The Pilot

Aspha battles the agony of switching schools especially because she never fit in.

IMMATURE HEART ( THE BALLERINA PRINCESS 1 )
CHAPTER ONE
“Aspha! Aspha!” Mother shouted, the vibe of her voice so tense and eager, like she couldn't wait to rip the house apart if only the volume of her voice could accomplish that, but I pretended not to hear. I rolled on my side and allow the warm comforter bury me underneath it’s bosom, inhaling the moisturising lavender scent of the new throw pillow Granna sent me a few weeks back. I had made up my mind that I would not get out of bed, no, not today, not anymore. I was tired of it all, of doing it. I wanted a change, I craved change, and something else to do that would not summon to mind the past. Anything else but this!
“Aspha,” the sound of her voice got nearer and soon the door to my bedroom flung open with a few disturbing cracks that tingled the hair on my neck to a stand pose, accommodating my mother in. “Aspha,” she said in a gentle voice, as if realizing her hardcore tone won't deliver the message she wished to pass across. She stopped right in my doorway when I spared her a little of my attention, managed to tilt on my side. Her face which I was sure rooted in scrawl, had took on a more subtle form while her palm twisted around the golden knob causing straight line of veins to push out of her hand. “What are you still doing in bed?”
I sat up flinging the comforter out of my body.“I don't want to do this, Mama, I’m tired of it,” I stated with finality. “Why? I thought we’ve had this discussion before and we were cleared?” Mother question, encompassing her way to my bed side. I was aware of that and each time she told me it was the last, it never was. I knew well how important this was to her but not to me. When I did not answer, she continued.“But you use to like it and you always won-”
“Yes Mama, but not that I wanted to,” I interjected, increasing my own voice just like her's had did a moment ago. And it was the truth, I never always intended to win, I had done everything I could so that I would not win. There was even a time I thought of a saying among the kids I went to school with - that you could change your faith by saying the opposite of what you want and I tried it out by telling myself that I would win so the opposite I craved would occur - but it was a shared waste of time.
“Alright, after today,” Mother paused to sigh, her sign of frustration. Her lips curved down in a pout and her face lost it glossiness. Then she continued, “I will allow you do as you please.” My body jerked up anxiously to validate her words and my gaze found has, I stared into her deep-set onyx eyes that darkened in with more worry, searching out a guarantee of something to hold onto.
“You will?” I asked skeptically.” Yes,” Mother said plainly, her face expressionless. “If I did not win?” I narrowed my eyes at her fully aware of the drill.
“Yes,” she answered again plainly. “If I did?” I pressed on needing to be sure this was not one of her fifty-fifty games. “Even if you do,” she sighed. My inside wanted to limp for joy but my brain declined that inquiring I wait till the end of the day before I threw a fest for my freedom.
“Come on now, get dressed,” Mother kissed the top of my head and went her way.
I fell back into bed with anguish floating the inside of my blood. I didn’t intend on winning but it was not a tossup so I knew I would as long as that unknown strength showed itself again sending electric pulse through every wired bone of my body increasing my energy, heightening my brain and throwing me about on stage like an uncontrollable boat carried away in a storm. I always won despite myself.
But this competition was different; the three best contestants would gain a scholarship to finish high school in Staar Brooke Academy in Bulgaria and from there upon to prestigious universities. The two runner ups would have a scholarship to the school but that is it, no university attached. It was the dream of every teenager to attend Staar Brooke Academy because of it standard quality of education there but the school never gave admission to student like any other, they always choose whom to admit. But still kids my age still held on to the dream - but not me. Staar Brooke Academy had never been a dream for me not because we could not afford it because we could. But I would not fit in.
I never did.
The hostilities at Kinsley was enough damage to my integrity and adding Staar Brooke to it - my reputation would spread around like the sheet of the sky and I would perish in a split seconds. Staar Brooke was Mother’s dream, she had always prepared me for a better future and doing this had always been a thing of joy to her. I wanted this too - a very long time ago when I was two, but after growing into reality that thing I wanted so much had been clouded and I wanted nothing to do with it than to loath it.
