Narrated by Emmy
On Monday, I wake up before 5 in the morning to get everything ready for Elizabeth's first day of school. Despite her not needing to go since she has an IQ of 197, I believe she needs to interact with other children her age.
After preparing her breakfast and her school bag, I pick out her clothes before waking her up—a blue pair of jeans, the school's t-shirt, and a pair of black sneakers which pretty much make up the school uniform.
"Good morning, time to rise," I call out. She stretches in her bed, curls back up, and closes her eyes.
"Elizabeth, stop lazing around, get up. Everything's ready—you just need to wake up," I insist. She opens one eye and grumbles.
"I'm sleepy, not going today," she mumbles, such laziness.
"No, you are going, now get up," I say firmly. She sits up in her bed, visibly in a bad mood.
"I don't need to go. I'm at university level—I could even teach," she argues. She has a point, but it’s better she acts like a normal child.
"Please, make an effort to make friends your age, okay?" I finish speaking, and she closes the bathroom door. Is it my imagination or is she getting a bit snippy with me? Maybe she resents having to do something she doesn't want to.
I go downstairs to wait for her in the kitchen. She comes in, pours herself some milk and coffee, and grabs a slice of cake. By the time she finishes her breakfast, her mood has improved—she smiles.
"Auntie, will you come with me?" she asks.
"I’ll come with you until you think it's no longer necessary," I reply. We agree and head to the bus stop since it doesn't come onto the property.
It's 7 in the morning when the bus arrives. We board and take seats near the front. After a few stops, it's full. Elizabeth seems calm despite the crowd.
We arrive at Waldorf Azevedo School, named after its founder—a small school that goes all the way up to high school, including some technical courses in agriculture and livestock management. That's to be expected since all students live in the countryside.
We head to the office, and since classes started a month ago, I have paperwork to sign to see which classroom Elizabeth will join and what extracurricular activity she'll choose.
"Which extracurricular activity do you want to do?" I ask while reading her the list.
"There are five here, and you have to pick one—'Archery,' 'Swimming,' 'Athletics,' 'Volleyball.' There's one you might like—'Painting.' You can do them all if you want. There are two days a week when you'll stay all day at school." I finish listing the options, and she just stares, thinking.
"I've decided. I want to join all of them so I can make friends more quickly, and then I won't need to come back here," she says, not exactly what I meant, but it works. Once she sees how fun school can be, she won't want to leave.
The bell rings for 8 o'clock; I take her to her classroom. She enters and sits at an empty desk near the window, right at the front. I wait outside—I can see her new classmates entering when suddenly I smell wolf. Impossible, there shouldn't be any wolves attending; it must be some renegade's child.
Scanning the area for the source of the scent, I spot not one, but two—a grown man and his child heading toward Elizabeth's classroom. I hope she'll be okay. The man stops in front of me, and I try to control my nervousness.
"Good morning, ma'am," he greets. "My name is Antonny Melo, and I'm the teacher for 7A."
"Pleased to meet you. I'm Emmy, Elizabeth Drummond's aunt. She just started school today." He looks puzzled, sniffs the air, and turns to me.
"Funny, I don't smell wolf on her. Is she human?"
"Yes, I adopted her when she was 6. And please, keep this discreet—she doesn't know about us." He nods, enters the classroom, and I decide to take a walk around the school.
This could be a problem—a wolf as a teacher and a wolf student. I'm beginning to agree with Elizabeth that school may not have been a good idea. I decide to call Joao.
Call connected.
"Hello Emmy, how are things at school?"
"Hi Joao, no issues so far, but—" I pause, unsure whether he'll agree with me about pulling her out of school and hiring a private tutor.
"But what? Tell me, Emmy, what's the problem?" he asks, already impatient.
"Her teacher is a wolf, and his son is in the same class as Elizabeth. I think I don't want her going to school anymore."
"No, she has to go. If they become a problem, I'll handle it personally, even if I have to bribe or eliminate them," he says chillingly, protective to a fault.
"Alright, I will get his phone number for you to discuss this with him directly, okay?"
He agrees, and I hang up, returning to the classroom door to check on her. To my surprise, Antonny's son is talking to her. I don't like him being so close to her. At lunchtime, I wait for her to come out.
"Auntie, I'm hungry," she says. I take her hand and lead her to the cafeteria.
"I'll go get a natural sandwich and some juice; wait here for me," I tell her.
"Sure, I'll read for a bit," she responds.
When I return with the food, she's absorbed in her book, not noticing me.
"Elizabeth, here's your lunch," I say, and she takes it with a thanks, then starts eating. The bell rings—20 minutes for lunch isn't much.
She collects her things and heads back to class without being told—I think she's enjoying being here. I'll need to sort things out with Antonny and his son.
When we get home, she seems like a different person, happy. She changes her mind so quickly, and now it's me who doesn’t want her returning to school, and I can't tell her not to.
