Coming of age, being no longer a virgin, leaving the position of school president, and being hours away from looking for a job meant a lot of encouragement for Rebeka. In an ideal world, her neighbors, her mother, her father, and her friends should have encouraged her, but in her world, good things were not celebrated as much as they pointed out and criticized what they didn’t like about her. Besides, she had made sure not to worry about an uncertain future, so long as she didn’t end up robbed of the peace of mind of the moment.

Her mother already had a lot to carry; the neighbors were distancing themselves from her; she had no friends; her father had never been around; and whoever genuinely cared about her, for the time being, had to fight her own battle by taking a separate path. With this, the world, which was not as ideal as it should have been, was turning gray in her eyes.

“Good morning, Rebeka!” At least a stranger had to say something to her out of politeness. “Work hard, follow your goals; don’t let anything stop you; achieve what you set out to achieve!” and at the fantasies in her head, which sought to give her security, an invasive question crept into her mind, and she clung on tooth and nail. ‘What if, no matter how different I feel or behave, everyone still treats me the same? Does it make me look different, really? In the end, I’m the daughter of a criminal.’

   As Rebeka moved down the street on her way to the station, the speed of her steps slowed. She moved amidst the sound of hundreds of footsteps from busy people, moving from one side to the other. She went like a ghost, unnoticed, ignored by everyone, and treated as nothing. She was alone; she had no choice but to fight the demons that tormented her mind—those that stole the tranquility, whispering problems and failures that hadn’t even happened.

‘Back to reality. Maybe if I hadn’t had him or my mother. If things weren’t going as well as they are now, at a time like this, I’d be looking for the best way to kill myself, to paint the gray of this world with the red of my blood. Rebeka, it’s not good to think like that! You must get away from those demons that didn’t let you sleep before... but, if not with the ecstasy of satisfying my body... now that I’m alone, in front of so many people, just stay...’

  The wind was blowing, as it did every morning, the same wind that she expected to lift her skirt, while Omar was chasing her. Now, without him behind her, she had to use all her strength to hold back the urge to cry. She was surrounded by people while tears were streaming down her face, and yet no one noticed her.

At the train station, with her head bowed, she waited for the gates to open for boarding. Once it was her turn to enter, several people pushed her, both men and women, which made her think that no one had seen her yet. Entering the carriage clutching her backpack with both hands, Rebeka was forced to turn around on the spot in order to squeeze through the cramped spaces of people who did not want to move.

‘Will my life be like this, every time he is not by my side?’ She thought and understood that the only different factor on that day, was that Omar was not with her. ‘But no, I have to prove to him the opposite, that I am a strong and independent woman... so that he will love me and not leave me.’

  In the middle of the carriage, the people in the back began to push, and Rebeka, very careful not to fall awkwardly to the ground, leaned on a handrail.

“Watch where you’re walking,” said some guy rudely.

“Finish moving I’m getting off at the next exit,” shouted a man in an impatient tone.

Rebeka was engrossed; she could truly carry out the task of moving forward in a place where no one was moving. After being in the middle of those who wanted something and those who settled for nothing, she took a deep breath, and before trying any further, she hit a shout.

“Excuse me!” she announced in a trembling voice as she wiped the tears from her face to look up at everyone watching her from above. She breathed again, and although she could hardly be understood, she continued to scream. “You didn’t hear me? Move aside. I need to get through.”

The out-of-tune cry of bravery provoked the rabid movement of a few, and those who were complaining were told to stop protesting. Finally, being noticed in the strong version of herself, she stopped shrinking her body to make her way through those who would not move.

‘Long live, I will never give up’ She thought, ‘May death find me. That is the suicide I choose from this moment on. I will not keep quiet; why, out of consideration for others, if no one will consider me!’

  The whispers of the passengers were heard, and they murmured, “What a bad temper! That is something not worthy of a lady.” Those who did not speak let out a whistle into the air. The others stood with their mouths open and backed away slowly, as if being pushed.

Rebeka, although she had entered the train carriage looking well-dressed, stood there with her hair tangled up and standing on end from not having combed it after taking a bath in the morning. Now, from bumping into whoever got in her way, her shirt was untucked and her clothes were wrinkled.

Still, she continued to stride toward her favorite position with a fist and a menacing expression, as if she wanted to strike out in anger at those who pretended to ignore her. ‘Enough of being a weak, flimsy, vulnerable, good girl, unable to fend for herself!’ she said to herself. After glaring with eyes alight with rage and being angry at anyone around her, she tried to suppress the fear that shook her chest because she was holding back tears. She tried to tear away the bad thoughts that made her pessimistic and contributed to her low self-esteem.

Finally, she planted herself in her favorite spot in the carriage, and as soon as she leaned with her hand on the middle part of the handrail hanging from the ceiling, she took out her phone to take a look at it in the hope of seeing a message from her beloved. With disappointment on her face, she looked at an empty screen.

