I fumble in the bright light draining my sight. It feels pricky in my eyes but the rays are so warm to my skin. I squint to see a figure in front of you from the seas of the blinding light.
It is a lady. A red-haired lady. And her hair colour is the actual, pure scarlet red instead of auburn red.
It seems flaring like a real flame. Like some kind of spirit.
Gulp.
I pull my guts together to speak up. "Who's there?"
Hearing my call, she turns her face to me which is still shadowed from the light rush. My shoulders jump a little, not expecting her to hear me.
And then I hear her say something.
"Stand up, Tiffan."
Stand up? I AM standing up right here! Do I look like floating or sitting on an invisible couch? Oh come on!
Then I try to answer her, by not using my mind-word.
"I...I don't understa-"
"It's your birthday".
I open my eyelids to see a face right in front of me. Strands of brunette hair flows through her shoulders and not flaring.
Oh nice, the pretty red-haired auntie is now gone.
Good morning mom and reality.
"Wake up, Tiff. You're a grown up boy and you still can't even wake up on your own?" She huffs and walks to my room door. "You surely don't want to be late in your grade transfer day".
"Oh, yeah," I respond groggily and rub my eyes. "Grade transfer".
"Oh," my mom pokes her head through the door. "Happy 17th birthday, Tiff".
"Thank you," I croak out and smile sheepishly.
Wow I do sound like a zombie.
That's my mom. She might not be as warm as normal mothers should be, but I know that she concerns about me in her own special way, more than anything in this world. Come on, I'm her son, of course I know.
After taking a cold freezing morning shower with hard wishing for a hotspring pool session, I put on my loose jacket and long pants.
Then, I grab my headscarf and cover the top of my head with it watch the lower rest of my white hair loose free out of the cloth.
Whoa, white hair?
I'm no alien or an old man trapped in a boy's body, I'm just a mere albino, one of the special people out there who lacked genes to produce melamine, something that was supposed to dye my hair..black? Or brunette maybe, since my mom is brown-headed.
This headscarf? What is it for?
Well, I need to wear something that can cover my head from direct sunlight, because the lack of colour inside my body provides almost zero protection of potential cancer.
And the most cool part is my peculiar eyes. Ooooh.
They are abnormally crimson, and by mentioning crimson it means they are truly RED and SCARY to people. For this, I have no choice but to wear shade glasses to stop freaking people out.
Haha nope, I only wear them outdoors to protect my melamineless eyes. Ouch.
I seat myself at the dining table, still in zombie mode despite having a cold bath before, and gulped down a glass of fresh milk prepared by my mom. Then she puts the breakfast plate in front of me - a slice of buttered bread, round egg with a perfect sunny side up, a few slices of tomatoes and some fresh baked beans.
I frowned to see something missing on my plate. "No bacon strips on my birthday?"
"Didn't we ban bacons and porks 3 years ago?" She says while busying herself at the kitchen counter.
"Oh, come on mom. I'm 17 already," I cut a part of the white egg and scoop some baked beans for the bread topping. "Besides, it's not like we're eating it everyday. Oh mom, it's my dear birthday."
"No, young lady. Pigs store too much diseases, trust me," she said sternly.
I sheesh in my mind and take a bite of my folded stuffed bread.
But it's true though, you heard what the scientists said. Pigs contain a type of micro-sized worms which are unwashable with any water and immune to any detergent. They can affect our immune system real, real bad. But I heard that muddy water or anything soily could kill these miniatures. But then what should we do for that, soak bacons with soil and serve them with mudpie? Ew.
But I also read that the worms inside pigs cannot be diminished even with soil and work like indestructible reproducing factories for the worms.
Owwkayyh...I'll forget porks then. Grilled barbecue mutton are a lot easier to deal with.
"Something special for you~ Thousand times better than bacon~" my mom singsongs and places a black rectangular container on the table.
WOAHHHH NO WAYY
"Bento? Wow, for real mom?" I exclaim joyfully like a 5-year-old with my red eyes sparkling.
"You and Japanese food are oh so inseparable," she smirks and opens the lid.
My eyes shine even brighter to see the beautiful flawless arrangement of rice, salmon slices, soy sauce, miso soup, yellow pickles, meat and some veggies inside the bento box. I couldn't stop my grin to reach your ears and fangirl from the bottom of my heart.
"Oh mom, you must have put so much effort on this!" I hug her real tight.
"It's nothing," she hugs me back and strokes my head. She notices your bandana and gives me a disapproving look. "Isn't a cap is much more normal than this?"
We release hugs and I shove the bento box into my backpack with a pout. "Cap is such a fuss, mom. Plus, I can give my white hair a more cover-up."
"Your really really really light cream blonde hair," my mom corrects. "And what did I said about whining on your looks?"
