Nightingale Academy
The City
I was sitting in the back of my mum's, and would-have-been mine, Mazda as she drove to our new home in New York City. My father was tailing behind us in the moving truck. The drive from Jacksonville, Florida to New York City was approximately 15 hours and 16 minutes but when the pit stops at a dinky motel and a cheap restaurant was added, another nine hours were summed into that total. Let's just ignore the traffic as well.
My parents had a hard week. Although, once you compare that week to the last sixteen years, that week could have been a vacation in a country as exotic as Fiji.
I tried not to complain too much. I did well in hiding the tears and morose behaviour from my parents. This wasn't their fault and if they could, they would have never moved away from bright, sunny and beautiful Florida. But there wasn't anything they could do. In the end, Daddy's bakery was closed and thousands of dollars were lost. My father wasted no time in packing our bags and setting a For Sale sign in our front yard. He claimed that we need to go somewhere with more people. Like a city. Like New York City.
In that same week that the house was officially on sale, we packed all of our things, not caring if it would be another few months until the house was actually sold. My parents had naturally put the bakery up for sale as well.
The bakery. My dad rented that shop for years before he even met my mother. When he married her, he bought it, along with a home. One year later, I was conceived...and so were the problems.
My daddy named me Lilith. In Assyrian, Lilith meant of the night. It had befitted me well then and it fit me just as well now. My mum went into labour well into the morning but I was stubborn. I just didn't want to pop out. My father claims that I clung to the umbilical cord for five hours until twilight finally came and a sudden darkness graced the earth. After that, I came sweetly and quietly.
And like my name, I truly was a child of the night. Some would consider me nocturnal had I been able to sleep at all. Though I didn't cry and wake my parents in the middle of the night as other children did, I was told that I would lay awake in my cradle and watch the night sky until the crack of dawn. Then my eyes would close.
Just like back then, I was still much the same. I stayed awake and slept only in short intervals between dawn and morning. As a child I complained about my insomnia. I was restless and so utterly tired during the day. I would sit under the shade of a tree, my back pressed up against its hard trunk, while my classmates played in the jungle gym around me. Even back then I was never able to make many friends. Freshman year was an awakening to my zombie-like schedule, no pun intended. I worked hard and hauled arse at night. I studied and learned underneath the moonlight of my window. During the day, I fought to stay alert so I could pay attention to my teachers and put effort into each hour of each day. And more so then, I still had no friends.
So why was I so down about leaving Florida? I had no friends or any acquaintances that mattered much to me so that couldn't be the reason. Night time exists in New York just as much as any other place in the world so that couldn't be why my eyes leaked of tears.
I'll be honest with you. I am a total loser.
A loser who cried over the fact that she was leaving such a great school with wonderful teachers and amazing curriculum. Frank H. Peterson Academy was like a home to me. It took me in and engulfed me into its wide corridors and pleasantries. Even when fellow scholars had not. I didn't mind though. I hadn't felt rejected when I sat down at a lunch table and no one would make conversation with me. I truly and whole-heartedly did not care. There was something in me that didn't want anyone to become close to me. To reach into my head and try to figure me out like a few people had tried over the years. I wanted to be solitary and independent and god dammit that is what I'll be.
I was snapped out of my thoughts when I felt the car come to a halt and the engine die. I pulled an ear bud out of my ear and temporarily paused my ipod. I looked out my window and stared at the building beside me.
“We're here,” my mum sighed. She couldn't wait to soak herself in a bathtub full of hot water and loosen the kinks in her back. I watched her send a small smile at me, silently pleading for me to give the city a try. Not like I had a choice anyway.
I opened the door after my mum closed hers and slid out. Slamming the door shut, I turned my head to the side to look for my dad only to cringe at the display of affection my parents were momentarily showing for each other. I turned back at the building to stare at its vulgarity one more time. In truth, it wasn't vulgar at all. It was cleaner then I had imagined and it was kind of cute with its small trees planted on either sides of its walls and flowers placed cleverly to give the cement street some colour. I opened the door to the back-seat and pulled out my tote bag. I slung it across my shoulder and took out a large duffel bag containing a portion of my clothes and belongings.
I sighed and cleared my throat loudly as I made my way over to my parents. My mum looked my way, still hanging off my dad's arm and grinned.
