Between the Flags.

                 Between the Flags...

              ________________________

Full name: Isradora Marina Moretti Reyes

Born to: Leonardo Moretti (Italian) Papà & Camila Reyes (Spanish) Madre

Born in: Spain

Now based in: London

              _________________________

The classroom hums with chatter as the teacher lazily flicks through papers at his desk. Everyone’s supposed to be working on a poetry analysis, but nobody really is.

Isradora is slouched low in her chair, blazer buttoned high, one hand scribbling nonsense on a worksheet while her other hand subtly keeps her laptop just cracked open behind a propped-up folder. An earbud cord runs cleverly beneath her blazer and up her sleeve, tucked just beneath her hair.

On the screen, barely visible, is Alexia. Sat cross-legged in her bedroom, her face framed by golden evening light and a smug little smirk. She’s saying something in Spanish, teasing probably, and Issy tries not to smile too much.

Leah, beside her, shoots a side glance and raises an eyebrow. She can’t hear Alexia, but she knows exactly who it is. She gives a polite little wave toward the screen. Alexia nods back, barely amused.

Then a voice across the room bellows:
"Isradoraaaa!"
British, loud, and attention-seeking.

Alexia’s face twists in disgust at the harsh pronunciation. Issy doesn’t miss a beat — she grabs her pen and hurls it across the room at the boy.
“Shut it, you knob.”

The teacher looks up sharply.
"Isradora! Stop throwing pens across the room!"

Alexia starts laughing on the screen as Issy tries to play innocent, hands raised in surrender, trying to hide the grin breaking through. Leah just sighs and shakes her head like a disappointed mum.

A moment later:

“Sir,” Issy says, hand up, eyes wide with faux sweetness, “can I borrow a pen, por favor?”

The teacher snaps, “You mean the pen you threw across the room?”

“Lo siento, sir,” she replies, poorly stifling a smirk.

The teacher raises an eyebrow.
“Do we need to refer you to the speech therapist?”

“What?”

“Spanish. You're in England. Speak English.”

Leah shifts in her seat, trying to calm her, but Issy’s eyebrows are already knit, jaw tightening.

“I am speaking English right now, aren't I?”

“Have some respect. Speak the language and stop talking back.”

Issy scoffs, the disgust obvious on her face.
Alexia watches, confused now — she doesn’t know what’s being said, but the tension is obvious.

Issy mutters under her breath, loud enough to sting:
“I did learn your bloody language. Didn’t have to, did I?”

The teacher:
“Out. Get out.”

Isradora clenches her jaw, mutters:
“Él me odia…” (He hates me…)

Alexia’s eyes narrow with concern through the laptop screen.

“Lo siento,” Issy adds quietly, “I have to go. Adiós.”
She snaps her laptop shut.

Gathering her stuff with shaking hands, she mumbles insults in rapid Spanish under her breath, storming out as Leah silently watches her go — equal parts worried and proud.