Post by Rohana Kerani on Jun 14, 2004 7:01:11 GMT
A slim Indian second-year stopped just inside the hall’s huge doors, dropped her heavy carpetbag, and looked around. She faced a cavernous room with a fantastic marble staircase winding up to the higher floors, occupied by groups of chattering students. She hadn’t had a chance to change into her robes yet, and was kitted out in plain blue jeans and a white t-shirt printed with ‘Quaker Oats leads to health’ across the front and a man in a curly white wig and large brimmed hat beaming benevolently from her back. She flicked one long, black braid over her shoulder and hoisted her bag back up to her arm. Rohana’s first impression of her new school had been good, if a little intimidating, thus far. Her mind whirred with the possibilities this place held for her as she set her bag down on a table and sat next to it.
The first owl, flying through an open window one morning at breakfast, had dropped a letter in the rice dumplings. Hana’s mother, convinced the bird was a bad omen, chased the indignant creature out a window. There had only been time to note that it was addressed to ‘Rohana Kerani’ before her mother had washed the letter down the sink and run it through the garbage disposal.
The next morning, she had stumbled sleepily into the kitchen to find a peac*ock- an actual peac*ock- standing on the countertop, holding a date in its beak. Her mother was seated at the table, stock-still, watching the bird. Rohana, not entirely awake yet, had untied the letter from its leg, patted it several times on it’s feathered back, and watched it fly off before she really understood what was going on.
The memory still brought a smile to her lips.
The first owl, flying through an open window one morning at breakfast, had dropped a letter in the rice dumplings. Hana’s mother, convinced the bird was a bad omen, chased the indignant creature out a window. There had only been time to note that it was addressed to ‘Rohana Kerani’ before her mother had washed the letter down the sink and run it through the garbage disposal.
The next morning, she had stumbled sleepily into the kitchen to find a peac*ock- an actual peac*ock- standing on the countertop, holding a date in its beak. Her mother was seated at the table, stock-still, watching the bird. Rohana, not entirely awake yet, had untied the letter from its leg, patted it several times on it’s feathered back, and watched it fly off before she really understood what was going on.
The memory still brought a smile to her lips.
) behinds, boys
