Arrival
The midnight blue sky was clear and sharp looking. Silvery, shadowy mist smudged its appearance, and the bright, yellow moon was peaking out from behind what was probably the only cloud in the sky. As I raised my eyes to the twinkling lights above me, I noticed that stars always appeared brighter, clearer, and crisper when the moon was hidden.
I drew the silky, cream-colored curtain back into place and tried to get settled in the deep, plush, cushiony airplane seat. It took me awhile, but finally, slumped down and slightly cramped, with the smooth, satin pillow stuffed behind my head and my seat reclined, I was able to feel comfortable at last.
I was sitting in first class. My parents had made sure of that. They didn't want their sweet, precious, fragile Opal to be exposed to the filth and scum of coach. Frankly, I'd opted for the smaller, harder seat and regulation-size pillow. It felt as if I were sinking in all this foreign material!
I closed my eyes and, before I could stop them, the horrible images from the past two weeks invaded my brain, trampling and stomping all the good things I could have been thinking about. I saw before me the looks on my parent's faces when they read the official-looking letter from Yolanda Witches Academy for the Performing Arts. They had been absolutely certain that I would be accepted! I cringed inwardly as I recalled the way Mother's smile had faltered and Father's face had dropped. I had let my head fall into my hands, my fingers pressing at my eyes, willing the tears to go away. But they didn't, and the floodgates had opened.
As I silently shook, the salty tears streaming down my face, Father slipped around the table and sat down beside me, resting a big hand comfortingly on my back. This tender gesture made me choke, and the crying quieted for a bit and turned into snuffles and gulps. Mother had stiffly placed the thick, beige parchment on the smooth, mahogany tabletop.
"Well," she said coldly, her lips pursed. "Now we know who hasn't been studying."
I clamped my lips shut. Talking back to this cruel, wicked person would have no good consequences. However, despite my resolutions, a few unchecked words slipped out. "You know I was studying. You wouldn't let me out of my room! I couldn't do anything else. I tried my hardest. It just wasn't good enough! Can't you ever accept that? You're always making excuses for me, but I have a newsflash for you: sometimes the truth is better than the lies you make up!" I sat back defiantly. I knew I had gone too far with that last one. Father had removed his hand from my back and now sat stiffly, eyeing both his wife and myself wearily.
Her eyes flashed angrily. "How dare you accuse me of lying! There is utterly no excuse for that behavior. Ever. I might have excused the other comments, but I can tell that life in the lap of luxury has made you a greedy, ungrateful, little brat!"
Her insults were like spits of fire. Tears burned behind my eyes again, but I wouldn't give her the pleasure of seeing me cry. I stood up shakily and raced from the room, up the marble staircase in the front hallway, and down the dimly lit corridor until I came to the chamber I'd searched after. My father's study.
Entering quietly, I tiptoed behind the desk and slid down to the floor. With my ear pressed to the hardwood, I could clearly hear everything that my mother was saying to my father, and vice versa, in the kitchen below.
"She's fine, Deena. There's nothing wrong with her. The tests are drastically difficult. I see no point in discussing it more."
"That girl is bright! Outrageously bright! There is no possible way that she could have not gotten into Yolanda's if she hadn't purposely missed questions! She makes me so infuriated some times!"
Father laughed. "She's just like you! You're both stubborn and quick with words and short-fused! Let us consider the possibilities. Maybe she doesn't want to go to Yolanda's."
There was a pause. Then Mother spoke, so softly I could barely hear her, "The only other alternative is to send her to that boarding school in England. There's no other suitable witching highschools in the United States. And even then, that one's co-ed."
Father let out a sigh. "Let's talk it over with her in the morning, when both of you have cooled down a bit." There was a screech of their chairs and then footsteps as they left the kitchen.
I sat up, confused. No one had ever even mentioned a school in England! This had come way out from left field! Well, I thought to myself. I absolutely refuse. There is no way I am going to allow myself to be dragged off to some school in a foreign country. No possible way.
