Emmerick Engel - Joey Lo (top 100 books to read .TXT) 📗

I sat up straight in my seat as the morning bell rang its usual ding-dong sound. DING-DONG! According to the Morning Bell Law, every citizen in the valley was supposed to sit straight, and face the board. For all I knew at the moment, the eighteen others in my class were doing the same. The one kid out of us twenty was my best friend Matt Kormel.
He poked my shoulder painfully, and asked, “Emmerick, what’s your favourite colour?”
I did my best to ignore him. He shouldn’t be acting this way. I wanted to tell him to hush up, but I wasn’t allowed to talk. He was my best friend, but I couldn’t risk myself to be in trouble for him. After all, out of all the citizens, my family held the cleanest record, not one toe out of line.
Matt poked my shoulder a few more times, then leaned over to my ear, and whispered, “Hey, Emmerick, why are you French? Everyone else in this class is Russian, but why are you the only French person?”
I froze (mentally, since I physically was), and my emotions of anger crashed down on me. I fought to suck it all up and succeeded. Just five more seconds until the bell stopped ringing. Then I could show him a piece of my mind.
I don’t know why, but I’ve always cringed when someone asked me why I was French. My normal excuse was always that I was only half-French, as my mother was German, but I sensed that there was a reason more deep than that.
I grit my teeth together, and the bell finally stopped ringing. Thank goodness; now time to face Matt in five minutes, before Mr. Rakov pops in. I turned my chair around to face Matt, who sat behind me.
“Let’s get this straight, Matt. I’m not just French. I’m half-French, half-German, got it?” I asked, trying my best to be patient, as Matt did not pick up thoughts as fast as others did.
“Why are you half-French and German?”
I almost signed, but stopped myself, as sighing intrigued Matt even more. I looked straight into his half-opened dark blue eyes, and answered, “Matt, my mom’s German, and my dad’s French.”
“Why are you even here?” he asked, freezing my thoughts instantly, as I thought I’d made my answer very clear to him.
I was taken back. “What do you mean?” I persisted.
“This place is supposed to be a society where everybody’s the same. And what do you do? You barge in and break the culture similarities,” he muttered.
“Matt, being of another heritage doesn’t mean I’m completely different from you.”
“Emmerick, don’t take it in too much, but I’m serious. You are a pest to this society. We don’t want some freak that’s going to butt in and show off,” Matt’s other friend Viktor snarled.
I frowned at Viktor, and faced Matt. “Tell Rakov that I’m not staying for school today.”
And with that, I headed out the room, and through the wide front doors of Youclia Academy.
The sunlight that blazed even through the clouds surprised me a little. Youclia was usually foggy, with a strong mist. As the sunlight hit the bushes beside me, I turned to look at them. They shimmered, in a quaint way. I didn’t know why, at the moment, but I was fascinated by that simple sparkle. It made the deep green of the leaves and berries stand out, as if they were just coming out of some shield or shadow that had blocked them for a long while. I couldn’t help giving a small smile as I knelt to touch the leaves. At my small touch, the leaves shriveled; but when I took my hand off, they resumed their original bright shape.
“Wow,” I breathed.
Then, with sudden realization, I turned around to see if anyone was around. Good, the coast was clear. If anyone had seen me, I would be entitled the freak of the valley for talking to plants.
I gulped, and slowly took a silver item from my pocket- my camera. Taking one last look around the place, I clicked the button on my camera. CLICK! Oops. I forgot to turn the sound off-
“Hey, you, the boy, yes you! What are you doing there?” the burly gym teacher Mr. Kormel shouted from the front doors.
“N-Nothing,” I stammered, trying to push the quiver away from my voice, but to no use. I shifted the camera back into my pocket and stood back up slowly, facing the teacher.
“Hey, wait a moment. You’re that Emmerick Engel kid, right?”
“Yes, sir. I’m Emmerick Engel.”
“Whew. For a second there I thought you were doing something against the laws. But you Engels won’t do anything of that sort; you guys are amazing,” he praised. “I heard from Matt that you’re going home for the day. Pass on a message to your mom, would you?”