Anyways, today was going to be fine, today I must do everything within and out to stop myself and that uninvited electricity, today I would not win and today would be the end of my misery. But even if the unspoken happened, I would hold Mother to her word, every part of it because I refused to be rubbed off my sanity.
I stumbled out of bed to get my bath and out I was in no minute. With a towel wrapped around my chest, I walked to my closet barefooted. I flung open the door and yanked the hanger holding my dress captive off the hook and laid it down on the bed. I moved to the dresser and worked on my body, after that I walked to the edge of my bed eyeing down the dress. Blue silk fabric with intricating embroidery on the front with four shimmering gem around the squared neck.
The skirt also glistered in the like with a white curved lace hung at the hem surrounded by shimmering gems. The short sleeves had the same white lace but in a different pattern. The dress was too beautiful, styled European, a thing we could not go for on a normal circumstance but came off my prize money. I should be happy for this dress was adorable just like I used to when I was a little girl, always happy for having a new dress, but not now, I was no longer a little girl, I was sixteen and tired of having new dresses.
“Aspha,” the door cracked a little as Mother poked her head in and the light of her face came to life as she accessed me in the mirror. Her amber skin glimmered in aspiration and her brown hair flared around her shoulders in pride. “You look beautiful, my dear,” she said with a pleasant emotion.
I wrinkled my nose taking myself in the mirror and narrowed my eyes at the voluptuous me - amber skin like my mother, long black hair that have been wrapped into a wavy up-do, and an extremely weird gray eyes that no member of my family had. I was sick of looking this way in every three month.
Mother came closer, took the hem of my skirt and spread it in the appropriate manner. She turned me around so I could face her and I saw how happy she was. How happy I made her doing as she wanted.
“Your crown?” I pointed my chin in the direction of my lower drawer; she reached it and brought the thing out. She placed the piece of glittering tiara made of silver particle on my head and the stupid thing fitted perfectly.
“I don’t want it, mama,” I groused out in a saddened voice. “But you look beautiful with it the more.” I opened my mouth to protest but Mother stopped me. “Besides, Marianna wants you to wear it.” She stated firmly. I gave up - it was useless arguing with her that Marianna was only my coach and she would not be the one on stage and have everybody laugh at her like a stupid garden knob - why of course she was in Vince enjoying her summer.
“You are such a princess,” Mother said with tears threatening her beautiful eyes. I sighed in reply. “Come on now, let’s have breakfast and be on our way.” I nodded, so she left giving me a few more minute to myself. I tuned to scrutinize myself one more time in the mirror before packing my blue new ballet flat into my backpack.
I settled down in my chair waiting for Mother to say grace, once she was done, I gripped the spoon hard and the urge to break it into two was present in me but I defeated the thought to concentrate on my food. I scoffed down a few vegetables and noodles and flushed it to a satisfaction with a homemade pineapple juice and I was done. I wiped my mouth with the edge of a blue napkin and set to leave.
“You barely touched your food,” Mother quarreled, her tone taking on that eagerness again and her gaze glued on me with purpose. “I did not want to eat much so that I would not do . . . you know . . . me,” I struggled at the words that was partially true while the other half of the truth hid with the part where I meant to weaken myself so that my stamina would distract me and my focus lost. The less I ate the less strength I would engage to perform.
“Okay,” Mother nodded in understanding, which meant she bought my excuse that was solid to her since she knew the outcome of what I said. I stood up, grabbed my backpack and followed her out after she was done munching her breakfast and gulping her juice. I opened the backseat door and dumped my backpack on the seat, stationed myself in the passenger seat afterward while Mother prepared to drive. My phone rang from inside my backpack forcing me to lean across in other to reach it. My hand brushed past the tiara Mother insisted I wear and finally I retrieved the phone.