"I'm not whining," I head to the front door while your mom tails me over. "I'm just considering the insecurity churning inside my tummy".
"I told you to just be yourself and everything is normal as long as you don't attempt to weird attitude, haven't I?" She babbles while watching me neating up my shoelaces.
Here we go again, weirdo.
I land my butt on my bicycle seat and push my glasses up, adjusting them. "I'm developing my identity".
"You're just molding your identity to a weirdo," she argues as I start to pedal off. Told you it's going to be a weirdo issue.
I huff under my breath and take off the house.
"Be sure to come home early. Your dad is coming home this evening," she says out loud to me who has cycled ten metres away from her.
"Great!" I respond and give her a thumbs up from far away.
Such a busy, busy man and such a caring, loving dad he is. It's not everyday people can find a math engineer who is able to be available almost everyday and only absent rarely for a maximum of two days. He works his best for us both.
I cycle faster to reach school before the sunlight gets brighter and burns off my fragile skin. Bummer.
After I enter school's building, taking off my glasses and landing on my chair inside the class, I take a few of my props left inside your desk and stuff them inside my backpack. I pull out my doodle book and start to sketch random stuffs with my pencil to kill time waiting for the teacher to announce my transfer.
San Fransokyo's education system is slightly weird compared to the other countries, I tell you.
We only transfer to a new grade only when we reach the true age of the grade, which is when our birthday hits. We start our 1st grade in our 5th birthday. And we transfer to the 2nd grade also in our 6th birthday, and so on. So everyone's holiday is not going to be the same.
But every school is able to set up a similar exam week for everyone in the grade without any clashes.
Awfully cool. I wonder how do they set this all up flawlessly.
But the fun part is the examination only tests for our abilities, and we get to choose our own subjects apart from a few core subjects and learn how to achieve your ambition. If one doesn't have any, the school counselors will guide the person to find his or her talent and help the person to choose one.
I love this school system.
My close friend Marzia had her birthday celebrated two weeks ago and has been transferred to 12th grade. Oh seriously I really hope that I can have a seat close to her so she can help me with the previous syllabus. She majors in Arts and Literature just like me, so chance to be in the same class with her is supposed to be high, probably 80%.
Well I hope so. Helplessly hope so.
"Tocca Alvar," a voice booms from the class front, snapping me out of my doodling fantasy. I stand up and everyone reduces to silent mode.
"For your information, your friend Tocca Alvar is going to leave you and move ahead to 12th grade today," the teacher announces.
Instantly, everyone in the class starts to sing a simple happy birthday song for me. It's our school tradition to do so.
Gee, how sweet. If only I could record this moment.
Meh, forget it. I'm struggling to act cool from direct overload attention here.
"Okay Miss Alvar, follow me to your new class," the teacher starts to walk away.
Haha, farewell my little 11th grader bros and sis, I snicker quietly and grab my backpack, while pushing the chair inside my ex-desk with my other hand.
Before I get to take my first pace, I hear an irritating whisper from my back.
"So long, rughead".
Ah, my lovely insulting brat, Ben. How pleased I am to hear your cranky voice.
I turn back to see him smirking and I spontaneously give him a sly face. "Watch it, you little kid".
"Huh, already getting cocky for not even stepping inside that class," he replies. You little brat urgh.
I attempt to steal some steps away from him before I lose my temper when I hear another voice calling my name from my right. This time, it sounds sweet, not irritating.
It was the blue-eyed shy Crystal, handing me a piece of paper with her super fair-coloured arm. She says nothing but only smiles shyly to me.
"Thank you," I smile back and take the fold paper written 'Happy Birthday' on it. Then, I quickly exit the class to keep up the teacher's pace.
At the corridor, I keep muttering 'same class with Marzia' for an umpteenth time like chanting on broken spells.
The teacher pushes open the class door before I could even pull a cool breath.
Alright, here we go.
She again drags students attention to her and again, sends me to the centre of attention.
"He..hey, my name is Tocca Alvar. Nice to meet you," I give an awkward introduction of myself. Pretty petty for my self first impression. Eh, screw first impressions.
While the teacher speaks something to the class, I collect my might to scan the class for Marzia.
Then, I spot a girl with her brown-black hair tied loosely to her back watching me with a big grin. Ooooohhh my world is now totally SAVED!
As I steer my sight off from Marzia, I see something weird instead of an empty seat or another normal person.
It's a scarlet-haired girl with a bandana.
And she is wearing a loose jacket just like mine.
Wait. What.
Is she admiring me to the point of copying my looks?
I feel the urge to chuckle until something else makes me gulp it back down.
Her eyes are crimson as ruby.
And she's staring at me wildly.
As far as I know, I am the only albino in this school and this girl is obviously not another one, looking by her vivid-coloured hair.
Then what's with those red eyes?
Isn't that...
...me?