There's a memory bubbling upwards, and whenever I reach for it, it dances away taunting me with its' shiny importance. It twirls around my fingers, kissing my soft skin goodbye before vanishing away. I can only stare up at the ceiling where plastic stars are haphazardly placed. 

I yawn, stretching lazily like a cat. I typically remember my dreams, so the fact that I haven't remembered a single dream for the past week has been annoying me more than I expected. I glance at my phone where it's still beeping like crazy and seem to be getting louder and faster by the second. 

I reach for it, reading the title, 6:00 First Day of School!!!!

School? I blink once then twice until my heart skips a beat and excitement fills my veins with much-needed adrenaline. I jump up, clicking the off button before I scramble out of bed. 

I twirl around in the room, spinning and spinning until I flop back into bed rolling my head to keep myself from getting too dizzy. Then cold reality hits me hard. This is not the only first day of school, where I am a freshman! but the day George and Rin, my brothers are leaving home! And Shyan and her boyfriend Roy are leaving too! Everyone but Mom and Dad will be home after today! I silently slump down, kicking my feet up and down. I thought we would all be together no matter what. Moving from Washington to Oregon, to Idaho, to California, then back to Washington. We were all together, and now they are deciding to leave?  

I would be lying to say I am not upset about that. I hate change. I have been changing homes, schools, friends, classes... Every year something different happens, and finally, we are settled and no longer moving, and they are leaving home, changing my world once again... It's really frustrating being the youngest. 

Flopping backward all my stuffed animals fall across my face along with the random piles of blankets and pillows I scatter about. My bed looks like a rainbow has given birth. Turning to the side, there's a frilly pink pillow, and sitting royally, if a little crooked from my moment, an old worn-down Hello Kitty I named Pink. Reaching over I lift her up high overhead. Her soft worn yellow eyes blink down at me, her grey fluffy pelt worn down in several areas. Squeezing her tightly to my chest I feel the stitches that cover her up and down. I have had her for so long that I can't remember when I first held her. She was the reason I learned how to sow so that I could forever fix her. I stay like that for a bit before I place her back into her pillow and went over to my old dresser pulling out undergarments. 

My old dresser has been a hand me down from my grandmother to my mother, to my older sister, and then to me. It's made of dark cherry brown wood, that's faded a touch from age. All along the sides are painted red flowers with dark green vines. Grandmother was an artist and painted this a while back. Once a year Mother goes and repaints over it to keep it fresh. 

I have never personally met my grandparents, they died before I was even born. I have heard many stories about them from mom. Grandma was an artist who painted masterpieces that even hang in a few art museums. Ellanora Leburn Goldheart. Or E.L.G. Her favorite things to paint are trees and flowers. I even have one of her paintings in my room. A field of green, with yellow sunflowers. I love looking at it, and wondering what woman she was and if I resemble her even a little bit. 

Grandfather was pretty cool himself. A hard worker, he spent most of his life working in the union as a carpenter. He made the dresser, rocking chair, and several other things that have found their way here into my room. 

I used to get pretty upset on grandparents day at school. Because Mother's parents are dead, and Father is estranged from his side of the family. So I was the only kid without any grandparents to showcase. Pretty petty thinking back on it. But it would have been nice to have someone to show off. Like here are my cool grandparents. 

Pressing a button on my back TV, a commercial over dog food flashes before me, with the remote I change it to CWT news channel. It's once again talking about our president, her accomplishments, and such. it's pretty nice we finally got a female president, about time for us women to get the big seat. 

I spin around looking joyously at my chaotic mess of a room. I have a black desk which is very simple in design. It's where I do my homework and projects. Underneath, rest my lunch box, tennis shoes, and a deflated backpack. I gather my supplies, stuffing them into the backpack until it looks simi-filled. Before picking a book from my bookcase. I go for my favorite. 'Heroine of Narme!' It's a story about a cool woman who beats up evil bad guys with her magic and weaponry. 

I wonder what it would be like to be a hero! Summon to another world and be given cool abilities! Able to destroy bad people, and save lives like a cop or a fireman! It'll be so cool! I giggle, shaking my head. No way someone like me would be a hero!

