"I would prefer not to, thank you.."
Sixteen. What a useless milestone. A year that meant nothing other than cultural relativity. Many gave her jolly wishes, if only in offhanded murmurs amongst the hall. They could have been friends, at one point.
But Emlyn the Osiris hadn't the time for friendships. She hadn't even the time to spare for much sleep. It was always books, and the 'dirty looks' trickled like sleepy bullets from the resentful eyes of her peers. She sensed so much hostility here, so much needless conflict.
It made her smile at times, and other times draw back in fear. The amygdala of all their brains were so reactive. It made them so very unstable. Emlyn couldn't see their pointless conflicts and indiscretions with much compassion. Not when she had examinations to study for, and majestic executions to perfect.
That hair was always tucked away in a bun, tight and out of the way. She hadn't time for hair. No time for beauty. Especially when beauty was so fickle with the eyes of others. It was all silly, their Reindeer games of trickery, melodramatic arguments, and suspicions avalanching into profound resentment. Sides were etched in sand, but they preached it to be in stone. But those tides would dissolve their conflicts.
She hated walking to class. It was why she would get there between 30 and 45 minutes early. It would avoid the congestion in the halls, and it would prevent much interaction. Conversation was arguably troublesome, as well. Unless if it was Argumentative Principles of the Arcane. She did so enjoy that class.
Uniforms made life easier for her. Were it not for the classic navy blue and gold colors with the Blazon of the Academy present, she'd actually have to decide what to wear. It was always a navy skirt, gold sweater vest with a white blouse beneath. Sometimes she'd wear simple sneakers, other times she'd wear Mary Janes with knee high socks. It was so easy to have pre-formatted everything. It was relief. Order.
It helped the memory of waiting every restless day for a Mother that would not come back..
"Mommy, you said it was only for a little while! I don't want you to be far away! Mommy? Mommy...?! Mommy!!! Don't go! I don't want you to go! Mommy!"
Her mother's silence spoke so loud to her. Her five stages of grief were long and grueling. Denial lasted for years within the girl. Anger got her here in the first place, which she'd never take back. Depression was bypassed when she got the chance of a lifetime. Bargaining was a flickering light. On and off. And Acceptance was the one she boasted the most.
Those stares of male classmates weren't noticed. During those blue-moon events when they were, she looked away and waited for the moment to end. She didn't like stares. She's had enough of them for one lifetime.
Eyes were not windows to the soul. They were spotlights that shined on you without distinction and with ambiguous intent.
"Emily, come on! It's my sweet 16! Father has a lodge reserved off-grounds! I haven't seen you leave campus for any of the holidays like, ever!" She whined, the girl with red hair trailing the hurried steps of Emlyn. She couldn't outrun her, they were going to the same class. Her eyes closed with resignation, hoping the girl would go away with enough silence.
"My name isn't Emily. It's EmLYN." She stressed the second part of her name. But the girl wasn't even paying attention. Not long enough to retain her constant correction.
She waited outside of the magnanimous double doors of cherry oak. They were sealed. The class before them was in the midst of examination. She rued such luck. Her head dipped low, small shorter bangs tickling her cheeks in a sloppy yet articulate fashion. Emlyn was always in a hurry. Always going, and never at rest.
"Yeah yeah, but Emily! Come on! If we get one more girl to go, we can have the overnight stay in the Tree Tops! You can see the mountains from there!" And there it was. They needed one more warm body to fill a bed so that they may acquire the best view for her weekend occasion.
"Ask someone else. I would prefer not to be involved. Have a happy birthday. Besides, we have the Ranking Exhibition next week. You should really be rehearsing your incantations." The yellow-eyed teenager was 17 going on 60. She had the ethics of a mother more than any adolescent.
"Try as you might, the Primary Academic for 5 years in a row won't even take a minute to wash her own face. You shouldn't bother, Hilary." The darker skinned boy towered over them both, navy blue jacket met with khakis, precise to dress code regulations.
The girl's eyes rolled, and she searched the halls for another female that hadn't been originally invited to goad into coming to her Sweet Sixteen. The scattering student was given an eyeroll, and she then looked to the taller, ebony-skinned cohort. "I'm guessing you're attending."
"Her father is a Board Member in the Ministry of Defensive Spell Distributions. I intend to at least get a handshake out of it. Perhaps a good conversation. I know you wouldn't understand."
Emlyn scoffed. "I understand perfectly, Anthony." She stood against the wall, directly next to the door. Arms hugged her leather bound tome, and a small messenger bag contained her many pens, pencils, and papers. And every other stationary supply one could imagine. She had a small stapler, two sharpeners. White out, post-its, bookmarks, and a small wand meant to enhance text size.
"Yet you don't do the same, when you have Administrators and Recruiters eyeing you like Angus beef." He sighed, and shook his head. The blazer had pockets stuffed into the pockets, as he rocked on his heels in wait. "I intend to defeat you, Emlyn." This was said simply, and as-a-matter-of-factly.
That caught her attention, and it made her lips purse. "You'll do no such thing. Not when you're contented networking yourself to all the Alumni you can gain eye contact with. You're more a prostitute of academia than any opponent that could defeat me." That had her laugh cruelly, smile very dry and confident.
