Dulce Garcia
November 10, 2010 9:31 PM
How invisible can I be? by Dulce Garcia
Being back at Sonora may have been a fun and amazing thing for most of the students at this school. But not for Dulce. She had no problems really with the school. It taught her what she needed to know in order to survive her life after she graduated. She supposed it was also teaching her the social network having her work with students roughly around her age. But this school did not do much else for Dulce. She wasn’t like everyone else. She didn’t socialize. She didn’t argue. She didn’t speak out. She didn’t listen.Dulce lived in her own world when she was at Sonora. Which happened to be in the complete opposite of what she was like at home. At home, with her family, Dulce thrived. She played her music happily and her family played along with her. Either by dancing or at least enjoying what she was currently playing. She laughed along with the rest of them. Communicated. Did things that every thirteen year old did. But that wasn’t the life she had here at Sonora. And Dulce had to wonder why.
She was a third year and had no friend to speak of. It wasn’t as though she didn’t like people. Most of the time, they didn’t bother her. They were just background noise. But lately, Dulce felt lonely. She couldn’t force her sister to hang out with her and eventually, Lita would be gone. Who would Dulce sit with then? Jorge? He’d be first year by then, but Dulce did not want to hang out with a bunch of first years when she was a sixth year. How laughable she would be then.
Sitting at the table during dinner, Dulce looked around at all the other students. Most of them were in groups. Most of them laughing with friends. There were a small few who sat alone. Of those, most kept themselves busy by reading a book or doing last minute homework/studying. But she knew, 95% of these people had friends to turn to when they were bored. People to communicate with. Somewhere where they belonged.
It had taken Lita going off with her best friend during the holiday for Lita to know just how excluded she had allowed herself to become. Maybe it would have been different had she been placed in a house that had a lot of roommates like the Pecari house. It seemed as though if a person was placed in a room with a handful of roommates, they were bound to become friends. Maybe that was what she had missed out on? Maybe she would be sitting with a group of friends, laughing like all of them were without a care in the world had she been placed in a room full of people and not just a room with herself?
Dulce let out a sigh and looked down at her half eaten plate. She felt secluded. Alone. And what was worse was that she didn’t know how to break out of that. She could try to talk to someone, but she would just mess it up. Or they would ignore her. She didn’t mind being ignored, but it seemed like such a waste of effort.
Fed up with her food, Dulce pushed her plate away and knocked her juice right onto the plate of the person next to her. “Ugh.” Dulce said quietly. “Sorry.” She muttered to the person, having no other words to really convey how stupid she felt for having knocked her drink over in the first part.
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How invisible can I be?
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Dmitri Petrovskii
November 10, 2010 11:36 PM
More than a ghost? by Dmitri Petrovskii
Going home was always an experience for Dmitri. It had to be when your father was a Russian diplomat. The holidays always ushered in the social engagements. They were required to attend various affairs, mostly televised. Along with that was the expectation to mingle with those of his age who were also apart of the scene. Not all had drawn the attention of the public eye yet. He was among those. Since he wasn’t a teenager yet, they weren’t as interested in him. He didn’t have any scandalous stories or the like for the tabloids and such to write about, which was perfectly fine with him. Thankfully, a few pictures with the other kids were enough. His mother thought the one of him dancing with Calsileigh Baraden was quite lovely.Unfortunately, it was quite doubtful that he would ever get to know the girl beyond the occasional social endeavor. It was because he wasn’t growing up like the other kids. He didn’t go to the same exclusive private schools that they did. No, he went to a magical school that he had to keep a secret, where he didn’t have to have a bodyguard. That was a really weird thing about going home. He had a bodyguard around him constantly. There was a complete lack of privacy unlike here where he had total privacy. No one knew him to be someone of importance, because either they weren’t aware of the muggle going-ons or because he wasn’t like a famous actor or anything like that. It was refreshing, but he didn’t know which life he preferred.
