Of course Carey promised she would keep them updated but Leslie finally talked and Carey didn’t want the girl to feel like she had betrayed her. For several times she tried asking her but Leslie looked like she walked in a limbo: some days she would talk and others she wouldn’t. Her silence was still her biggest weapon against the world and Carey didn’t seem to have broken it completely yet.

It was raining cats and dogs that day and most kids were noisy and drawing Christmas decorations. When Carey first told them they would dedicate two whole days to drawing and decoration, Leslie had risen her head. Clearly art was something the girl enjoyed. As a result, Leslie was really dedicated to her drawings, that day. If anyone entered that room, they wouldn’t say she had acted numb for almost three months now.

When the bell for the morning recess rang, all children headed downstairs, leaving Leslie and Carey alone, once again. Leslie didn’t seem to have listened to the bell but then again, she never really paid much attention to it unless it indicated the time other kids were supposed to get back to class or the time she would have to leave and go home.

“Leslie, I have to ask you something”, Carey said.

The girl was completely focused on painting Santa Claus’ packing his sledge with presents with the elves help. Carey had to admit, Leslie was on hell of a drawer! And she was only nine years old.

“What about?”

Leslie’s answer kind of made Carey jump on her seat. After such a long silence, she wasn’t exactly waiting for an answer. “I want to know if you allow me to tell your parents about that IQ test.”

Leslie didn’t stop drawing but she seem to put some serious thought in that question. “What for?”

“I was investigating”, Carey started, “and those tests can only be made in clinics. So I have to ask for your parents’ permission for it.”

Another silence came across. Leslie was seriously weighting it.

“I don’t want my parents to think I’m crazier than what they think I am”, the girl finally said. “They have enough will all my problems.”

“They wouldn’t think that, Leslie”, the teacher rapidly answered, “they would be really proud to finally hear good news. They worry about you, it would be important to let them know.”

“Then why haven’t you told them yet?”

Carey, who had been cutting some of the student’s paintings, stopped and looked at Leslie. “Because I wanted to ask you first. I didn’t want to betray you gain in me.”

The words didn’t seem to have the effect Carey wanted. She was expecting the girl to look at her and thank her for that gesture, followed by a “yes, you can tell my parents” and a hug. Turns out movies aren’t exactly real about this; Leslie kept drawing. She was painting over what she had done previously.

“There you go”, said Leslie, delivering the painting. Carey took it and when she rose her hands from that almost perfect picture, Leslie was already with another sheet on her desk and started drawing again. Boy, how she got on her nerves! But Carey wouldn’t let the conversation end there. They still had another seven minutes before the bell rang and Leslie restarted her silence shield again.

“What about Christmas? Who do you spend it with? Just your parents?”

Silence. The number two pencil made appear what looked to be a perfectly shaped mouth.

“Did you ask Santa anything?”

Leslie suddenly started laughing and Carey was astoundingly looking at her. “What’s so funny about it?”

“Santa doesn’t exist”, Leslie said. “He’s just an invention so little kids can have something to wait for.”

If Carey was astounded with Leslie’s laugher (a loud one but absolutely beautiful), her answer only seemed to have made her even more astonished. Some children, by the age of nine, are aware that Santa Claus doesn’t exist, but she had never heard any of them answer the way Leslie did. Not even a thirteen year old would admit that Santa was only something kids needed to feel like they have something to expect for. Not average ones, at least.

“So who do you ask your presents”, Carey asked after recovering from an amazement Leslie didn’t seem to have noticed. This was actually the question Carey wanted answered. If the girl didn’t talk for over three years, how was Christmas like? How would she ask for her presents like normal children do?

“I don’t. Presents are for well behaved boys and girls. So I’m not to have any.”

“But that’s what…”

“People tell kids when they talk about getting presents from Santa? I know. But either they’re from Santa or their parents, it’s still a reward.”

Ring

The loud noise of kids screaming was increasing, meaning they were back to class. They all took their seats while Carey rose from her place and went for her own desk, with Leslie’s drawing and the one’s she had already cut, along with the scissors. Carey sat calmly in her chair and looked at Leslie’s drawing. Santa was happily accepting a present from a small, green elf. Leslie was probably one of the few girls, if not the only one, who didn’t believe in Santa. Yet, there was her drawing with a perfectly shaped and happy Santa.

