I woke up the next morning, ready for the day. I knew that I would most likely be ambushed today, but that was later. Why should I worry about something that happens to everyone? Lyna, Azaire, Felipe, and Mum were all fast asleep. They must have stayed up late last night. Lyna would’ve waited for the boys to come home. The boys would’ve stayed out until they were exhausted and needed to rest. Mum just slept. This happened every morning. I wouldn’t see any of them, when they were awake, until this afternoon when I arrived home. I got my satchel ready and began to head outside. Water droplets dribbled on my head, soaking me. Just my luck, it was raining. I came back inside to get my threadbare shawl, pulling it over my head. The walk to school was long and hard. The path was rocky and slick. I tripped on quite a few rocks. Arriving at school wasn’t much better. Most of the Enyana’s my age woke up early to get to school before Shibuya’s came out. I came whenever I woke up. The Shibuya’s were bullies. If they were outside when you came, they would throw dirt at you and spit in your face. They were outside when I came. When Enyana’s are young, they must learn to stand straight and tall through the rudeness. It was hard for me to learn this. The Shibuya’s didn’t do this today, due to the rain. I was relieved but knew that rain wouldn’t help inside. I entered the small classroom, relieving myself of my soaking shawl and hanging it on a hook. I walked over to the Enyana side of the classroom. We had smaller desks with scratched up boards and pieces of chalk. Our teacher favored the Shibuya’s, who had bigger desks with new, clean boards and whole chalk. I shared my desk with a younger girl, Nyanja. She was short, with big purple eyes and brown hair that she kept in a ponytail. She was really nice. I knew she didn’t deserve to be bullied. My teacher, Ms. Linda, was a Shibuya. She definitely hated me. I hated her. As I slipped into my desk, head down, I could feel her fiery glare. “Anya.” she said, walking towards me, her ruler in her hand, “You’re late.” I stared at the ground, “Sorry, Ms. Linda.” Ms. Linda continued to glare at me, “Why, pray tell, were you late?” I shifted my vision up to her, “It was hard to make it through all the rain and mud.” Her voice sharpened, “All the other Enyana’s did it!” I shrugged, “All the other Enyana’s live in different villages.” Everyone knew this. There were five Enyana villages, I was the only one from my own. The path was in my village. We were the most well-known, because of the ambushes. Ms. Linda paused, then came towards me quickly and slammed her ruler on my desk, “Get here earlier next time. Fifty lines during recess.” I nodded, shame spreading across my face as others turned to stare at me. Fifty lines wasn’t the most she’d ever made someone write, but it was still more than usual. Ms. Linda smiled, victorious, and walked back to the front of the room, beginning the lesson.
“Today, we’re learning history.” she began. That was my cue to zone out. It was all the Enyana’s cue to zone out. History lessons were focused on Shibuya leaders and accomplishments, emphasizing how the Enyana tribe failed against them. It was all a lie, Enyana’s were better fighters than the puffed-up Shibuyas. It must’ve been a while, because I heard the recess bell ring. Ms. Linda summoned me to her desk. “Anya,” she said, “for your, what was it, seventy? Yes. For your seventy lines, I would like you to write, ‘I will not be late.’” I interrupted, “Ma’am, you told me only fifty earlier.” Ms. Linda nodded sagely, “Well,” she began, “I saw that you weren’t listening in one of my most important lectures. If you weren’t an Enyana, I’d have thought you better than that.” I narrowed my eyes, my hands firmly on her desk, “With all due respect, ma’am,” I didn’t mean a word of it, “Just because I’m from a different tribe than you, that doesn’t make me lesser or dishonest.” She glared right back at me, “I’m the teacher,” her voice rose, “I said that you will write seventy lines, and that’s that!” She slammed the ruler down on the desk, hitting my fingers sharply. I yelped and moved my hands off the desk. “Get writing.” Ms. Linda said menacingly. If someone had asked me what I learned at school today, I would have replied, “I learned that writing seventy lines after getting your fingers slapped by a ruler hurts. It hurts badly.” And I wouldn’t be lying. After writing seventy lines, I had to go right back into history. Ms. Linda was making sure that I was paying attention, calling on my every few minutes to answer. When I got one wrong, and I got them wrong a lot, she would add ten lines for tomorrow, meaning I would have to write one hundred lines during recess tomorrow. Finally, we got to go home. I saw the boy that had threatened me the day before scurrying towards one of the Shibuya villages. The Enyana’s said goodbye to each other before we went our separate ways. Me to the Village of the Path, Nyanja and her sister, Ellyn, to the Village of the Forest, and the others to their respective homes. I walked on the path, as some may say, but quite literally. I tensed at any noise, not forgetting the threatening remark given to me by that boy. I had a feeling that I’d be seeing him again very soon. I trapsed through the woods, lost in thought, not paying attention to my surroundings. That’s when I got ambushed.
