Another month?

Wow. It's hard to believe that I've gone a third of the year! It seems like yesterday that I came up with Sagecliff on the plane ride to Texas, this morning when I decided on Amara, lunchtime when I (frantically) found Hazil, and dinner when Faye popped into my head. Now I find myself two months away from the halfway mark, with a flood of inspiation ready to break free.
I do apologize for not doing a double-month for Faye, as some would have liked. I just completely lost ideas, and believe me, you do not want to listen to my ramblings about cheese.
In short, I have a new story!
Alíenor is a simple girl, waking up at dawn to serve the nine-year-old Duke of Ayr, who happend to dislike her strongly.
That's really all I can say!

Faye 30

Dear Faye,

I've caused problems to- you aren't the only one! We can start over: everyone makes mistakes, and it doesn't matter how big it is to God. Don't worry about that!

As for the writing, I'll gladly help you with that. I'm happy to see you start, and eager to see what this new hobby cultivates.

Thanks for writing,

Elene

Faye 28

Dear Elene,
In the past I have not been the person I should have been, and I have certainly not been very welcoming towards you and Leanor. I want to apologize for any of these instances, and ask you a question:
Can we start over? I don't know if it is too much to ask- I've messed up this year too much- but if it is, that is okay.
If we can somehow start over, I want to write. If you have any tips, please help! I apologize for any behind the back thoughts and comments.
Please forgive me,
Faye

Faye 26

Elene comes back today! I am so excited-and nervous- that I have been up since four (it's six now) composing myself, and deciding what to say. I am worried that I will sound insincere, or worse, scripted.
The sun hasn't even come up yet, and I lie in bed thinking. Finally, I decide on something: a letter. After all, now we both write! This will make Confrontation a whole lot easier!
I slip out from between the warm comforter, and pad over to my desk. A paper sits there, as usual, ready for words.
Dear Elene,
I admit that I have closed you and Leanor out, and acted cold. I have criticized---
No. That will not work.
Dear Elene,
I just  wanted to apologize for any sort of rude, mean, or cold behavior I have---
Agh! Why is this so hard? A simple letter: that is all it is! Now, to try again…

Faye 25

This time around, I want to take Creative Writing. It's now what I do!
I haven't finished the memoir yet, even though I reached my word-count goal ages ago. I can't stop! To be honest, I'm still writing about when I was ten- nearly two years ago! My life has been very eventful, looking back on it...
Elene isn't back yet, so Leanor and I are the only ones in this monster of a dorm. I was a bit disappointed, but my excitement for being back overrode that bit.
When I wake up (even before the alarm!), I dance around the room. I am more relieved then you would know, that there are no video cameras around. As I have said before, reputations are everything!
I hurry to get dressed, determined to go on a hike today. I just have to see the rolling mountains, and the patchwork roofs of Fairview Park to believe that yes, I'm here.
My schedule says that there is a field trip to Victoria Peak on Thursday, and it's Tuesday.   I really hope I can hold out till then!

Amara reprise

I thought that, ever so often, I could do one of these. If you guys want me to continue (I often write this sort of stuff in ELA), please comment!

I miss Morfinduil.
It's not like I would join them again- I've seen enough- but the comforts and amenities are enough for anyone to long for! There (and in Sriya) I had swan-down mattresses, high-quality food, and servants waiting on my hand and foot. I had the loyalty of everyone (out of fear, I suppose), and I could be very controlling. Here, on the other hand, us soldiers sleep in threadbare tents on straw cots, gruel and the occasional roll for breakfast, and it is not uncommon for our wagons to be painted red and brown with rotted tomatoes when we travel through a village.
I admit- I was a spoiled brat back then. I did things I'd rather forget- killed a man, sent my roommate to the death camp, and others.  Even so, I wish I had savored those days. I am now fighting a hopeless war on the losing side, and I'm a traitor, so the chances of me getting that swan-down bed again are slim.
Why, oh why did I not treasure those days?