His thoughts were interrupted when juice spilled all over his pizza. Dmitri’s green eyes flicked over to the girl who had knocked it over. She was in his house, which might have been obvious cause she was sitting at the same table. However, as evidence had shown, people often shifted tables to sit with their friends. Though, he had no experience in doing such. He also believed that she was older than him by a year, maybe two. He was also sure that she was frequently alone. Being alone himself, gave him the opportunity to observe other people. He hadn’t always been alone. School had started out promisingly last year when he had made friends with Colleen and Brian, but they had just seemed to disappear. Such was life he supposed.
“It’s quite all right,” Dmitri said with a wave of his hand. There was no point in getting angry over something that was probably an accident. Accidents happened all the time. They couldn’t be helped and those that got mad about them were just silly. If people were more forgiving, he was sure the world would be a better place. “Though, I can say that something out of the ordinary happened today. I got juice spilled all over my plate, but I really have no idea who I would actually say that to.” He meant it as a light joke, but it came out a bit more serious than necessary. Plus, it was a bit odd to say that it was out of the ordinary when a wizarding life was always out of the ordinary.
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More than a ghost?
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Dulce
November 13, 2010 5:56 PM
That is probably not a good thing. by Dulce
The person of who’s dinner she had ruined was a boy. She recognized him from the common rooms and possibly Quidditch (although, she had little interest in the sport, so she could be wrong about him being on the time). She also recognized him from the lessons she had last year, but not this year. So, he was no more than a second year. She wasn’t sure if that was good or bad. The younger they were, the more rambunctious they tended to be. Far too much energy that she didn’t have the tolerance for. It was certainly funny to think at school the energy of the other students wore on her, but at home, with the hoards of family members, Dulce didn’t think twice about. Maybe that was the difference between blood and everyone else.When her classmate started to speak, Dulce immediately picked up on the way of speech that he had. It wasn’t slang. It wasn’t tainted by the speech of others their age. It was defined. Proper. He was a person who grew up with mannerism being instilled within him since birth. That made her want to believe that he was from a Pureblood family. Not quite like hers. Than again, no one was ever really like her family. Perhaps it was the Latin blood that ran through them that made them so different? Maybe he was from the type of Pureblood family where it mattered how a person spoke, dressed, acted, etc. There seemed to be a lot of those at this school. Heck, her first experience with working with someone happened to be Raines and he was the worst of the worst when it came to boys and their ‘traditional’ backgrounds.
Thankfully, this one wasn’t giving her dirty looks. That was a plus.
“Oh?” She said, an eyebrow raising ever so slightly as she looked him over. “You mean you don’t have juice spilled into your meals on a daily basis?” Dulce joked, but the serious tone never quite leaving her voice. Adelita always told her she had a monotone, disconnected sort of voice. Dulce didn’t really know how she was supposed to change something that was natural for her. She could only hope that everyone else would learn when she was joking and when she wasn’t. “It should be an experience a person should have every day.” She offered him a smile. Her dad said she always looked sweet when she smiled. Less aggressive. Less pouty. Maybe even a little bit friendly.
Dulce suddenly felt very out of practice with interacting with others. She could interact fine with the people who were always in her life, but others, like this boy, not so much. She didn’t know what she was supposed say or do in these sort of situations. Dulce repressed a sigh. She could do this.
“I’m Dulce, by the way.” She pronounced it perfectly, Dool-say. In saying her name, the accent that only ever came out of her mother was present. It was hard for it not too. Her and her siblings names were as Spanish as they came. Well, at least she said something. It was better than just sitting there staring at him blankly.
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That is probably not a good thing.
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Dmitri
December 02, 2010 12:21 PM
Undoubtedly by Dmitri
“Unfortunately not,” Dmitri answered with a soft chuckle, as he moved the plate away from himself. Thankfully, he hadn’t gotten any on his pants or that would have been downright embarrassing. Though, in fairness, he was going to have to get used to awkward situations in the future and how to diffuse them, but he wasn’t worrying about that now. “My allotted daily beverage spill generally includes something other than juice. Quite often, it’s some form of sparkling drink. After all, it looks better in the fluted wine glasses than milk.”He wiped his hands on a napkin before offering one to her. “Very pleased to make your acquaintance, Miss Dulce. I am Dmitri Petrovskii.” His Russian accent was light, but still noticeable. Even so, he doubted she would recognize him as being the son of a Russian diplomat unless, of course, she watched quite a bit of political news. He supposed that was possible, however, he didn’t know many kids that did. Though, there was that one girl that did, but it wasn’t because she was actually interested in the material so much as she wanted to make sure of how she looked. He didn’t really understand that at all. She looked fine to him, but she always criticized herself whenever she saw herself on the television. Something about weighing too much? Maybe it was girl thing?
