Not Normal Enough

This is the beginning of a magical realistic story for teenagers. t school I looked a quite normal person, except for the fact that I’ve always been bullied, even now on my last high school year. I couldn’t understand the special interest I raised on bullies. I wasn’t weak, small or defenseless, as their common victims use to look like. But somehow evil people felt threatened by the presence of a being like me, and the reaction in bad-mannered kids was usually of that kind. “We are almost humans,” my mother use to say. I couldn’t agree more. “But maybe almost human isn’t enough for that intolerant society they built, mom! I just can’t handle school sometimes.” I argued in vain in one more attempt to stay home that Tuesday. Mondays kept remembering me schools are places to teach formal education, but there was no time left to practice or test civility or kindness skills. “Maybe I cannot fit because of our thing.” – I insisted, but was already on my way to school. Inside of me, I knew that was for the best. It wasn’t like I wanted to assume my original and secret nature. I had my reasons to believe it wouldn’t be any easier in the forests. Besides, we hadn’t had any news from living caiporas1 for decades. So… There was no way out. I would adapt, sooner or later, like my ancestors had to. The morning classes were done. Again, six hours of my precious and unique life wasted inside a room with no natural light or wind. Everything was artificial. Even biology became boring with all this distance from nature. “Fundamental and even magical knowledge will have to wait or I will and up in a cave – or a cage! So, be brave, woman!” – I talked to myself toughly, running from the noisy classroom. History classes were always the worst. They should call it Political History, since all the important history of the humanity wasn’t going to be mentioned at all. I went to my grandparent’s house in the city, where my mother and I stayed during the week days since my parents divorced. Thank God, today there was a worthwhile class waiting for me in the afternoon: guitar! I didn’t know yet, but this would be the day I would meet the love of my life. The boy that would accept me for who I am, with all the secrets and the peculiar dangers caiporas have to live with, that would live with me the most incredible adventures of our lives. He would become my living angel, my husband, the father of my children, my everything. And all of this made possible for an apparent mistake in the schedule. A blessed coincidence. But I don’t believe in coincidences. Do you?