Faye 24

Christmas comes and goes. Most days I spend moping in my bedroom, or typing frantically on my laptop. (That's right: The writing thing has definitely stuck!)
I saw my old friends once, but we didn't do anything! They have moved on to other girls, and have left me in the dust.
I don't get much for Christmas except for the ordinary socks and too-big sweater. I suppose it's make-up for school and everything.
At last I find myself on the plane back. I type half the time (a total of 6 1/2 hours), and sleep the rest- a foolproof method for plane-boredom-busting!
I feel like I'm re-living the past when I see the sign for MCA- except the dread is gone. I wish I could be a bit chummier with the other girls, but I suppose that's what you get for isolating yourself. Perhaps I will talk to Elene and Leanor more!
It is a wondrous feeling, to be back in your room. Maybe it was more of a dorm, but you never really realize what you have until it's gone. I think that may have been one of the reasons I missed school so much!
I mean, really. You probably know the feeling!
Tomorrow we choose our courses for the second semester- we still get a week off for break. I hope that in that time, I can take back what I lost in the first semester.
Oh, heavens to Betsy. I really am getting corrupted by writing! At this rate, I don't know if I will recognize myself by the end of the year! 

Faye 23

When I wake up, it takes me a moment to figure out where I am. Then I realize- I'm home. I can climb down the long steps, visit my old friends, and play in the snow. I can help decorate the tree, go Christmas shopping, and wrap gifts.

In short, there's nothing fun to do. 

I know that I dreaded going to school at the beginning of the year- I was there. But somehow, I miss MCA. I miss Elene and Leanor- both of whom have gone home. I miss the warm winter weather, and the glass roof, and the way the light shines on my hardwood floor. 

It's back to the infamously ugly brown-pink carpet, the grubby windows, and the breakfast leg cramps. Fun, right?

This thing has changed my life, and my priorities. I don't see how I have switched views, but I have. Now, though, I have to live through the two weeks at home.  

Faye 22

As expected, my family greets me exhuberently at the gate. I lose track of the amount of times that I am chokes and/or strangled, but the number is high.
It's a bit nice to be home, but already I find myself schoolsick. In HK, it was in the low sixties and sunny; here it is dark and snowing.
People are constantly talking to me on the ride home, but I don't hear them. I only want to get this over with so I can go back to school.

Faye 21

I'm on the plane home. There isn't much to do but sit, watch corny movies, and sit more. I can't do anything tht has to do with light (despite the fact that it's noon outside) for fear of my seatmate, an old snoring guy with a nasty temper.
I wish I has opted to stay at MCA for Christmas- anything will be better than this AND my crazy family. Anything!

New page!

I replaced the guestbook/forum page with another page bearing an awesome announcement! Check it out!

Faye 20

Somehow, it's the last day of NaNo. I am frantically typing the last chapter of the memoir- ninety words to go- and trying to not freak out abu the loming possibility of a rubbish grade.
Elene still confronts me ever so often, but I don't know how to respond. She is nice, but… argh.
Christmas is coming up. This'll be the first time I'll be at home since I came here. Honestly, I'm a tad bit nervous. 

Faye 19

Elene continues trying to talk to me, but I don't know how to respond. I still don't have friends, as I had wished, but now I am getting lonely.
Oh, heavens. No my writing has changed the way I speak, and the way I act. It has completely flipped my personality- a change I don't really welcome.
I am now on my twelfth chapter of the memoir, but I'm losing inspiration. I had a ton of info at the beginning, but that reserve is completely drained. Back to the research, I suppose.
Not much is going on besides NaNo. We have our daily classes, our hikes, our whatevers, and besides the occasional sudden rain shower, there are no surprises.
Life is boring me to death

Faye 18

It's November, and NaNoWriMo has begun. I am typing yet another chapter of my memoir.
"It's pretty good," a voice behind me says. I jump, and turn.
Elene stands behind me, staring intently at the computer.
"It isn't done," I answer stiffly. We haven't really taked since the Incident, so of course it's a wee bit uncomfortable!
"Yeah, I know that. But it seriously is really good!"
That was a couple of hours ago, but I still wonder-did she really mean it? Words flow out of me subconciously, and it has become an escape from the day. I don't know if Elene is corrupting me or what, but I have grown to like this thing.

Faye 17

I stare at the screen in horror. In the 'Famous people related to' column, the name John Wilkes Booth stands out. I want desperatly to blink-my eyes burn- but I can't.
I had looked up my great great grandfather for some fun fact for the memoir, but had found out that my great great grandpa was Booth's fourteenth cousin twice removed (whatever that is). Brilliant.
Suddenly, a flash of inspiration lights up my brain, and I dig up a pen to prewrite. The wrds flow smoother than normal, and before I know it, I have a page filled to the brim.