“May I ask why you didn’t finish your meal?” The younger boy didn’t want to come off as rude, but he now wondered if she couldn’t help him with the dilemma of why a girl that was perfectly thin would think she weighted far too much. Though, maybe it was something simpler. Perhaps, Dulce simply wasn’t hungry any more? However, that was hard for him to imagine. He seemed to always be hungry anymore. He was still hungry now though he had finished everything on his plate, which had included three slices of pizza. Maybe he should have gone for the fourth slice.
Did he want the fourth slice? Did he want two more slices? He would probably look like some human garbage disposal and he knew it wasn’t very polite to eat so much, but it would be forever until the next meal. Yes, he would get the additional two slices. “Sorry, if I offend you by taking more, but I’m still very hungry,” he apologized. Ugh. She was going to think he was entirely awful. This is probably why so few people talked to him. They probably thought he was going to eat them with how much he stuffed in his mouth. Hmm, maybe the entire eating concept was just a human thing? Sigh. When did eating become complicated?
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Dmitri
Undoubtedly
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Dulce
December 05, 2010 7:14 PM
*Sigh* wonderful. by Dulce
Dulce didn’t know how to take his comment. Either he actually did drink a lot of sparkling drinks out of wine glasses or he was continuing on with the joke. She couldn’t tell and that bothered her. Normally, she could read people. People were open. People couldn’t hide their true feelings and reactions from their faces. However, he seemed to be a little different. It could be the fact that he was more …reserved or restricted with how he was currently interacting to her that made the reasons for being able to read him.Or, Dulce was just out of touch with all human contact and she had really no idea what anyone was really thinking or feeling at any time.
“Do you prefer sparkling grape juice then over regular grape juice?” Dulce asked him. “Or spritzer…” Dulce didn’t really know of any other sparkling non-alcoholic drinks to ask about. She had only ever had sparkling grape juice and sometimes on new years, her parents would let her have a sip of Champagne. It didn’t really taste all that good, but the adults seemed to really like it and it was tradition to drink a glass once the ball dropped. Maybe when Dulce was older, she would understand the desire for such drinks.
Dulce took his hand with a little hesitation. Her mother had always told her to be dainty around boys while her father said a strong woman was always more impressive. This made actual handshakes to be difficult. So, she opted to go for dainty with a bit of squeeze to show strength. She hoped that was appropriate. The only time she really shook hands were at formal affairs and usually that just had creepy old men kissing her hands. Thankfully, her parents rarely forced those sort if shindigs on her or her siblings.
When asked about her meal, Dulce immediate bite would have been something along the lines of asking if he were her mother. Her mother was always telling her that she needed to eat more. She never forced those things on Lita, whose diet was rather restrictive at times, but apparently it was okay for Lita to not eat everything and not so okay for her.
Her response was at first just a shrug. “I got bored with it.” She finally said, looking down at her half eaten plate. “It’s not the same as home. Mama always have spicey Spanish dinners. These dinners are very ….” Dulce fought for a word that would sum up everything about the food here. “American.” She stated. “Not bad, but not necessarily what I like. Is it weird that I didn’t eat it all? I thought that was actually the appropriate etiquette for a female. Always leave food on your plate, or whatever it is.” Although her voice has the habit of maintaining a monotone style, there are occasions, such as this, when curiosity allowed fluctuations with her words.
“I don’t mind.” Dulce commented, holding up her hands as though surrendering to something. “I spilled my drink on your food while you were eating it. If you’re still hungry, who am I to judge?”
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Dulce
*Sigh* wonderful.
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