"It's not about what you know, it's about who you know, too. You gotta have both, dig?" Anthony was in that uncertain stage of his life where he searched for a comfortable catch phrase. It was different every month or so.
"I don't dig, no. Subterranean majesty isn't a forte I intend to pursue further than the General Education Requirement."
That made him laugh, and his own head shook. "We'll see next week. I am favorable in the upper curve." He knew his category of caliber, buffing his nails along the collar of his blazer. "I got Superior Marks across the board."
Emlyn was unphased. "And so did I. Gender Divisions dictate that you and I are the pinnacles of our class. But you know that one will be victorious by the end of our Final Term." Which was only a year away.
He nodded. "How's Dr. LeCroix?" That was an insult. Just last year a nasty rumor had spread around that she and him had a sexual relationship. Emlyn would never hear the end of it. Any girl who walked next to a Faculty Member too long was having an affair with them. But she did not humor that gossips. And turned mute when any questions were struck her way.
"Silence."
That made Anthony laugh harder. And it was only then that the doors opened to allow the crowds of students to file out in a gentle chatter. The two of them watched as the students passed them.
"You really need to lighten up. That was a whole year ago. Plus, Dr. LeCroix is my Mentor in the Fellowship program. You know that." That was true, at least.
She heaved a sigh. "Then you'll find out his state of well being tomorrow morning, won't you? I'm of no use to you. I haven't seen him since a few days ago. He was gathering the Unstabilities from the Archival Department. As you know, the Research Externship is accepting applications."
Emlyn beamed. And Anthony knew why. "Yeah yeah, he already chose you because you won the Grant." Muttering this, his mood was less playful and more grumpy in an instant.
She practically frolicked into the lecture auditorium. They never sat next to each other. Emlyn sat in the second row, while he sat to the side toward the end of the aisle. The two steered clear of each other most of the time, unless the bicker about ranking.
Emlyn's parting words echoed throughout the hall. "I did, didn't I? Isn't that splendid? I think I'll just enjoy my view of the new plateaus I'll be exploring once the Research Interval begins."
There was no more dialogue between them. Emlyn opened her Tome, and skimmed the chapter as other students trickled in to take their seats. She also liked to arrive early to review the assigned readings and add new questions to her pre-written list.
Anthony was joined by many other young men who knew him fondly. They were a posse, so to speak. And they all would glance at Emlyn with snorts or negative remarks. They all were rooting for their friend Anthony. Emlyn had no retinue. Not here.
Sixteen. What a useless milestone. A year that meant nothing other than cultural relativity. Many gave her jolly wishes, if only in offhanded murmurs amongst the hall. They could have been friends, at one point.
But Emlyn the Osiris hadn't the time for friendships. She hadn't even the time to spare for much sleep. It was always books, and the 'dirty looks' trickled like sleepy bullets from the resentful eyes of her peers. She sensed so much hostility here, so much needless conflict.
It made her smile at times, and other times draw back in fear. The amygdala of all their brains were so reactive. It made them so very unstable. Emlyn couldn't see their pointless conflicts and indiscretions with much compassion. Not when she had examinations to study for, and majestic executions to perfect.
That hair was always tucked away in a bun, tight and out of the way. She hadn't time for hair. No time for beauty. Especially when beauty was so fickle with the eyes of others. It was all silly, their Reindeer games of trickery, melodramatic arguments, and suspicions avalanching into profound resentment. Sides were etched in sand, but they preached it to be in stone. But those tides would dissolve their conflicts.
She hated walking to class. It was why she would get there between 30 and 45 minutes early. It would avoid the congestion in the halls, and it would prevent much interaction. Conversation was arguably troublesome, as well. Unless if it was Argumentative Principles of the Arcane. She did so enjoy that class.
Uniforms made life easier for her. Were it not for the classic navy blue and gold colors with the Blazon of the Academy present, she'd actually have to decide what to wear. It was always a navy skirt, gold sweater vest with a white blouse beneath. Sometimes she'd wear simple sneakers, other times she'd wear Mary Janes with knee high socks. It was so easy to have pre-formatted everything. It was relief. Order.
It helped the memory of waiting every restless day for a Mother that would not come back..
"Mommy, you said it was only for a little while! I don't want you to be far away! Mommy? Mommy...?! Mommy!!! Don't go! I don't want you to go! Mommy!"
Her mother's silence spoke so loud to her. Her five stages of grief were long and grueling. Denial lasted for years within the girl. Anger got her here in the first place, which she'd never take back. Depression was bypassed when she got the chance of a lifetime. Bargaining was a flickering light. On and off. And Acceptance was the one she boasted the most.
Those stares of male classmates weren't noticed. During those blue-moon events when they were, she looked away and waited for the moment to end. She didn't like stares. She's had enough of them for one lifetime.
Eyes were not windows to the soul. They were spotlights that shined on you without distinction and with ambiguous intent.
