The Forgotten Past

“No!” I shout.

My father raises his eyebrows as he continues to stare at me through the rear-view mirror. His expression fuels the fire within me, yet again.

Caleb, sitting next to me gently whispers, “Please, just do what he’s asking. At least for me if not for Michael.”

I shake my head, “I can’t, the consequences are too dangerous!”

Again, my father pleads, “Caleb, you’re the only one who can convince her. And for heaven’s sake, calm her down before I end up crashing.”

When the hospital discharged me about a month ago, I thought things would go back to the way they were in the beginning. Before all of this nonsense of socializing me with children my own age. Back when it was just Caleb and I studying together in some isolated place of his choice. Away from anything that can be identified as a ‘structured setting’. Instead today my father insists I try this absurdity he refers to as ‘education’ again. I shake my head.

Things are far from normal in my life and I fear they will never be the same again. I believe that Dr. O’Shea’s extreme actions at the hospital are somehow still weighing on my father’s mind, but he won’t admit it. As an alternative to arguing or supporting me I’m again forced into something that I know without a doubt will be trouble.

When the car comes to a complete stop in the parking lot of the local high school, I jump out. Placing the headphones in my ears, I then walk up Central Academy’s front steps leading to a set of double doors with what I assume is the name of the school printed above in big, bulky letters.

Minutes later, my father and Caleb lead the way as they step into a nicely decorated office and head straight towards the desk in the far corner of the room. The woman sitting behind it remains in her seat with her head held high, as if she’s the queen and we are nothing more than pawns awaiting her judgement. Her light brown hair flowing over her straight pulled back shoulders. Sliding down the rigidity of her body to her clasped hands. I have a feeling that her reaction towards me will be the same as all the other adults I meet.

Her expression suddenly changes when she spots me walking in. I may not know a lot of things I should at my age but I know from her now tight lips to her glare that she despises my presence. A look I know all too well. People in this world fail to accept the fact that I’m different, nor do they care to put forth the effort to learn why I am that way.

She continues to watch me with a cold gray stare as she begins to greet the two men, “Welcome,” she says while gesturing towards the two plush chairs that are in front of her desk before returning her attention to my father.

“There’s a few papers I need you to sign Mr. Morgan and I would like to go over the rules and regulations to be sure you and ​both​ of your children,” eyeing Caleb and I briefly before returning to my father again, “understand that I run a tight ship around here.”

Her desk contains two perfect stacks of textbooks ranging from mathematics to advanced literature. Along with a manila folder resting on a huge calendar that practically takes up the remainder of the flat surface. A container of writing utensils rests in the opposite corner where she proceeds to pull a pen out of before handing it to my father. I assume it’s for him to sign his name to the few pages she was referring to.

I carry on slowly making my way around her office with the music continuing to blare through my headphones while searching for a warm spot to soak in away from her prying eyes. I have no interest in what anyone has to say to me except for Caleb. He’s the number one person I trust and I’m almost sure that’s the only reason my father continues to allow him to remain by my side.

Several months ago, this man who claims he’s my father adopted me from Saint Ann’s home for girls. At the time, I believed that my parents perished in a fiery car accident leaving behind their only daughter. Despite my reaction to the whole idea of adoption my counselor - Ms. Carol – advised me that it was better than the alternative. The three Sisters that owned the group home awarded points for literally everything, but they also took away points for ‘sinful’ behavior. I think they preferred punishing me rather than trying to see things from my point of view.

I examine everything in the principal’s office from the statues on her shelves to the way she has placed everything strategically while last night’s argument between Caleb and my father replays in my mind. It wasn’t the words they had exchanged that had me confused, it was who they were coming from that had me baffled. On many occasions I’ve overheard Caleb referring to me as free spirit - whatever that is supposed to mean – but everyone argued that the freest of spirits can be tamed, until last night. As soon as the words ‘free spirit’ escaped into the room my jaw dropped. It wasn’t Caleb who was saying it, it was this man who I never meet until the day he adopted me. It makes me wonder if any of this is real or if I’m dreaming.

