Chapter 1 - Naomi
My eyes open slowly at the buzz on the floor, the floor of course because the nightstand is over in the godforsaken wasteland that is the corner of my room. Clothes are strewn about, and piercings litter the floor in what can only be called a haphazard fashion. I choose to see it as the construction of an obstacle course for fitness fanatic ants, innovation if you will. I blink once…twice and rummage through the wreckage of old water bottles, bras and chargers near my bed, returning victorious with my phone in hand, just in time to silence the alarm.
It is 6am, just as I had meticulously planned for. I would have around one hour to get dressed, apply my makeup and gather my books. I pride myself on my punctuality and reliability, without which my life would be left an unstructured mess. I bite my lip and walk to the other side of the room where the light switch is placed and promptly flicked it on.
It is the first day of Grade 11, the first day of the IB Diploma, the first day of the second year of Naomi 4.0. This newer, shinier version came as a result of having moved countries and consequently schools 3 previous times. With each move came a reinvention, something which I both love and resent. I have grown to ‘expire’ in places and to always long for change however fear the loss of belonging and the lack of attachment to the people and places around me.
I pick up my black pleated trousers and maroon crop top, which show off my new back tattoo, and slip them on. I spend about 5 minutes looking for my mum’s ankle boots only to find them hidden behind my desk along with the answers to last year’s homework. After zipping them on I look in the mirror and can’t help but admire my tousled curls. It took me a while to outgrow my frizzy phase.
It was about half past six when my phone rang.
Lucifer
I grin at my phone, kick out my legs and slide down to a sitting position against the wall as I always do when Lucia calls me this early in the morning. One just might topple over from laughing at some of the things that come out of that girl’s mouth, I think it is best to be firmly on the ground so as to prevent injury.
“Good morning High Lord of hell”
“Naomi?”
Lucia’s soothing voice filters through the phone.
“Yeah”, I say and then clear my throat. My voice sounded raspy to my own ears, something which I have never minded as it goes well with my somewhat rocker-chick look.
“Are you ready?”
“No high lord, I am currently trying to perfect a mathematical formula for the best angle of eyeliner for my eye shape”, I opt for smudgy black as usual and a berry-coloured lipstick. Fastening on my hoop earrings I hold the phone against my shoulder and ear so as to listen.
“I thought you would be out of your cave and on your way by now”
I snort. “The word cave is offensive to the Avant Garde look that I am going for with my room”
“Just…hurry”. Lucia sounded worried, something unexpected for the always upbeat, flirty and cheerful person I had come to love over the past year. Lucia was outgoing and had been the first person to come up to me when I had been new in school. I had at first been stunned by the girl’s hazel eyes and freckles, a constellation of them which seemed to span her nose and cheeks. Lucia had always had the easy-going confidence that I lacked (however tried my best to mirror) and turned heads whenever she walked into a room – with that came a revolving-door of boyfriends and a lot of carefully thought out and probably mean nicknames for said boys.
“On my way Luci”. With that I hung up and focused on the task at hand: finding my notebooks and laptop. For such a messy person I need a surprising amount of organisation in my life – something which I attribute to my autism, which I had been recently diagnosed with. Regardless, now is not the time to dwell on psychiatry and the great question mark that are my feelings. I feet as if I am close to something, to being someone and understanding myself and I will not lose sight of that in the soul-sucking environment that is Bright Horizons International School (BHIS for short). BHIS is home to many vapid teenagers and finds itself situated in the middle of Surrey so that said teenagers can spew out shit like “That tree would totally beat up that bush, look at its branches” – direct quote.
As I sit on the bus I sigh and rue the day I learned of the animal game which had taken over the small vehicle. For context, my bus had myself and an inexplicable number of five-year-olds which seemed specifically out to get me and who would wake up from their godforsaken naps as soon as I sat down. The animal game entails screaming as loud as one possibly can without completely rupturing my eardrums, so as to prolong the torture as that would be too merciful, “BOOOCKKKKK I’M A PARRROOOOOOTTT”. It goes on and on and this morning they decided to switch it up and be monkeys just to add variety. I lose myself in musings of their mouths taped shut and throwing them out of the window so as to not have to pull a spontaneous Van Gogh mid trip, when we arrive.
I take a deep breath, mutter “fuck it” and walk off towards the main doors.
