III
Sara ran, trying to find somewhere to be safe. Closet, there. Inside, safe. She collapsed on the floor, shivering. She covered her face with her clammy hands. No, be strong, She thought. She sat up abruptly. Nothing was wrong. Nothing had happened. She had been going to bed too late; recently. That, and maybe food poisoning from breakfast, had caused her to have an illusion, which would also explain the migraine in class. After a good night’s sleep, she would work on getting Nerezza to crack. She sighed and stood up. Everything was okay, even if her gut screamed otherwise. A chipped mirror hung on the wall. Sara checked to make sure that she still looked good. And saw that a few strands of her hair had turned white.
Resilience is not a trait I admire. Of course, it can only be expected of humans with strong minds. So while this Saraphina will persist in her attempts to ‘crack’ me, she may even prove useful in the end.
Sara glanced at the mirror on the wall beside her bed. There was no mistaking the scattered white hairs mingled with the blond. Maybe it’s a natural change, she hoped. Her instincts, though knew it was not. Her parents had both left on business trips earlier that day, so the only ones who knew about her hair were Blanca, the housekeeper, and Darryl, the chauffer. Blanca spoke very little English, though, and both she and Darryl knew better than to comment on their employers’ daughter’s appearance. Sara pulled out some dye from her dresser drawer. She was horrible at dyeing her own hair, but, she thought, drastic times call for drastic measures.
Ashley hung up with a hysterical Sara on the phone. Somehow, Sara had managed to give herself brown highlights in an attempt to cover up some odd-colored hair. Ashley looked at her own long hair in the mirror. She and Sara were best friends, but polar opposites. Sara was blond, now with messy brown highlights, and Ashley was brunette with blond highlights. Sara had brown eyes and twenty-twenty vision, whereas Ashley’s eyes were green and she wore contacts. They both agreed on one thing though: Nerezza’s shell would have to be broken.
A week went by, and Sara avoided Nerezza at all costs. It wasn’t very hard, as Nerezza did everything alone. She even sat by herself behind the school at lunch, under the overhang to keep out of the rain. It hadn’t stopped pouring since the day she had come. Sara also noted that Nerezza never ate. For a slightly overweight girl, Sara found that unusual. Sara wondered if Nerezza ever slept, either. Her intense eyes were rimmed with dark circles, and she seemed to always be in pain.
Saraphina. Quite a nice name. It means heavenly or winged angel. The opposite of what the girl is. She watches me carefully, thinking that I do not know she is there. But I feel her presence and hear her thoughts, and she will continue in her quest to upset me soon. The strain of controlling myself is becoming too great, and I begin to fear for the girl and her friends as well. And Saraphina just may be the one I will need most in the end.
Where does she live? Sara wondered. Nerezza had never said anything about a home or a family (she had said a total of 18 words her entire time at the school.)But Sara assumed she had one. So here I am, she thought, at the address the school secretary gave me and nothing’s here. She looked again at the address scrawled on the sticky note in her hand: 163 Moonstone Street. There was a 162 and a 164, but no 163; just an empty lot where a house should have been. And what about her parents? Sara wondered. Who fills out her forms and signs her math tests? Who buys her clothes and school supplies? Sara intended to find out.
Getting into these schools require bending many minds. One must have an address, certification of birth, and numerous other forms, all to be filled out by one’s parents. Conjuring certificates is easy enough, but many people need…convincing. I do hope the school board members do not suffer from brain damage.