‘Hope all is well, text me if you can...’, she texted Omar.

As usual, once everyone was settled, the train started to move. After putting her cell phone away, she looked up so she could see out the window. The day was rising and was present, and although birds were flying, flowers adorned the grasslands that moved like waves, and trees surrounded the different buildings, he could not help noticing that, on the other side of the city, he could clearly distinguish a facility composed of several buildings. The walls were blackish and endless; they were surrounded by spikes, large towers on the corners, and streetlights everywhere. The facility that Rebeka was trying to forget, and now, for some reason, couldn’t take her eyes off it, was the prison in which her father was.

‘Sure, I can’t be bad, because that’s where the bad guys go. Right?’ She reminded herself after letting out a sigh, which seemed to decipher the reason why she had noticed something, which during all the days she took the train she tried not to see.

 Although the sun was out and illuminated everything, on the other side of the window, thick drops of water began to fall from the sky. A passing cloud released its tears on the ground between the morning sun, the jail, and the sophisticated moving train.

After two stops, the rain and the jail disappeared from Rebeka’s sight, until finally the train carriage stopped again and opened its doors at her stop.

Intending to continue the day and stay where she was supposed to, she made her way through the exit, crossed the station, and walked with the other students until she reached the school.

 “Good morning,” Rebeka said to the few students already seated as soon as she entered the classroom.

After placing her backpack on the new table where she intended to take a seat, she looked at the clock several times, aware that she had to remain calm, even though her clothes and appearance said otherwise. Five minutes passed. She took a deep breath, and as soon as the professor entered, she drew within her chest enough courage to speak.

“I am afraid to inform you, dear professor, that due to personal matters, I will be forced to leave early.”

  “Why isn’t the blackboard done? The trash isn’t picked up! Attendance isn’t taken, and you’re sitting in another seat that isn’t yours!” demanded Bob as soon as he entered and turned a deaf ear to the words of the one who, for him, was still obliged to be the president of the classroom.

After taking a deep breath, Rebeka decided to remain calm. "Well, professor, by sitting at this table, you already see that I am not responsible for my position as chairperson. The early dismissal is because I would like to work to help my family with the house payments. Being responsible for so many things is tiring, and I will no longer be able to maintain good grades. With my withdrawal, I also give my classmates the opportunity to excel.”

After opening his eyes as wide as he could, the professor refused to start the class, and as quickly as he entered, he prepared to walk out the classroom door. 

“Where are you going, professor?” asked Rebeka as she got up from her seat so fast that she even knocked over the chair she was sitting on, just to chase after the departing teacher. “To talk to the principal? If so, I hope you will tell him everything as it really is. Tell him that, unfortunately, I will now be unable to remain president because I want to work, and that this does not mean that I should forget or overlook all my services rendered. I owe a lot to the principal, as you well know. But I have to take care of my mother and make up for my father’s absences.”

The professor kept walking, and although he tried to take the elevator up to the second floor, he decided to take the stairs. Standing in one place implies having to pay attention, and that act could be more compromising for his purposes. A person’s intelligence comes with the ability to justify their actions, and depending on how that person speaks, they project themselves to the world; therefore, these actions could be justifiable and be taken with pity.

 “Understand that I’m in a bind; don’t make my life harder than it already is. I’m sure it’s not too hard to put yourself in my shoes! I already know that, from the beginning, I was not looked upon well when I was admitted to this school. Many think that I will end up being like my father and that there is no special proof or reason that can convince those who have that idea otherwise. But you, professor, have been able to watch me grow up for years in stressful situations worse than what other students have, and I never gave you a reason to believe that I would be like my father. Also, you know very well that I was never present at teachers’ meetings or parents’ meetings, something that easily makes me the victim of bad comments, gossip, and complaints without reason or foundation. If I am not there, no matter how well I act, it is enough to point out the bad things, so that my hands and legs are tied without being able to defend myself. Professor, are you going to continue walking without speaking to me?

Once they reached the second floor, after walking through the deserted corridors, before the reception was the principal’s office with the doors open. The professor didn’t even bother to talk to the secretary and simply walked in, demanding to be served. Along with the subject, Rebeka also entered, and although neither of them had been given the floor, he did not stand still for a moment in the place, for on his desk was a letter he had just read.

Rebeka fixed her uniform and hair as best she could after understanding that there was no way she should let the teacher take her out of the principal’s office to talk to him in private. In the mood the old man was in, he would surely tell her something that would affect her with her job application. After all, despite being a student, in society, you have a record, and disrespect to elders, insolence, and failure to follow orders were not very good requirements if you applied for a position that had to do with services to the public.