"Emily, come on! It's my sweet 16! Father has a lodge reserved off-grounds! I haven't seen you leave campus for any of the holidays like, ever!" She whined, the girl with red hair trailing the hurried steps of Emlyn. She couldn't outrun her, they were going to the same class. Her eyes closed with resignation, hoping the girl would go away with enough silence.
"My name isn't Emily. It's EmLYN." She stressed the second part of her name. But the girl wasn't even paying attention. Not long enough to retain her constant correction.
She waited outside of the magnanimous double doors of cherry oak. They were sealed. The class before them was in the midst of examination. She rued such luck. Her head dipped low, small shorter bangs tickling her cheeks in a sloppy yet articulate fashion. Emlyn was always in a hurry. Always going, and never at rest.
"Yeah yeah, but Emily! Come on! If we get one more girl to go, we can have the overnight stay in the Tree Tops! You can see the mountains from there!" And there it was. They needed one more warm body to fill a bed so that they may acquire the best view for her weekend occasion.
"Ask someone else. I would prefer not to be involved. Have a happy birthday. Besides, we have the Ranking Exhibition next week. You should really be rehearsing your incantations." The yellow-eyed teenager was 17 going on 60. She had the ethics of a mother more than any adolescent.
"Try as you might, the Primary Academic for 5 years in a row won't even take a minute to wash her own face. You shouldn't bother, Hilary." The darker skinned boy towered over them both, navy blue jacket met with khakis, precise to dress code regulations.
The girl's eyes rolled, and she searched the halls for another female that hadn't been originally invited to goad into coming to her Sweet Sixteen. The scattering student was given an eyeroll, and she then looked to the taller, ebony-skinned cohort. "I'm guessing you're attending."
"Her father is a Board Member in the Ministry of Defensive Spell Distributions. I intend to at least get a handshake out of it. Perhaps a good conversation. I know you wouldn't understand."
Emlyn scoffed. "I understand perfectly, Anthony." She stood against the wall, directly next to the door. Arms hugged her leather bound tome, and a small messenger bag contained her many pens, pencils, and papers. And every other stationary supply one could imagine. She had a small stapler, two sharpeners. White out, post-its, bookmarks, and a small wand meant to enhance text size.
"Yet you don't do the same, when you have Administrators and Recruiters eyeing you like Angus beef." He sighed, and shook his head. The blazer had pockets stuffed into the pockets, as he rocked on his heels in wait. "I intend to defeat you, Emlyn." This was said simply, and as-a-matter-of-factly.
That caught her attention, and it made her lips purse. "You'll do no such thing. Not when you're contented networking yourself to all the Alumni you can gain eye contact with. You're more a prostitute of academia than any opponent that could defeat me." That had her laugh cruelly, smile very dry and confident.
"It's not about what you know, it's about who you know, too. You gotta have both, dig?" Anthony was in that uncertain stage of his life where he searched for a comfortable catch phrase. It was different every month or so.
"I don't dig, no. Subterranean majesty isn't a forte I intend to pursue further than the General Education Requirement."
That made him laugh, and his own head shook. "We'll see next week. I am favorable in the upper curve." He knew his category of caliber, buffing his nails along the collar of his blazer. "I got Superior Marks across the board."
Emlyn was unphased. "And so did I. Gender Divisions dictate that you and I are the pinnacles of our class. But you know that one will be victorious by the end of our Final Term." Which was only a year away.
He nodded. "How's Dr. LeCroix?" That was an insult. Just last year a nasty rumor had spread around that she and him had a sexual relationship. Emlyn would never hear the end of it. Any girl who walked next to a Faculty Member too long was having an affair with them. But she did not humor that gossips. And turned mute when any questions were struck her way.
"Silence."
That made Anthony laugh harder. And it was only then that the doors opened to allow the crowds of students to file out in a gentle chatter. The two of them watched as the students passed them.
"You really need to lighten up. That was a whole year ago. Plus, Dr. LeCroix is my Mentor in the Fellowship program. You know that." That was true, at least.
She heaved a sigh. "Then you'll find out his state of well being tomorrow morning, won't you? I'm of no use to you. I haven't seen him since a few days ago. He was gathering the Unstabilities from the Archival Department. As you know, the Research Externship is accepting applications."
Emlyn beamed. And Anthony knew why. "Yeah yeah, he already chose you because you won the Grant." Muttering this, his mood was less playful and more grumpy in an instant.
She practically frolicked into the lecture auditorium. They never sat next to each other. Emlyn sat in the second row, while he sat to the side toward the end of the aisle. The two steered clear of each other most of the time, unless the bicker about ranking.
Emlyn's parting words echoed throughout the hall. "I did, didn't I? Isn't that splendid? I think I'll just enjoy my view of the new plateaus I'll be exploring once the Research Interval begins."
There was no more dialogue between them. Emlyn opened her Tome, and skimmed the chapter as other students trickled in to take their seats. She also liked to arrive early to review the assigned readings and add new questions to her pre-written list.
Anthony was joined by many other young men who knew him fondly. They were a posse, so to speak. And they all would glance at Emlyn with snorts or negative remarks. They all were rooting for their friend Anthony. Emlyn had no retinue. Not here.