"It's just... you've never been to a boarding school before and this one is so far away. You're going to be away from the house for a long time. You haven't been gone this long since we brought you home," my mom worried.
"I haven't even left yet," I joked. I was adopted. My parents brought me home from Korea when I was two years old. My parents consisted of overly peppy mother hen with blonde hair and crystal blue eyes, and a tall but strong father who always spoke his mind with short brown hair and hazel eyes. Compared to them, it was obvious that I was adopted. Even though I dyed my hair blonde, my facial features, fair skin, and brown eyes were nothing like my parents. I figured it out pretty early on. But I loved my parents. They were the ones who introduced me to my first love: fencing.
"But it's an all-girls boarding school and, no offense honey, but you're the biggest tomboy I've ever met. Aren't you worried at all?" My mom asked. I chuckled to myself. Being a tomboy would actually help me at my new school because I had to act like a boy. I told my parents that I was going to the all-girls Stone Lake Academy, But in reality, the school I was going to was five minutes from there: Preston Hills Academy.
Preston Hills Academy was an all-boys boarding school in Maine. It was known for its sports program, and I wouldn't have given it a second thought normally, but the Olympic fencing team's own Race Imboden started coaching there this year. It was my dream to become an Olympic fencer. If I wanted to be the best, I needed to be trained by the best. That's the reason I lied to my parents, cut my hair short, decided to move to the other side of the country and attend an all-boys boarding school. And if I could get just one tip from Race, it would all be worth it.
"I'm not worried mom. You shouldn't be either. You know I've always been able to make friends easily.
"Did you pack everything you need?" She asked. I could tell that me being at a boarding school was making her anxious by the way she continued to wring her hands together.
"I have everything I need. Don't worry, mom. Hopefully I'll be there until I graduate and then I'll join the Olympic fencing team," I tried to reassure her. She sighed as she paced the floor.
"I should've kept you in dance," she muttered to herself.
"I'm still doing rhythmic gymnastics," I deadpanned. My mom wanted for me to be a girly-girl so badly, but that wasn't me. It wasn't who I was. Fencing was my life.