Chapter 1: An Oriental Surprise
Chapter 1: An Oriental Surprise
The alarm goes off at 5:00 am sharp. I shower, dress, and ready my luggage for the new school. Breakfast was offered, but my body doesn’t take breakfast that good nowadays.
“Eat up, Mary Jean,” warned Uncle Ringo. “It would make you have a better day.”
“Thanks, but my stomach really cannot take something that heavy in such a short time.” I admitted to my grim-eyed guardian.
“Take whatever you think you want and put it in your backpack. Then when your belly is ready, heat it up in the dorm.”
That was actually a good idea, I thought. So I heeded Uncle Ringo’s advice. I took two slices of toast in a sandwich bag and put it right next to my lunch bag. I searched all over things I needed before Uncle Ringo dropped me off. It’s a precautionary habit my mother passed on to me. The only flaw was it increased the probability of tardiness, but not in this case. I had everything in order.
“Have a good term and don’t forget to write!” was my uncle’s goodbye, followed by a hug and kiss on the forehead. After that I rolled my suitcase into the line of many boys and girls ready for the experience of a lifetime. It was not hard to blend into the scenery of curious teens strolling into what appears to be a Victorian estate with colorful vegetation of flowers and exquisite decor of delight.
The exploration stopped when we reached the main building. There was a small, thinning man of about his late 50’s standing right next to the big steps. He looked kind of funny compared to the assistants, who were colossal. One of the teachers handed him a megaphone, in which he announced:
“ATTENTION ALL FRESHMEN! Welcome to the Peter Oswald-Naomi Yearling Academy...” he started off with an introduction speech generic to every newcomer at a whole new school. I look around me and see a lot of kids dressed in different clothes and reside from alternate cultures. Same old, same old. Until I see someone that rang a bell.
There was a girl with rainbow hair. She had a blue shirt on and jeans with rips on where her knees would be. She was about 2 feet away from me. The rainbow-haired girl looked in my direction, turning my attention away from her. I do not want to look rude to her. Her posture was like she owned the joint, giving me the feeling that she looked like trouble. To me, she looked like Rainbow Dash as a teenage girl. It might be a misunderstanding, but she looked awesome!
“HI!”
That greetings stole 5 years off of my life. The person who was responsible took another 5 by how she looked also. She had pink hair, and the cutest smile I’ve ever seen. Again with the My Little Pony similarities, my mind screamed with confusion.
“Hello,” I answered, regaining my hearing. “I am Mary Jean Finch-” “OOOO, WHAT A SWEET NAME! MYNAMEISPINKAMENADIANEPIEORPINKIEPIE-”
“Sorry, but could you slow down, please?” Her diction was hard to follow at that speech pattern. Plus my hearing was still recovering from that last hello.
“I said, My name is Pinkamena Diane Pie, or Pinkie Pie to shorten it up for you,” she answered to the point where I could understand. My eyes widened with disbelief, while my stomach did a 180. How could she be here? She’s a fictional character from Hasbro. Am I going insane, or did I get enough sleep last night? Maybe if I pinch myself, I’ll wake up from this--
“Hey, are you O.K.? Pinkie looked like she made me uncomfortable.
“Yeah, just a little nervous with the whole thing,” I lied. “I didn’t mean to look all sickly.”
“I KNOW, RIGHT? This is the first time being here in California. Is this your first time?”
“Not really. I used to visit my uncle at his house once in awhile. I’m kinda staying with him now.”
“Where did you come from, MJ? Is it O.K. if I call you MJ? I know your full name is Mary Jean Finch, but I thought why not make it easier to say?”
“Boston, and I don’t mind. I get called all the time.”
“Then does that mean, we’re friends?”
This question wasn’t really hard to answer. I wanted to befriend the MLP characters, let alone Pinkie Pie. When I replied, “Of course, Pinkie!” She wrapped me in her arms and cracked my back. I smelled Cotton Candy on her hair and the hug got me to notice the rainbow-haired chick again. This time, she was talking to some boy with a stupid haircut.
“Uh, Pinkie? Exactly where did you come from?”
“Franklin County, Pennsylvania. I was raised in the Amish fashion, until I got a new family since my family considers me a witch and want nothing to do with me.” Her tone went from cheerie to gloomy. Her crazy curls flattened a little. She was about to cry any second.
Damnit, Mary Jean, I thought. You meet your first friend and make her cry. That is really how I want to start off, by entering unwanted territory. To make her feel less pain about herself, I told her the reason why I am here in the first place. The family memories of Pinkie Pie were pushed back by the unpredictable reaction of my mom’s death wish.
“Your uncle must love you enough to bring you all the way from the East Coast, and so did my foster parents. We are the same but different!” Her sadness was officially washed away. I could not hold myself from giggling from how zany her inference was. She laughed it off, too. It was amazing that Pinkie was such a good sport on certain things.
“I believe the sorting will begin riiight...”
“When I call your name, you will receive your schedule and dormitory key. Remember that the girls’ dorm is the building south of the main building, while the boys’ dorm is the building north of the main building.” shouted the headmaster.
It’s a wonder on how long the whole thing was: The conversation felt like 30 minutes, but it was only 5. Despite the conversation with Pinkie, I did hear the speech and understood every single word said from the megaphone. Basically, we were called in groups of 2, starting with a girl room and a boy room for dormitory methods. Pinkie was called before me, so she hugged me super tight and went on her way. I waited for my name to be called for about 2 minutes.
“MARY FINCH! RARITY SINCLAIR!”
Who was Rarity Sinclair? I know the first name sounds familiar, but I have no idea who that is. Probably because it’s a new school in a different state. I got up to where I was called from and received my schedule and my dorm key. Rarity and I were assigned to room G44. When I got my stuff, it seemed my roommate already got her stuff and was on her way. I followed otherwise by going north to the girls’ dorm.
Thankfully, all the rooms in the building had the letter G (because G is for girls), making it easier to find my room. It didn’t take that long; just a little ways on the first floor. The exact moment I was going to insert the key to open the door, my roommate opened the door and introduced herself.