“Why don’t get less weird, do you Leslie”, Carey asked herself. What about the IQ test issue? Should Carey tell her parents or not?

Giving titles to my stories is one of my barriers as a writer. I’ve read that some writers start their stories with the title; I surely go backwards then!

I’ve been writing a short story that I keep updating in this blog and now I’ve reached the point when I NEED a title and I can’t find it. This has happened to me before and I was aware of it when I first started publishing the chapters, but I didn’t imagine that, by now, I wouldn’t have it yet.

For other stories, I came up with titles through music or a simple line I heard or had written somewhere and I thought it would happen the same with this one. Clearly, it hasn’t.

I’ve been trying to find a matching title for about three weeks now but none of them seem to be the perfect one. The chapters I’ve  written so far don’t give away half of what’s about to happen so I can’t base it in what happened so far; when I think about the one’s that are to come, the titles seem to focus exclusively on them, which CAN’T happen.

I’m lost. I am freaking lost. Writer’s block suck and I think I just found a sub-section of it: “title’s block”.

No, it’s not because I’m single of because I hate romance. I just think people should make every day their Valentine’s day if they’re that much in love.

Let’s think about it for a second.

It’s said that Valentine’s day is the one lovers choose to express their feelings with presents; why do you even need presents? Showing affection is about your actions, not about your presents or how much money you put into them. It doesn’t really matter if you offer your girlfriend/boyfriend some love card or a fancy dinner if you don’t really feel like being with that person. I think doing something surprising for that person (like simply awarding her that day with your presence) would be much better, but I’m just saying.

Also, Valentine’s story is kind of ridiculous. First it was just another Saints day and then, just because Chaucer, a poet, decided to write something lovely about the 14th of February (as historians believed it was), it became a day to tribute love. What kids do at schools that is supposed to be a proof of their love started as some random kind of vote for men to find out with which women they would mate!

Valentine’s day is basically a pay-off for commerce. Stores all around the world sell cards, stuffed animals, flowers, dinners, nights in hotels and whatsoever. Valentine’s day became this “spend all your money with your lover” day, getting away from its original purpose, if it ever had one.

It’s said that Chaucer wrote his poem to King Richard II of England and Anne of Bohemia as (maybe) an expression of their love. Who knows? But IF that was its purpose, (or, at least, that IS Valentine’s day’s purpose) than I guess its meaning is loss. People think they can erase some discussion with some flowers or jewelry; I think a simple kiss would do it, to be honest.

Anyway, this is just my opinion, I’m sure many people won’t agree with me. But if you think you need this day to express your love when you have 365/366 others to do, than maybe you don’t really like that person.

Plus, there are always the ones who don’t have anyone to be with. A lover, I say. Which is why Valentine’s day is both the loneliest and of the happiest days for people; loneliest for the ones with no partners and of the happiest for those who have girlfriends and boyfriends. Or, as some friends of mine and I think, it’s just another day of the year, with or without boyfriend or girlfriend.

Some are sad because about the lack of lovers but I think you should at it on the bright side: if you’re single, take that day to go out with your friends and meet another single partner, if you want. What’s stopping you? Maybe you’ll find that lover of yours. As for those who like to have fun, party all day! I know I will. I’m single and I’m proud. Oh yeah!

Whitney Houston

I’m not a big fan of Whitney Houston but as a music follower I have respect for her work and admire what she accomplished with her talent. It’s not everyday that we get to listen to a voice like hers. As a tribute, I will dedicate today’s post to her life.

The most awarded artist of all times was born in August 9th, 1963 in Newark, New Jersey. With a family in the music industry, Whitney started to sing from an early age: first in choirs and then as background singer. But it was only in 1983 that Clive Davis (Whitney’s future mentor) found what would become one of the most inspiring voices of the time.

Whitney’s first album, “Whitney Houston“, took two years to be completed but it was worth the wait, selling about 25 million copies worldwide. When the single “You Give Good Love” hit number 3 on Billboard, the sales climbed like the rocket, and other singles like “Saving All My Love for You” and “How Will I Know” remained number 1 for over 14 weeks. Whitney had just began working in the music industry but her single “Saving All My Love for You” awarded her first of six Grammy awards.

