Really? Me too! I went to Churrascos. The buffet was SOOOO good. I had a little bit of beans and rice and a roll, then half an omelette, then a crepe! I love crepes!

Oooh, twist. Ianthe's great grandfather was a civilian. His wife and kids managed to evacuate.....they moved to America.

Wait a second.

Wouldn't that actually be her grandfather, not great grandfather? Because if it were Sakura and Ianthe's great grandparents......that would go back before World War 2. I know this because my grandfather was actually fought in World War Two.......he was a marine. He is still alive, and he is 96. But it's not like I know any war stories......he has never said a single thing to me about fighting in World War 2.  

Ha! My charries are the two oldest. That's strange. Question: is this a boarding school or public school? I'm guessing public school (or private). 

Jacinth~

As soon as school lets out, I race to the bike rack. Even though I'm technically old enough to drive, my dad won't buy a car. And that's fine by me. I watch the highschool running team warm up in the feild next to me as I strap on my helmet. It looks like rain. I hope I'll be able to make it home in time. I peddle away right as the runners begin to race. Thunder rumbles. I can hear a few apprehensive moans in response. I push out onto the main road, but quickly dive down a smaller lane edged in trees. Everything is bright, spring-bloom against the grey sky. Skirting out of the way of a few passing cars, my sandles slip on the peddles. I look up at the sky quickly, then focus again on the rush of movement, leaning to regain the balance lost by my diversion. I hear the rain on the leaves before it hits me. 

"Oh snap." I'm about to get drenched. 

oops, typo in that list. I meant "Alana" not "Alan".

I've never been to public/private school. I really don't know
anything about how it works; I'm just getting my info from all the books
I've read. Remember, Kyanite knows about his godly parentage, but only just a little bit. 

Kyanite~

Class ends, late as always. My
desk is near the back of the room, so I am the first to slip out the
door and into the crowded hallway. Locker doors slam. Tennis shoes
squeak on the polished floors. Everyone is talking, laughing,
chattering. To someone who isn't a part of the ongoing clamor, it all
seems ridiculous. Slinging my backpack over one shoulder, I march
outside to wait on the bus. Across the parking lot, streams of
Elementary schoolers laugh and squeal. Almost all the girls have their
hair in pigtails and are sporting pink frozen backpacks. Right next the
Elementary school, middle schoolers, both boys and girls, are giggling
and looking at cell phones, texting each other even though they are only
1/2 a foot away. Two more weeks and I'll have my driver's test. Two more weeks and I won't have to take the bus. In the feild behind me, the highschool running team warms up. The girls' long, high ponytails swing from shoulder to shoulder; the boys go out of their way to show off their flashy athletic shoes. Another normal day. I lean against the brick wall of the Alex William Highschool. I can feel the lump in my backpack where my knife is secreted. I had slopily stitched it into the lining of my backpack, and hadn't brought it out for two years. My parents had given it to me when I was very young, and somehow I knew that this knife was very, very special. Polished bronze, it looks like something right out of a history textbook. Ancient greek, maybe. The knife is the only proof that there is something special about my family. The proof that my mom is not a normal parent. Was not, anyway. All the crazy, dangerous things that have happened to me over the years all seem to lead back to my mom. I've learned to survive though. For years, there's been something or someone out to get me, but I've somehow always remained unharmed. I see everything like a puzzle, or riddle, and by the time that the danger has passed, I always know the answer. 

Ianthe-

I wak down the hallway, still relieveed and a little in shock that Justice created a diversion to save me from lunch detention with Mr. Cok.

Suddenly, the loudspeaker crackles to life. "ATTENTION ALL HIGH-SCHOOLERS."

Everyone freezes, including me. Is this some kind of drill?

"DO NOT GO TO HOMEROOM RIGHT NOW. I REPEAT, DO NOT REPORT TO HOMEROOM. INSTEAD, RETURN TO YOUR FIRST PERIOD."

There is a loud cacophony of "Yes!"s and "Noooo!"s and "wait what?"s.

"THIS IS TO MAKE UP FOR CLASS TIME TOMORROW, DUE TO THE FACT THAT THE MAJORITY OF FIRST PERIOD TOMORROW WILL BE TAKEN UP BY THE ASSEMBLY."

Chaos follows as kids rush back to their lockers to retrieve the necessary binders or textbooks for whatever their first period is. luckily, my locker is nearby. I quickly do the combination, throw it open, and pull out a blue folder.

Two girls next to me talk loudly:

"I have to go back to English. That's not too bad."

"Lucky you! I have to return to gym! Ugh! And I don't remember them telling us anything about an assembly tomorrow."

"I think they mentioned it last week. Some historian guy coming, I think."

"Whatever. Gotta go!"

"Me too. See ya later."

**********

Two minutes later, I'm in the music room for the second time today. There are no desks and tables, only a set of risers. About half the people in the room are sitting down on them, and half are standing. I choose to stand.