  The principal, on the other hand, had a look of not quite understanding the situation. Sure, it was normal for him that Rebeka would not be a student for the rest of her life, and besides, with the current worries, the least she could do was to start working as soon as possible, but she was not yet ready for the outside world.

The professor, by the look in his eyes, surely thought the same as he did, but Rebeka was expressing the opposite. She had to be persuaded, convinced, and somehow kept in school. For the principal, the future of a model student depended on the decisions she made in the present. If perhaps her father was not a convict and had been with her and her mother to support the family and maintain the value of the family name, she would have turned out to be a diamond in the rough.

  Rebeka felt her breathing quicken and understood that crying would not bring favorable results; after all, the principal was not famous for having preferences with women or for being driven to tears. So, she had to act differently, but if she couldn’t talk, what else was left? Her strong, independent version, the one who looked determined and defied with her presence, threatened those who sought to block the way.

   “Principal Mr. Principal!” said Rebeka loudly and looked towards him, after completely ignoring the teacher who had asked to speak, something that was totally against the education and manners taught in society, as a young person should wait to be given the floor while the elders spoke.

Rebeka had no time to be polite, not if her future depended on the principal’s final decision. The insulted teacher complained to her about it and took the opportunity to point out the lack of politeness, which allowed her to go on to argue the crazy idea she had to quit being president, leave early to look for a job, and that her mother should be informed about it as quickly as possible, all without letting her speak a word and walking closer and closer to where the principal’s desk was.

  “... And not only that, Mr. Principal. Your bad manners, behavior and unrefined attitude could give the school a bad image” continued the teacher, passing to the end of his argument. “If you want to work so badly, you can be an assistant to the cleaning staff at the facility.”

After missing the opportunity for the principal to give her the floor, Rebeka shook her head again and again at what the teacher was saying. Her eyes widened at the suggestion of being part of the cleaning staff, for she knew that in that position she would be even later getting home, not to mention that, for sure, the teachers and adults who had a grudge against her would leave a much bigger mess than they usually did during the day.

Amazingly, the principal, well known for his lack of patience despite being interrupted, had so far been relatively calm. As soon as the professor’s pleas were over, he returned his gaze to Rebeka.

Rebeka couldn’t say anything; after all, what could she say to anyone to convince him if, despite trying so hard with the professor she had followed, she got no result? Still, her gaze was alight with nonconformity; it was not the same submissive look she had shown in the past, but rather a vibrant nonconformity.

  The principal took a deep breath, suddenly stood up, and as quickly as he turned around, he decided to open wide the huge windows behind him. Because the entrance door to the principal’s office was still open, from the immense sky rushed a whole stream of wind that blew past the three individuals. The fresh morning gust, without being a student, rushed down the stairs, through the hallways, opening the lockers that were not padlocked, and out the front door of the school.

With its passage, the strong current of air shook the window curtains in the principal’s office, so strong, that it whipped in the air, also stirred the leaves of the books, and lifted the papers that were not secured on top of the tables. A whole stream of papers and leaves ended up prisoners of the wind, as if they were logs of wood floating down a rushing river.

  Rebeka was impatient, almost on the verge of running around the place, so as not to let the papers and leaves, perhaps important ones, get blown away, crushed, lost, or watered. But she still hadn’t received an answer from the principal; she was tired of being good and never getting anything in return.

On the other hand, if she did things expecting to get something in return, did she stop being good? For her, that question had ceased to matter, for all that mattered was reaching her goal. Yes, the previous Rebeka would have thrown herself on the floor, looking for a solution, such as closing the doors behind her, in order to prevent the disaster that was happening.

  The air continued to pass like crazy, and the principal, even more out of his mind, opened his arms to the sky, until the stormy cause was stopped with the sound of a slamming door.  Finally, Rebeka had no choice but to turn around and close the doors behind him. Then she turned and stared sideways at the professor in a steady rage, who had begun to turn around very slowly just to see what she was doing.

  The vague thought crossed Rebeka’s mind why these two individuals, from the behavior they had been engaged in, would surely not have a gesture of goodwill toward her. The principal had opened the windows, which he could have quickly closed, in order to minimize the damage, while the teacher could have said something about it to prevent the mess from worsening. But that was not the case in either instance, something that could result in ordering him to pick up the mess that had formed; after all, the cleaning staff consisted of too few members to deal with such a mess.

After taking a deep breath and opening his eyes to the morning sun, the principal turned around extremely slowly, and when he finally made eye contact with Rebeka, happy and grinning from ear to ear, he said:

 “I know you don’t get compliments very often. Kiddo, your grades are top-notch, and your work so far has been excellent. Thank you for having patience in a world full of boring people. Also, I want to wish you a happy birthday.” After the words mentioned by the principal, there was a big silence in the room.