Faye 16

"I honestly don't know. Stress and built-up pressure, I guess!"
Yeah. I had been anticipating something huge, too.
"And?" I prompt.
"And nothing. That's it. Now get out before I…!" She trails off threateningly, so I really have no choice but to  back out quickly, and scamper up to my room. When I get upstairs, I open my laptop, and start messing around. Really! It started out innocently enough- Googling family members, and great-grandparents I'd involentarily memorized- but then I saw something. A single line of text in the Fun Facts column for my great granfather:
Related to the current president in three ways.

Faye 15

It was the next day that I heard the crying.
It's our study period/free time, and I have gone back to the room to pick up something (aka illegal snacks), but I stop on the landing in Elene's room. Muffled sobbing comes from the closed door, and I couldn't help but knock.
"Go away." Typical, right? So I really have no choice but to push open the door.
Elene is sitting at her desk with her head down- she hasn't noticed me yet. A single picture is tacked onto the bulletin board in front of her- herself with a blond wheelchair-bound girl laughing.
"Um..." She jumps.
"I thought I told you to go away!" Tears streak her face, and although her face is hard, her voice trembles.
"Free country. Unless that changed at international borders, I also have the technical right to be in the dorm which includes in here." She groans. "I hate you."
"Than we're even. But being the person I am, I can't help wondering what on earth could be the matter- I'll just have to wait here 'til I learn!"
Elene sighs. "Herrje, alles in Ordnung. Fine!" So she told me.

Writer's Block

Help me, please- I'm getting writer's block for Upside Down! You probably noticed that Faye 14 wasn't as good as it could have been, and I agree!
Also, I apologize for a late post- my Kindle, the thingy I usually post on, isn't working, but I only gave up around eleven last night. RANDOM CLOSING-OUTS: I DON'T LIKE YOU!!!

Faye 14

I can't believe it.  We have to write a ten thousand story in a month? Impossible! Maybe Elene will like it, but me- I can't write a two thousand story in a year!
We have to choose our writing goals and such today. I think I'll write a memoir- much easier to go off of what you know, right? But wait- I haven't really tried anything else!
The rest of the day goes fairly smoothly, minus a hike cut short by a drenching, and a barbecue night canceled (crisis!). Nothing else really... happens, thank heavens, but I have started carrying around a notebook. This writing/art stuff is really corrupting my life!

Faye 13

Time draws on slowly, but somehow I find myself at the end of October, in Language Arts class.
Ms. Thomas sits down on a chair, at the front of the class- unusual for her- and begins to speak.
"Where I'm from, in the United States, November is special for writers. Many of them- kids, teens, and adults alike, participate in a program called NaNoWriMo. It stands for National Novel Writing Month." She pauses a moment to let it sink in. "Each of you will set a goal between 10,000 to 50,000 words to write in the coming month, and we'll track your progress on the website. Today, we'll start brainstorming, and set our word goal."
I sighed, and put my head down. This would be a long month.

Faye 11

Thunder wakes me before my alarm goes off. I can see that yesterday's clouds have accumulated into one massive storm, which has just added to the fury of being woken up at four in the morning. Than it hits me, like a slap to the face- school starts today.
Unlike many days, I have to drag myself up, and force myself to get ready. I have Social Studies first, and that's a plus, but still.
The day goes like this: Social Studies (mildly interesting), Science (Haven't gotten to blow anything up yet- yeah, a bummer), Language Arts (cool teacher, but didn't really do anything), Math, and Library Study Hall. The classrooms were rather small, even for six kids each, but it was nice. At least, as nice as an art school can get.
We do the clichèd first-day-of-school things, like your typical rules and summer essays, and not much else. I don't have any art classes (thank heavens) today, but I did have a hiking trip.
Finally the day is over, and I can go to bed. I do so, and fall asleep instentaneously.

Faye 10

The summer progresses like this: I get up, get dressed, eat breakfast, take three or four classes, et cetera. We don't do much more than that, besides to occasional field trip.
Suddenly, it's a week before real school starts. Then three days. Then one.

Beep Beep Beep
I sit up groggily, and twist to stop the alarm. No sunlight streams through the window, like normal- instead I can see the telltale grey of a thunderstorm. It hasn't started yet, but it will come!
Downstairs, also unlike normal, many of the girls are eating already. Breakfast is pancakes, but I can barely taste them. I won't being going to Middle School for the first time tomorrow. I won't get to chat with my old lunch table friends, or laugh about crazy things each one did. I'll just be stuck on the other side of the world, unable to do much more than Skype my old friends, and hope they don't forget me in the next seven years.
I go through the motions throughout the day, numb. My life couldn't be worse.