After a week of going with her to school, she asks me to let her go alone. I can't say no—she's growing up quickly and has adapted to school life. We made a deal with Antonny and his son Samuel to not let her find out who they really are.
Narrated by Elizabeth
Like always, Sunday night after dinner, I go to my room to admire the stars. I know each constellation that exists and they're all more beautiful than the next, but my favorite is Andromeda.
I lay down, thinking about tomorrow. I will start going to school on my own, and the extracurricular activities also begin. Why did I agree to them all? I technically wouldn't need to go to school since I made a friend last week—his name is Samuel. He's a bit annoying with green eyes, blond and tousled hair—I think he dislikes combs. He always makes me laugh; I like his company. I haven't told my aunt, but a girl in my class, Manuela, doesn't like me and keeps bothering me. She sits behind me, yanking my hair—I absolutely detest her, but I just ignore her. I don't want to start any trouble.
Just the thought of Manuela upsets me. I've never done anything to her; I'm always polite and never react to her teasing. Samuel thinks she's jealous because I'm now the center of attention and previously it was her. He might be right, but I prefer to keep it to myself. I snuggle into bed and drift off to sleep...
My alarm goes off, and I jump out of bed, heading to the bathroom for a shower and to do my morning routine. Then, back in my room, I dress for school. Like every day, the breakfast table is already set, and my aunt waits to have breakfast with me and accompany me to the bus stop.
As soon as the bus pulls up, I hug and kiss her.
"Bye, see you later," I say, boarding the bus.
"Bye, my love, take care," she yells, her eyes glistening, almost as if I'm leaving for good.
I take a seat at the front; it's 40 minutes to school. Luckily, Manuela takes a different bus. Samuel rides his motorcycle with his father. As soon as I arrive at school, I look for Samuel—he always arrives early because of the motorcycle ride.
I spot him from a distance, talking with classmates. I don't dare approach but wait, and soon he comes over, all smiles.
"Good morning, Beautiful!" His nickname for me is so cheesy, but I blush every time he uses it.
"Good morning, Samuel," I respond. He looks around as if searching for someone.
"Something wrong?" he inquires with concern.
"Where's your aunt?" he asks, surprised.
"I told her I'd be fine since I have an amazing friend at school."
"Yes, I know I'm amazing," he says, not lacking in self-esteem, making me chuckle at his claim.
"Come on, let's go to class before the bell rings," he suggests, takes my hand, and pulls me along. He's not gentle, probably thinks I'm a boy.
"Samuel, don't forget I'm a girl, stop being rough," I pretend to be mad. He pouts.
"I'll try to remember, but it's hard with you acting like a boy," he teases, probably because I play soccer better than him.
I don't pay much attention to class; the material is not new to me. So, I'm often gazing outside, watching the trees sway in the wind, unless Manuela lets me be. Today, she was harsh, insulting me and my uncles. I don't know how much longer I can stay quiet about her bullying. After class, I go to the canteen for lunch. My first activity of the day is painting, which starts at one. Luckily, Manuela is only in painting and swimming, just two activities.
Samuel, on the other hand, didn't have a choice. His father forced him into all the activities, as he would otherwise be idle in the afternoon waiting for him.
In the courtyard with our canvases and paint palettes, today's assignment is free painting—anything we desire. I decide on a simple flower.
Once my painting is complete, I check out Samuel's. Approaching, I burst into laughter—he has no talent for painting; there are just scribbles on his canvas.
"I am a born artist; I'm modern and don't stick to forms," he defends himself, and even he can't help but laugh. We finish the class and head to the locker room to change for swimming. It's then I remember I'm not a good swimmer. After all the day's activities, the last one is archery.
To my own surprise, when the instructor explains everything, I take to the bow and arrow as if familiar with them, aiming at the target and hitting the bullseye effortlessly.
"Have you had lessons before?" Samuel asks, astonished.
"Not that I remember; I have no memory from my younger years," I reply, my head down—I always cry when I think about not remembering my parents. Samuel comes over and hugs me.
After an exhausting day, I head home. My aunt is waiting at the bus stop. As the bus stops, I rush out and embrace her.
"Hi, today was so much fun, but I'm tired and hungry," I complain immediately.
"Well, what are we waiting for? Let's have a snack while you tell me about your day," she must want to know if I was okay without her.
I tell her all about my day but leave out the part about Manuela. Later, I look for my uncle in the stables, wanting to ride Thunder.
"Hello, Uncle Joao."
"Hey, my dear, let me guess—you want me to saddle up Thunder, right?" He always has a smile and a somewhat sad look in his eyes.
"Exactly," I say, and he tells me to wait. Thunder is a black Mustang. When my uncle returns with him ready, I set out for a ride around the farm. I must have been out for about two hours. I return to the stable, take care of Thunder—feed and water him—and head home, eager for dinner, a bath, and bed.
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