I never knew my father. My mother Camilla had always told great stories about him. She told me that when she looked into his eyes, they blazed like the sun, and that he had even helped my mom and I escape wretched Cuba when I was three years old. She described him as tall and muscular, with curly blonde hair and a serious gaze. I wished I could meet him, but he had died in a car wreck long ago. Since then, my mom and I became citizens of the United States, and my mom had a steady job working as an attorney. We even adopted a cat, Libby! So far, everything has been going well in America.
Well, except for a few things...
I have dyslexia, which makes it nearly impossible to do simple tasks like read and write, so over the years I've gone from tutor to tutor, school to school, in hopes of finding someone who would accept me.
There's always the fact that strange things have always happened to me. For example, I accidentally walked in on a staff meeting after school, and for some reason, my history teacher, Mrs. Stanley, was dressed in some sort of bat demon costume, complete with a whip, and even fake teeth. Meanwhile, the staff and teachers were mortified for some reason. The next day, a new history teacher, Mr. Barriga, took her place, and despite asking everyone at school, none of them had even heard of Mrs. Stanley. Weird, huh? Well, the next day, my mom made me switch schools.
This has basically been the pattern of most of my recent life, until now.
