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3:15 pm, April 3rd
2004
+49 2732059981: this is the number for schule?
+7 9592466046: schule?
+7 9592466046: no.
3:17 pm, April 3rd, 2004
+49 2732059981: wrong number, no?
+7 9592466046: wrong number yes. can u not speak english?
+49 2732059981: not well
+49 2732059981: i tried
3:19 pm, April 3rd, 2004
+7 9592466046: fresh off the boat?
+7 9592466046: what school do u go to?
+49 2732059981: sunview. i start tomorrow.
3:30 pm, April 3rd, 2004
+7 9592466046: dont let me see u, suka. ;)
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Knock, knock, knock.
“Fran, let me in,” Frank shouted. “I got some news!”
Francis groaned. “Come in.”
Without waiting for an answer, Frank slammed the door open and crossed the bedroom in three strides. He threw his backpack on the floor, being as loud as possible. He yanked Francis’s chair out from under him, sending him to the carpeted floor. Hissing in pain, Francis lunged, grabbing Frank’s leg and pulling him butt-first onto the ground. In response, Frank swiped his little brother’s ankle, but missed. A hand hooked onto Frank’s T-shirt and pulled hard. Both heard the sound of fabric ripping, but couldn’t see where the tear exactly was.
“There’s gonna be a new bird at school,” Frank barked. “Maybe you’ll finally get a life.”
“Oh, shut up,” Francis whined, shoving him.
“You shut up!” He yelled back,
“Your bloody GPA is the same as your age!”
Frank’s eyes went wide like a deer in headlights. “A 1.8 isn’t that bad, goody two-shoes. At least my GPA isn’t the same as your mum’s age.”
Francis shoved him again, sitting back up on his chair. The wheels creaked against the old wooden floor. “We have the same mum, idiot.”
Huffing, he brushed the dirt off his jeans. “You’re a smart-arse. You have a 4.2, and I’m supposed to be chill about it, huh?” His voice dropped, low and mocking. “Francis Beau-Joseph Mosses. Being a smart-arse is why everyone at school calls you blowjob.”
“Frank, maybe you need a remedial ‘not-being-an-arse-hole’ class too,” he said.
“You don’t even look like your accent, Francis.” His older brother shoved his shoulder aside like it was in the way. “You wanna fight?”
“No.” The tear in Frank’s shirt finally caught Francis’s eye—perfectly over his heart, a dark line now raised across the tan skin. “Women are people. I focus more on my studies than being a womaniser. What kind of man are you, not only being rude about women, but about my looks? We look the same.”
A grin spread across Frank’s face. “The new girl doesn’t even speak English, man. What kind of accent d’you think she’ll have? French? God, I’d love a French girlfriend.”
Scowling, Francis turned back around. “Gross. Imagine she’s a fresher and you’re drooling over the idea of her.”
“You’ll be surprised tomorrow.”
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Sunview High School, Home of the Panthers!
4242 Anywhere PL, Seattle, Washington
Name: Mikaelys, Ignacia “Nacha” Juni
Address: 4200 Keppler Dr., Seattle, WA, Apartment 01-01
Grade: 11-Junior
Birthdate: November 22, 1988
Sex: F
EMERGENCY CONTACT:
Lois & Roman Stilnsky,
+1 206-281-1056
Course Requests for the 2003-2004 School Year
Period 1 - Algebra II (Room 110: Propp, Natalia)
Period 2 - AP US History (Room 4201: Apadaca, Angie)
Period 3 - English As A Second Language (Room 1102: Dalton, Orji)
Period 4 - Home Economics (Room 3101: Nevers, Brynn)
Period 5 - Chamber Choir (Room 2100: Deplin, Jace)
Period 6 -AP Biology (Room 3105: Valen, Cheyanne)
THANK YOU FOR BEING A PANTHER
Contact our front office at 206-283-0574 for questions, comments, or concerns.
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Shifting awkwardly on her feet, Ms. Propp’s usual stoic demeanor was gone. “Good morning, everyone. Today, we have a new student who comes all the way from Germany.” Yesterday’s email played on loop in her mind. That poor girl, she thought. Her parents allegedly abandoned her, and she’s coming to Sunview? She’s going to be eaten alive. “Please don’t act like children. You know the rules. You’re all ahead of my third period, so I think today can be relaxed.”
