What if you had the ability to write? What if you couldn't control the story you created? And what if, the magic kingdom your hands are so keen on writing about turned out to be real?
Alessandra is used to the way things are. Life isn't great, but i...
Alessandra never did find out why her parents were killed. All she knew was she had been at Sophie's house one day, playing at the front yard, when two officers showed up looking for her.
They explained slowly that they had put themselves in a dangerous position, had gotten involved with dangerous people. Her parents' friends, and friends of friends, had also told her over and over again how great they were, how kind, and how unfair the whole thing had been.
Alessandra couldn't help wondering, what was the good in being such a good example, so kind, so gentle, if they had still gotten killed?
The bell rang and woke Alessandra up and away from her thoughts. She had forgotten she was at school, but was glad it was already time to go home.
"Alessandra Karre? May I have a word with you?" Mrs. Simmons asked, as she always did. Alessandra flinched at the mention of Atticus's last name. Even after eight years she wasn't used to it. But she forgot her real last name long ago.
They waited until everyone left.
"I wanted to congratulate you on your grades. You got the highest results in your class".
"I did?" Alessandra was relieved, that meant one less fight with Atticus.
Mrs. Simmons nodded, and took her orange-framed glasses off, as she always did when she got serious.
"By far. I just wanted to tell you it's great you don't need someone else to demand good grades from you, but remember not to demand so much from yourself. It's healthy to have fun once in a while".
If only she knew.
"I know".
"And remember, if you need anything", she gave her the look, opening her eyes and lowering her head a little,trying to say that she could count with her, and squeezed Alessandra's arm just above the elbow, as she usually did.
Mrs. Simmons was one of those people who thought they had some insight to people's behaviors. She understood Alessandra didn't get along with Atticus but she thought and assumed that was it. She still saw Atticus the same as everyone else. She acted like she knew, yet she didn't, and that annoyed Alessandra very much.
What could she do, though? Alessandra had been assigned to Atticus, so if she wanted a change she had to make an official complaint. And she had, years ago. But it had been declined and Atticus just became worse to her. If her tears and trembling lip had done nothing, what could a teacher do?
Just ten months and three more days until I'm eighteen she thought. Just ten months and three more days until I'm overage. Just ten months and three more days of living with Atticus.
"I know", she said.
Another day, same as every other day, went by.
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