Fiction
Meeting Mrs. Hazel: Part One
The two people who were supposed to love me more than anything else in the world drove away without another glance.
“Farewell Queenie,” said my mother in her elegant British accent. It gave me the strange sensation that she thought she was doing me a favor. She ran a finger through her short, silky bob that floated in waves around her head.
She opened up her compact mirror and reapplied a layer of magenta lipstick. My father gave me a reluctantly wide smile that looked like it was hurting his jaw. It didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“Goodbye, sweetheart.” he said matter-of-factly.
They pushed open the double-handle doors and entered the parking lot. I caught a whiff of the sharp and musky autumn air mingled with my father’s expensive cologne before the door slammed, triggering the sound of the bell that dangled above it.
I watched as they stepped into their beat-up old Volkswagen and drove away. Before they left, my father gave me an expression that seemed close to pity. Well, as close to pity as someone like him could muster.
On second thought, it couldn’t be. No. He did not feel the emotions of others so intimately. And on top of that, now, they were abandoning me.
The two people who were supposed to love me more than anything else in the world drove away without another glance. To be fair, they never claimed to love me. I couldn’t remember the last time they told me those three words that every child needs to hear to feel stabilized in the great, dark sea of uncertainty.
Trails of smoke trailed behind the vehicle and lingered in minuscule curls.
Leaves of burgundy, saffron, and a deep coffee-bean color fell from the branches, spurred faster by the November wind.
“So long,” I murmured under my breath as I stretched out my hand to touch the windowpane.
For a moment, I stood there, unsure of how to move my limbs again. Interrupting my brief moment of loss (although I had lost my parents a long time ago), a firm, but wrinkled hand grasped my shoulder with a sharp intensity. I glanced up to see the hawk-like eyes of the head professor. Her frosty hair was pinned tightly to the back of her head in an updo.
“Well, come on dear, let’s get you situated,” she said in her no-nonsense tone. She motioned for me to follow her. I raised my eyebrow at her. I supposed she was used to students listening to her just because she was an adult. Well, I was a strange girl, and I had a rebellious streak that was very irritating to people like her.
People like her followed rules. People like me broke those same rules.
What could I say? I was never one to fit in neat boxes.
Her face flushed. She pursed her lips and then crossed her arms over her chest, just like I thought she would. How predictable.
“Queenie, I know it’s hard to be placed in a school like this, probably without any explanation from your parents. However,” her voice raised an octave, “I know you don’t know me and I’m not expecting you to trust me, but I am asking you to try.”
My face grew stony. I didn’t like it when people disagreed with me, but I guess I could see where she was coming from. She was only doing her job and there was nothing wrong with that, right?
Still, a stubborn voice inside my head urged me to push back. Don’t be a coward, Queenie. Say what you feel.
Part Two
Copyright Yao Liu 2023. All rights reserved.
