Storms 01 - Family Storms

She called for Mrs. Duval.
    At first, I was happy when Kiera told me the idea about what other students and my teachers would be told about me, but now that I heard it from Mrs. March, I was more nervous about it. I was entering my new school life on a raft of lies. I’d have to be very careful about what I said to anyone about my past, where I had been, what I had been doing. One slip, and I would fall out of the raft and into the sea of turmoil that raged around someone like me.
    Mrs. March was eager to change the subject. During the remainder of our dinner, she went on and on about how wonderful it was going to be for me at this new school.
    “Are you getting her out of PE, Mother? I don’t expect she can play any sport with that limp.”
    “She certainly can swim better than you can,” Mrs. March said. “She’ll do fine. Her teacher will be understanding.”
    “Miz Raymond? The only thing she understands is a vibrator.”
    “Kiera!” Mrs. March screamed.
    “I don’t think she has innocent ears, Mother. Look where she’s been.”
    “I don’t want that kind of talk at the dinner table. Your father is going to hear about this.” She glared at her again and then turned to me and smiled. “Did you learn how to play an instrument when you were at your old school, Sasha?”
    “Yeah, she played the lanyards, remember?”
    “Kiera.”
    “No,” I said. “We didn’t have any instrumental music classes.”
    “Well you will here. You’ll be in the senior high band. Alena played the clarinet.”
    “You’re going to give her that, too?” Kiera asked.
    “If she wants to play the clarinet, it would be foolish to let it just rot away, Kiera. No one stopped you from learning how to play an instrument.”
    “Yeah, right, the school band. There’s nothing more appetizing than watching kids wipe their spit off mouthpieces.”
    “Don’t listen to her. The band is highly regarded and goes on trips and is often asked to play at public events.”
    “Whoop-ti-doo,” Kiera muttered. “You forgot to tell her she can wear the band uniform. There was nothing I hated more.”
    “I know you’ll enjoy playing the clarinet, Sasha,” Mrs. March insisted. “It will be wonderful hearing that sound in this house again. And with your artistic talent, you might consider joining the theater group and working on sets, too.”
    “She’d be better as an actress,” Kiera said.
    “Is that how you got your training?” I asked her. She actually reddened, especially after Mrs. March laughed.
    “Alena could give it back to you just like that, too,” Mrs. March told her.
    Kiera pressed her lips together hard. Her face puffed up and looked as if it might explode. She pushed her plate away from her and stood up. “I have things to do,” she announced, and walked out.
    “If your father was here, you’d remember to ask to be excused, Kiera,” Mrs. March shouted after her. Kiera did not respond. “He’ll hear about this, too,” she added. I heard Kiera pounding the steps on her way up the stairway.
    Mrs. March shook her head, and we continued eating. It took her a while to calm down, and then she talked more about the school and how sad it was that Alena never got to graduate.
    “When you arrive at the school tomorrow, go directly to the principal’s office,” she told me after we finished dinner. She walked with me to the stairway. “Grover will be waiting for you right outside after breakfast, and he’ll be at the school precisely at the end of the school day. I’ll be waiting to hear all about your day.”
    I nodded and turned to go up the stairway, but she reached out to stop me.
    “Don’t let Kiera’s silly remarks disturb you, and don’t be nervous, Sasha. You’re going to do fine.” She released my arm and smiled. “I always loved the first day of school. There’s such excitement, such expectation. Go to sleep early,” she added. “I’ll be there to make sure you get up early enough.” She looked up the stairway. “Half the year, I’m banging on Kiera’s door to get her up.”
    I started up the stairway again.
    “Oh,” she said. “I’ll have a wonderful surprise for you. I’ll have it with me in the morning.”
    “What?”
    “Well, it wouldn’t be a surprise if I told you, now, would it?” she said. She smiled and walked away.
    What would it be? More clothes? Shoes? Jewelry? Gadgets? Or a special lunch on the beach to celebrate my finishing my first week at school? I never