A sense of security passes over me as if I’m being watched. No doubt I am. It’s strange how each pair of eyes can have a different effect on me. But I guess that’s how it goes with this world.

While my thoughts consume me once again, I trace the details of her figurines on the middle shelf. My fingertips glide over them while I do my best to follow my father’s absurd rule of staying within his sight. I know I wouldn’t get far even if tried to escape from this miserable place.

By the time I traced every item on her shelves at my eye level, I turn my music down. I catch the woman’s words as they floated around the room. “Any violations of our invariable policies​ will result in a student’s expulsion.” she says, seemingly directed solely at me.

The timber of her voice sends fresh shivers throughout my body cascading the ones that started since we left the house. The cold doesn’t seem to bother my father or Caleb who sit in the plush, comfortable chairs, looking as warm as two cozy kittens near a fireplace. I groan, stretching the sweatshirt’s sleeves over my frozen hands once more.

While maintaining a distance from everyone in the room, I stroll towards the window near a dingy brown filing cabinet. I glance at the principal’s stern expression before gazing out the window into the distance. The rolling hills in the landscape keep my mind at bay for now.

When she comes to a close on the rules and regulations, she directs a question towards me, “Sara, did you hear me?” I shudder at the sound of her voice again but continue staring out of the window as if the woman hadn’t spoken a word.

Picking up on my body language as usual, Caleb answers. “Mrs. Williams, I assure you, she understands and knows what’s expected of her.”

“I see. Are you sure she’s listening to me?” I sigh at the concern rising in the principal’s voice, it forces me to glance at her.

Caleb replies, “Yes! Ma’am, it’s the new environment, she’s just uncomfortable.” “Sara will relax given time.”

I glance back towards her wall spotting a framed certificate confirming her name is indeed Williams, Martha Williams to be exact. I make a mental note of her first name and return my gaze out the window this time to the lonely orange tree in the yard. It stands tall and strong despite the harsh rain falling down, I smile. It’s a nice replica, from its tapered green leaves to the pale-yellow blossoms. It reminds me of how peaceful and happy I was before this man started plucking my flowers one by one.

Caleb walks up behind me and places his hands on my shoulders to reassure me that he’s there and he’s on my side. Tilting my head towards his hand, I try to soak in some of the warmth radiating off it. All the while wondering if he’s still as faithful to me as the first time I met him or if he’s just pretending to be for my sake.

“Okay, good.” Relaxation in her tone assures me she’s convinced. I play around with the idea of allowing the beast inside to roam free. Just for a moment or two. Letting him pass judgement on the woman. I smile, returning to the lonely tree in the yard again while the thoughts flow through my mind like a babbling stream.

While continuing to caressing my shoulders Caleb ushers me towards the door. The second I step in the threshold, “Oh! One more thing missy. Headphones aren’t allowed in class,” she adds in a stern voice.

The chains snap. Adrenaline flows through my veins. I turn around in such a flash that whips my hair across my face and flies back as I stomped in her direction, my heart quickening with each pounding step.

‘No, not my music!’ my mind wails. It’s the one thing that makes this place even remotely bearable.

Everything from the statues on her shelves to the window frame rattles. The beast continues taking over, rising in strength the further I move away from the men. The woman’s cold gray eyes grow large and she shivers as I growl, “What did you say?”

In a matter of seconds, Caleb steps in my path, banishing the sudden but evident surge of power within me. The beast recedes back into the depths of which it came. I freeze, losing myself in his golden pacifying stare as he pulls his fingers through my hair brushing it back behind me again and edging me backwards declaring, “Understood ma’am.”

Between Caleb’s delicate touch and his soothing pulse, the beast is chained once again. Caleb continues to whisk me into the main corridor with his hands on my shoulders, while Mrs. Williams requests a few more minutes of my father’s time.

