I looked around the bright sunny day, too bright, it hurt my eyes. I felt sleepy, trying now to jot down homework notes.
"Lotus, you seriously need more than 3 hours of sleep. Humans are not made for this," my friend Isaac said. "You literally just returned to Spain. Play with me," he said impatiently.
"What are you four?" I asked him. "No, in fact, I am turning 16. Love me, wish me the bestest birthdays," he replied.
I rolled my eyes at him. "You got this question right," I said, pointing to an equation in front of me.
"Ugh, dang it," he groaned. I turned to him, pulling him closer. "Here, you do it like this. The key isn't to get everything completely wrong. Just do it only just wrong enough that you actually can convince them it's a mistake. See, you move this variable to this side instead," I said to him.
He nodded and grabbed the pen, now writing it down in the revised manner.
"It is so weird getting to witness the genius gifted gang work on actively pretending they're stupider," said Txell.
"Stupider isn't a word," we all chimed with an unserious tone. We knew we were being obnoxious but said that anyway.
"I'm sorry, guys, I must make haste, or my parents will call. They want me to finish another degree this month," I said, gathering my books.
"If this was anyone else this would sound like some unrealistic stupid flex," my friend said, shaking his head.
I just smiled nervously. "Sorry, was I bragplaining again?" 'Bragplaining' was a harsh sentence my older sister had coined when I said things like a complaint, but really sounded like a brag to my sister.
I never meant to, but social constructs were sometimes a bit hard. I learned most of it from TV, and obviously no matter what I accomplished it didn't earn me my family's approval anyway. I just had to try not to get their disapproval.
I gathered my items and waved to the group, my energy having drained exponentially from the interaction. It may be that my family and the personality tests described me as an introvert, but it seemed I often fell within a more ambivert, preferring quiet and alone. I was too shy for most people, and yet forced myself to try to get by.
The moment the distance hit my plastered smile dropped, filled now with an emptiness in its spot. I loved my friends; it is not as if I do not wish for their companionship. It was merely that I felt out of place, even with them.
It was like a constant performance of a sort. It seemed that the other teens my age had a different way of being from my own.
I wove my way through the gardens of the palatial estate. I couldn't be late or I would get in trouble. I walked while trying to ignore the evident people that always followed my moves. A luxury most people envied, one that shackled my soul in a prison of sparkling opulence.
Freedom — a distant word. Not something people like me had the privilege of. Not something we were supposed to dream of. Hidden behind a velvet curtain, an ornate floor, curated flowers, was a truth of a reality shaped in the lies of my family.
A truth that the world was never supposed to see. Is it not oft that one from such backgrounds feels such? I was definitely not the only individual. I was also not sure why it seemed I was not built for the extremity in which my family wove their tapestry of secrets.
I continued walking, briefly walking past a group of people. A short-haired dark brunette walked by me, without my notice at the time. I did not even pay any heed to the eyes upon me, as such matters I was accustomed to.
I climbed up the overly grand staircases, trying to avoid the attention of my wretched father. He would often sit on the staircases not because there was any shortage of chairs in this old centuries-old estate, but rather because he simply wished to block the way so he could pick on something to vent his frustrations.
I dashed my way up, avoiding leaving what indication I could of my presence. I knew my way with sneaking around no matter the residence. A habit long picked up from my earliest years.
People too would say that I was very much experienced with hide and seek as well. Hiding was my expertise. I could even fit in a literal doll house or under a reclining chair then make it unrecline.
To hide was to survive in their ever-changing moods. Sometimes, not even being an heiress or successor would have saved me if not for hiding. Normally I would rely on being so accomplished or useful to them that they would let me be.
Matters such as getting degrees that would sound preposterous and impossible to others were not even good enough to them. I mastered an accumulation of credits from the first degrees that would transfer to the following. I would enroll in special programs, online universities. Whatever it took. Testing out of classes and entire courses whenever I could.
I opened the double doors to my room and closed them quietly behind me, leaving my "supervision entourage" security team outside of it. They protested, reminding me of the rules and that they needed to sweep the room first before letting me be.
What did it matter? They couldn't even protect me from my own family, yet my family hired them to protect me from others? Really, they were just protecting their asset like immature children that didn't want others to have it. I often felt it was not only because they needed me but if something were to happen to me by others outside the household, my family would be embroiled in scandal for not letting such a thing occur.