“You've got your things from the back? Then I guess we should start pulling as much of this stuff out as we can. We can do the rest in the morning.”
My mum's name is Felicia which is Latin for happiness and fortune. My father told me many times that he fell in love with my mother's name first before he actually feel in love with her. He said it in a teasing way when my mother was around but I knew he meant it. He had a fascination with names and their meanings. Most likely, he got the fascination when he found out what his name meant. But first you must know that my dad hated his name as a child. It was so simple. Not short for anything, just plain and common. His name is Bill. A few curious thoughts and borrowed books from the local library later, he found out that it was Germanic for will, desire and protection. Since then, he took pride in his name...and the reference books for the origins and meanings of names.
I followed my parents' lead and started making my way into the building. I felt a prickling feeling on the back of my neck. It felt like someone was watching me but it wasn't the same glaring a hole in my back type of feeling. This feeling was gentler. More patient and curious. I stopped mid stride and pivoted on my heel to look behind me. First I looked at the red car. It subtly gleamed beneath a mist of fog. Then I looked up. God was the one watching, right? Nope. There weren't even any stars to be seen. The fog must actually be smog and I must actually be breathing in a New Yorker's polluted air. Finally I looked past the car and through the smog. A boy stared straight at me.
I only say boy because he looked no older than 23 but that wasn't what really kept me from saying man. The reason I really only say boy is because he wore a school uniform. Along with that uniform, he wore an eerie aura around him that suggested death and violence but a small smile crept onto his face and I found myself growing interested with him more instead of feeling repelled. He had a wonderful smile though I couldn't see it well from across the street and through the smog above my car. I soon realized that I was gaping openly at a stranger across the street, alone. I cursed myself under my breath and instead of looking around me or turning back to the building, my new home, I replugged my headphones into my ear. Before I could actually put any music on though, my dad came out looking for me.
“Lilith, we were looking for you. Don't you want to see your new room? It has a nice view and big window. You'll love it.” My dad jogged over to the back of the truck to pull out another cardboard box full of things from our old house. Old house. It was still bitter in my mouth.
I stole a glance across the street in hope that I would still see the boy there. Whoever he may be. I frowned slightly to see the brick wall he was leaning against unoccupied. I turned my head to each side, wondering if I could catch him walking away but both sides were vacant. Could he live in the building in front of ours?
My dad came back with two boxes and this time, I followed him into the building.
My parents had a hard week. Although, once you compare that week to the last sixteen years, that week could have been a vacation in a country as exotic as Fiji.
I tried not to complain too much. I did well in hiding the tears and morose behaviour from my parents. This wasn't their fault and if they could, they would have never moved away from bright, sunny and beautiful Florida. But there wasn't anything they could do. In the end, Daddy's bakery was closed and thousands of dollars were lost. My father wasted no time in packing our bags and setting a For Sale sign in our front yard. He claimed that we need to go somewhere with more people. Like a city. Like New York City.
In that same week that the house was officially on sale, we packed all of our things, not caring if it would be another few months until the house was actually sold. My parents had naturally put the bakery up for sale as well.
The bakery. My dad rented that shop for years before he even met my mother. When he married her, he bought it, along with a home. One year later, I was conceived...and so were the problems.
My daddy named me Lilith. In Assyrian, Lilith meant of the night. It had befitted me well then and it fit me just as well now. My mum went into labour well into the morning but I was stubborn. I just didn't want to pop out. My father claims that I clung to the umbilical cord for five hours until twilight finally came and a sudden darkness graced the earth. After that, I came sweetly and quietly.
And like my name, I truly was a child of the night. Some would consider me nocturnal had I been able to sleep at all. Though I didn't cry and wake my parents in the middle of the night as other children did, I was told that I would lay awake in my cradle and watch the night sky until the crack of dawn. Then my eyes would close.
Just like back then, I was still much the same. I stayed awake and slept only in short intervals between dawn and morning. As a child I complained about my insomnia. I was restless and so utterly tired during the day. I would sit under the shade of a tree, my back pressed up against its hard trunk, while my classmates played in the jungle gym around me. Even back then I was never able to make many friends. Freshman year was an awakening to my zombie-like schedule, no pun intended. I worked hard and hauled arse at night. I studied and learned underneath the moonlight of my window. During the day, I fought to stay alert so I could pay attention to my teachers and put effort into each hour of each day. And more so then, I still had no friends.
