First night

November 30, 2009
By Aliya Babul SILVER, Vancovuer, Other
Aliya Babul SILVER, Vancovuer, Other
5 articles 0 photos 0 comments

Sophie sighed, looking around the unfamiliar room crowded with boxes. She waited for the sounds that would she hated it hand never come. No sounds of cars screeching, horns blown, and the sirens screeching. Instead, silence oozed from each crack in the floorboards like mud in the bottom of a lake. Sophie sighed again and got out of bed to cross the room and climb onto the windowsill where she curled her legs against her chest. She imagined she was in Paris looking down from her apartment window, she imagined the field of light that would have bombarded her eyes and the sounds of laughter that would have bubbled up form the street below. Instead, she saw a large white moon shedding light on whitewashed steps. The only sounds that could be heard were the distant waves as they rolled in to meet the rocks.
Her mother had been offered a job position and she had accepted and they had had to move here-to Greece. Sophie had always had a hard time with change. When she wanted change she would embrace it, but when she didn’t, she shied away from it, feeling as though her identity was being unraveled. This move had been hard Sophie had had to leave all her roots in Paris. All her friends, and familiar places had been wiped away like dust swept aside with a broom. Sophie remembered how every Thursday her mother would come home early to take her to the bookstore, how at night on the weekend her parents , her and her sister would walk down the streets window shopping. Sophie turned her head and saw a neat uniform hanging on the door. On her new desk lay two books, only one was unopened. Sophie loved books. The very smell made her heart sing. She remembered sitting in the window seat of her old Parisian building, reading. She remembered vividly, the feeling she got when she had finished a book. How she would resurface into the real world, feeling groggy, images and words form the book swirling in her mind.

Sophie looked miserable as she stared into the windowpane her mind swirling with memories. Reflected in the glass was a child with old worn PJ’s, long dark hair (mused form sleep), and eyes filled with unshed tears. and she tried not to cry as she fingered the heart necklace given to her by her best friend. Finally, she let one tear escape the prison of her eyes. In the window she watched it wind its way down her cheek, dripping onto her pajamas and leaving a stain. She wondered if she would make friends here. Earlier that day she had seen a girl and a boy playing on the steps. She wondered vaguely if they were her age and if they were possible friends. Slowly, she climbed off the window and back into bed. There, as she sat in her bed, alone in a new place, he friends all miles and miles away in a city so different from this one. Sophie’s heart feltt as though it had been stabbed and had slowly deflated. At this, Sophie could hold it in no longer and grabbing her pillow she began to cry into it. She hadn’t realized how long she had been crying for, when she felt her mother’s arms around her. She looked up. There was her mother and her father sitting there, in the same way, the very same position that they always had.
“You’ll make friends,” her mother said. “
“Yes,” Sophie snapped, “Because we al know how good I am at that.”
“ Sophie,” Sophie’s father said, a warning in his tone.
Sophie was usually a sweet tempered girl, that was, until she got mad. Sophie blew up then.
“Sophie, you’re smart, you’ll make friends,” Sophie’s father said, ignoring her outburst.
“ You just have to make the best of it,” Sophie’s mother smiled as she said this.
Sophie sniffled, not comforted.
“Sure,” she said.
“Come on, go to sleep, you have a long day tomorrow.” Sophie’s parents hugged her and walked out of the room.
Sophie glared after them, but she knew they were right.

Sun spilled across the room. Sophie stirred and slowly awoke.
With a sigh she slowly got out of her bead. The air was warm and Sophie pulled on a turquoise skirt and white top and made her way down the stairs.
“Come on Sophie,” her mother called, “You can’t be late.” Sophie raised an eyebrow at her mother who was rushing around the yellow kitchen packing lunches.
At exactly 8:00 am, Sophie, her mom and her little sister, Arlene stepped out of the house and began walking down towards the school.
Sophie stopped to look up at the whitewashed school building.” Sophie,” called her mother. Sophie who had turned away form the school to look at the sun shining over the turquoise water turned back to her mother and followed her up the stairs and into the principals office. Smoothing down her back skirt, Sophie’s mother say down opposite the principal. The principal was a tall woman with blonde hair that had been swept into a bun. She was wearing a loose blue shirt, which Sophie immediately deemed as dreadful. “Hello and welcome, I am Ms. Drivas,” Ms. Drivas said. “You must be Sophie” she shook Arlene’s small hand. Arelene mumbled something, Sophie kicked her. Arlene said nothing. “Actually, I am Sophie” Sophie said.
“Ah, my apologies”
“You my dear will be in class 9A” “ just down the hall, off you go”
Sophie made her way to the door, catching an encouraging glance from her mother.
Sophie walked down the silent hall , her heels on the black sandals clicked on the wooden floors. Sophie looked around her. The walls were a pale yellow, the doors looked new and were made of a sandy colored wood. Here was 9A Sophie stopped and took and deep breath. Then, slowly, she opened the door. The classroom was airy and there was a large window opposite the door. It was open and Sophie could see the craggy, sharp cliffs that surrounded this island, beyond that were an amazing open expanse of turquoise water which glimmered and gleamed in the golden sunlight. Sophie felt an overpowering urge to paint the scene, as though it were fragile and the only way to preserve it was to paint it, to keep it somehow. Then, she remembered where she was. The desks were identical, all facing the front, where a short woman with plaited brown hair, streaked with grey stood smiling at Sophie. “Come in” She said, “ I am Ms. Frotos” “ Sit she said pointing to a empty desk on the far side of the room, near the open window. “ We are just beginning a skill testing test” Sophie walked hesitantly over to the desk, fully aware of the eyes boring into her and the click clacking of her heels. She sat and was handed a paper. “ Thank you” her Greek was poor and she possessed and thick French accent. Reading Greek was not the problem and Sophie found the test easy. She looked around examining each girl. She was a bad judge of character, she knew that, but that had never stopped her from judging.

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