I would stay in my room for hours and hours, studying and reading, making myself smarter and even more above the crowd. Now, to accompany my newfound pompousness, I had the smarts to encourage it.
And these long years, full of awful puberty and other struggles, did nothing to change that.
I check my old and slightly tattered watch, gasping as I realize that it is almost time for school. It begins at 8:00 AM, and it is 7:40. No wonder all the other orphans are gone, the only noise being the whistle of the wind. What the crap was wrong with my alarm clock to wake me up so late?
I am in so much trouble.
The wind floods through my hair as I race down the stairs. I blast past Ms. Hazel, our supervisor. She raises her eyebrows as I quickly snatch my backpack. "Ava!" she calls after me, her voice shrill and commanding, "After school you will be punished!"
"I'm sorry!" I exclaim. I couldn't help that I went to bed at two o'clock the last night! I mutter angry retorts, too low for Ms. Hazel to notice.
I stumble to the kitchen, grabbing a small pop tart, stuffing it in my mouth as quickly as I can. Ms. Hazel glares at me as I hurriedly down a glass of water, my frenzied gulps echoing in the room. "Don't you think," she snaps in a dangerous whisper, "it MIGHT be too late for breakfast?"
The evil, fire breathing dragon is furious now. It might do me some good to leave.
I grab my shoes; white sandals that just happen to be the only pair of shoes I have. They are old and worn, flowers dancing along the sides, a size too small for comfort. I shove my feet into them, making the straps loosen as far as possible, my toes falling off the sole. They look horrendous on me, but that is to be expected. I am a poor, impoverished orphan girl with no family. I don't have a home to go to.
There is a sudden knock on the old, wooden door, the sound reverberating around the orphanage. I glance around quickly. Ms. Hazel is nowhere to be found, probably in her office to write me up for another cleaning duty. I walk to the shaken door, where even one polite knock can hurt the worn wood immensely.
A mirror hangs precariously on a single nail, right by where I am standing. I examine myself once again, taking in my ratty red hair, matted and tangled, that I usually pull back into a frenzied ponytail. My nose, crooked as always, juts out slightly, an annoying feature I absolutely hate. My slightly curvy body hides under some of the only clothes I own, a baggy t-shirt and loose jeans, letting no one know I even have a figure. Even if I wear skin-tight clothing, I am so short that guys would have to stoop to see my shape. My lips and complexion? Nothing special.
My eyes are the only things I like about myself at all, and even they are not spectacular compared to that god-like man I saw last night. I am the least desirable girl at school, and for good reason. I don't even show what little I do have, hiding my eyes behind thick glasses and burying my kindness under arrogance.
I grasp the metal doorknob with my fingers, twisting it, and then pull it open quickly. My eyes widen in surprise, my form still, frozen with shock.
"Hey Ava," a deep, masculine voice whispers to the wind, weaving its way towards my ears.