When my father rejoins us, his face is impassive, forcing me to wonder what the principle had said to him. Whatever it was it can’t be good considering what had just happened beforehand but then again, he’s nearly impossible to read. I think he hides his emotions because he’s too embarrassed to let others see them. Perhaps, he’s like me and never had a friend to confide in or maybe he’s learned over the years that it’s not wise to show others how you feel. Either way it would explain why he has this high level of control over his sentiments.

He steps towards Caleb shoving the same books into his arms which were in two neat stacks on Mrs. Williams’s desk minutes ago and addresses him, “Are you positive you can handle her?”

“Why do you still doubt me Mr. Morgan?” Caleb questions.

“Well, first of all, that display shouldn’t have happened and second, I’m not quite certain you believe me.”

“Michael, haven’t I proved my point by now. Besides you witnessed how quickly I was able to calm her.”

My father shakes his head as if he’s still not convinced. Maybe he is and he just doesn’t want me to know anything more. It doesn’t matter anyhow because I really don’t care. Besides we’ve been down this road once before and it sent me to the hospital. For how long, I don’t know but I have a feeling it’s been longer than what they want me to believe.

“The car will arrive at three. Don’t be late!” He replies with anger rising in his voice.

Turning towards me, he raises his hand as if he’s going to place it on my shoulder but hesitates. Instead he balls his hand, shaking it slightly as he brings it back down to his side and adds, “Sara—”

With anger coursing through my body, I cut him off and reply, “That’s not my name!”

My father slumps and sighs just before walking out the double doors, abandoning the conversation all together. I feel awful about the situation but he should’ve chosen his time to converse with me more wisely. He knew I was still annoyed about the circumstances surround this whole idea from the minute he told me that he changed my name. Of course, he’s stressed that it’s all for my protection but how can I believe him when he hasn’t proven to me that my life is in danger to begin with.

Caleb hands me book after book while saying, “You know he’s only trying to protect you.”

I hesitate as a few kids enter through the front doors my father had slipped through, but pass us by as if we’re invisible. Caleb, maintains his composure handing me a few more books while looking over a piece of paper. Several more students enter and make their way down the different passages. Still unfazed by the appearance of the kids, he hands me another book and studies the paper one final time before handing it over.

Grabbing the paper, I retort, “You guys keep telling me that, but how do I know it’s the truth?” I keep my voice low in case more kids emerge into the lobby. The last thing I want to do today is to explain my life to an outsider.

“Kai, do you honestly think he would do all of this just for fun?”

I shrug. For all I know he probably enjoys twisting the truth at others expense.

He then adds, “Besides, look at it this way, when the threat is over then you will be free to live your life however you want, but until then—.”

“Yea, I know, follow the rules!” I finish, rolling my eyes. “But what about my music?” I ask.

“Mrs. William’s stated that cell phones were allowed in between classes and at lunch. I’m guessing the same goes for your headphones.”

I nod, looking at the paper in my hand. As much as I don’t want to admit it, I know he’s right but it doesn’t mean I have to enjoy it.

As we part ways, I scan the area looking for what I assume are numbers that match the ones listed on my sheet. I pass a set of stairs leading up and notice several kids lining the corridors up ahead on both sides, laughing and talking together next to small metal doors. As I walk between them, they treat me as if I’m invisible compelling me to consider whether any of this is real. Who knows, I could be trapped in a nightmare and unable to wake up.

After rounding another corner, I discover a specific pattern to the building and I’m near the front entrance again, but on the opposite side of the doors leading to the principal’s office. Finally, I find numbers that appear to match the first one listed on the paper. I shake my head ‘if I had only followed Caleb I would have been here sooner.’

I sigh, peering into the room.

The familiar setting awaiting me twists my stomach into knots. Five pristine columns of eight desks, face a white board. Another bigger one is in the upper corner near the windows, facing the organized lines. Compared to where the others are situated, I’m guessing that is where the person in charge of the room, sits.