So why was I so down about leaving Florida? I had no friends or any acquaintances that mattered much to me so that couldn't be the reason. Night time exists in New York just as much as any other place in the world so that couldn't be why my eyes leaked of tears.
I'll be honest with you. I am a total loser.
A loser who cried over the fact that she was leaving such a great school with wonderful teachers and amazing curriculum. Frank H. Peterson Academy was like a home to me. It took me in and engulfed me into its wide corridors and pleasantries. Even when fellow scholars had not. I didn't mind though. I hadn't felt rejected when I sat down at a lunch table and no one would make conversation with me. I truly and whole-heartedly did not care. There was something in me that didn't want anyone to become close to me. To reach into my head and try to figure me out like a few people had tried over the years. I wanted to be solitary and independent and god dammit that is what I'll be.
I was snapped out of my thoughts when I felt the car come to a halt and the engine die. I pulled an ear bud out of my ear and temporarily paused my ipod. I looked out my window and stared at the building beside me.
“We're here,” my mum sighed. She couldn't wait to soak herself in a bathtub full of hot water and loosen the kinks in her back. I watched her send a small smile at me, silently pleading for me to give the city a try. Not like I had a choice anyway.
I opened the door after my mum closed hers and slid out. Slamming the door shut, I turned my head to the side to look for my dad only to cringe at the display of affection my parents were momentarily showing for each other. I turned back at the building to stare at its vulgarity one more time. In truth, it wasn't vulgar at all. It was cleaner then I had imagined and it was kind of cute with its small trees planted on either sides of its walls and flowers placed cleverly to give the cement street some colour. I opened the door to the back-seat and pulled out my tote bag. I slung it across my shoulder and took out a large duffel bag containing a portion of my clothes and belongings.
I sighed and cleared my throat loudly as I made my way over to my parents. My mum looked my way, still hanging off my dad's arm and grinned.
“You've got your things from the back? Then I guess we should start pulling as much of this stuff out as we can. We can do the rest in the morning.”
My mum's name is Felicia which is Latin for happiness and fortune. My father told me many times that he fell in love with my mother's name first before he actually feel in love with her. He said it in a teasing way when my mother was around but I knew he meant it. He had a fascination with names and their meanings. Most likely, he got the fascination when he found out what his name meant. But first you must know that my dad hated his name as a child. It was so simple. Not short for anything, just plain and common. His name is Bill. A few curious thoughts and borrowed books from the local library later, he found out that it was Germanic for will, desire and protection. Since then, he took pride in his name...and the reference books for the origins and meanings of names.
I followed my parents' lead and started making my way into the building. I felt a prickling feeling on the back of my neck. It felt like someone was watching me but it wasn't the same glaring a hole in my back type of feeling. This feeling was gentler. More patient and curious. I stopped mid stride and pivoted on my heel to look behind me. First I looked at the red car. It subtly gleamed beneath a mist of fog. Then I looked up. God was the one watching, right? Nope. There weren't even any stars to be seen. The fog must actually be smog and I must actually be breathing in a New Yorker's polluted air. Finally I looked past the car and through the smog. A boy stared straight at me.
I only say boy because he looked no older than 23 but that wasn't what really kept me from saying man. The reason I really only say boy is because he wore a school uniform. Along with that uniform, he wore an eerie aura around him that suggested death and violence but a small smile crept onto his face and I found myself growing interested with him more instead of feeling repelled. He had a wonderful smile though I couldn't see it well from across the street and through the smog above my car. I soon realized that I was gaping openly at a stranger across the street, alone. I cursed myself under my breath and instead of looking around me or turning back to the building, my new home, I replugged my headphones into my ear. Before I could actually put any music on though, my dad came out looking for me.
“Lilith, we were looking for you. Don't you want to see your new room? It has a nice view and big window. You'll love it.” My dad jogged over to the back of the truck to pull out another cardboard box full of things from our old house. Old house. It was still bitter in my mouth.
I stole a glance across the street in hope that I would still see the boy there. Whoever he may be. I frowned slightly to see the brick wall he was leaning against unoccupied. I turned my head to each side, wondering if I could catch him walking away but both sides were vacant. Could he live in the building in front of ours?
My dad came back with two boxes and this time, I followed him into the building.