"Who is it?” Mother questioned, meaning no harm. I showed her the screen so she could clarify the identity of the caller, she smiled approvingly to me and I placed the phone on my left ear.
“Hey Ash,” the ever present radiant voice of Amy echoed from the other end.
“Hey Amy,” I returned in a gloomy but clear voice.
“Are you doing you already?” Amy asked playfully.
“No,” I replied with a small smile in my voice.
“Where are you?” She continued.
“On my way,” I replied.
“Alright, I’ll see you in a jiffy,” her harmonious voice sing song.
“You too,” and I hung up.
“Is Mimi there already?” Mother asked.
“No, she’s on her way,” I answered and turned to look out the window.
As I watched the lawns on our street with the greens yielding to the brown taint, the garden flowers clasping in unity even in the late summer sun, the folks walking their dogs along the dark-gray asphalt, and the cackling laughter and enthusiastic giggles of the children and their parents playing outside and chasing after butterflies, balloons, and colourful kites, my hand danced around my neck and fingered the silver necklace that took rent there. Mother had seen it and said nothing as it was the first time of me wearing the piece of jewelry ever since he gave it to me. I could still see the happiness written in his eyes when he gave it to me three years back. A gesture that seemed too important to him as if it was the best thing he had ever given his daughter. I could recall how my face was tight grim when Mother coaxed me into accepting it because I did not want anything from him.
Although he filled my account with tons of money and paid Mother the monthly allowance and bought me expensive things Mother shoved on me against my will, but Matthew would never be anything to me than a shadow cast on a wall. No amount of his wealth could make up for the years of pain and misery his absent afflicted on my mother, when he heartlessly left Mother for death with a toddler in hand while he ran off to marry a wealthy woman.
I had not come to know any man so cruel and murderous like him, greedy and discontented, abandoning his child without caring what could happen to her. He was not human enough to be moved with pity to at least look back and see what became of her. Now after Mother’s effort to raise me he resurfaced after twelve years to reclaim the thing he deposited years back hoping to collect it interest. A fool he was to think I was like him and could easily fall for his sweet tongue and lavish gifts.
Despite himself, he asked me to move in with him and his uncongenial family - his billionaire wife who was not kind enough to hide her hate and his ingrate robot bimbo daughter who irritated the better part of me. I resolved not to waste my saliva on him instead allowed my standoffish attitude do the talking. I hated him and didn’t want him in my life.
I threw my hands at the nape of my neck ready to pull off his stupid meaningless gift off me but Mother halted me. “I do not want it, mama,” I growled. “It was given to you by your father,” she stated. “He is not my father. He never will be. He is just a sperm donor and that is all he ever will be,” I whispered in furrowed eyes.
“Please, just keep it on, if only for today,” Mother pleaded, sharing her concentration with both me and the road. I sighed, “Fine, only today,” I whispered. “Yes, only today,” she agreed.
I faced front and crossed my arms defiantly trying to clear away every thought of Matthew out of my mind when it happened again. My body became hot on a high density and my blood began boiling right inside my veins like a volcano ready to erupt. It always started this way with a leg twitch before the electricity circulate my entire body and waves of the pulse electrocute my blood vessel disorientating me.
“Aspha, are you okay?” Mother panicked attempting to stop the car in the middle of the road. I jerked several times hoping to control it before I destroy something in the car.
“I’m fine, Mama,” I said between greeted teethes. “No you are not,” she accused, deeply concerned. “Yes,” I breathed hard, “I’m fine.” And I was, the reaction only lasted a few minutes when it occurred and afterward - if luckily I did not damage anything, I would be fine, but my body would still be hot on fire from the burning tinsel.
“Here, take this,” Mother handed me a bottle water after she pulled over at the sidewalk of Twelve street. I took the bottle from her with a trembling hand and drank out of it, the water did it best in cooling me but I was still hot inside, this I hid from her. Enough shrieking for now.
I pulled up a half smile to accompany my claims of wellness. “Are you alright?” Mother’s pensive voice managed. I increased the smiled despite the hotlines I felt within and reassured her. “Yes Mama, I’m better now.” She drew me closer to her body and kissed the top my head, and then she continued with the drive.