The second album “Whitney“, debuted in 1987, was the first ever to achieve right away number 1 hit sales in USA (this album would sell over 20 million copies worldwide), also making her the first woman to ever accomplish such a thing. Other singles from the same album broke the Beatles and Bee Gee’s records, since Houston had 7 consecutive singles hitting number 1 on BillBoard. Her single “I Wanna Dance with Somebody (Who Loves Me)” gave her access to the second Grammy. Two albums, two Grammy’s. If anyone doubted her success, those doubts lost their tracks.

In 1990, a third album would be released; “I’m Your Baby Tonight” wouldn’t have as much success as the previous two but it led people to believe that Whitney Houston had come to stay.

In 1991, Whitney sang the American national song, “The Star Spangled Banner“, in the XXV Super Bowl and her performance was the first and only time the national song would hit number 1 on sales.

The Bodyguard

Whitney’s first appearance as an actress was in 1992 with the movie “The Bodyguard“, with Kevin Costner as the lead actor. Whitney recorded 6 songs for the soundtrack of this movie and she blew up all the hits with her performance of Dolly Parton’s “I Will Always Love You“.

Her second movie was released 3 years later, in 1995: “Waiting to Exhale“. The movie’s soundtrack counted on 3 Houston’s songs.

The remake of “The Preacher’s Wife” was the following movie appearance for Whitney, where she played her lead role with Denzel Washington. Houston was already planning on releasing another album and she took the chance to do it when the movie’s soundtrack was released too; Whitney Houston sings 14 of the 15 songs of the album.

For 8 years, Whitney’s albums were always soundtracks but in 1998, Houston releases another album that wasn’t related to any movie, entitled “My Love Is Your Love“, which awarded her the 6th Grammy. In 2000, her “Greatest Hits” album is released and a year later, anther album, “Love, Whitney“, a compilation of romantic songs was debuted too.

Between 2002 and 2005, Whitney assumed to have drug problems and the singer’s album “Just Whitney” (released in that period) featured some aggressive songs where she insulted those who said her career was over. Whitney frequented some institutions to beat her drugs problem around 2003/2004 and they appear to have worked. In 2006 she divorces her husband Bobby Brown and appears next to her mentor Clive Davis as a happy and recovered woman.

The 2009 album “I Look To You” was Whitney’s return to success, climbing up to number 1 right from his debut and awarding Houston with another set of awards, including platinum and Gold, in Italy.

In 2010, with the celebration of Whitney Houston’s 25th Anniversary, the singer released a CD and a DVD Deluxe edition that featured 5 bonus tracks and several video-clips and live performances. On that same year, Houston was honored at the BET Honor Awards.

Whitney’s next (and what would become her last) movie was the remake of “Sparkle“, yet to be released worldwide. It was speculated that Houston would sing 2 songs for its soundtrack.

Whitney Houston’s life was a more than success in such a short time. The singer beat up several records and reached fame in a blink of an eye, getting her first Grammy award with her debut album, something we don’t see every day. Unfortunately she died young, with only 48 years, but her successful career and her voice are things that will never be forgotten. She might have died, and, with her, her talent, but what she did is something that can never be erased. It is yet to come the person who can break her Guinness World Record regarding her 6 Grammy awards.

Like what she sang, we “will always love you”.

When asked about the future when I was younger, I used to say I wanted to follow something related to law, I wanted to defend innocent people from someone’s charades, so I pretty much had set up a future where I would have to attend college. Later on I kept changing my dream job but pretty much all of them involved me getting a proper degree.

The thing is, now that I am getting a degree, I don’t even know how that will help me. I’m currently studying languages and my course is actually very diversified because it has semesters with subjects like Economics and Law (though I’m still against it because it’s a language course and these are far from being related), which are very helpful things to have in one’s curriculum; but how is it going to help me if my country, Portugal, is in such a crisis that companies and the government itself can’t pay the minimum salary to someone with a degree?

The fact that I’m studying languages opens the boarders and allow me to search for a job outside my country and adapt myself better to the language and culture, but emigration shouldn’t be the solution. Not to mention that this is a worldwide problem so it probably really isn’t the perfect solution. But I have to admit that ever since I completely realized how big this crisis is, I can’t help to search different countries and cities to live on, check every job I can do with my course and worry a lot more about building a great curriculum that can give me a great job.

