This is just awful. I'm stunned. I don't know what to do. I promised and swore to be as mean to Cinnamon as possible. I'm cracking. It's nearly impossible to snarl at her. She's so... I don't know. It's like she absorbed all the nasty words I'm planning to say. I bet she'll become some sort of a psychologist, the follower of Oprah. Cinnamon's still eerie. Although – I'm not sure whether I want to admit this – I'm kind of starting to like her.
I can't believe I said that!
But isn't it scary? She notices everything, even the tiniest details. You can't keep anything from her.
However, there is one thing she's right on. Blowing soap bubbles is relaxing. I hadn't ever tried it before.
Should I give her a chance or shall I carry on like this? The latter tempts me just a little yet do I know that Cinnamon couldn't care less although I'd eat the whole bread without butter or stop talking at all.
The carpet stares back at me. It was pretty dumb, eating the toast with nothing on it, just to protest.
Maybe I should listen to the Beatles: all you need is love. I have to love Cinnamon as she was my sister, because I can truly imagine what it would be like to live two months in a place where nobody says a friendly word.
Unbelievable! How can I even consider it? A sister? I always hated it when some little brats claimed to be sisters just because they were the best of friends and wore the same hairdo or something.
But Cinnamon's definitely not my friend. She's a pain in the neck. My neck, to be exact. I bet all the teachers at her school keep her as a cheeky know-it-all.
Though deep down inside me, on the horizon of my mind, I can see a part of my real thoughts. Cinnamon is probably everyone's favorite in the village of hers. All the old women at the marketplace slip bracelets and cashew nuts into her pockets, all the children follow her wherever she goes, all the little birdies eat from her hand.
It's a thought so unfair – but presumably correct – that I just must go back to her room just to see what exactly is the glorious and excellent thing about her.
Cinnamon's dipping the ring in the bottle and sighing. Then, she starts talking softly to herself:
"I still don't know my place here. At first I didn't feel welcome, but now the stone wall has started breaking. Of course that's nice, but I also think it's difficult for them to decide what to think of me."
I didn't see she was feeling that way. I just thought she was trying to become noticed and draw the attention to herself. Have I caused that other emotion in her? It's a pity if I have.
Hey, I was supposed to collect the mercy and moan all I can, but suddenly I'm feeling sorry for her. Is it even possible for someone to change someone else so much in one day?
Can it be possible to me to change so much in one day?
But I can't decide whether I have changed. I have to wait and see.
Unexpectedly, Cinnamon opens her mouth again. I'm still thinking she's talking to herself.
"What do you think about this, Satin?"
Okay, maybe not.
I start my floor very smartly with "Um" and then go on:
"I... don't really know...Are you in a bad mood because of me?"
She closes the bottle and puts it away – The Talk is on its way. As well as The Thinking.
"No. I can't say that. A mood cannot be bad. Bad is like evil. No. I'm not sad because of you, but I have to admit I'm not really used to this kind of prejudice."
"'Tis a long word", I state. Although I'd rather cringe, like all the idiots should do.
Again that unfamiliar, not-fitting-in-our-kitchen laughter that suddenly doesn't sound so strange after all. "Some people panic when I use long words they don't understand."
"I don't. I understand."
"I know that", Cinnamon convinces. How can someone be like that, knowing she causes headache for someone else and still is innocent like an angel from the heaven, kind and obedient, although the inside of the someone else splits into many directions and finally burns in a volcano, the Big Bang of the end that covers the whole world in boiling lava, and still, there she is, smooth and cool like a surface of a teaspoon... Cinnamon must be enjoying this, she sees how I suffer and what I go through, and there she just is, watching with her olive Bambi eyes...
I have no idea who I am, where I am and what the heck I am doing here. I can hardly imagine what I thought at the moment she stepped in on her size 3 feet (I saw her soles when she crossed her legs), when I didn't know that my life was about to change completely within the next 24 hours. It's scary. She is scary.
Although the cleverest human being on the Earth. A little bit like Gandhi.
There is someone called Gandhi, right?