Tomorrow

As of now, I have eleven hours, eighteen minutes, and twenty-nine seconds left to be a preteen/kid. Freaking out a little, right? I'm one of those last birthdays to come, and it's finally here!
Wow.
I'm currently re-reading the first two books in the Kane Chronicles. Reason? At the beginning of book two, Sadie is exactly my age: night before thirteen.
Sounds so poetic- the Eve of Thirteen.
Gotta type!
Katie

Faye 9

The sun wakes me up even before my alarm clock. It blinds me as I try (and fail) to get up. About two seconds later, however, it does go off, and I have to fumble around to turn it off. That successfully wakes me up, and I no longer have any choice whether to sleep or not. I throw on shorts and a t-shirt, and head downstairs to explore a bit.
Thank heavens, the summer schedule is a bit looser, and we can choose more of the classes. I want to learn about what we are doing in each one, minus the sit-and-do-nothing classes. I'm not ADHD, but when it comes to sitting still for four hours, I am one epic failure.
A breakfast buffet isalready set up, but not many girls are down yet. I breeze through and sit down at our old table from last night. On the table ia a schedule, with a fill-in chart on the back. I choose a couple: beginning dance, hiking, and a missions class, to name a few.
The day progresses nicely- none of the classes are particularly art-sy, and I'm fine with that. When it comes time to go to bed, I am asleep before my head hits the pillow.

Faye 8

Elene and Leanor are already in their own rooms whrn I get there. My guess is that they have been emailing family, or posting on a blog, or (in Elene's case) writing. Seriously, I don't know how that girl manages to move her hands!
I start climbing the steps, listening to the sounds of my roomates. Yup- Elene is writing, but Leanor is listening to music.
My dorm is almost a comfort. I'm still not tired, so I start putting up some things. I start by creating an office nook, by putting up a calender, and placing my laptop on the desk. I add a pencil mug and notepad to the mix, and step back. Not bad!
The sleeping nook is next. Already there is a fully-made bed, with a bench at the foot. There isn't much I can do but install a floating shelf (I'm allowed… I think.) above, and plug in my alarm clock. At least I won't be able to push the sleep button!
The last thing I manage to do before bed is to put my clothes away. The wardrobe contains the normal cabinet-closet thing as well as several drawers. I had to stand on stool to reach some, but finished before collapsing. The bed is just so soft…         

Faye 7

They show us everything, starting with the massive auditorium and dance studios. I haven't realized that dance was a part of this art thing! I'll have to maybe try it...
The foreign language classrooms were in this level as well. There were German, French, and Cantonese classrooms, with a simple poster announcing that for those wishing to learn a different one, the library was open. The dance studios were open and airy, with a door going directly outside to a porch.
I soon realize that I have no choice but to admire the building. It's amazing- a true work of art.
We learn about the school day, meet our teachers, and learn the rules, study maps of the area, and even play some cheesy get-to-know-you game. By now I am only a little tired, depite being nearly eleven at night.
At long last we are dismissed for our rooms, to get to know our roomates better and get situated. While the others scamper up at the speed of sound, I trudge upstairs, not wanting to stay but also not wanting to go.

Faye 6

I take the stairs two at a time, just so I could get it over with. My roommates aren't even out of their rooms yet- I can hear Leanor arguing over the phone in rapid-fire Welsh, and Elene scratching furiously with a pen, no doubt on yet another sticky-note.
It was mass exodus in the main hall. Girls flood out of dorms laughing and talking, and the stairs are packed. I sigh, and join the throng.
By the time I get to the kitchen, it's a good ten minutes after. The robust woman I saw earlier is bustling among the tables, carrying platters of cookies- sugar, snickerdoodle, and chocolate chip. Pitchers of milk are on the tables as well, and I forget my complaints.
Suddenly I feel a sharp jab in the rib, and I whirl. Leanor is failing to act innocent, and I poke her back, just for the fun of it.
"Guys," Elene whispers. "Don't get in trouble!" I turn to the teachers. They haven't noticed us yet, but they'd be bound to see if we didn't stop.
"True- we should sit down. They have cookies and milk for us."
"Cookies?" Judging from the way Leanor's eyes light up, and the way she spoke, I'm guessing that you do not want to be a country away from her if sugar enters her mouth. Lucky me.
We find an empty table and sit down. Elene immediately begins chatting with us about her life in the Alps, but I don't really pay attention. I'm more of a robot, unable to do much more than eat my cookie and stare into space. Miss Ross finally stands, and warns us that we'll be leaving on the tour in a minute.