I inhaled and exhaled; a therapy exercise that worked most to stabilize my breathing.
This was another thing I was tired of - the electricity pulse that rushed through me occasionally since I turned fourteen. A case we had done a lot to solve. Mother had done everything she could to treat me off this unnamed disease which no one had heard about. Since she noticed it when I was ten - which apparently had lasted longer than that. We had visited hospitals, done countless tests, a bunch of MIR and CAT scan, and I had been checked by professional physicians but neither of them held an answer or solution, not even a clue as to my problem.
The anonymity of my disease empowered my class mates’ labeled me a freak entirely. Yes, to them I was Aspha Benedick, that freak girl who spoke in a weird accent and behaved in a awkward manner. Because I was the only one in my family who spoke like my grandmother - in a Bulgarian accent. Weird. I know.
I shook my head thoughtfully, I must not win this competition, I could not afford to, I was pretty aware of my predicament of never fitting in anywhere, but still I would deduce that Kingsley was home to me and I still had Amy and could live with the Freckle-Freak title there, but this new school filled with rich kids would slighter me into shreds, especially when recognized as the new kid. I certainly would fall out of place.
……………….
Mother eased the car into a narrow space in the cramped parking lot loaded with plush vehicles and parked the car in a roll of luxurious cars and monster trucks lined in rolls, but anyways our Picnic felt at home housed by a farm truck, although I was surprised the securities allowed a vehicle as such to park around the ones screaming ‘expensive’.
“Aspha,” Mother called on me gentle. I glanced up at her half way. “Are you coming?” I nodded, grabbed my backpack and exited the car.
We sauntered into Main Town Hall where the competition was holding and pushed through the double brass door only to encounter a boisterous reception bustling with activities. The smell of whipped cream and sandy grains flushed through my nostrils which was weird. Mother approached the receptionist dressed in a black suit and white shirt, the lady with a complete black hair like mine responded to Mother politely giving her directions. I followed Mother’s close steps because I was afraid of the cluster eyes digging holes in me.
We reached the lobby where seats were scattered about and people in like manner like herd without a keeper and more blaring noise showered the environment - a production from the supporters. I stoop dead in my track as I analyzed the people gawking at me as if I was a dork, extensively adorned in glittering jewels and plush clothing. I instantly turned self-conscious pulling my protective shield around me. The competitors all dressed in a well acceptable way pushing curiosity into me and I wondered - if I had not done a thorough check on myself before leaving home - I would have settled myself for an over-dressed maniac.
I tore my eyes away from the people trying to find my wit when Mother called for my attention. I glanced at her briefly before she beckoned for me to come. I assembled myself to maintain a slow walk as possible as I could so my stiletto would not ascribe much embarrassment on me as the sharp ends made click-click-clicking sound on the off-white marble floor. I neared Mother at the clerk’s desk where the lady possibly in her mid twenties flashed me a dazzling smile that released dimples to her checks. Her hair was in a French bun and her make-up was not overdo like the eager-to-please type. Her black suit and white shirt like that of the receptionist excavated her pale skin posting her like Snow White with a honey blond hair, altogether making her nice to approach with her petite structure.
I stood in front of the clerk’s desk bracing myself up for what now lay ahead of me. “What is your name?” The lady asked nicely. “Aspha . . .” I said in a low voice. “Aspha who?” The lady pressed on with slight curiosity in her voice and in her emerald eyes. I opened my mouth but only air escaped out of it - so I turned to mother for help, pleading to her with my eyes because I knew I would do it again.
“Go on, tell her,” Mother urged me with an encouraging smile. But I could not, I could not tell her, not because I did not have a last name but because I had forgotten. It always happened since I was five. I had been forgetting my last name due to my fraying nerves. I was an incoherent person plus introvert; isolation was my sanctuary, solitude was my abode. I barely had three words conversation with people without sinking in the ground or stuttering, except my family and the only friend I had. I looked at the lady who patiently waited for me to find my wit back.