Unusual, but okay.
Two rows from the front, Selenne Sverchzt popped open her phone almost immediately. Her freshly done nails clinked against the keypad as she typed. Next to her, her sister Elenois huffed. “What are you doing?”
“Fresh meat in our class, Elle. They’re gonna have so much fun with her. Little Miss Heidelberg won’t know what hit her.”
“Who’s they?” Elenois perked up in her chair. Her voice was slightly higher than Selenne’s, making her voice squeak when words first came out. Her accent was a bit easier to understand than Selenne’s, though.
“Y’know, the football team, the basketball team, me. Maybe even the theatre troupe, even though they’re weirdos too,” she laughed, harshly. “I hope to god she tries to be in cheer, because they’ll turn her to dust–and that’s a show I’d pay to watch.”
“That’s not cool.”
“When have you ever cared about what’s cool, Alyona?”
The door squeaked open. First came a teacher; then the new girl. Heavy-set with absolutely gorgeous curly, reddish-brown hair, lightly tanned skin, and mismatched eyes. Under the cool classroom light, the freckles across her tan arms and face stood out more than ever before. A new, pink backpack was clutched to her front in an attempt to shrink. It quickly became clear that the teacher was from the ESL department.
Across the class, the ESL para’s voice carried with a comforting tune. “Hi, Ms. Propp. I’m Miss Vasquez.”
The entire room shifted to her, now staring.
“I may be in here some days for translation assistance,” she continued. “Nacha’s bright, but still gets hung up on some terms, y’know?”
Papers rustled as Ms. Propp sat up to continue the conversation. “Yes, I understand.”
Miss Vasquez nodded. “I’ll leave you alone to speak with the student. If you need anything, call me, okay?”
She nodded. “Thank you,” before turning to Nacha. “Hi. What’s your name?”
“Nacha.” Her voice was soft, almost squeaky, with a German lilt that rounded some words. Elenois was immediately captivated.
Pen scratching over paper, Ms. Propp began speaking again. “I’m glad to have you in class, Nacha. Is there anything I can do to help you right now?”
She shook her head, curls landing in her face.
“I’ll show you your seat.”
Ms. Propp rose from her seat, shoes clicking against the tile floors. Beige Christmas lights hung around the room, unlit. Signs were plastered on the walls saying things that Nacha couldn’t read. The desks were small and cold, but Ms. Propp seemed so warm and comforting. Ms Propp placed Nacha right in front of two twins that looked copied and pasted–same dress, same hair, their only difference being a mole on their cheeks. For one girl, hers was on the left; however, for the other, hers was on the right.
Selenne pounced immediately, her accent thick like honey. “Hey, Douche-land.”
Nacha shifted in her seat, looking behind at the two girls.
She snickered. “You want me to grab an extra chair for you? You look a little cramped.”
Her stomach dropped. “Nein… ah… no.”
Snort. “Yeah, nein chairs.”
Smacking her sister’s arm, Elenois immediately bent over her desk and got close to Nacha. Her accent was similar, lighter, but beautiful–and more easily comprehensible to Nacha. “I’m so sorry about her,” she stage-whispered. “She’s an idiot. Where are you from?”
Nacha’s voice came out as a whisper. “Berlin, Deutschland,”
“Deutschland?” Elenois inquired.
“Germany.”
Her sister’s elbow drove into her side. “You knew that. Ms. Propp told us five minutes ago, dimwit.”
Smack. “I know, but you’re the one who asked if she needed nein chairs, asshole.” She turned to Nacha. She shifted her finger back and forth between her and a very annoyed Selenne. “We are from Moscow!”
“Oh, like Russia?” Nacha smiled. “I haven’t been there.”
“I’ve never been to Germany.”
Nacha picked her bag up off the floor and unzipped it, which revealed a black and purple dress, a binder, and a pencil case. The binder was covered in doodles–stars, hearts, and music notes. All of the notes inside were in German for her science class back in Berlin. All of her notes were written with surgical precision, decorated enough to draw eyes and studied enough to send Selenne into a coma.