Faye 5

          My room (/apartment) was amazing. It had two extra stories, making it a three-story dorm in all.

          I shared with two other girls- Elene* Fritzsche and Leanor* Waymire. Elene is from Switzerland, and she is a total writing nut. She already has about ninety-two neon yellow sticky notes over her bed, and another retail-size box of 'em. She speaks (and writes) four languages- English, German, French, and Italian. Crazy.

          Leanor is from Wales, and she is a dancer. She's tall, with long chestnut-brown hair perpetually put up in a bun. Her wardrobe consists of skirts, skinny jeans, leggings, and sweaters. I almost feel bad for her, on the sweaters issue!
My room was on the top story. Already there was a bed, a desk, a wardrobe, and a bookcase. Pretty ordinary- no portals to Narnia in the wardrobe, unfortunately. I checked. Despite the balcony, it was not unlike my bedroom at home.
I put my stuff down, flop onto the bed, and stare at the ceiling- white, freshly made. I wonder how old this building is? But I slap myself- Mom and Dad have contaminated me! The intercom- I hadn't noticed it- buzzes.
"Students, please make your way to the kitchen! We have a snack and a school tour waiting for you! Just come downstairs, please!"
I grumbled, and squeezed my eyes shut. I did not need their over excitement right now.













*If you were wondering, Elene is pronounced just like Elena, and Leanor like Lee-ah-nor. Elene's last name I won't even delve into, while Leanor's is pretty much phonetic.

If you wanted to know...

These are the girls that also attend MCA, if you were curious!

Faye White (of course)

Madlen Gravett

Elene Fritzsche

Leanor Waymire

Sissy Witten

Clary Westfall

Corri Haldi

Stephana Fisher

Madalyn Falvey
Jordan Hoffman
Melisse Mahlendorf
Sarene Buxton
Lilian Porter
Larisa Barmashi
Rosalyn Silvers

Chloe Zacharellis
Shayla Henderson
Rosette Danz
Libbie Supple
Rachele Bird
Flora Galipeau
Chantalle Landau
Valentine Guston
Fawne Buell
Kalli Palato
Flossy Nicholson
Collene Mullov
Lindi Crowley
Aime Pintus
Natalee Dame

Faye 4

I pull the rolling suitcase slowly up the stone path. How could the building look so cheerful when I in comparison am so gloomy? All the other students probably chose to be here.
I pause before I step through the door, and look up at the sign: Meadowlark Christian Academy for the Arts. I have yet to figure out what they mean by arts, but my guess is that its the kind that you sit still and... I dunno... paint all day.
Worst. Thing. Ever.
"Miss...?" I look back down, startled to see another young woman standing in front. She nearly dwarfs me, she is so petite!
"Oh- White. Faye White."
"I'm sorry, Faye- I'm horrid with names. But please keep the line moving- you're holding everyone up!"
I look behind me, and sure enough, a line stretches back.  "Sorry."
Despite her size, I can't help but notice that she is extremely athletic. , I hope desperately that that means something!
We are led into the entryway- small, yet somewhat cozy- and through a kitchen. An older woman wearing a chef's hat is the only person in there, and she smiles at us as she pulls a tray of cookies out of an oven. We climb a flight of stairs, and than we stand in the dorms area.
Old habits die hard, and I gasp at the surroundings. It looks almost more like a combination Main Street- airport than a school, with the arched glass roof, and two-storied rooms. Towards the end of the room,  a 'building' with a library sign hangs, and it is all I can do to keep myself from running to it.
"Students," Emma Ross announces. "Welcome home."

Faye 3

I blink back tears, and stare dumbly out the window. Why did I agree to come here in the first place? Oh wait, I forgot- I didn't.
All the other girls seem to know each other, and they just chat away. I'm okay with that- I didn't know much about Picasso in the first place.
Our driver is a cheerful young woman named Emma Ross. She is butting in on the Picasso conversation all while pointing out various landmarks as we drive, and it's given me a headache.
I can already tell I don't belong here, and it hasn't even been five minutes.

Faye 2

I sink into an airport chair, waiting for my flight. Everyone has just left, and I am now stuck at Willard Airport in Savoy. I have just gotten through security, and now am waiting for the flight that will board in exactly twenty two minutes and thirty-four seconds. The time passes as slowly as ever, and by the time priority boarding is finally called, I have read eight chapters of my book, Love, Aubrey. I board the plane, trying to keep my mind off the fact that I won't be seeing this airport, this town, or even my family face-to-face, for six months. I hoist my baggage into the overhead compartment, turn on my iPod, and wait for takeoff.

