Whispers of the Wild
“You can do this,” Mom whispers, probably as much for herself as for me. “Just remember what you practiced and-”
“And don’t draw attention to myself. I know.” I say quietly, grabbing my bag and swinging it onto my back. I turn back to Mom and for a moment I think I see a tear in her eye. Before I can say anything, though, she pulls me into a tight hug, and when she steps away she’s composed herself again.
“I love you, Anna.” She says simply. I can tell she wants to say more, but she stops herself.
“I love you too, Mom.” Before I can delay myself any more I pull open the door, a wave of putrid, smokey air hitting me almost immediately. I turn around and wave to Mom one last time before marching toward the bus stop. As I arrive, heads turn and some kids start whispering to each other. I can imagine what they’re thinking. Look, the weird homeschooled kid is finally coming to school! But of course I am. I don’t have a choice. I hear some whispers and lots of poorly disguised stares as I walk over and sit down on one of the seats. One boy is much more direct than the others.
“Why are you here?” He demands, looking me up and down with a sneer. The whispers I can deal with, but this blatant rudeness makes my blood boil and I have to take a deep breath to keep myself in control. I recognise him as the leader of the group of neighbourhood kids from when I used to watch them through my window. This was back when I was little and not allowed outside. It had seemed like everyone else was scared of him. I have to physically bite down on my tongue to keep from saying something like ‘wouldn’t you like to know’ that I’ll regret later. Instead, I manage to keep a straight face.
“I’m starting school today,” I say simply.
“So, will you be joining me in the gifted program?” He asks. It’s obvious that he’s only asking that question to rub in my face that he’s in the gifted class, whatever that is, but I answer anyway.
“What do you mean, ‘the gifted class’?” He stares at me for a moment before bursting out laughing, so loud and obnoxious that even his cronies look uncomfortable.
“Wow, you really do live under a rock! The gifted class is for elementals like me. I don’t know why I even asked you since it’s obvious that you don’t belong there,” he finishes with a smug grin. I wish I could kick him in the shin right now. He doesn’t deserve to be an elemental if he just uses his powers as a status symbol. I have a feeling it’s a bad idea to be making enemies with elementals on the first day, but I dismiss it.
“Oh shut up! Who even are you to be acting so rude? You don’t know anything about me and you’re already making assumptions and being a horrible person!” He seems dumbfounded by my response, so I guess he’s used to winning all arguments because of his powers. That’s not happening this time. I toy with the idea of picking a fight with him to put him in his place, but I would never actually do that. Not only are fights strictly forbidden on school grounds, including the bus stop, but that would make all of Mom and Dad’s work keeping me safe all these years a waste. He’s still staring at me, so I push further.
“Anyways, how do I know you’re an elemental? You could just be lying.” He seems to wake up from his daze and glares at me. Without a word, he snaps his fingers and summons a flame into his hand. It’s actually pretty small, and not at all impressive compared to what some people can do, but it’s still fire. Of course he’s fire. Just my luck that I pick a fight with someone who can control the most destructive element. Seeing my badly hidden annoyance, he grins.
“That’s not even all!” He holds his hand up and despite the clear, sunny morning a bolt of lightning strikes him, illuminating his whole body and making his hair stand on end like a mad scientist. He gives me a flick on the arm and I flinch as I feel a small electric shock. What a jerk! If only I could give him a taste of his own medicine.
“Now do you believe me?” he sneers, “I bet you can’t do anything even half as impressive as that!” I can do plenty of impressive things, but instead of saying that I look away from his obnoxiously grinning face and say nothing. I get the feeling he has something else to say, but the bus pulls up beside us and I jump on as soon as the door is open.