When I talk to my parents about all this and I bring up the fact that I’ll probably need to emigrate, they tell me not to give up, that something will come up and that I’ll have a job that suits my degree, but how long will I have to wait to see it happen? I see their sad faces and they know how a parent feels when their child is 2000 kilometers away (since my grandmother has to live with it for quite some time now), but unfortunately, I don’t picture a great future for me in Portugal; not in my area, at least.

They say we define our lives and fates; I won’t disagree because I have in that phrase a motto for my life, but this crisis is defining lots of lives and fates. What seemed to be easy and achievable for us is now even further away. So what about the future?

It was time for the morning recess. Carey had been secretly awaiting for it since classes began. After last night’s discovery on Leslie’s intelligence, Carey wanted to know how much did Leslie actually know.

It wasn’t raining that day, so all students ran faster than usual and Leslie got ready to follow them to the yard when Carey asked her to wait and sit down for a while. While Leslie sat at her table, Carey approached with Leslie’s book in her hand and sat in the front chair, facing the girl.

“I saw your work last night. Pretty impressive, it was all correct.”

As expected, Leslie didn’t say a thing; she just stared at her teacher and glanced at the book a couple of times.

“I also saw the pages you did ahead, things we didn’t discuss. Things you only start learning in about six months.”

Silence. Leslie’s eyes only blinked every once in a while. Carey could swear she saw two quick blinks, which could be understood as if Leslie had been caught off guard with her teacher’s discovery.

“I want to try a few things. Do you think you can do some more exercises from random pages? I could take your book again tomorrow and correct it.”

Leslie looked at the book now and then back at Carey. It seemed as even a challenge was going on between both of them.

The silence lasted a bit longer than usual now.

“Do you think you can do it”, asked Carey one more time. “I’ll be expecting them tomorrow.”

After getting no response at all for a few seconds, Carey rose from the chair, put it back in its place and headed to her desk. Leslie was looking at the book.

“Why?”

Carey froze. She looked at the door and nobody was there; she looked around the room and nobody else was there but Leslie.

“Excuse me?”

“Why are you asking for more exercises if nobody else did them?”

Leslie’s voice was not pitched, as Carey imagined it would be; it was a bit deep, like the ones you usually hear on a more mature girl. She spoke very calmly, as if weighting all her words and the effect it had on people, trying to figure out if others were understanding her.

Carey was still in the same place, speechless. The girl did speak, and very clearly.

“Well, because you already did some and I want to see in which level you are on.”

“Buy why”, Leslie ask again. “You didn’t do it with the others in the beginning of the year.”

“My God, she’s arguing with me“, Carey thought.

“Because when I spoke with your parents,” Carey said, “they told me you barely passed second grade and then you deliver me third grade exercises with subjects we didn’t even talk about. I want to know what is it that you know, how far does your knowledge go.”

Leslie thought about what her teacher said for while. “She has a point.”

Carey approached a little bit. She was so careful it even seemed like she was hoping not to break a thin and expensive chinese vase.

“Can you do it”, she asked once again. This time there was no answer. Leslie simply started looking outside again. Seconds later the bell rang and Carey heard screams coming fast from downstairs. “Guess I’ll see it tomorrow”, she thought.

She could try the afternoon recess, but teachers took that time to gather around for gossip or reporting to the principal. Something that, unfortunately, she had to do that day.

The day after, Carey arrived a little later due to a car accident. She planned on getting earlier to school in order to meet Leslie a while before classes to check on the assignment Carey had given her but recess will have to do it.

The hours seemed like days, to Carey, and when the bell finally rang, she felt relieved. When everybody was out of the room, she looked at Leslie and asked if she did her homework. Both of them sat quiet for five whole minutes and Carey started to get a little anxious, thinking she had ruined it with yesterday’s talk.

Leslie finally decided to get up and took the book to her teacher. “There”, she said. And she immediately got back to her place. Carey took it and read through all the pages. Apparently Leslie wasn’t going to make it easy so she didn’t mark the pages she had done.

Carey was so into the book that she only noticed the bell had rung when the students started to sit down. She was so eager to see Leslie’s results that for the rest of them morning, the children only did exercises and drawings.