Her hands shook as she lifted the paper with her schedule on it out of her binder. “You want to see my classes?”
“Da! Let me see.” Elenois took the paper in her hands, reading down the list. “You must be smart. AP US History is hard. We’re in ESL together.”
Fingers tapped against her desk. “AP what?”
“US history. It’s the history of this country. The class covers topics like the American Revolution, the Civil War, World War II–”
Suddenly, Nacha froze. Elenois immediately started backtracking. “Oh! I’m sorry, sensitive topic?”
Nacha nodded solemnly, possibly in humiliation, but Selenne leaned over to Elenois to make a show of herself. “Suuuuuuka.”
She hissed at Selenne before turning back to the new girl. “What’s your name?”
“Nacha.”
Her hands touched Nacha’s shoulder absentmindedly. “Beautiful. I’m Elenois–you can call me Ellie. I’ll see you in ESL later.”
“Ja. Ja, I will.”
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Francis was walking to the third period when he was suddenly grabbed from behind and shoved face-first into a nearby locker.
“Yo, blowjob, you suck any dick lately?” the boy growled, laughing at the pained expression. Francis winced in pain, shoving back.
“I’m not gay!” he barked.
People were watching now, the hallway becoming crowded with others trying to get to class. Again, his head hit the cool metal of the locker. “Relax. You’re not that special, British fuck.”
Clearly, one of Frank’s classmates… he continued walking along the halls, observing all of the panthers poorly painted across the drywall or the purple and yellow lines on the tile. About ¾ of the way to his class, he was whispering reviews to himself: Derivative of e^x is e^x, derivative of ln x is one over x, product rule is f’g + fg’… when a girl slammed face-first into him. Her books fell to the floor, and she fell on top of him, her weight crushing his chest, but he didn’t say a word.
"Entschuldigung! Oh, ich bin so… Es tut mir leid, Herr!”
“Huh?”
She coughed. “S…Sorry!”
Holding out his hand, Francis smiled shakily. “It’s quite all right. Are you injured?” Eyes met, only for a moment. Her hands made contact with his collar as she pushed up, wobbling on unsteady feet. While trying to seem respectful, his eyes snagged on the way down, accidentally landing where he should not stare. Come on, Francis. You’re supposed to look people in the eyes, and you just made a beeline for this girl’s chest! You could have landed anywhere. Her shoulder, her cheeks, but no! God, you just met her, and your hormonal arse wants front-row seats?!
“You’re dashing. What’s your name?”
Though sweet and gentle, her voice was difficult to understand.“My name… is Nacha. I got here from Germany… eh…” she began to count on her fingers. “Eins, zwei, drei, vier, fünf, sechs, sieben, acht, neun, zehn… what is word in Englisch?”
“You got here ten days ago.”
“Ja.”
“Well, Nacha, you’re just a wonder, but I need to hurry to class. Do you need any help?”
“I have to go to… AP… US History. Is it not down there?”
“It’s not down there. Let’s go together, Nacha. It’s the other way, and I may as well show you your other classes since you’re new.”
“Okay.”
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Sunview High School, Home Of The Panthers!
4242 Anywhere Pl, Seattle, WA
Name: Mosses, Francis Beau-Joseph
Address: 1111 Milk St, Seattle, WA
Grade: 11-Junior
Birthdate: September 25, 1987
Sex: M
EMERGENCY CONTACT:
Angelina & David Mosses
+44 7886082340
Course Requests for the 2003-2004 School Year
0-Hour - Panther Cafe (Student Store/1000: Actis, Gaile)
Period 1 - Calculus AB (Room 121: Kasuba, Asher)
Period 2 - AP US History (Room 4201: Apadaca, Angie)
Period 3 - RUNNING START (@ Anywhere CC)
Period 4 - RUNNING START (@ Anywhere CC)
Period 5 - RUNNING START (@ Anywhere CC)
Period 6 - AP Biology (Room 3105: Valen, Cheyanne)
THANK YOU FOR BEING A PANTHER
Contact our front office at 206-283-0574 for questions, comments, or concerns.