Phew. I finally got away from that annoying kid. I choose a window seat near the back and sigh, happy for some peace and quiet. Unfortunately, the mob of kids reaches where I’m sitting and suddenly I’m surrounded by the clamour of the bus. There’s screaming, laughing, and talking, and I’m surprised to find that I actually enjoy it. If I close my eyes, the hubbub surrounds me like a warm blanket. That is until I hear loud footsteps and a thump as someone jumps into the seat behind me. My seat gets jostled a bit, but I ignore it, thinking it was a mistake. Then, I feel a sharp kick. I whip around and look through the gap between the seats to see the boy from earlier satisfiedly kicking the back of my chair. I sigh, too tired to bother with him. This is going to be a long year.
“Welcome to class, everyone! My name is Mr Garcia and I will be your teacher this year.” I quickly say hello to Mr Garcia, then I hurry inside to get a good seat so I don’t have to sit next to that annoying elemental from the bus stop, who is unfortunately in my class. Although, what defines a good seat? I want to sit in the front so I can see the board, but then people might think I’m a teacher’s pet! The back is definitely not an option, since that’s where the boy from earlier is sitting. Eventually, I decide on a seat near the middle of the second row and sit down. Next to me sits a girl with blonde, curly hair. As soon as I sit down her, she turns to me with a huge grin.
“Hi! My name is Olive! Nice to meet you!” I’m a little taken aback by her overflowing energy, but she seems pretty nice.
“My name is Anna-” I begin, but before I can finish, Mr Garcia starts talking.
“Now that you’ve all found your seats, let's introduce ourselves. Everyone say your name and one hobby. I’ll go first: My name is Mr. Garcia and my hobby is photography!” I don’t pay much attention to most people, but I do start to pay attention as it gets closer to my turn. What can I say I like to do? I don’t have that many hobbies!
“My name is Olive and I like playing with my dogs!” she exclaims, and now it’s my turn. I know I shouldn’t be panicking about something this small, but I don’t want to make a fool of myself.
“Hi, my name is Anna and I like reading,” I say eventually. I heave a sigh of relief as my turn passes. I do listen when it gets to the boy from earlier and I find out that his name is Tristan and he likes practicing his magic. Once again, I wish I could slap him. He’s so full of himself. Someone needs to put him in his place.
“Oh, that reminds me!” Mr. Garcia exclaims, “Raise your hand if you’re an elemental!” At that, I perk up and look around to see who raises their hand. Of course, Tristan does, along with a small, tan girl with delicate features aptly named Pixie and a tall boy with long, dark hair whose name I didn’t catch.
“Would you three like to tell us your elements? Also, remember that magic is forbidden in class, at least until later in the year when we know you can control it.” Tristan jumps to his feet and starts to brag about how he can control both fire and electricity, but I’ve heard this before so I tune it out. Then, he snaps his fingers and makes a small spark, not going so far as making fire this time. Either way, the whole class ‘oohs’ when they see it. Apparently, he didn’t hear the teacher tell him not to do any magic in class, but Mr. Garcia doesn’t seem too bothered and calls on Pixie next.
“Hi, I’m Pixie and I control wind.” She hesitates, and then a gust of wind blows through the room despite the closed door, blowing through everyone's hair and rustling papers. It’s just strong enough to be noticeable but not strong enough to cause any trouble. I can tell she has a lot of control over her powers and I immediately respect her a lot more than Tristan. She smiles and sits back down.
“Hi, I’m Cole and I control water,” the third elemental says quietly. He seems shy despite his height and status as an elemental. Probably noticing that the previous two gave demonstrations of their powers, he pours some water out of his water bottle and levitates it above his hand for a moment before dropping it back in and sitting down. I marvel at how two out of the three elementals are quiet and respectful in contrast to Tristan’s loud obnoxiousness. I guess he’s just a bad example of an elemental.
“Well everyone, that’s our class’s three elementals this year. Every Thursday they’ll be taking a special ‘gifted’ class to learn to control their powers...” Mr. Garcia is still talking, but I just let his words fade into background noise. Only three elementals, huh? I grin to myself, feeling the power thrumming beneath my skin. It’s understandable that he would think that. After all, how could he know that I’m one too?
Emily O'Reilly is a sophomore at the American School of Dhahran. She enjoys making music, crocheting, reading, and writing.
