light erupted from nowhere.