My Name Is...?

░Chapter 1░

My name. My name is Anaija. Anaija. I think. That's my name. Yeah that's my name, that's the name on all of my documents, the name that I was given when I was born, the name I've always been called.

But for whatever reason it doesn't feel right. It shouldn't feel wrong it shouldn't feel anything it's a name. A name. It's just a name. It shouldn't matter. But it does and I don't know why.

I thought about names and making sense for... too long. I stopped for a bit noticing my school building come into picture I check the time. 7:12. I have time. I slow down to admire the bushes and trees and February snow. I look down to see my boots and spotted pants.

I finally make it to the school and walk in. I head upstairs, towards my locker passing an abundance of people. One person stands out in the crowd. Darla. Blue haired and green eyed of course she would stand out.

She notices me and walks over as I'm pulling out my books. She starts talking while I try to ignore her politely, "Hey girl, where have you been? It's been like since last Friday when you came."

Girl. That's fine. "I've been sick." I stare blankly at my locker pretending to fumble with things so she'll go away. But she doesn't. "Hey Darla as much as I would love to talk I've got to get to science and it's on the first floor on the opposite wing so it'll take me a bit to get there." I respond to her silent gaze. "We can talk after school."

As I'm walking away I notice a bitter expression creep onto Darla's face. I can't help but feel like I'm in a confined space around her. I don't understand it enough to explain it. I just feel like she's closing me up somehow.

Everytime I wall away from her or she walks away from me I feel like I'm opening a door, one that allows me to be alone. Alone with my thoughts to accompany me.

It wasn't until I approached my first class did I realize how slow I was going. I sat in my assigned seat just as I did every day. Nothing new just the same old science class, with the same old boring people, and the same boring teacher. Thoughts were the only thing that wasn't boring.

But I couldn't bare thinking about names again. Everytime I did I'd run away from reality. It's like the idea of a single word referring to me and it not matching who I was pulled me from the world around me.

A voice that seemed scratchy but not yelled my name, "Ms.Anaija do you mind telling me what part of the cell transports and modifies protein?"

"The golgi apparatus." I respond without hesitation. That was odd. That's a middle school skill, and I'm in 10th grade. We aren't even studying cells! This is chemistry for crying out loud.