My purple door rattles, the new mirror clicking and bumping against it, "Hey! Breakfast will be ready soon!" Came the unison voices of my twin brothers Rin and George. It's kind of creepy that they can speak like that, like in some freaky horror movie. 

I shout back, "I'll be down soon!" 

I hear them shout back for me to hurry before their footsteps fade down the stairs. 

My families are pretty close, much more than ordinary families I guess. I remember my siblings always being with me, reading to me, and helping me with homework and projects. Cooking together, sleeping in bed together. Every holiday has been a blast because we were all together. They've been there for me whenever I was scared, angry, sad, or even joyous... They've stood beside me forever... 

A deep gut-pinching feeling deep inside brings tears to my eyes. Holding shaking hands over my hurting heart, I take a solid deep breath. Several in and out all to control the hot steam of liquid threatening to darken my cheeks and swell my eyes. 

I have to be happy for them, it is the biggest moment of their life! It's considered an honor to be able to leave the house. Still... this overwhelming sadness... I head to my single window taking comfort in the forest beyond. It's called Whisperwoods, a mysteriously beautiful woodland area that glows even at night. Whenever I feel emotionally charged, I just have to look out my window and imagine running through the woods to feeling better. 

Next to my window is my sewing machine, sitting stoically. A brilliant pink fabric halfway settled underneath in a net with more fabric nestled down in drawers. Most of the clothing I make goes to charities or school events, and even to friends. But with the encouragement of Shyan, I have started a small little business, it's not much yet, but if I work hard then as mom says, I can become a fashion designer or something. I don't really know if that is the route I want to go. I kind of want to be a teacher, like dad is. 

To the right, is a sliding door that opens up to my walk-in closet. Glaring at me is an overflowing bin of dirty clothes mocking me. I frown pointing at it and declaring war. I will finally wash them today and slap away their mocking smug faces. Shoving the bin of clothes to the side, I grab my specially designed clothing for the first day of school. 

Dressing quickly and excitedly, I dance in front of my mirror. Mom and dad got it for me a little early as a birthday present. I think it was something my grandfather made as well. A masterpiece, of smooth dark wood glistening in the morning light, symbols fading on the side, giving it almost a wizardly-like appearance. As if at any moment a portal to another world will appear and suck me into the mirror's surface. 

Laughing, I twirl all four feet five inches of myself. Groping blindly for my hairbrush, I put my mouse-brown hair back in place. It's short with only the front part long enough to actually call lengthy. I stop brushing and looking at myself... I am not... pretty nor am I ugly. I would call myself NPC One. Someone so boring and simple that one look and you forget all about me. 

I have a pale chubby complexion, with high cheekbones that trail up to my wide plain brown eyes sitting low on my face. I have a pretty large forehead, with thin eyebrows and a thin nose bridge that widens into a slight hook over my thin mouth. My face is too wide, too big, too chubby, and too babyish. 

Frowning for real, I sling my hairbrush onto my black desk placing my hands on my hips. I am... slender in some places, flat in all the wrong places, and large in the worst places. I shake my head frowning. Even my cute dress does little to improve my attributes.

I made it mostly of soft brown, dried flowers picked and designed by hand all along the sleeves and ends. I have a cute little bodice over my chest that only seems flatter... I trail my hands over my plump belly, and heavily built... claws of realization sinking deep into my frail confidence. 

Letting out a resigned sigh, I grab the doorknob twisting it when something in the mirror catches my eye. Letting go of the cold metal I lean in close. A weird mistiness forms in the mirror, like fog. I wipe furiously, but the mist doesn't let up. It twists and spins taking the shape of a tree? I blink, stepping back. It's a metallic silver brown tree, with large noiseless green leaves fluttering like thousands of falling stars. From the wreathing mess of leaves and bark, there's a flash of metal. The metal moves around like a snake, slithering and tying something tight to the tree. I step forward, reaching. I... I... There's just something so familiar about the tree and the figure? I know it, but I don't? My fingers brush the cold mirrors, and I sense words... words coming to me, vibrating deep in my skull but I can't make out what it says?

