Chapter 2
Halycon Days
I do not recommend you try reincarnation if you;
a) do not like sitting still for at least one second.
b) do not like it when people call you 'smootsy-poo' or any of the likes and/or
c) do not like unintentionally slobbering every piece of object you find in your hold.
But being serious, it wasn't all that bad. I learned after a few months that my mother's name was Cassandra Evans, with Evans being her maiden name. I was sort of confused why my mom didn't take my dad's last name, so I assumed they never married and just had a one night affair of some sort.
Thinking about that sometimes made me depressed. I wasn't the result of love. Just a stupid one-night stand.
But with how my mom saw me, I never had any chance to act depressed. My mom was bubbly and a very cheerful person. She never hesitated to make me laugh and smile every single second of my new life.
Mom worked at a local coffee shop. She brought me there every day in a small stroller and would place me near the counter where she would often serve people's orders. No matter what time of the day, she was always smiling and being cheerful, as if sadness was banned from her system.
I soon learned that kind people end up having rotten luck, because I slowly began to realize who my mom really is.
Despite her cheery attitude towards everyone, there was always be at least two minutes in every week where I would see her cry in her room alone. I was confused. How can someone so happy have anything to cry about?
As I grew older, mom began to tell me stories about her and her life as a child. She was adopted and raised by Henry Evans, a well-known local musician. He never made it to the big show, but he had a small store and workshop every weekend that gave him a large income enough to pay for both him and my mom. Their lives were happy, at least for a moment.
When mom began High School, her dad became sick. Though he never asked her to, mom pretty much dropped everything after she graduated High School and worked so many jobs to help pay off the hospital bills for my grandpa. Sad to say, he never made it four months after she graduated.
After that, mom was depressed. Though she was the daughter of the well-known Henry Evans, she had an especially hard time finding a job because she didn't exactly train in a specific course. Years later, the store grandpa left my mom had a hard time attracting customers to the point where it was shut down. She had to move all the equipment and instruments herself and into a small apartment that could barely fit a whole king-sized bed. And since she didn't have a job, the only way she made a living was through singing and playing her instruments around the streets near busy shops and restaurants.
It wasn't much, but it was enough to support her for a few months. I guess the only lucky thing that happened to my mom since grandpa's death was meeting my dad.
It was cliché, but my dad met my mom because she was singing a specific song dedicated to her patron. She said that my dad was also a follower of her patron, and that her song and voice was lovely and amazing. Of course, my mom totally fell for it and the two started going out.
I don't know why, but after at least four months, my dad told my mom something that totally shocked her. She wouldn't tell me what, but it did affect how she saw him. She said that before he left, he gave her three gifts. The first was a small brown box that she was never supposed to open unless she is in danger. The second was me, a child. The final gift was a promise.
It seemed cheesy to me at the time, but I was a baby back then so even if I did want to comment something, I might as well be trying to sing soprano underwater.
Mom's stories was the only form of entertainment for me back then, but I was happy about it. Though I didn't have any other relatives, I felt more comfortable knowing that I have at least one person who loves me unconditionally. Accepting reincarnation alone and without someone could have pushed me on the brink of insanity.
As I grew older, mom became four times busier than usual. I guess it was because I was growing that she had to work more and earn more for both of us. She started placing me in daycare as soon as I turned two and a half.
Daycare was a place for babies to stay while their parents were away, which meant I had plenty time socializing with babies my age. Hoorah.
Just so we're clear, I totally enjoyed spending time huddled in a corner, avoiding those drool buckets we call babies and constantly moving from place to place whenever I see a baby so much enter at least ten feet from me.
A few weeks after daycare, I started seeing things. Well, seeing wasn't exactly the correct term to describe them. It's more like blacking out then having weird visions of things about to happen.
As an example, I would sit in a place in the daycare. All of a sudden my vision would swirl and blur, then maybe I see something like the janitor tripping over a pile of toys. A few seconds later, I would return back to reality then I would see in a few minutes that the exact scene I saw in that vision would repeat itself in front of me.
Like an odd sense of deja vu.
One day while I was avoiding my peeps (as usual) I had another mid-day vision. It wasn't like the others though. It was more of a realistic nightmare.
I was older, maybe about 11 years old or so. My caramel brown hair was sticking out in odd places all around my head and my face was totally covered in dirt. I wore some sort of orange shirt and held a golden bow and wore a quiver filled with arrows on my back.
A boy older than me by a few years sat beside me. He had dark hair and green eyes. His face was also covered in dirt. He too was wearing an orange shirt, except he was holding a bronze sword instead of a bow and arrow.
"Seems weird that we ended up here." older me noted dully.
The boy made a face. "You're lucky you're sitting beside a zebra. I'm here surrounded by bags of manure!"
The older me smiled. I found it weird how old I look despite my young face.
After that, I returned to reality. I blinked a few times then looked at my lap in amazement and wonder.
Who was that kid?
Years passed, and soon I grew 7 years old. To be completely honest, that was the only year I started my schooling. You would think that I would be excited on my first day of school, but I wasn't.
Mom dropped me off today because she wanted to make sure I got here and didn't try to escape at the last minute. She fussed over me for a few seconds and gave me a kiss before leaving me alone to 'enjoy' spending 8 hours in a school filled with trouble-makers and probably people who don't know how to shut up.
Maybe I was paraphrasing my mom's statement of 'There are different kids everywhere', but to put it simply, that's the truth.
I walked in the building and I immediately regretted ever waking up early in the morning when four rolls of toilet paper hit me square on the face.