Choir.

I smile. I love singing.

This isn't the first day of school, but it is the first day of Choir. Since it's a class you have to audition for, it doesn't start until a month and a half after school starts.

Earlier that day, Ms. Lisle, the choir teacher, mostly spent class introducing herself, handing out sheet music, and explaining the songs we would work on this year.

I look around. I count seventeen other people. It's a small class, but's that how it is with audition-required classes. Harder to get into, there for smaller. I can only remember the name of one girl: Sakura, who is Japanese, judging by the slant of her eyes.

"Well!" Ms. Lisle says as she stands before the class. She's a tall, thin woman and rather pretty, with her wispy brown hair pulled up into a neat French twist, large hoop earrings, a solid blue blouse, and a long skirt with designs resembling those of a peacock. She gives off a much more energetic vibe than most of the teachers.

"This morning," she starts. "I did a lot of talking. I had to, as it was our first class. But in general, I prefer to be more interactive, to actually sing, which is what we'll do now."

She led us through some vocal warm-ups. Then she said, "We'll categorize into alto and soprano next class."

The person next to me raised their hand. "But since we auditioned, haven't you already decided what part we'll sing?"

"Good question. I do have an idea as to what part each of you will be saying. I took notes, of course. Despite this, I'll have to listen to you sing together, to listen to and experiment with how the voices mix and blend." She grinned. "I do really enjoy doing that. Anyway, today I will be assigning solos."

Eighteen pairs of eyes widened.

"One of our songs, which is based on a poem by Robert Louis Stevenson includes an extensive duet with one alto and one soprano. Quite beautiful, actaully. I have already decided the soloists."

She checked her roster. "Sakura, you will sing the soprano part. Ianthe, you'll sing alto. Please step forward. Everyone else sit down. this will only take about five minutes." Sakura and I step forward.

"You can both sight-read, correct?" We nod our heads.

"Good. I'll play it once on the piano so you can get a feel for how it sounds. Then I'll play it a second time, and you'll sing along."

She plays it on the piano once. It's a bittersweet, legato melody. Then she nods her head as she repeats. 

I open my mouth and sing, my eyes never leaving the sheet music.

As Sakura and I sing, our voices blend, the crisp consanants ringing, the vowels flowing together like a river. Our voices almost seem to weave together, in and out, joining and releasing. The whole room seems to swell and shrink with the crescendos and decrescendos. As we near the end, the notes grow louder and more powerful, then in the last measure, they suddenly get soft. The last note is soft and sweet. We hold it for what seems like forever, then seal it off with another crisp consanants. 

The class starts clapping. Ms. Lisle smiles warmly and said, "That was lovely, girls."

Sakura and I return to our spots. I turn to her and smile. "You sounded really great."

"You too." she said, her smile not as broad as mine, but it was still there, and somehow it was worth more, as I knew that Sakura saved her smiles that were truly worth smiling about. 

"Now open your music to song number three, the pickup to measure four..." 

********** 

@Mei: Actually, I didnt forget that part...I was planning to do that when Ianthe got home.

Sorry if I posted too much, I just a had a lot to introduce about Ianthe! 

Ianthe-

After choir is over, school is out. I ride the bus home. The small apartment I share with my mother isn't too far away.

I open the door. Mama is sitting at the table, hunched over a set of flashcards, her lips moving silently, her short black hair tucked behind her ears, her green eyes focused.

"Which are you studying today, Mama?" I ask as I set my backpack down by the dorrway.

"Ad-jectives," she says, pronouncing the "c." 

"Adjectives," I correct. "Don't say the "c."

"Okay," she replies. "Anyway, I am looking at words that describe, most texture words. I know what most of them mean, and I know how to pronounce them. There are some I do not understand, so I looked up meanings.

Mama is practicing English. last year, she taught herself pronounciations and basic phrases, so she can actually speak English pretty well. But sometimes she gets confsed in coversations, so this year, she's looking up definitions. She writes down words she hears, then looks up the meanings. It's a challenge for her, but Mama is an amazingly perseverent woman, so when she puts her mind to something, she will do it.

My homework tonight is online, so I grab the lapotop also known as "Brainy" and is the only computer Mama and I own besides our iPhones. 

As I walk towards the stairs, I stop in front of my grandfather's photo hanging on the wall.

Zheng-hui Li.

He was born in Sinsan, a small farm village in northwestern China. He married my grandmother, Mei-xin, who was also born and raised in Sinsan. They had two boys. They were happy. Then in World War Two, the Japanese invaded China. They invaded the village, destroyed it, and killed the people living there. Mei-xin, pregnant with her third child, my mother, managed to escape, along with one of her two children. The other child died of starvation. Zheng-hui was killed by a Japanese soldier. A general, in fact.

I know this because my grandmother told my mother, who told me. 

gtg will continue ltr