The bell rang again when it was lunch time and when lunch time ended and Carey was only halfway on the book’s pages. Leslie had done loads of pages! All students kept doing their exercises and every now and then, Leslie looked at her teacher and stared at her confused page. One might even think she was laughing inside, as if all those exercises were like a punishment for what had happened the day before.

When Carey finally finished and looked at her watch there were ten minutes left for the afternoon’s recess. She wandered through the classroom, talking to this or that student unlike the bell rang and all students went outside. Once again, Leslie and Carey were all alone in the room.

Already waiting for a conversation, Leslie started stating at her teacher while the latter went to her desk to pick up and the book, sat down in front of Leslie and put the book on the girl’s table.

They stared at each other for while.

“Are you available to answering some questions, Leslie?”

Silence. The staring competition continued.

“I looked over your exercises. I think I didn’t miss any”, Carey said.

Once again, silence.

“How much is ten plus ten?”

Leslie kept staring without a word.

“I know you know it, Leslie, come on. Answer me.”

Silence.

“Or maybe you cheated and copied everything. I know for a fact you never used a rubber in that book and that’s quite an achievement. The Internet holds all the answers, nowadays.”

Leslie didn’t quit staring at her teacher and no muscle moved when Carey accused the girl of such a thing.

“Ten plus ten. How much is it?”

“Twenty.” Leslie’s answer flew like a rocket but Carey was already prepared.

“Twenty plus twenty”, Carey said straight away.

“Forty.

“Forty plus forty.”

“Eighty.

“Eighty times three.”

“Too hundred and forty.”

Both of them kept shooting the questions and answers at each other, non-stop.

“Too hundred and forty divided by four.”

“Sixty.”

“What is the square root of Pi?”

“One point seventy-seven.”

“When did the Second World War ended?

“Nineteen Forty-five.”

“Uau. That’s something”, Carey said, breaking the little war. Leslie didn’t seem to have seen this coming and so as if breaking off a transe, she slightly shook her head and faced Carey’s eyes.

They both sat quiet for a while; Carey had a curious look on her face, while Leslie got back to her normal expression (or the lack of it, in her case).

“How would you feel about doing and IQ test, Leslie?”

This came even more unexpectedly than the sudden stop on the questions, but looking at Leslie, she seemed to have not move single muscle.

“You’re far too smart for you age. These were simple questions but ones a nine year-old average girl wouldn’t know how to answer”, Carey said.

“I’m not a freak”, Leslie answered with a numb voice.

“Knowing things doesn’t make you a freak, it only makes you special.”

“That’s what they all say before they put you in a mental hospital.” The clearance with which Leslie spoke was astounding; she recognized this kind of speech, even though Carey didn’t mean to call her crazy.

“That’s now my job. I’m a teacher; I teach. And now I’m trying to figure you out, Leslie Parker.”

Another silence. Time was running out, they barely had five more minutes.

“I promise you no-one will take you to any hospital or psychiatrist; it’s just an intelligence test.”

The last silence lasted for more than Carey predicted and the bell rang fast. “Crap“, she thought.

When class began, another staring war began too; neither Leslie or Carey broke eye contact more than necessary but Carey soon gave up. It was pointless.

Children kept doing their exercises while Carey wandered through the classroom, answering to some questions. The bell finally rang for the last time and that exhausting day ended. All kids picked up their things and met their parents outside the classroom.

Leslie stopped by the door, before meeting her parents, and faced her teacher. “I’ll do it. But I will not answer anything if I know you’re taking me to some crazy doctor.” And she left.

Most of us live believing that we will just die when we get too old; other’s believe that those who don’t last until the 90′s are the ones who probably suffered some accident of eventually died of some disease and they never think something like that can happen to themselves or their beloved ones.

Then there are the ones who would like to know exactly when they’ll die and the ones who would much rather live their lives without thinking too much about it.

I don’t really put myself in either groups; I have thought about what would happen if I either died of elderliness or of some accident of disease, or if I knew when I was going to die. I got to the conclusion that I try living my life to the fullest with the present and don’t really care about the future.

But what would I do if someone told me I only had 24 hours to live? So much to do, so much to accomplish and I only have 24 hours. It had to be the time when I would go crazy!