I collapsed on my bed and heaved a very heavy sigh, feeling the weight return to my shoulders. A cry of a young child sounded out in my quarters. I got up instantly, running to the adjacent play area for a young 4 year old.
Where was Azul's nanny? She seemed to be nowhere to be found as the little one was crying on the floor, rubbing her eyes.
"Oh darling, what happened? I'm here, okay?"
She kept crying. I searched over to find her source of discomfort. "You need to tell me, okay, so I can help you," I said to Azul.
Azul paused, and spoke in her soft voice between tears. "Auntie was mean to me because I accidentally stepped on her cardboard castle she was making for a project. Then she told—she told grandma and grandma wouldn't stop spanking me."
I felt frustration spark, not towards the child but my family for treating her so. They always had since she was ditched with us, like some secret child. One would think such things were too dramatic to be real. Not in our life. Our life is where old traditions met modern tragedy.
"I'll go talk to them, that was completely unfair to you. Do you want to play a game first?" I asked, trying to distract her. I got up and grabbed one of those "levitating" fairy toys and some cookies I had stashed and handed them to her. I would make sure to put some Epsom salts in her bath tonight.
She seemed to calm down and stop crying while I played with her. I worked on some paperwork and taught her some math equations. Some hours went by as I worked on many things. All my homework, business models, practiced my singing a bit, ran through off-ice skating drills, took another ice bath after some intense exercise.
My ears hurt a bit. I pulled out my contact in my left eye. My left's vision wasn't so good, yet my parents made me use contacts to hide any semblance of difference in that eye's color to the other. An effect of a disability and condition that changed over time. Yet another trait though that meant I not only didn't fit in, but being myself made everyone think I was a liar, unbelievable, and just plain attention seeking.
I knew many traits of mine sounded far fetched. I knew even my life did, so I would hide away my full extent of skills or differences. Still yet, it didn't stop people from finding out and either using me, shunning me, or thinking I was too ridiculous to be a real person.
I had another video conference to attend to — now tucking Azul into bed. I turned on my computer, one my father had given me as a "gift" for my 14th birthday. One of his older computers that he put so much coding and parental controls on that it was literally only for work, and sometimes I couldn't even do that. I couldn't even set my own password. I had to do a ton of hacking in my own computer to even open basic platforms.
I was used to it though, because even as a child I had learned how to hack the tech at home with such passion, unlocking an entirely new skill and coding proficiency young, just to use some technology at all.
I wasn't normally allowed to, so I would sneak under fences and through rooms, sneak chargers and input all kinds of things to control the tech.
Tech and robots were two different things, but as a child I liked to engineer all kinds of cool robots, some useless and just small "tank" sorts. One was a car made of a soda bottle, another an arm that could write in my place and even clean up toys. I had a dream to make a robot that could do everything, absolutely everything. I'd excitedly tell my grandparents about it, telling them they could use it one day.
That said, I never made that robot. I only learned how to make some cute robots and a prototype my cousin took credit for and used for prosthetic robotic arms. The kind that responded to amazing stimulus and melded with the body. My cousin holding the patent now. I had no proof, as I had only been what, 4–6 when I made the first one fully?
I crumpled my forehead in stress from the extreme amount of multitasking I was doing. I was now listening to a university lecture, while in the conference, while taking care of a pet, writing an essay, in my other earbud I played a language course sped up, and worked on the business matters my parents had insisted needed to be done today.
I knew it sounded insane to others, but to me it was actually a relaxing evening in comparison to some. My brain loved different stimulus. I mean, I wasn't neurotypical and my brain had an odd way.
"Odd way" was an understatement. Even overlooking the sensory processing, the synesthesia, I was tested before on an EEG and even my brain waves were abnormal and 300–500 normal wavelength occurrence and speed. This meant my mind was always on. Even when I slept, which would actually cause me more trouble than not.
It was too much for my mind. However my skillset laid in audio retention. I was good with languages and audio. I couldn't possibly say to such an extent visually. I was aware I had many limits. I was not as spectacular as things could sound to an outside ear, or at least I was not how they accused me of being.
When the conference ended, I stepped outside onto my balcony, trying to get some cool air. Outside that room, in the light of the garden, I saw someone. They looked like they were my age? Who would be on our private grounds at this hour?