I inhaled and exhaled and tried again.
“Aspha . . . Benedick?” I whispered my answer slash question with furrowed eyes at the lady who had turned confused.
“Aspha Benedick?” She repeated.
“Yes,” Mother supplied for me. “She’s nervous,” she added. The lady smiled at me completely unabashed by my weirdness. She then concentrated on her desk getting serious with papers, while mother took my hand and squeezed it smiling at me. I sent her a half smile that did not reach my eyes and scouted the place out.
The interior was painted in white with captivating frescoes of ballerinas hanging around the walls. I glanced at the rolls of seat and acutely tore my eyes away after being met with deadly looks for what I certainly knew had to do with the competition.
“Here’s your number,” the lady said and handed to me a small card caring my number in it. “You can go over there and wait, very soon an announcement will be made,” she said.
“Thank you,” Mother replied her with a grateful smile, in turn the lady smiled at me. I managed an half smile at her for being so nice and having putted up with me patiently before turning on my heels, and met eyes on me as the room had increased within the short period of time we spent at the clerk’s place.
I swallowed hard ready to take a look at my number, and as always I would be performing as contestant number - 63. I felt the palm of my hand hot with the card, like a hot plate was mounted on my palm and my heart dropped straight into my stomach in a hammered stagger. No, not again. Not this number again!
“Ash.” I yanked my face up happy to see someone familiar in this entire room of strangers. “Amy,” I sighed, relieved. “Hello Catherina,” Amy and Mother shared a hug.
“How are you, Mimi?” Mother responded pulling away. “I’m fine,” Amy answered. “Catherina,” another familiar voice chirped. “Victoria,” Mother answered as the two women greeted each other.
“Aspha dear, how are you?” Victoria pulled me into a hug. “Fine,” I breathed accompanying it with a genuine smile.
“Have you done you?” Amy moved nearer to me gauging my attitude. I shook my head in reply. Amy then placed her hand on my neck, “Geez Louise, what are you still doing, we need to go now.” She gasped feeling my temperature.
“You are right, Amelia”, Mother agreed. “Come on,” Amy grabbed my wrist and dragged me out of the lobby into a hallway. I was surprised on how well she knew this place but at the same time, I trusted her as the only friend I had.
Amy my best friend, class mate, and sister had always been there for me through the thickest, roughest, and hardest time of my life. She was the only one who understood the importance of my existence in school, the only person who always knew I had to do me before a performance, the only girl who was aware that self-reliant did not work well on me no matter the effort. The only person on earth who knew I shot electricity off my hands whenever the electric current intensified itself in me and I would have no idea the damages I made until I was out of its influence. And she was the only one to know of all this and still kept quiet from babbling my secrets to anyone, including my mother. Amy was everything to me.
She led me behind a door which I found out housed the ladies room. “Go do your thing,” Amy beckoned. I could not thank her enough before dashing behind one of the stalls. I raised the cover up, knelt down on the floor, placed both of my hands on the sitter and vomited my stomach out. When I was done, I stood up gently careful for my railing head not to fall off my shoulders and pressed to the tap to rinse my mouth. I fetched water in my mouth, rinsed and threw it out. This I did twice before Amy met my face with a wet paper towel. We did this every time I went for a competition or performance . . . I meant me, while she helped out.
“Thanks,” I mumbled. “You are welcome,” Amy replied. The inside of my mouth stank with puke taste forcing me to draw my attention back to the top.
I giggled water in my mouth and grumbled, “my number is 63.” “What?” Amy strained. I poured out the water so I could repeat myself again, turning my back at the sink, I placed both hands on the edges and inhaled.
“I still got 63,” I sighed.
“Again?” Amy’s verdant eyes expanded in surprise. “Again,” I said.

Author's Note

Its a first draft. Let me know if you'll appreciate more chapters. Thanks.

Reviews

[T.Y Abdul]

Thanks. That's encouraging. I really appreciate it.

[wordman]

it sounds like it will be a great book,it`s interesting and believable