It has always been a goal of mine to visit as many countries and cultures as I could but I couldn’t really beat Julio Verne and make a world tour in 24 hours, so I think I would probably choose a country near by to spend a few hours of my day. Like Italy, for example. I have been dying to visit the Vatican ever since I read Dan Brown’s “Angels and Demons” so I had to visit it. With it I would probably spend at least 8 hours of my day, leaving me with 16 to enjoy.

So little time!

After returning home, I would definitely call the ones I care about the most in order distribute my personal and most important belongs. That would probably take about 2 hours, since I won’t be counting on the ones that had to travel here, making a 3 hour journey. That would leave me with my closest family members and friends and 14 hours.

Family and friends are of extreme importance to me and I would do anything for them. I would spend the last 14 hours I would have having fun with all of them, making all the things we didn’t do because we were too shy or too busy. I would personally tell them how I feel about them, something I’m not very comfortable with, I must say. I would especially tell my mom how much I love her and how much I owe her for everything she has done for me.

In those 14 hours I would be the loosest girl in the world, with no shame or boundaries and trying to make everyone’s dream come true. Including some of mine.

I’m a big fan of football (or soccer, as said in America) and ever since I was a kid I dreamt of playing it and meet a few players. S.C. Braga is my club, my heart, and I wouldn’t mind spending a 2 hour training time with them, playing football. I would die happy in that area. I would also like to visit the whole stadium since it’s something I didn’t have a chance to do yet, unfortunately.

So, what, maybe I would have 10 hours left? What can I do with them? I wouldn’t have time to finish the script I started or the story I have writing in this blog so I couldn’t exactly do anything around the writing world, as I wanted.

Oh! I would learn how to cook. I’m almost twenty years-old and I can’t cook, it’s a shame. I know I wouldn’t use those skills later but I would enjoy myself doing it. I would most definitely ask my grandmother and my mother to teach me and bake me some spaghetti, my favourite.

Paintball and Sky-diving would also take part in this thrilling day. They would take about 6 hours of my life but I would get the chance to fly on a helicopter (something I find fascinating), falling from it (which must be more thrilling) and I have a change to play a live war game. How awesome would that be?

With all this I would probably have about an hour or two left. I would leave that time to myself, to allow myself to be with my family and enjoy those last moments, to laugh with them and my friends and die with a smile in my face; because nothing makes me happier than to see my beloved ones happy.

Personally, I’m hoping to live for 100 years and I think my life is just getting started. I’m in my second year at college and I want to make the most of my course and work in something I like or something that will allow me and my family to have a comfortable life.

But I have to ask: What would YOU do if you only had 24 hours to live?

The next day, Leslie was acting like in any other day. Ever since the conversation, Miss Carey decided to keep her company in recess time to try to make her be more active in classes and friendlier to her colleagues. Not that it changed that much but Leslie secretly appreciated her teacher’s gesture. When the morning recess arrived, all kids ran out of the classroom, as usual, leaving both Leslie and her teacher behind.

Miss Carey was rather busy that day. She had a pile of sheets on her desk and was rushing through every leaf of it. She didn’t even noticed when Leslie stared at her for about five minutes before getting up and heading towards her teacher’s desk with the book in her hand.

When Carey finally realised someone was standing beside her desk, she rose her head and froze for a few seconds, while Leslie put the closed book in her desk without a word.

“Was is it”, she asked while taking a look at the book and back at Leslie.

Leslie’s only answer was looking at the book too. She was reconsidering her teacher’s intelligence. “Why can’t she just take the book”, she wondered, while going back to her desk again without answering Miss Carey. The teacher was still lost in all of this but decided to take care of it later. Too much work to do.

As the day went by, Leslie’s book lied on Miss Carey’s desk. Not that Leslie cared that much about it; she wasn’t really paying attention to it and when classes ended, she followed her colleagues out of the school and got inside her bus to go home. Carey only realised about it too when she was packing her things to go as well. After some hesitation, she decided to take it with her.

A bath, good food and a glass of wine was all Carey needed to relax a bit after a tough workday. When she was lying in her couch, she remembered Leslie’s book and decided to see what was it that took the girl to act so weirdly. When she opened the book she saw all the exercises done, from page five to page thirty-three. “So she did listened to me.”