But, as you can tell, there was a way. At the first prospect of staying with Aunt Kella, I had reconsidered. Aunt Kella wasn't really my aunt. And her real name wasn't Kella. She was my mother's best friend from their highschool days, when they had both attended Yolanda's. They had parted at the end of school and gone their separate ways, vowing to stay in touch. And they had. Aunt Kella visited us for certain holidays, and we tried to go up to England as often as we could. Which wasn't very often. My parents are entrepreneurs, and they always have business to attend to here in the U.S.
I've been to her house twice. The first time was when I was I little kid. I was about three. I don't remember much, except that the next door neighbors were awful. They were rude, mean, loud, and obnoxious. The boy that lived there was my age, and he was disgusting to look at: quite heavy and pig-faced. He was also greedy. The second time we visited was only for three days, on a weekend. The family next door wasn't there, thank goodness. I was going into fifth grade that summer.
Aunt Kella's real name is MeKelleine. When I was three, and visited her for the first time, I could only pronounce "Kella". It stuck, and so now that's what everyone in my family calls her.
For the first time since I'd boarded the plane, I smiled. I couldn't wait to see Aunt Kella. I had so much to tell her. I guess the next couple of years wouldn't be so bad, as long as I had her.
(*)
I stood on my tiptoes in the gigantic crowd of people and searched desperately for my beloved aunt. My eyes reached into all corners of the room as they scanned the faces of everyone surrounding me. As I returned to the ground, I let out a dejected sigh and rolled my suitcases towards the food court right next to the gate. We had agreed that if we couldn't find each other when the passengers dispersed, we would meet in the food court and share a quick lunch. I found a table for two in front of a Chinese nook and dropped my two huge duffel bags down next to my three large suitcases.
I smoothed my loose, ankle-length, navy blue skirt and straightened my white spaghetti strap tank top and sat down. Sitting for hours and hours on a plane can cause pretty severe wrinkle damage, trust me! It was kind of chilly in the over-air conditioned lounge, so I slipped into my big, floppy windbreaker that I'd had tucked over my arm up until now.
As I glanced around, I couldn't help notice the differences in this country from America. Especially the people. Everyone walked with so much more grace, they appeared to be less rushed, and they had a certain warm, welcoming air about them that Americans did not. It struck me that we must seem pretty hostile to tourists or out-of-country visitors. This thought soon tugged the corners of my lips down into a sad frown.
"What's wrong, sweet? Bad flight? Jet lag?" the kind, warm voice of Aunt Kella made me spin my head in her direction and stand up clumsily.
"Aunt Kella! It's been so long! Oh, I've missed you so much!" I stepped eagerly over my bags and embraced her in a long bear hug. She hugged back, and pulled away after a few happy seconds. She kissed my cheek and smiled softly.
"Look at you, my dear! Oh, how you've grown. And you're hair! Why, you've hacked it all off! It looks positively lovely, though quite different, I might add," she ran her hand down my cheek. "It really has been too long."
Then she seemed to regain composure and sat down in the seat across from where I had sat earlier. "Well dear, do sit, we must decide what we are to do."
I sat obediently. I was only too glad to follow my aunt's orders. Now I must explain what she looked like. If anyone compared my mom to her, they would definitely know they are not sisters. My mom is younger, taller, thinner, and colder looking. She has wide, round blue eyes and thick, jet black hair that she wears straight, cascading down her back. Her nose is a bit long and bony, but her face has a fine, feminine bone structure. Aunt Kella is entirely different. She has, short, frizzy blond hair that is cut at shoulder length. It is usually in a ponytail to match her sporty dress code. She has small, crinkly sea-green eyes that twinkle with love and laughter. Her wide, happy smile always reaches her eyes and makes them wrinkle at the corners even more. She has a button nose, chubby cheeks, and a small, rounded chin. She's short, just under 5'2", and slim.
I get my looks from both my mom and my dad. I am tall and thin, thinner than I'd like to be. I try to build up body weight with muscle, but it still isn't right. I have my dad's straight blond hair brushing the bottom of my neck, which I usually wear down. It flips out, which really annoys me because it makes me look young and childish. I have my mother's eyes, and her bone structure, but my father's nose, thank goodness.