I angrily threw them away and walked along the walls, pressing my palms on the lockers and squeezing through the huge number of people. Despite this being an elementary school, I saw people big enough and smelly enough to fit into the middle school of enormous sweaty gorillas. Like really, you're in fifth grade and you're already this hairy? Learn how to shave, dang it!
Or maybe they looked so tall and big because I was rather petite compared to others my age. I wouldn't say short because I wasn't short. And no, I wasn't in denial back then. I had an a perfectly average height, despite being a head smaller than most kids in my age group.
I finally reached my new classroom and bumped head first into someone.
I stumbled backwards but I didn't fall. I looked up and saw a girl about two heads taller than me look at me. She had mousy brown hair and a permanent sneer on her face. She looked like a monkey wearing a pink dress and a huge bow. In short, I didn't know whether to cry or laugh.
"Hey! Watch where you're going shorty!"
I felt my eye twitch.
I ignored her and squeezed through her and into the classroom.
"Hey!" I heard her call.
I ignored her again.
A few minutes later, class started and I sat somewhere in the back of the class. During class, the teacher, Miss Philips, began writing and discussing about simple spelling and pronunciation. But I freaked out as soon a she started writing the alphabet on the board, because everything went downhill from there.
As if I was in a movie, the letters floated above the board and rearranged themselves everywhere, making me unable to read them properly.
"Lilah."
I blinked and looked up. The teacher pointed her finger to a word on the board that, to me at least, looked like this; RAUARO
I froze.
"I can't read it."
Miss Philips blinked. "You can't? Is my writing a bit too small?"
I shook my head. "No. It's... I can't read it properly. The letters don't make sense."
"Lilah, I understand if you can't read it." Miss Philips said slowly. "But saying that a teacher cannot spell is mildly offending."
I didn't react. I was too busy trying to figure out what the word was.
Miss Philips sigh. "The word written is Aurora."
I blinked and looked down on my table before sitting down on my chair.
"I will be talking to you after class Lilah." Miss Philips said.
The whole class snickered. If this happened in my previous life, I would've been mortified and hid in a corner. But instead, I surprised myself by finding that I didn't care whatever other people said about me. I just simply ignored their snickers and laughs and minded my own business.
Strange. It was as if nothing else mattered then except me and me alone.
As soon as the bell rang, I walked towards Miss Philips.
"Lilah, I'm wondering. Are you sure you weren't able to read the words I wrote earlier on the board?" Miss Philips asked, her fingers laced together. She didn't look at me as if she wanted the chew me out, but I didn't want to take any chances.
"I apologize for saying that you didn't know how to write and spell Miss Philips." I blurted out calmly.
Miss Philips blinked then laughed.
"Most kids say 'I'm sorry' instead of 'I apologize'." she said.
I shrugged.
Miss Philips hummed then took out a piece of paper. She wrote a few words on it and handed it to me. I took it and looked at what was written.
YM MENA SI ALRA PIHLPIS
I tilted my head and gave it back to her.
"I don't understand it. I really don't." I admitted.
Miss Philips nodded. "Its says, 'My name is Lara Philips.' Maybe you have dyslexia, dear. That would explain why you can't read properly."
I froze.
"D-dyslexia?" I repeated.
Miss Philips nodded then smiled. "Don't worry though. A lot of children often have dyslexia. I'll be able to help you, but only if you cooperate with me as well."
I looked down and nodded mutely.
"Thank you Miss Philips." I said blankly.
She noticed my expression and looked at me in concern.
"Dear, are you feeling all right?" she asked.
I nodded before making my way out of the classroom.
"Dyslexia?"
I nodded mutely and took a sip of warm milk from my cup. Mom was fixing our apartment room and sorting everything out. She was still dressed in her uniform from the coffee shop. She smelled like sweet coffee beans and sugar.
Mom frowned. "You're going to have a hard time in school then."
I looked at her. "Is there... any way to get rid of it? Like a cure?"
Mom laughed. "Dyslexia is not a sickness, Lilah."
I puffed out my cheeks. "Well then what am I supposed to do?" I asked sourly.
This was horrible news. I loved reading books in my previous life more than anything in the whole world. I was a quiet type of person and I always enjoyed having some me-time with a good book. Now, knowing that I had dyslexia, a stupid learning disorder that would disable me from reading books without help... it was infuriating.
Mom must have noticed because I gripped my cup so hard I started to shake.
"Lilah, I'm sure you'll get through it." she said reassuringly as she went to the kitchen.
"How can I possibly get over this?" I mumbled. "Unless you're a magician and can hocus-pocus this stupid disorder, I'm stuck with it!"
Mom laughed. "You act so much like your father when he's grumpy."
"Hey!"
Mom took a plate from the kitchen and placed something on it. She walked towards me and placed the plate in front of me.
"Panreos with ice cream?" I said out loud. I looked at mom suspciously.
Panreos, or oreo cookies dipped in pancake mix then fried and served with ice cream and chocolate sprinkles, were my favorite snacks. The sweet flavor accompanied by the sweetness and the cold numbing sensation from the ice cream is just flawless. Mom only cooked Panreos during special occasions.
She smiled and poked my cheek. "There is no way this gloomy girl is my daughter. My daughter may not smile and laugh that much, but she certainly does not give up that easily. She will overcome her disorder, and she most definitely will finish this Panreos in twenty minutes flat."
I looked at her blankly and raised a fork at her.
"How dare you." I stated. "How dare you make me happy and confused at the same time. You are a terrible woman."
With that, I took a huge pancake coated cookie and finished it in one bite.
Mom laughed and kissed my cheek. "I love you too."
I flushed but smiled at her anyways.
[A/N:]
Sorry for the short chappie. :P Thought I should insert this scene right over here to give you a quick scan of what Lilah's personality is.
Reviews are love~