What is Four? (on hiatus)

Part 2- Ending of a Chapter

Hana- 18 years old

I opened my eyes, placing my pencil on the desk just as the bell rang. I glanced up, looking at my surroundings. My classroom was starting to become active as people started to collect their things and leave. I sighed. For the past year, this had been my favorite classroom. The ceiling might have dark stains, and the walls might have had chipped paint. But this place was where I found myself. English class was a place where I could loose myself and my worries in a book. It was where I could tell others what I want to express.

And today was my last day. Final exams for the last time. I smiled. Although I loved English, the rest of my classes and classmates were- well, let's say that they weren't the best. Today also marked the end of a chapter and a beginning to another.

I grabbed my test and bag before heading towards the front. The teacher Mrs. Enson was the only friend I had in this school. I guess that it could be hard to comprehend to some why I don't have many friends, but no one wants to be friends with a mute girl.

Mrs. Enson was the most beautiful lady that I had met. She was in her later forties, but she had a youthful glow that had not disappeared in her years working as a teacher and the death of one of her children. Her hair was smoothed back. The warm brown matched her personality as she smiled with her ever red lips. She always had meticulous makeup that never smudged. A dark brown eyeliner made her blue bright blue eyes pop, and her red lipstick was a warm red brick shade. "Congratulations on graduating, Hana."

I smiled at her, nodding my thanks. She continued to talk to me. "Do you know if any of your universities have accepted you?"

I shrugged before writing on my notepad. I haven't heard. I hope that I get one soon.

She smiled. "Me, too. If not, you can always go to community college here and then transfer to state."

I shrugged. I hoped not. I didn't want to be stuck around here anymore. I waved goodbye at her before walking into the hallways.

"Yo, China girl," a voice called me. I bit my lip in frustration before masking my expressions and turning around to face a guy. Collin was a quarterback for our school football team. His brown hair was swept back and cruel brown eyes laughed at me. He was tall and handsome by other's standards. I lived with him and never found him handsome. My brother smirked at me. "Remember to take the trash out and take care of the twins when you get home."

He turned towards his friends. "You know what the best thing about my dear sister is?"

Chase, his best friend who was also a jerk, smirked. "What?

"She can't speak back," Collin laughed. His friends oohed and jeered at me before they swagged down the hallway. "She's just a stupid China girl."

I rolled my eyes before walking away in the opposite direction. First, I wasn't Chinese. I was Japanese. They were two different types of Asian. Second, they always approached me every week to joke about me being mute. After years of doing this, couldn't they come up with new jokes? Being in this small town made everything worse. Everyone knew that I didn't speak and basically shunned me. What was bad about not speaking?

At least I didn't have to respond to them.

I climbed into my car. I wanted to cry at the memories. Mrs. Enson's son was the only one around my age who tried to befriend me. He and I had went to the junkyard and saw a car. It was a classic that was in a beaten condition. When we bought it, we took it to Mrs. Enson's home where worked together to clean it up and to replace the engine. We had finished it right before he died to his own illness. After the funeral, Mrs. Enson had decided to give it to me.

Sliding my phone out of my pocket, I started playing music. Music was another thing that I could express myself. As I pulled out of the parking lot, I hummed along with the song. One thing no one knows is that I can speak, but I don't to those who I don't trust.

Ever since witnessing my parents' deaths, I suffered a psychological response which I refused to talk. I was in shock both mentally and emotionally. When I came out of that daze, I found myself in the midst of a foster family who neglected me. They wanted the money that was given with me as a foster child and thought that since I was damaged, I wouldn't retaliate. That was my first foster family. The others were slightly different but none but two families were kind to me. So I didn't speak to them. When I found myself to be alone, I could speak, but when a person was near me, I wouldn't mutter a word.

Unfortunately, my adopted family was one that I couldn't love or trust.