Apparently, Leslie kept the book sacred, unlike other children; there were no drawings aside the exercises neither on the first and last page of the book and she didn’t seem to have needed a rubber either. As she was going through the pages, the results kept astounding her. “What the hell?”

There wasn’t a single mistake in all those exercises Leslie did. Not even a scratch or any sign of insecurity in her writing. It was even like she had already done those exercises. “Maybe she did them aside and then copied them here”, Carey thought. But not, that was something older students did, not primary school students.

Carey was astounded with all this. She sighed heavily and thought it through. “This girl keeps getting weirder and weirder. If she can do it, why the denial?”

A million questions popped up in her head but few were the answers she had. Carey rose from her couch and started walking around her studio apartment. It wasn’t big but did the work and Carey picked it for its wide space. Unfortunately, the apartment had no balcony’s so the window beside the kitchen was her favorite when she needed some fresh air. Looking outside to the city lights only made her question more Leslie’s behaviour.

She was quiet, reserved, shy, smart… Smart. She was smart. That was definitely new data but one she couldn’t prove but with those exercises. “Someone else could have done them for her”, she thought. But she quickly put this option aside; she wasn’t picturing Mr. or Mrs. Parker doing Leslie’s work when she didn’t even talked with them. Or anyone else, for that matter. Call it a blind shot but Carey was certain that it had been Leslie who did them.

The wind was starting to blow stronger and Carey finally closed the window. When she returned to the couch to look back at Leslie’s book one more time, the page had changed; it was now opened on page fifty-seven and all exercises were completed too. With no mistakes. “What the hell”, she repeated. “Who are you?”

Carey started going through the books pages and noticed that plenty exercises were already completed. They were random pages with no patterns; it looked as if Leslie had opened the book in some accidental page and decided to do the exercises, without caring to which unit they belonged to or to what kind of subject.

It was already weird enough having a girl who was thought to have a small level of intelligence doing the first exercises without mistakes, but seeing further pages and exercises completed with equal success was unbelievable. If someone had told her she wouldn’t believe it but she saw it with her own eyes.

“You are one curious girl, Leslie Parker. A very curious girl.”

I remember being asked at school, some years ago, this exact question. Most of our answers, as students, was that freedom was the liberty we had to do whatever we wanted, regardless of the rest.

Of course our teachers didn’t exactly agree. What was explained to us (and I listened attentively) was that freedom was an earned right that came with both rights and duties attached. In order for one to be free, one must obey to a set of simple rules so as in not to harm oneself or others. Basic rule, basic definition.

I’m actually all in favor for this definition, I think it shows the true meaning of freedom and goodwill. Freedom is something we, adults, teenagers, children, learn to respect and to use properly; some learnt it better than others but we managed to keep it going. Now I’m not so sure.

We can start by a simple example: children of today. I’ve watched many children grow and many others in parks, schools, malls and elsewhere and it kills me to see how much parents are protective of them, nowadays. But it’s not their fault, I know. When children aren’t even allowed to watch “The Lion King” because Simba’s father, Mufasa, dies, what are the parents to blame for?

It’s just ridiculous. I grew up watching the best cartoons and movies ever and I turned out to be pretty conscious of my actions; children nowadays don’t even say “good morning”. They’re rude, they mistreat their parents, they’re spoiled and they don’t know a thing about the world outside. Why? Because parents are so afraid of them getting kidnapped by some random psycho that they don’t even let them live.

Word to the wise: if kids don’t make mistakes or go through bad situations in their lives, they don’t learn, and, therefore, they won’t be prepared when it’s time to marry and make up their own family. Just saying.

And this leads me to the problem my generation is now facing: Internet freedom. Or the lack of it, as we keep seeing everyday.

Every single day we are filmed by cameras in the street, our texts and emails are read by God knows who and our phone calls are tracked. So there goes my question: where’s our freedom?

We’ve learn to live with the fact that we’re always watched and we know it is for own good; but taking our freedom online? Hell no! Internet is the only place we get to have larger freedom and unlimited access to lots of content. You take that from us, you ruin us.

We’ve learnt to use the internet as our diary’s, our daily logs to keep updated and watch some movies, listen some music. If it’s there, we can take it; we’re not to blame to get what we have right to.