"Now dear, did you choose this seat for a reason?" My aunt smiled warmly and nodded to the Chinese shop behind me.
I laughed. "Yes, actually. If you don't mind. I've always loved Chinese."
"No objection here. I love the cuisine, also. Shall I go order?" Aunt Kella raised her eyebrows expectantly.
"No, let me," I argued, standing up. "What do you want? I think I'll just get some egg and spring rolls."
She waved the question away. "Just get a platter of both. Anything's fine, really."
I hurried to the counter, and, as I was waiting in line, Aunt Kella strolled over to me, slipping me a twenty pound note. "This should cover it. You can keep the change." She winked and strolled back to her seat at our table. I laughed. She knew I didn't need the money. My parents had already set up an account here at some wizarding bank on Diagon Alley, wherever that was.
When the line had progressed to the counter, I quickly ordered. When the food and drinks arrived, I paid, told the cashier to keep the change, and hurried back to our table with two warm platters and two styrofoam cups. One of the platters had five egg rolls, one five spring rolls. The cups contained Dr. Pepper.
As we ate, I told her about the flight, and the events leading up to my stay in this country. She had already heard a great deal of it from Mother over the phone, but she listened attentively all the same. When I got to the part about my getting rejected from Yolanda's, she exclaimed, "My dear, whatever for?"
I shrugged. "My score's weren't good enough, I guess."
She nodded and sat back. She patted her stomach. "Well, we best be off. We have so much to talk about tonight, and shopping to be done tomorrow." She threw me another wink and got up from the table, disappearing into the thick crowd.
I quickly got up and followed her, dragging my suitcases behind me and laughing under my breath. Aunt Kella was full of surprises that kept me on my feet!
(*)
"Would you like some more hot cocoa, Aunt Kella?" I shouted from her rustic-looking kitchen. She was in the livingroom, finishing up a second mug. I was brewing another pan full for herself and me.
"Yes, please!" she shouted back. "I do believe I could live on this drink, I really do!" I chuckled happily. We had been sharing stories all night long. I had found out that Mother was a real trickster with Kella! They had pulled so many pranks, and never gotten in trouble because of their sweet, innocent faces, pouty frowns, and false tears!
I sighed contentedly as I walked down the short hallway back the livingroom with its crackling fire, warm, soft armchairs, deep, comfortable sofa, tall reading lamps, and homemade blankets, knitted in a million different colors. What's more, Aunt Kella had enchanted them to keep turning colors while you were wrapped in them. And somehow, though she hadn't said, she had also managed to keep them forever tucked around you no matter how you squirmed and fidgeted about.
When I walked into the livingroom, I glanced at the huge family portrait above the fireplace. Aunt Kella's sisters were trying to get their small children from running off, two old men were watching a small, handheld TV intently, and Kella was sitting backwards in a chair, playing poker with three of her teen nephews. A ball cap was tucked backwards on her head and an unlit cigar was dangling from the corner of her mouth. I couldn't help it. I laughed outright.
Aunt Kella glanced up at the photograph. Then she smiled. "Yep. I was always the tomboy in my family. Always running off with my brothers. My mum thought it disgraceful, but I kept at it!" We shared another laugh, and I noticed the leather bound photo album in her lap.
"Pictures!" I squealed. I quickly dropped down next to her on the sofa and handed her the warm drink. After taking a sip, she set it down on the coffee table and nodded, opening it up as she did.
"Yep. Utter Humiliation Time!" We laughed again, and I settled down for a long, happy night.
Before I focused on the picture of Aunt Kella as a baby, my mind wondered briefly. What had she meant earlier, about shopping to be done? I had everything I needed with me. Didn't I?
Then I was back in the present. And all other thoughts drifted out of my mind as I laughed and giggled, gasped and ogled, at the moving, colorful pictures of my aunt and her colorful past.