Several students are scattered among the rows, standing and sitting anywhere they can. Two are writing feverishly in notebooks, apparently polishing their homework or copying down some last-minute notes. Chairs scoot across the floor, making screeching sounds. The chatter overrides my music and I turn it up a notch. While remaining vigilant of my surroundings, I continue searching for a secluded seat. Again, not a single soul acknowledges my presence.

On my way between the last two vertical rows, one of the note takers catches my attention. She’s a fair-haired girl in the last line, fourth desk back. I keep my sight on the seat two places behind hers.

As I gracefully glide past her chair, she seizes my arm. “Why don’t you sit here?” pointing to the spot beside her.

The delivery method of her request is remarkable. From the second her voice reaches my ears it wraps around me like a velvet scarf while the touch of her soft skin drives me even further to obey to her every command. I examine this girl further. Her silky, blond hair falls down into spiral curls that dangle from a high, tight ponytail ending in the middle of her back. Her sun kissed face offering a soft smile, fascinates me while the scent of jasmine fills my nostrils.

The unexpected sound of a man entering the room saying, “Good morning class.” breaks whatever spell she had on me.

The man heads directly to the desk near the windows with his eyes on a piece of paper. A few wrinkles line the edges of his face rendering my mind to presume he’s an elder. His solid brown hair contradicts my first impression of him. He’s dressed in a gray suit shirt and polyester, cotton blend slacks, reminding me of my father’s choice of clothing. He appears dressy yet casual sitting on the side of the desk and allowing his dark eyes to fall on mine. I’m not sure what color they are, but they appear dark, almost black.

“Ah! I see we have a new student joining us today.” He says as he stares at a piece of paper in his hands for a few seconds then adds, “Sara…Blake, is it? Would you like to come up to the front and tell us about yourself and possibly where you are from?”

I shake my head. There’s no way I want to volunteer any information about myself, let alone stand up and talk in front of a bunch of strangers. He nods and continues on, “Can anyone tell me where we left off in our discussion about Duchamp’s most famous work?”

While a few students shout out answers the girl next to me gently strokes my hand holding the list of my classes and says, “It’s okay to be nervous.”

When she pulls her hand away a slight tingle travels throughout my body. I stare at her pulling the sleeves down over my hands again and wondering why she has this kind of effect on me? As the class progresses the tingling sensation increases the cold already freezing me. I hold back the shivers for as long as I can.

When the bell rings, the girl next to me peers over at my list. “Wow, that’s cool Sara! We have several classes together. I’ll show you around and familiarize you with this school. By the way I’m Sabrina.” She says, standing and walking towards the door.

Again, I melt and nod, following close behind her, soaking in the sweet aroma of jasmine as we head towards the exit. The man behind the big desk beckons me over. I’m still not for sure if I should refer to him as a teacher or an instructor. I turn and head towards him anyway thinking that he is a man of authority and I must show some obedience. She continues walking out of the door, talking as if I’m still beside her.

“I understand that you’re new and you may not know the rules, but I would appreciate it if you’d refrain from using headphones in my class. It distracts you and the rest of the students around you from learning.”

Although the man is talking to me, my thoughts and sight remain on Sabrina. Only to return to him the second I hear him say, “Kai, are you listening to me?”

I decline to answer out of shock, but my attention remains on this man. He takes my stare as a clue to continue, “Normally, we are…” but the man’s voice fades as my thoughts question what I just heard. How is it that he knows my real name?

“I’ll relish the gesture if you remember that for tomorrow,” I catch his last words, feeling sheepish that I missed the rest, I nod, taking the headphones out of my ears and tucking them into the sleeve of my sweatshirt. He then dismisses me with a quick, ‘Thank you.’

I nod again, leaving the room in search of Sabrina. As I enter the corridor just outside the room, I put the headphones back into my ears. She walks up beside me, taking my free hand in hers while continuing the conversation as if I hadn’t left her side.