February 10, 2004

Close Encounters of the Third Kind

E.T. eat your heart our!

Quoi de neus E.T.?

The stars twinkled in the distant black sky. A beam of light streaked through the dark. BOOM! Thunder followed. CRASH! Flash of light.
I walked through the grey narrow hallway. The school’s power was out, but the generator provided ample lighting. The flickering got on my nerves. “So this is my new school”. The principal in a charcoal suit accompanied me to my classroom.
“Sorry about the inconvenience, it’s been a while since we had storms like the ones last night,” the principal said in an attempt to make conversation with me and to break the awkwardness of silence.
Aside from the clicking of her heels and the vague murmurs and laughter of student behind closed doors, not a single thing was heard except maybe the shuffling of my own two feet.
“Here we are!” as she knocked at the door decorated with hearts. “Hello Mrs. Applebie and students, I’d like you all to meet, Elian, he’s your new classmate!”
“Hi Elian, I’m Mrs. Applebie; welcome to kindergarten!”
“Hi El-e-ean!” the class roared.
“So tell us about yourself,” Mrs. Applebie kindly requested.
I stood there silent for a while and looked around cautiously at the twenty sets of eyes alight with wonder. A girl with gleaming eyes looked as if she was about to grin, and a boy was falling asleep. I managed to squeak: “My name is Elian Bonaparte and I’m from Montmarte Sacre-Coeur, France.”
The girls by the dollhouse started to giggle and the boys by the sandbox started whispering in the back. Some tried to suppress their laughter.
“Now friends settle down, we know that Elian has an accent, he is still our friend, don’t forget our manners.”
“What’s an accent?” “Kane! Did you forget your manners at home? Did you forget rule #8, if someone is speaking…what do we do friends?”
“Listen!” the class roared.
“That’s right friends, now Kane, apologize to our new friend.”
He looked at me momentarily, his bulging eyes flared up with a vengeance. His gaze turned towards the floor as he managed to stutter: “So-so-so-rrry El-e-ean.”
The class snickered.
“Now class, behave…Elian go sit in row 5, in seat number 4.”
Coincidentally, I sat on the empty seat diagonally to the left of Kane’s seat.
“My name is El-e-ean, and I’m from Montablabla, France, ‘Kane whispered to me in a feigned high-pitched voice’, Wait until recess.”
“Recess? What’s special about recess? … I don’t sound like that. Do I? Throughout the thirty-minute story-time, which seemed like hours, all I heard was the first sentence of what Mrs. Applebie said. The rest were the long monotonous sound of “Wongck, wongck, wongck” coming out of her mouth.
“What time is recess? Where is it going to be? How long is it going to last? What am I going to do?” Questions like these circulated around my head. I had a plan A, a plan B, and a plan C. If plan A did not work, then I’d go to plan A subset little A before proceeding to plan B.
Ring! Ring! Ring!
“Ok friends, it’s time for recess; Put your coats on; Get your snack, and line up by the red tape on the floor.”
As I was putting on my coat, Kane bumped into me. He apologized in a smug and unctuous way.
It was freezing outside. The parking lot was huge. The teachers stayed near the door and kept watch.
“Let’s play tag!” Kane yelled.
“Yeah!” the class roared.
Everybody else called: “Not it”, except for me.
“El-e-ean is it!” Kane confirmed.
They scattered to safety away from me; Kane was the only one in close proximity to me. He flaunted his red coat like a matador. He did not look fast so I started chasing him. With arms stretched out, I was inches away from tagging him. Out of nowhere, he picked up speed. Out of breath I stopped. He turned around and slowed down, the smirk on his face seemed to be intended for me. I decided to chase someone else, but Kane was not going to give up; he shadowed right behind me.
“What! I’m too fast for Frenchie!” Kane instigated.
“Slowpoke Frenchie, slowpoke Frechie!” the class roared.
I quickly turned around and tagged Kane. I was so excited that I was jumping for joy.
“You’re it! You’re it!” I pointed at Kane.
His complexion suddenly turned ruddy, almost matching his coat. He came running after me in full-speed shoving me to the ground. My bum slammed to the pin-like concrete, and my hands broke my fall, scraping the ground.
“What now El-e-ean? Or should I say illegal alien. It’s people like you that takes away my pop’s job. Because of you, he’s at home, jobless, and drunk. Go back to France!”
I was speechless. “I’m just a student…How can I ever take away your father’s job? …I’m a kid just like you and everybody else…Go back to France?” The next thing I knew, Kane was on top of me, slapping, punching and scratching me. His breath ascending into the sky, and tears were rolling down his cheeks. I could not move; I was stunned. I heard the chanting of the class. Blood gushed out of my nose; I could taste its brackish aftertaste on my cracked lips. I heard the thunderous sound of bell, frenetically rung by Mrs. Applebie. She broke through the throng of gray pants and plaid skirts as I blacked out.
I woke up in a white room. I had an icepack on my eyes, and my nose had stopped bleeding. Across from the bed, there was a mirror, and I saw my reflection. The black bruise on my face elongated my puffed out almond-shaped eyes, and my swollen scratched-up cheeks had an olive-green hue. “I am different.” The bright lights outside were enough to convince me to crashed back to bed and doze off into another galaxy.

The End!

Posted by Michael Diezmos at February 10, 2004 2:59 AM

Hey Mike, this is really great! I hope you post the rest of your story. I want to know what's going to happen. Keep up the good work :-)

Posted by: SueMyers at February 10, 2004 10:39 AM
Post a comment

Remember personal info?