And now some freaking associations want to take the freedom we value the most. This is like war for us. And one we won’t hesitate to fight back. Governments have taken most of the freedom we had; if they take the Internet too, we’re screwed, but they aren’t.

Taking down hackers would be the best of wins for the rich and powerful people; in their heads it means more money going in for us buying music and movies, for example. I’m going to speak for myself but I believe many people agree with me: MAYBE if the prices were lower, we would buy the originals. I’m not comfortable with downloading and I know it takes a lot of money away from artists but with the current crisis (especially here in Portugal, which is the one I know best) we can’t afford to buy all those things. Money is only enough for food and when it is enough.

MAYBE if you cared more about OUR interests, since WE are the buyers, then we would be able to cooperate more without our freedom being taken away.

But, like Dido once said “it’s just a thought; only a thought.”

Carey was caught of guard and she was the only one to notice what Leslie had done. Those seconds were the only response Leslie has given in almost three weeks of school. It was a start; a great achievement.

Carey has hoped it would take Leslie a few more days to pick up a pencil and start writing or scribbling on her journal but she lost faith after a week without any further development. Leslie was now used to taking all her things out of the schoolbag once the bell rang for the beginning of classes, but that was it. The rest of the time would be just like in the first weeks.

For more than a month, Carey had been hoping to find out what was wrong with this far-too-shy girl who didn’t talk or move, but she got no answers. It was time for an approach again. Though her previous attempts failed, considering Leslie’s only response was in her first day, Carey thought it would be worth the shot. “I’ve got nothing to lose”, she thought.

Carey made her move in the afternoon recess. Leslie was sitting at her desk, in the classroom. It had been raining all day so the kids weren’t allowed to play outside. Carey saved herself for last when all the kids ran out of the classroom and when the only thing they could hear were the voices downstairs and the rain falling outside, Leslie’s teacher rose from her chair and sit on the one in front of Leslie’s desk. Surprisingly, Leslie moved her head and faced her teacher.

Carey only had about twenty minutes. She’d have to be fast and she didn’t even know what to say.

“I know it’s not good to keep changing schools”, she started. “Meeting new friends all the time, new teachers, new rules… It’s always a brand new environment. And it’s even worse when other kids dislike you and make fun of you.”

Leslie continued staring her teacher.

“You could start getting along with someone here. You’d like it.”

Fifteen minutes left. More silence. Leslie got back to her position of staring outside the window. Carey’s disappointment on losing her attention lasted for about a minute or two. Then Carey grabbed Leslie’s book and opened it on the first exercise page and grabbed a pencil.

“Look at me”, she asked. Leslie didn’t seem to have listened. “Leslie, look at me, please.”

The heavy rain against the window was like a clock, telling Carey she didn’t have much time left.

“Fine. Don’t face me if you don’t want to”, she said while putting the pencil on top of the open book. “I just want you to understand that I’m not your enemy here. I’m your friend and I’ll do whatever I can to make you feel at ease. If that’s how you want to act, at least be productive at your own rhythm.”

By this time, Carey got up her chair. “It’s worthless”, she thought. Leslie was still looking outside.

“We have already reached page thirty-three. I’d appreciated if you could work so I can grade you and pass you. No kid likes to be left behind in school and I’m sure you are no different”, she continued. Carey started walking towards the door when she stopped at the classroom entrance.

“I’m just trying to help you.”

After getting no response whatsoever, Carey gave up. She had about seven minutes of recess left.

Leslie was alone in the classroom now. When Carey started going down the stairs, Leslie slowly moved her head towards her book and looked at the pencil her teacher had taken from her case just minutes ago. She could do those exercises but why waste time? She would either be stuck there forever or she would be kicked out of school again.

From what she had listened of Miss Carey’s conversation with her parents, she had two choices: the first one was to keep doing what she did best, meaning stay quietly in her place doing nothing for the entire year (this would mean she would remain in third grade for another year allowing other kids to continue mocking her over her age), or she could start making the slightest amount of work, just so she could prove she knows the minimums to carry on to fourth grade.

With all this thinking, the bell rang again and the children were getting back to their classrooms. To Leslie, the bell didn’t mean anything. After staring so much at those exercises and that pencil, Leslie slowly got back to her position, while her colleagues started taking their seats.

Carey closed the door as she entered the room and looked at Leslie. Apparently nothing has changed.