This isn't my best quality chapter, but I really like the story of it.

One Month Later

 

Weeks pass as normal, since the museum trip I’ve seen Lucie more often in the halls, only this time, maybe because of these charms and the pink Fortune Sucker, we actually know each other. While we occasionally pass each other and have conversations, they never last. So far, progress to kindergarten connections doesn’t seem

 

I stare in the distance watching the white clouds slowly move across the crisp blue sky with a refreshing breeze massaging my hair and clothes. For Friendship Day, pupils always get a week off from school, and I decided to gain the motivation to try to arrange a flight back home as opposed to staying with friends or staying in the almost empty school so I can find potential hints about the kindergarten classroom on Mom’s computer.

 

On the comfy cushion feeling the free and open motion of Mrs. Watermelon’s air bus while gazing at the open sky, I think back to the first day as the vehicle lowers and my suburban neighborhood becomes visible. I remember how my objectives changed from when I was first travelling to the Core, when I only had knowledge of the human world. Now I know a lot more, and life is way more complicated. What I didn’t care about on my first day of school is now significant.

 

After landing on my driveway, I step out carrying my small, slightly heavy, black duffel bag with me, stepping in front of my house for the first time in a half year. When I enter, I notice mom preparing food in the kitchen looking over enthusiastic when she glances at me for the first time. She rapidly pauses me to ask some of her questions, but I only give quick, one or two word answers because I’m not allowed to tell humans about the magical realm. The first thing I do after saying hi to mom and getting the tight squeeze she gives me after seeing me is head to the den to use Mom’s computer to look at old photographs I go to the pictures folder and click on the folder with my birth year on it. All the photos in this folder are me as a tiny, naked baby at the hospital. While clicking on a few of these photos, I don’t notice anything unusual about my birth pictures. They look like a typical, human birth. I check my brother and sister’s birth photos to make sure my birth was normal, and it wasn’t too different than the birth of my siblings.

 

After the disappointing birth photo view, I skim through my other childhood pictures. I could visibly see the tiny, brown haired girl getting older and older, living an average, not so magical childhood. The only thing unusual about these photos was that I didn’t play with other kids like most. After going through a few years of photos I quickly click to the folder of the year I started kindergarten. While I view at the pictures, in the sea of photos of me playing at the playground and going to the fair and stuff, I do notice a few adorable pictures of tiny girls that I knew were my old friends. That was the first time I viewed what they accurately looked like in like, seven years. It wasn’t just interesting; not only do I physically relive the moment where I'm standing with my friends, looking at my mom take the picture immediately as I see it, I also begin to gain a vision, a very blurry vision of a large castle-like building in a desert-like realm.

 

After not getting much out of the digital photos other than the remembrance of what my few childhood friends looked like and that weak vision, I decide to head upstairs. In my parents’ bedroom, there’s a tiny, white, square shaped door which leads to a crawl space where my parents store old mementos. I open the door and pull the string light to make the cardboard boxes and plastic containers become more clear and visible. I crawl in the wooden, dusty and difficult to breathe in interior and grab the box labeled, “Daisy-Kindergarten” in berry colored marker from the bottom of one of the plastic bin piles. I carefully snatch out the bin while trying not to have the top bins drop too hard, and I pull the bin out to a more open area outside the crawl space.

 

When removing the blue, plastic lid, the first object I notice is a square book with two pink foam covers bound together with two small, silver binder rings. The name “Margie” is written in large letters in the cover. I feel butterflies, yet excitement at the same time when opening the book. Margie’s handwriting was basically comparable to scribbles, but when inscribing the words, the book is really sweet, and it was about being friends with Margie. Reading this book brings me joy and nostalgia, and it helps the vision of the desert kingdom play again, so I set it on the soft carpet I’m sitting on, on my left side.

 

I flip through the tissue paper and construction paper crafts and worksheets with my messy handwriting without taking them out so I don’t make a craft mess on the carpet. Under some of these thick and large crafts is a picture of my afternoon kindergarten class. I immediately notice Margie whom I recognize from the computer, and I’m pretty sure the small girl sitting next to her is Lucie, that’s what I’m guessing. I see myself in the bottom row sitting next to another girl I recognize from the computer pictures. Her name was Lauren, and along with Margie, she was also one of my best friends. Every time I saw a photo with her today, I begin to feel really dreamy and I gain the mindset that life is perfect and full of hope.

 

After carefully searching through the crafts and other cliché kindergarten stuff in the bin, I replace the lid and pull the bin back in the crawl space minus the picture and the foam covered book. Immediately after I place the bin on top of one of the stacks and begin to walk out, my bare foot attaches to a loose board in the crawl space floor just near the stack and I trip and fall to the ground immediately crawling out, lying face first on the soft, safe feeling carpet, feeling the scratch and pain of my right ankle.

 

“Daisy, are you okay????” I hear an urgent sounding voice call, “You are not going in the crawl space again!”

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