“Sure, what is it?” I asked, relief oozing through my veins.
“Here, give this paper to her, and make sure she reads it,” he said, suddenly stern, tossing me the paper.
Even though I was fifty metres away, I caught the paper he tossed to me.
“You’ve still got the muscle, Mr. Kormel!” I called over my shoulder, as I hurried to go back home.
“Bye, kiddo!” he replied, and I saw him go back inside the school with the corner of my eye.
The way home was easy. All I had to do was run straight from school to home, following Northvale Street, which was literally, a street facing North, which was the straightest road you would ever see in your life. I headed up the street and turned five steps and up the porch to my front door. My house was the same as all the others, except mine had a blue roof, while all the others on Crest Avenue had either red, purple, or green roofs.
I rang the doorbell twice. My mom walked to open the door for me, still wearing her usual rainbow-coloured wool sweater, even though it was June. She gave me a small hug.
“Why are you home so early, Emmerick?” she asked me.
“It’s about that whole German-French thing, Mom,” I replied, looking away from her blue eyes which had always made a bit uncomfortable, as they could just about melt my heart whenever she was concerned.
“Don’t worry about it, dear,” she said, patting my head, and ushering me in. “Who was it this time?”
“…Matt,” I answered, hesitantly, as my mom had always had a liking for my “best” friend.
“Matt, Matt, Matt…” she muttered. “Emmerick, he’s been your friend for fifteen years. You have to have a bit of patience for him.”
“Mom, it’s been fifteen years since I was born and since I’ve known him. I’ve given him so much time, and he suddenly pops up out of nowhere during the Morning Bell and he asks me why I’m French,” I explained carefully. “And he says I’m the crazy one.”
“Matt Kormel…you know, sometimes I wonder about that boy. Are we the weird ones or just him?” my mom sighed. “Maybe I should go talk to Mr. Kormel about it.”
“Oh, it’s ok, you don’t have to. I’m sure he’s busy enough,” I said.
My mom tousled my hair, which was difficult, as each strand stood horizontally on my head. “Emmerick, you’re still so nice and considerate. You’re fifteen years old. If you don’t toughen up soon, you’ll get bullied.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll be perfectly all right,” I promised. “Oh, and Mr. Kormel told me t give this to you.” I handed her the paper, which she gladly took.
“You should go check up on your siblings. Thank you, dear,” my mom said, keeping the envelope in one hand. “And about that Matt subject, I’ll take care of it.”
I headed up the stairs to my twin siblings’ room. Amanda was a heavy sleeper, but Eric was a light sleeper, on the other hand. This always confused me, because I didn’t know whether to go on the stairs with heavy footsteps, or light footsteps.
I opened the tiny door to their room and stepped in. My eight year old siblings were still snoring gently in bed.
“Amanda! Eric! Wake up!” I hissed.
“Why?” Eric muttered at the sound of my voice, eyes closed.
“It’s lunchtime,” I replied, gently shaking his shoulder.
“Give me five more minutes,” grunted Amanda from the other bed on the other side of the room.
I gave an unnecessarily large sigh, and announced to them, “Mom got another letter.”
The two of them jerked upright at exactly the same moment, eyes wide. Mom seldom got letters, so each one was a nice surprise to see what was waiting underneath the envelope. However, their sudden movements at the same time, made me chuckle. I gripped the edge of the dresser for balance, as I laughed my stomach out.
“It’s nice that you’re laughing. I haven’t heard it for a long while,” my sister commented. “It sounds nice.”
“What are you talking about, Amanda? If the Ministry founds out about this whole laughing thing, the Old Lady will kill him!” disapproved Eric.
I resumed my composure, and glanced at my party-pooper brother. “Eric, if you ever see that old nag, promise me you’ll go tell her to change herself first. Now let’s go downstairs. Mom’s waiting.”
When we all headed to the kitchen, my mom had already placed the food on the table, but she herself was nowhere to be seen. My siblings started wolfing down their usual lunch