FIRST DAY

As they walked closer to the school, the sound of screaming grew louder.

Minerva's heart beat faster, the breakfast she had consumed just minutes before making her feel almost ill. She clutched her mother's hand tighter.

She had never been around so many other children before. Of course, she had seen kids walk by as she was doing now, but she had never acknowledged them very much. She had always been content to stay at home and play by herself. Now, on her first day of littlie school, Minerva finally had to face the inevitable and interact with them.

The hut where she would be attending school grew in front of them. Nervous thoughts flitted through her juvenile brain: What should she say to make friends? Would they think she looked weird? Her mother had styled her long, dark hair in its usual high pigtails that morning. Minerva had never paid them much attention before, but now the curls brushing against her face irritated her almost to hysterics. Was she too old for them? What would the other kids' hair look like? She looked down at her outfit again. Bright green pants, and a shirt with horizontal stripes of yellow and red. Really, why did littlies have to wear such ridiculous clothing?

Still, Minerva was excited to go to school. She had been getting bored at her parent's house lately, and her mind thirsted for knowledge. Always curious, she had practically died of excitement when she learned that they taught reading at school. Soon, she would be learning things herself, and her inquisitiveness would stop irritating her parents so much.

Minerva and her parents now stood at the edge of the crowd outside the school. She counted nine other children, all screaming and running, apparently playing some sort of game. Nine other children! She had gotten here early, and she still was the last one to show up! Her anxiety intensified even more.

But her parents were hugging and kissing her goodbye already, saying such meaningless things as, "Bye sweetheart! Have fun at school!"

"Play with these other children, I'm sure you'll make friends!"

And then they turned and left, leaving Minerva paralyzed.

She observed the other students more closely, relieved to see them all decked out in patterns and colors as garish as her own. They all appeared to be chasing one very plain-looking girl, every single one of them screaming and laughing. It looked like so much fun to Minerva. She loved to be active.

But one child mesmerized her more than all the others. It was the pursued girl. The eight others were running as fast as they could, but they were no match for her. The girl artfully weaved and dodged between them, almost a blur, none of the others even coming close to catching her with her skillfulness. Suddenly, Minerva's heart longed for such athletic prowess.

She was quickly snapped out of her reverie when the girl came hurtling toward her, screaming at the top of her lungs. She grabbed Minerva and hid behind her, shrieking all the while. The sounds set her nerves on edge. She had always been abnormally sensitive to such noises. She seldom raised her voice, and now, all the sounds had frozen her to the spot, with the strange girl still clutching her. She could just make out the girl telling the others that she needed a break, and indeed, Minerva could feel the girl breathing heavily behind her, but every sound seemed like it was very far away. The was girl in front of her now, her lips moving and her face questioning. "What's your name?" seemed to be the question, but whatever sound Minerva tried to make came out a choking noise.

The girl led her away to some trees at the edge of the big space around the school where the others were playing. "I asked you a question, and I want an answer," the girl said, but she was smiling.

Her name. Minerva remembered the question now. Her name. She hated it. She did not want to tell this strange girl. Sometimes, she hated her parents for giving it to her. It was weird, it was strange, nobody had names like that anymore, more than two syllables. "I hate my name. I don't want to tell it," she said. Her voice sounded high and weak.

Unexpectedly, the girl broke into a huge grin. "Well, I hate my name too," she exclaimed. "But I won't tell it to you till you tell me yours."

"I won't. It's weird and it's long."

"So's mine."

In response to Minerva's round blue eyes, the girl said, "I know! We'll play a guessing game! What's it start with?"

"M," she said quietly.

Another goofy smile. "So does mine! What does it end with?"

"A," came the reply.

"Now that's just freaky! Maybe our names are the same."

That possibility excited Minerva, because most people's names were nothing like hers. So she said, in barely a whisper, "It's Minerva."

"What? Say it louder."

"Minerva," she said, terrified at the prospect that the other children would hear.

"Alright, I have to tell you mine now. But it's worse than yours. It's even longer! My name's Maxamilla," she said in a low voice.

And Minerva smiled, because the name really was worse than hers.

But then, the teacher came out of the hut and blew a whistle, and it was time for the school day to begin.