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ESL was terrible. One para teacher had a seemingly long, confusing name. There were 20 students, all with wildly different accents: A mexican girl, a Chinese boy, two twin sisters born in France. Then there was Elenois. No Selenne to make anyone’s life a living hell, just the girl who leaped to her comfort. The teacher didn’t even say a word, just passed out a fill-in-the-blank worksheet to start everything off, but underneath, there were “conversation starters” printed in each student’s language, then translated to English. Mr. Dalton, the head teacher, pointed next to Elenois. When Nacha sat down, Elenois perked up and immediately started talking to her. The worksheet they were told to do was confusing; some words were fine, but translating them in Nacha’s head was a living hell.
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The choir room was cold, covered in purple and grey paint, and echoing like everyone was screaming into the Grand Canyon. Francis wasn't able to walk her to that class, since he was at “running start.” What is that? It was incredibly loud, almost overwhelming, yet only a couple of people were in the room. Apparently, this was the most advanced choir at Sunview.
A bleach-blonde-haired girl started to talk too loudly. “Isn't she like… not supposed to be here? You can't join in the middle of the year. Can she even sing?”
“Probably…? I don't know! We’re the most advanced choir at Sunview–she hasn't even talked!” her friend, with the same hair and drawings all over her legs, responded angrily, trying to get her off of Nacha's back.
Bleach-blonde’s fingers tapped against her shiny pink flip phone. “Maybe she can't speak English. What if I start talking to her, like, in Spanish?”
“Do you even speak Spanish?” the artist girl responded, sneering.
“Uhhh… Biblioteca?”
“Oh my god, shut up.”
A meek voice spoke up. “I.. am… not from Spanien. I am from Germany.”
Both girls looked up, almost like they were shocked that Nacha could speak. Bleach-Blonde spoke first. “Spanien? What’s Spanien?”
“It’s Spain, dumbass!” Artist girl continued. “She thinks that you think she’s from Spain.”
“Well, she’s got darker skin? Sorry, I can’t differentiate my minorities!”
“You can’t differentiate between ‘missing’ and ‘turned in’ on your homework either, Jessie! Jesus Christ.”
Jessie continued to look annoyed, twirling her hair around. Artist girl huffed and turned around to look at Nacha, like her eyes would make up for whatever garbage she was about to deal with. “She’s annoying. I’m in AP German, and she’s failing Spanish.”
“You are taking German? Advanced? Like AP US Historie?”
“Yeah! If you need help, I can try and translate as long as this… buffoon… doesn’t think you’re Mexican again. Are you Mexican?”
“Nein. Ich komme aus Deutschland, aber mein Vater kommt aus Brasilien. Ich spreche nicht Portugiesisch.”
“Ah, Okay. Brasilien.” Artist girl responded. “Mein Name ist Tay!”
“Ich heiße Nacha.”
“Ist ihr Vorname Ignacia oder Nacha?”
“Ignacia.”
Before anyone else asked Nacha a million questions, a very flamboyant man entered the room, followed by about 22 more students. Some younger, some older, but most of all, new to her.
“Okay, okay. Welcome, everyone.” Oh God. He had that tinge to his voice. Nacha couldn't speak English, but she knew what that probably meant. “Sorry, we were having a little powwow in the hall. Looks like I'm tardy.”
A couple of older boys groaned.
“Oh, save the drama for your mama. We have a new girl in here, where is she… there! What's up, girlfriend?”
Nacha's hands froze. “I am not your… how you say… girlfriend.”
“what's… your… name… . ?” He drew it out slowly, like she was stupid. “And… where.. Are… you… From… ?”
“I am Nacha. I'm from…Germany.”
He clapped his hands together dramatically. “Welcome! We're singing a song in your language. Maybe you could be the tutor? Just kidding!”
Nacha was already exhausted by this man. It's like the life mission of everyone here to recognize that she's new.
“Don't be fooled,” Jessie stage-whispered. “He's got five kids. Not gay.”
“Five?” she counted on her fingers. “Why five?”
