First impressions (1992)
...The redheaded girl peered up at the blinding light. She glared mercilessly at the rescuers. Confused and dazed, she lashed out; only to be betrayed by her cramped body. The police stepped back, not making any effort to help her...
Her voice was a hoarse purr, venom spat with every word. The officers then noticed her condition...
... But that wasn't what the police were staring at; it was the shocking white streak coursing through her blood red fringe...
..."What is your name, dear?" the lady officer said...
..."Riley," the girl whispered edgily, not wanting to strain her voice... "Please, take me somewhere – anywhere - where I can just live in peace. It doesn't have to be luxury, I can serve. I can make people happy."
"Riley? We are here."
The soft voice of Qualish Wammy shook the sleeping girl out of her sleep. Riley's dreams dragged in the memory of three years ago. She shuddered, ridding herself of the cold nostalgia. That is a past life, she confirmed; never will it happen again. I will be happy. Riley opened her collapsible wheelchair. The voice of the doctor echoed in her mind: "You can never really walk again, dearie."
Yes I will 'dearie', her mind voice said with contempt, yes I will. Mr. Wammy gently lifted her light body into the wheelchair, and they made for the huge iron gates. The words 'Wammy House' were stamped cursively in the middle. The proprietor himself opened the house door to its newest occupant. Thankfully, it was midnight, so no nosy children raced up to Riley, begging to know who she was.
"You do not need to take the test now. Have some rest. We can rank you later today," the old man whispered.
Riley shook her head, and replied, "No. There's been a lot of waiting in my life. I don't want to wait again. I'm finally here; my home. And this one test will determine whether I stay or not. I want to take it now."
Mr. Wammy peered into those hardened black eyes. They bore none of the blatant pain from the past. Just like another child here, he thought sadly. Brilliant, but expressionless.
"If that is your wish," he conceded. The pair reached a grand oak staircase. Riley just stared grimly at the steps. Understanding her, Mr. Wammy helped the girl to her unsteady feet, and together, they spent ten minutes climbing the stairs. Riley felt a pinch in her pride, as she always does when someone has to help her.
A wad of questions was thrust under her nose. An ordinary person would have flinched from the sight of the test. Heck, an ordinary person would be tired at two in the morning anyway. Riley delicately handled the fountain pen, and started without hesitation. Obtain the solution that satisfies the given conditions of the differential equation, dy/dx = tanxtany, y = pi/4 at x = pi/4...
The grand-father clock chimed three o' clock when Riley put the pen down. Not once did she cross out or correct anything. The paper was sent over to a machine, and in a few minutes, it came back out again, marked. Mr. Wammy's eyes widened and Riley could have sworn that he staggered.
He adopted a neutral expression, and said, "I will inform you of your score later today. But now, I will escort you to your room."
Thankfully, there were no other stairs to climb, and Riley was happy about that. She slumped onto the bed, and looked around her sparsely furnished room. The only furniture was a single bed and stand, an alarm clock and an empty bookshelf. Riley made a mental note to furnish this room when she got the chance. Her eyelids finally gave way, and she fell asleep.
The alarm clock sounded at 7:00, telling Riley that she had one hour before breakfast. After her shower, Riley unclasped the large trunk. It was filled with new clothes, signifying a new life. Her body was now clad with a black t-shirt, a purple fleece over it and indigo colored relax fit jeans on her legs. Riley winced as her feet told her she can't stand any longer. I wish I could stand for more than just a few minutes, she thought. I feel so pathetic.
Riley wheeled herself to the top of the stairs. She decided to wait patiently for a helper. Mr. Wammy was there first, and helped her down. She thanked him quietly, and proceeded to the table. Since Riley was new, she sat next to the staff until she was introduced. Riley silently poured coffee for herself, and absent-mindedly dropped ten sugars into the hot cup. The only part of her plate that wasn't left untouched was the sweet pastry. Licking her fingers of the residue, Riley scanned the room. So, these are all the geniuses. They all look so normal for their intelligence.
The clamor of eating was soon over, and Mr. Wammy stood.
"Boys and girls of Wammy's House, we have a new member! Please welcome alias Riley!"
Riley froze. How in the world did he know that was my alias? She thought, shocked. The room was filled with obligatory applause. Only a handful of people looked geniunely welcoming.
A question rang out from the crowd. "What's her rank?"
Mr. Wammy paled at these words. Riley braced for her number.
"One."
The whole hall filled up with silence. A butterfly's wings could have been heard at that moment. Suddenly, it was filled with fervent chatter.
"She beat L? No way."
"She cheated; there's no way she could have gotten such a high mark."
Mr. Wammy cleared his throat for attention. Obviously, his presence was still held in high regard, as the hall hushed. Riley's face was burning red. One? But, how?
"Contrary to your discussions, she has not beaten L. Riley fell a few points short of our current number one. But, her score was enough to gain her a joint number one rank. Congratulations."
Many hands and murmers of congratulations greeted Riley. All the way through class, Riley kept herself to herself. Teachers constantly asked her many questions, wanting to know for themselves whether Riley's intelligence is real. The last school bell never sounded so beautiful to her. Riley breathed a sigh of relief, and shut herself in her room after dinner. First day, she said. So far, so weird.
The next day, Riley had a problem. Damn kids, she thought. Why can't they see that I actually need help? Mr. Wammy was called away that morning, and now Riley was stranded on the top of the stairs, helpless. No other eleven year olds get stuck in this situation. Tears of anger reached her eyes as almost every orphan had past her without a second glance. She resigned to helping herself. Why do I need to count on people anyway? Okay, I take that back! Her hand promptly slid down the banister, her legs threatening to give way. Suddenly, a pair of strong hands grasped her. One held her banister hand, and the other was gently guiding her down the stairs.
All Riley could see of this stranger was a shock of black hair, blue jeans and pale bare feet. Bare feet, she mused, so I'm not the only one. The person helped Riley slide onto the wheelchair, and that was when she got a glimpse of his face. It was pale, and his onyx eyes had beginnings of dark circles around them.
"Thank you for your kindness," Riley said.
The boy shook his head. "It was nothing. I thought you night need some help. Then you fell. What was I really to do?" His voice was carried in a near monotone, and was smooth as glass.
"What's your name?" Riley asked.
The boy was already walking away, but he turned. Somehow, from his eyes, Riley already knew who he was, and his answer only confirmed her assumption.
"I am L."