My flight from Urbana goes smoothly, but when I land at Chicago O'Hare, I am confused. Chicago wasn't this big, last time I checked. It confuses me. Mom says she packed a map, so I pull out the gallon-sized baggie, and find not only the map, but also a boatload of snacks. I ignore those, and reach for the map marked 'O' Hare'. I follow it to the baggage collect, get my large suitcase, and check in to Cathay Pacific. There, I give the bag again, and again go through a much longer security line, and head to my gate, and not a second too soon. I race down the bridge thingy, and slide into my aisle seat. The plane takes off a couple minutes later, and I am on my way to Hong Kong.

I wake up from my nap  sleep about twelve hours into the thirteen hour flight. It hits me- I won't be home until Christmas. I won't be home for Thanksgiving, my birthday, the Fourth of July, or Easter. I blink back tears as I watch the endless darkness of the Mongolian world beneath the airplane.

When we land, I feel like I've been trampled by a herd of rhinos wearing soccer cleats. I am achy from sleeping on a plane, and I am homesick. But my loneliness disappears almost immediately when I notice the differences. For example, it is incredibly humid here. It is June first (Second? Yikes...), so I am kind of used to a bit of humidity, but this is a lot of moisture. And then, the elevator is labeled  "Lift". What on earth is a lift? I don't know.

Again, it hits me- I am now a foreigner in a very large Asian world, and I had no idea what things were. I hadn't been here before. Did they even speak English here?

Oh, heavens to Betsy. I hadn't wanted to come here in the first place! I had fought, and quarreled, and fought some more. Art, for heaven's sake! I hate art! I've grown up surrounded with it, and I am tired of it.

 My birthday was two months ago. I had barely enjoyed it, thanks to the little surprise of art school. I am still angry with Mom and Dad, but at least I'll 'get away from it all'. No more crazy, eccentric family!

But I find my way through customs (unfortunately) unscathed,  and stride out into the Meet and Greet. I search the crowd for a Meadowlark sign, find one, and hurry over- no use trying to stop it now.

Faye 1

The first thing I see when I wake up is a sign:

'Come down immediately!'

It reads. My heart drops like a stone- am I in trouble? On my birthday? Thank heavens there are smiley faces and balloons drawn all around it- it can't be bad!

Despite excitement for figuring out the reason for the sign, I still have to drag myself down the three flights of steps that lead to the hallway that leads to the kitchen. By the time I get down, as always, I am panting, and there is no goin' back to sleep!

Our house is this massive old Victorian mansion with five floors, and I was the lucky one to get the top bedroom! The good thing about this is that I get the tower top (amazing view), but it's a serious pain to come down for breakfast when you're exhausted!

When I see what is at my place, I forget my tired-ness, and stare. Piles and piles of gifts are stacked at my place, including one suspiciously shaped like a laptop, set right at my place. The tall stack of chocolate-chip pancakes is placed off to the side, as if not nearly as important as the rest. That is most likely so.

My mom's a terrible cook. It's not her fault- if she just payed attention to whether the sugar or salt (most often the latter) went into the cookies, it'd be fine. But with her job as an interior designer finally taking off, her clients keep her too preoccupied, it's hard to concentrate on little things like cakes not burning.

A small gasp from the stairs causes me to turn. Skye, my six-year-old sister, stands a few steps up, staring at the presents with shining eyes. She looks like a kid seeing a Christmas tree for the first time- and too late, I realize what it means.

"Are those for me?"  Her expression was one I knew- if I said no, people would get hurt. Badly.

Despite the risks, I had to shake my head. "No," I whisper.

Her face crumples, and I brace myself for the tidal wave to follow:

"MOMMY!!!!" 

I sigh. "Listen, Skye- your birthday is in a month. Then, you will get presents. Okay? Now, go away!"

She stumbles up the stairs, crying hiccuping sobs, and I feel a teensy bit bad. I bury the feeling quickly, and turn to the laptop-shape. 

Sure enough, it is- and the exact one I've been asking for for the previous four years! I let out a little shriek, than check to make sure no one has seen me. Reputations are huge in this family! I open it (not noticing the fact that it's not in the box), and immediately, a browser pops up:

Meadowlark Christian Academy for the Arts- a boarding school located in the mountains of Hong Kong-


Wait- what?