“Shall I give you some extra money tomorrow—did you have enough today?” She looked up with round eyes of concern.
“Actually, I didn’t use my own money.”
“Well, how—”
“Someone offered to spot me.” Well, forced me to let them.
“Oh, that was nice. Who was it?”
“A guy named David Knight.”
“Hm. David…David,” she muttered his name under her breath, her brow wrinkles deepening. “Nope. Never heard of him.”
I shrugged.
“Well,” she said, “sounds like you’ve made an impression, Ara-Rose. I told you people would like you—you’re a very lovely girl.”
I dropped the snotty teen facade and sat back against my chair. It was hard to be hostile when she wouldn't take the confrontation bait. “Um, thanks, I mean, that’s great and all, but I don’t think being a lovely girl is an asset in high school these days, Vicki. Also, I’m just gonna go by Ara now.”
“Oh? Really? But you always loved your name. What does your dad think of that?”
“Well, it’s my name.”
“But you were given the name Rose for a reason, dear. I know it would break your fathe—”
“Mike always called me just Ara, Vicki. It doesn't bother me, so it shouldn't bother my dad.”
“Okay.” She nodded and turned back to the stove. “If you’re sure?”
But I wasn't sure. I didn't want to drop the Rose. I didn't want to go to a new school, make new friends—pretend to be something I just wasn't sure I could be anymore. “I’ll be in my room,” I said, shoving my chair out. “I have a lot of homework to do.”
“Okay, Ara,” Vicki called after me with a hint of detest behind my new name.
Why did she have to make it worse? She could just be nice about it—supportive, even. I mean, on what twisted version of this story was I supposed to seek my dad’s permission to omit my middle name? I felt like kicking something.
“Is Mom still cooking?” Sam asked, coming in through the arch on the right.
“Yes, why?”
He grinned, dropped his books in his schoolbag, then dumped it back on the stair. “I'm gonna watch TV. Don't tell, okay?”
“She’ll hear it.”
He held up his wireless headphones.
“Whatever,” I said, grabbing my bag, and stomped up the stairs. As I pushed my door open, it swung back and hit the wall, making my open window rattle. But the heat in my temper simmered a little at the sight of dancing prisms on my lemon walls, like rainbow butterflies, as the afternoon sun reached through the crystals on my windows, reflecting life around the room.
Back home, my room faced west, and the setting sun would cast golden rays of blinding light through my window, igniting the whole room ablaze with a warm, orange glow. I’d lay on my bed, talking to Mike on the phone, watching the prancing spectrums perform their final act for the day. But here, my window faced east, giving me only morning sun. Dad, somehow, knew how much that daily routine meant to me, so he bought these Plane Mirrors and even let me climb out my window—after I threw a tantrum about independence—to position them carefully so they’d catch the light of the retiring sun. It was just a little piece of magic, from a childhood passed, that he wanted me to hold onto.
“Homework. Now.” I heard Vicki say.
“But, Mom,” Sam whined.
“Now.”
I smiled to myself and shut my door, kicking my shoes off as I flopped backward on my bed; one hit my dressing table and the other landed by my door, then, I dug my toes into the squishy carpet and let out a long sigh.
It was over. The torturous first day was over.
“See?” I called across to the girl in the mirror. “It wasn’t that bad.”
“Mo-om!” Sam yelled from the hallway. “Ara-Rose is talking to herself again.”
“Shut up, Sam!” I sat up and ditched a pillow at the back of my door.
“Time to call the men in white coats,” he yelled.
“That’s enough, Samuel,” Vicki said, loud enough that I heard her voice from the kitchen.
Sam’s boisterous cackle faded down the hall, but he’d left a great cloud of infuriation behind. I huffed out loud. Talking to myself did not make me crazy. Waiting for myself to talk back did, but…let’s not go there.
I looked down at my bag, then over at my dresser, sitting against the angled wall of my wardrobe. The girl in the yellow dress wasn’t there anymore; the only thing looking back was the oak tree outside. I smiled then, thinking about my day; thinking about how David said he liked me, and I read into so wrong I couldn’t even speak after. I think he took it pretty well, though. He didn’t make me feel like a total loser. Well, until Society and Environment class, when he corrected the teacher on the Emancipation Proclamation. It wasn’t even on topic, but it took one simple comment from a kid up the back, and our discussion on North America turned into a full-blown slavery debate. David, rather heatedly, put everyone in their place. I stayed quiet through the whole thing, but his mere presence made me want to pick up a book and read it. I think he had that effect on everyone—even the teacher.
“Ara?” Vicki knocked on my door.
“Yeah?” I jumped up and sat at my desk, quickly grabbing my books from my bag.
“Dad called—asked if you need some help with homework.”
“Um. No, thanks,” I called.
“Okay. Well, just give him a call if you do,” she said through the door. “He’s supervising detention today.”
“Got it,” I said, kind of just wanting her to go away. I waited another few seconds, and when she added nothing else, spun around to face the window. The day outside was so bright and the afternoon breeze had settled among the leaves of my oak tree, rocking the rope swing in a soothing wave, as if to say, “Come to us, Ara-Rose.” And I wanted to. I really did, which made homework feel like a rock of pressure on my neck. I looked at the pink phone on my desk and slowly pulled my nail from between my teeth, grabbing it quickly to dial Dad’s mobile.
“Ara?”
“Hi, Dad.”
“Hey, how was school today, honey?”
“Um, great. So, I was just…I'm a bit stressed, Dad—with homework. Can I…”
“Why don't you leave it for today?” he said, and I grinned. “Maybe just do a bit of reading, and I’ll talk to your teachers for you. Sound good?”