Now the girl’s hands were displayed. She had short nails that had weird, glossy colors that shone in the light. It was foreign, since the Mikaelys family never let Nacha wear nail polish. “One of those Mormons, y’know?”
The teacher walked over to a paper form, calling out names here and there, saying hello to them, until he reached one he started at confusedly.
“...Ignacia Mik-aya-lis?”
Nacha raised her hand shakily, not knowing how to say her last name was Mikaelys, like, “Mikay-lees.” She also wanted to say, ‘Please don't call me Ignacia. I want to be called Nacha.’ but nothing came out. Role call went on.
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Francis was doing an introduction for his senior college readiness class the next year. He and Nacha had been together for about six months, but her English got significantly better just from being around him. He was telling a story he felt strongly about–being her English tutor in a way, having immigrated here himself from the Philippines, and wanting to make a good life for himself after his family decided that Frank barely graduating made him the better son. Mrs. Apadaca had asked about Nacha’s influence in his life mid-presentation–– after all, she had them both for AP United States History and watched them fall in love. Alongside that, despite her limited English and late arrival, Nacha had somehow gotten a 5 on the exam. Colleagues thought she cheated, but then Francis came out and explained that he had gone over every last concept to her, even going as far as talking to Sunview’s German teacher and spending time after school with him just so Nacha could understand more complicated words and succeed. He once spent an entire day with her, so long that they both fell asleep and woke up the next morning on top of their notes. At least the parents knew a sleepover was happening, despite Francis’s mom not being thrilled about the girl asleep on her son’s bed, when she was supposed to be on the pullout and not right next to him.
“I’m not going to go to college yet.” Nacha sighed. “I feel… bad. But I won’t do well. I’ll have a job.”
He nodded, kissing Nacha’s forehead. “I respect that. We will have to move far away for my college, though.”
Nodding, Nacha curled back into his arms. “As long as you don’t run away, yes?”
They laughed until their stomachs hurt, unaware of how real their lives would become. Not necessarily Francis running away–more so the time.
Later that year, Francis applied to ten different colleges to major in Food Science. Clemson, UCLA, and Central Washington, just to name a few. Validly, Nacha was terrified of moving from their Seattle home, but Francis ended up accepting an offer to attend Washington State University, where he and Nacha would spend the next four years of their lives. They not only got playful trash talk from colleagues who were attending the University of Washington, but they also didn’t realize something quite important.
Not just him and Nacha would be in that small Pullman apartment.
April 26th, 2007, Anastacha Francine Mikaelys was born. She looked just like Francis, the same sleepy eyes and dark hair, and a mix of his dark skin and Nacha’s. Her freckles stood out even as a baby, and her hair had waves just like her mom’s from the moment she was born. Anastacha was a beautiful mix of both worlds her parents came from. As she grew up, you could tell which edges she got from which parent. She spoke three languages by the time she was 5, being fed a mix of German, Tagalog, and English in every conversation since she was born. She was a very smart kid, and hadn't even started kindergarten yet.
The family would live in Pullman until the spring of 2010, when they decided to move into a house back in Seattle. Anastacha would ask why that ‘cat’ wasn’t all over signs anymore (Regarding the WSU logo, which, if you’ve ever been to Pullman, you know it’s on everything.) Everyone had come back (other than their weird classmate, Mia, who was still in Idaho for some reason) and reunited. For the most part, Nacha and Francis’s friends didn’t go to college. Elenois and her sister immediately signed with a modeling agency; Steven, Elenois’s weird country boyfriend that had come along in senior year, had gone straight to the Air Force; and Frank? Well, he wasn’t a friend at all. Nacha and Francis hated him, and he wasn’t working. Nacha was a line cook, earning a low wage, and Francis had just gotten a job at a laboratory in Bellevue, which had good pay. Yet, Frank made fun of them for it. That’s why they blocked him when cellphones became more mainstream. Eventually, Nacha and Francis saved enough money to help Nacha start her restaurant.
With Elenois as a babysitter and their own jobs handled by then, they thought things would stay less chaotic than high school, but they were very, very wrong.