"Asakura!" shouted a sudden irritated voice.
Dozens of faces turned to stare at the sleeping girl at the back of the lecture theatre. Some of the students laughed as the dark skinned girl remained still, resting her head on her hand as she sat facing forward. She was drooling slightly.
"As - a - kura!" Shouted the tutor, only this time into his microphone. The girl suddenly jerked awake, her head sliding off her hand forcing her face to make full contact with her desk. An eruption of laughter filled the auditorium.
The girl sat up right and blinked awake. Her cheeks flushed a crimson colour as she realised the entire hall was staring at her, laughing.
"I'm sorry, did I disturb you?" boomed the voice of the old man. "May I remind you that this is a lecture meant for learning. If you are not here to learn, Ms. Asakura, you know where the door is."
"I- I'm sorry Mr. Drake. It- it won't happen again." babbled the girl. She reached her hand to the back of her head, clutching a hand full of her puffy hair - a nervous habit of hers.
As the attention of the room turned back onto the subject of 19th Century History, the girl sighed a breath of relief. But she could still hear a few people whispering.
What she could also hear, however, was what they were thinking:
"What a weirdo. Hardly ever attends and when she does, she's asleep most of the time."
"What's with her hair? Glad I don't sit behind her in class, I wouldn't be able to see a thing!"
"I wonder if it's really true that her Dad is only 10 years older than her? Strange."
********
"Opacho."
"Huh?" mumbled Opacho, blinking.
"You were spacing out on me, again."
"Oh, sorry, Dad." she sighed, noticing she had organised the peas on her plate into a perfect circle.
"Is something bothering you?" he asked, gently.
"No. It's nothing." she muttered, still playing with her food.
The tall pale skinned man sitting opposite her raised an eyebrow. He smiled before standing up. He picked up his plate from the kitchen table and approached the kitchen counter. After placing his dishes on the side he turned to face his daughter, his long brown ponytail swayed over his shoulder as he did so.
"If I really wanted to know what was on your mind, you know I could easily find out without you telling me -"
"No, Dad - You promised you would never do that!" angrily retorted Opacho. She glared at him with her large brown eyes.
"So, there is something bothering you." said Hao, crossing his arms and smiling at her.
Opacho puffed out her cheeks. It annoyed her how her father was so good at manipulating her.
"It's just... school." she muttered, placing her fork down on her plate. "I'm not hungry, may I please be excused?" she muttered, not making eye contact with her father.
Hao sighed, still smiling as he placed his hands on his hips. "Very well, but we are not done talking about this."
Before Hao could finish his sentence, Opacho quickly dashed out of her seat. She grabbed her school bag off the chair and disappeared through her bedroom door on the opposite side of their apartment. Hao sighed, his smile now disappearing from his face.
Opacho slumped herself across her bed, staring up at the ceiling. She cringed, recalling the embarrassing events from that afternoon, and the things those students were thinking about her.
"Weirdo."
She sat up bolt right, catching her reflection in the tall mirror at the foot of the bed. She gazed at her reflection. Why did she have to be so different?
Her dress sense, you could say, was normal for a 17-year-old girl. Aside from her large puffy Afro held in place with a yellow headband – her dress sense was that of your average American High School teenager. Jeans, sandals, an orange sleeve-less vest… but it wasn't Opacho's dress sense that made her different.
Opacho smiled as she felt the presence of her spirit appear beside her. The fluffy sheep looked solemnly at Opacho, sensing she was feeling down.
"I'm okay, Mama." smiled Opacho, reassuring her spirit. "I know I always have you and Dad to…" Opacho trailed off, thinking about her adoptive father. Hao was her father, at least in the eyes of the New York County State. She knew that Hao wanted Opacho to lead a normal life… but what exactly is 'normal' for a shaman?
Shaman. Opacho sighed. Ever since what happened with Ojisan Yoh… Hao never talks about his life as a shaman.
"It's better if we try to forget everything that has happened in the past, Opacho. Things will be better this way."
"Ugh!" Opacho sighed as she pulled a near by cushion to her face. She squeezed it tightly as she tried to stop the voices of those students from circling her mind.