A deep cold rush freezes my burning heart, "Who?" I stammer, fingertips burning, "who are you?" I press further, an urge settling deep in my stomach, I lean my forehead against the mirror, "Who? Who are you?" Tears fall from my eyes, dripping down in a stream. Why am I crying?

A huge bang slams the mirror against my forehead. I fall backward with an embarrassing squeal. Landing hard on my posterior, I cry out in pain.

A lovely kind voice melts the icicles forming in my heart, "Kiro! Hurry up before George eats all the food!" She pauses before adding, "You ok?" 

In a confusing second, I feel nothing. No ice, or burning fingertips, not even that familiar silent voice. Like a scared memory coiling up deep inside of me. I can't find it again... I shake my head, face burning as I squeak, "I'm fine... Always fine I am! Worry not!"

After a long pause, Shyan with suspicion ask, "Ok, I guess. Hurry before the boys eat all the pancakes." And with a teasing tone asks, "Have you been binge-watching star wars all last night like last year?" Heat flush through my whole body, at the realization of what I said. Last year I did a Star Wars marathon, I was a zombie most of the day. I'm not the nerdiest person. If you ask me the storyline maybe I can tell you some of it... when really, I hardly remember much. It's the cool action and yoda that really get me watching it over and over again.   

With a bit more control over my racing heart, I say, "I'll be down in a second." 

"Hurry," She says once more, her footsteps fading away down the stairs. With her gone, I glance nervously at the mirror. 

The silver brown tree has disappeared...

Was it just my imagination? Standing up with shaky legs, I lightly touch the mirror again with a mix of awe and fear. Was it just a trick of the mind? But... if that's so... impossible. My therapist... she said... it shouldn't be so soon? Hesitantly, I open my door leaving the room, all the while questions swirling around my head. 

The long narrow hallway leads in two directions. One to the stairs leading down, and the other to three separate rooms. Their doors were slightly open and wiggling in the faint breeze from the air vent above. The only door closed is my parents' door. 

I step onto the pale blue spongy carpet that's almost the same color as the wall. All along the walls are portraits of little dirty children getting in trouble one way or another. As well as several family portraits. 

I have to pass Rin's and George's room, to get to the stairs. I smell the scent of dew waffling towards me. I push open their door, light forcing itself into the now empty room illuminating the bare blue walls and wood floor. In the middle of the room, a small owl statue of luck slowly billows out smoke. I head over to it, blowing the fire out. Rin likes his incense. Maybe this was his way of saying goodbye. 

Finally, I zoom down the blue stairs, nearly forgetting to do a double step over the slightly raised one that always trips people.

I enter another long narrow hallway, this time with two directions to head. The right leads to the backyard, and the left is the front yard. I have to head right, to go to the kitchen. Passing by a few more pictures of my family, I stop by my favorite one on the lamp table, it stands next to a candle smelling of lavender.  

Dad is in a pink shirt balancing two five-year-old boys on each shoulder, cooking, and in the middle of a phone call but having enough time to wave at the camera mom obviously is holding. A small young girl, just a touch older than the boys is getting a little to close to the stove watching the pancakes cooking with hunger. A small slender hand reaches up to steal a bite. 

Above the photo are several other pictures. One of the photos is of my mom in a park when she was much much younger. Wearing rick makeup and a lovely blue scarf. Beside her is a homely round-faced Asian woman. She's wearing less makeup than mom, and smiling so wide it cracks her sweet face. Dark brown hair and black eyes, she could easily be called a doll next to any person, but I see her honed athletic muscles and brave glare. From what mom told me, she was not a person you wanted to make an enemy of. 

She's my mom's adopted sister, a Washington cop named Kiro. During a chase, saving two children from a kidnapper she got run over by a car. The children and kidnappers were caught because of her, but she died. Mom had me and named me in her sister's honor. A sad and morbid thought... She was a hero the world needed, and instead here I am, someone the world does not need. A life, for a life. But not always equivalent. 

{to be continued}