Nameless

The whispering wind tells the girl secrets. The singing seas tell the girl true identities. The girl listens to those voices. She whispers with the wind, and she sings with the sea. She is often silent, though. When she does speak, she speaks in riddles and poems. Her abilities are beyond reach. She shakes violently when she closes her eyes. Her hair is down often. The inky blackness often sways through the sky, even when wind is nowhere. She wears black clothes. No one has ever seen her family.

It was a new day, a new school, the first day of high school. She walked into her homeroom, and hung her black backpack on her chair. She pulled out her book called, The Masque of the Red Death, by Edgar Allan Poe. She read until the bell rang. Most kids were already there, but one kid was touching his chair and panting like he had just ran the marathon. The late kid, she thought. Another kid with what looked like ten pounds of gel on his hair was standing straighter than anyone, and looking straight into the eyes of the door, waiting for the teacher. The teacher’s pet, she looked in a different direction. A girl with green eyes and brown pigtails was reading an algebra book with extreme speed. The nerd, she just looked ahead of her.

Click! the girl looked at the door. The teacher. He was extremely thin, and particularly tall. The teacher’s pet looked like he just got a new car. The teacher had short brown hair and a thick mustache. He turned around and wrote his name on a gigantic blackboard. “Mr…Rubenstein,” the late kid quietly read it out loud. “Mr. Frankenstein!” some kid yelled out. Mr. Rubenstein said nothing. The class clown…or the mean kid, she pondered. She snapped back to reality, Mr. Rubenstein said “I will point to you and please tell me your name.” Once he reached the girl she said nothing. “Ma’am please tell me your name.” The girl replied, “I have no name.” Mr. Rubenstein laughed, “Certainly you do, everyone has a name!” The mean kid yelled, “She doesn’t have a name!” The nerd cut in seeing that someone else could share the bullying with him, the glasses he had was his third pair in a month. He likes to study in the park and the mean kid likes to play in the park. He likes to study at the river all the sudden the mean kid likes to play at the river. It never stops for him, “She’s nameless!” he laughed, everyone laughed with him. Mr. Rubenstein told her, “Tell me your name or I’ll give you detention!”

The girl muttered, “It’s better than this boring class.” Mr. Rubenstein demanded, “WHAT?!” His ears and face were pink. “Nothing.” she responded. “Give. Me. Your. Name.” he demanded again. “N. O. NO.” she crossed her arms. He told her, “This is your last chance.” She replied, “Fine. My name is Nameless.” He yelled, “That’s not a name!” He grumbled and said, “Whatever.” He scribbled so harshly at his board, that she heard the voices of some kids behind her who were betting if the board or the chalk was going to break first. Nameless, she thought to herself, that isn’t half bad.