“Ah. Yes, I understand. After all, it’s time to wake up from the dream of being small, isn’t it? Of seeking adventures, living life, and creating stories.” said the teacher, running his hand over the back of his head?

“What?” asked Rebeka in a confused tone.

  The two individuals, who had both lived over a hundred years, seemed to be reminiscing about their childhoods. After all, it was easy to forget what was left behind, but to Rebeka, these two fellows seemed to be pulling her leg until the principal continued to speak.

“You’ll have the rest of the day off to do whatever you want to do. I’ll let the rest of the teachers know about it and wish you the best of luck,” said the principal, who proceeded to close the windows he had opened. 

Taking the word of the principal and the silence of the professor, Rebeka drew a smile on her face, and after thanking them several times, she left almost as fast or faster than she had entered the office. She didn’t want either individual to regret the decision they had made; after all, she was of age and a woman.

Rebeka returned to the classroom, which was crowded with murmuring and students doing as they pleased. In her presence, they all fell silent, thinking maybe it was the teacher, but seeing her, they went back to commenting, talking, and catching up on their extracurricular lives. The girl grabbed her backpack and left for the bathroom to change clothes. She was with her heart pounding out of her chest, for if all went well, perhaps she might even be able to complete the interview list that very morning; after all, she hadn’t expected to leave so early.

 With the address of twelve places, dressed formally, and a confident smile on her face, Rebeka walked out the front door of the school with the triumphant attitude of someone for whom everyone was waiting.

After seven hours, not only was the sun rising in the east about to set in the west of the city, but the twelve addresses written on the worn and crumpled sheet of paper with which Rebeka had started the day already had a line through the middle.

Sitting crestfallen on an old swing in a park with her bare toes, she consoled herself with the pleasant sensation of the yellow sand on the ground. The wind still kept her company, although the sun was slowly leaving her.

  ‘Why cry?’ She asked herself. ‘This is my damned reality! I was so wrong; my naivety was so great that I believed that I could do whatever I wanted, that I could clear our names and help clear our family’s debts. I can’t stop thinking about mom. I can’t even go home because I am still haunted by the words of each and every one of those people. No matter how much I scream in my mind the word “enough!” and try to focus on something else, the accusations don’t leave my thoughts. Still, if I am no different, I can act differently with these urges to cry inside me and change them into an urge to want to laugh and to seek happiness.’

‘Ahh. Yes, the daughter of the terrorist who murdered the city’s most beloved mayor,’ she said to herself, lifting her head and opening her eyes as wide as she could, to also laugh at the sky. ‘Don’t I have the right to be happy? Do I only have to work in a brothel so that all the resentful men give me what I deserve? Why?! Why?! Why?! Why do I share the same last name as the one who didn’t raise me and is now absent from my life? Why? Why on earth does my mother love him and won’t let me hate him?’

 “Ironic; perhaps that was what the principal meant and what the teacher wanted me to understand. That school would be the only place where I could be safe, inside that bubble. Ha-ha-ha-’, she thought, and after taking a deep breath, Rebeka bit her lower lip with her fang. ‘I must calm down; in a little while, I’m sure he’ll be here. I don’t want him to see me like this. Maybe it’s better if I lie to him. I can’t let my problems get to him. It’s not like he knows I went to the interviews without him either.’

The sun finally went down completely, the street lamps came on, the weather turned somewhat colder, and the night wrapped its blanket around the city. Rebeka continued to rock on the old swing in the middle of the desolate park, pulling her phone out of her pocket and watching to see if Omar received the messages she had sent him. Though the words floated on the screen, in the corner they still marked a gray icon.

  ‘It’s already three hours past four, and he still hasn’t arrived?’ wondered Rebeka, looking up at the stars. ‘My white knight and warrior of a thousand battles, you who are always here when I need you—not now. I refuse to believe it; you’re not afraid to get in trouble if it’s for love, and the only way you wouldn’t be here is if your father had killed you.’

Rebeka let out a few guffaws into the air, and after taking a deep breath, so that her voice wouldn’t shake, she said aloud:

“Omar, why are you still there and not planning to come out? Can’t you see it’s very cold, and I need you?”

Inevitably, Rebeka’s voice trembled a little, as she could not contain the sadness that wanted to come out.

In the park, after the girl’s questions, no one answered or made any sound in response. After all, Rebeka was pretending to confirm a doubt she had, and she was not quite sure if Omar was really there or not.

‘He didn’t answer me; maybe he’s hiding from me,’ she said to herself. ‘I’d better get up from the swing and go in the direction of the opposite side of the tree. We’re equals; he’s sure giving me space; I’m grateful he didn’t see me cry.’

After walking over the sand, past the guttering and different equipment designed for the children to play on, Rebeka could notice a shadow on the other side of the tree.

“Omar!” she cried out in desperation, holding her hands to her head and hurrying her pace towards her boyfriend.