Chapter 2 - Yaga

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Some people are worth melting for.
~ Olaf
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Instead of falling only on my butt cheeks, I slipped again, in an attempt to stand up.

This time, on my belly.

Flopping around like a penguin on ice, I muttered, "I feel like I just landed in Narnia."

The two guys kept staring at me as if I was an alien who had just landed in a UFO and they didn't know how to react. I snapped my fingers. The one who hadn't made me fall quickly rose to his feet and extended his hand.

"You are . . . ?" he asked, helping me to my feet. He held a pair of brown eyes and coffee brown hair. Height wise, he was taller than me and shorter than his friend.

"Butt frozen," I answered. I turned to his hot friend who didn't seem too happy. "I fell for you."

"You mean because of me?" he tried to correct.

"No, for you," I said with a straight face. Neither one of them expected that from me. "I'm Noor the Great, by the way. One of you is my cousin and dear god, I pray it's not you."

I nodded towards the gorgeous one who made me fall.

"Well, you're in luck, because that's Toby," the shorter one said. "I'm Michael." Toby wasn't a fairly common name, though it fit him like peanut butter fit jelly or curly hair fit Harry Styles.

I pretended to wipe sweat off my forehead. "Pleased to meet you," I smiled.

"To me or Toby?" Michael asked.

We were going to get along superbly, I could already tell.

"Right now, definitely you," I said and he rolled his eyes, not believing me.

His grump friend aka Toby was looking everywhere except at me.

"C'mon everybody. Off the ice," someone yelled, "before I come and yaga you all out." The fit, middle-aged woman gestured us to move it and with the help of Michael and his sour faced friend, Toby, we were all out of there.

What the heck is "yaga"?

Uncle George stood conversing with a man his age, while we waited for him.

"I have to go to work. I'll see you tomorrow," Toby told Michael.

"Okay," I smiled.

He scowled. "I wasn't talking to you--"

"But I was."

"I don't appreciate you hitting on me," he said.

I fake-gasped in horror. "Please don't tell me you swing for the other team! That'd shatter my icy heart into infinite pieces that no universal force can freeze back into its solid condition." Michael laughed, and began texting on his iPhone. I wasn't serious about what I was saying. In order to relax Toby's miserable yet handsome features, I decided to be dramatic.

It earned me the opposite effect.

"Get lost," he said and turned to leave.

"That's not how you treat someone who's butt frozen because of you," I said. He glowered at me. "Keep staring at me like that and I might start questioning your intentions," I grinned, "or better yet, I might melt for you." Michael bellowed a chuckle.

Toby shoved a hoodie in his hand in my hands and stormed out of there.

What did he expect me to do with the hoodie?

Then, I saw the front of my pure white shirt, which was actually wet and revealing quite not what it was supposed to. Michael was still on his cell phone when I quickly pulled on the azure hoodie. Due to the superfluous size, it managed to shield down to my derriere. Not soon thereafter, Uncle George announced it was time to head back home for dinner.

Michael and I conversed a little and he was blatantly more amiable than his twin.

Was that how twins worked?

One good and one evil?

Alright, I was judging Miley without hearing her side of the story, which was completely unfair.

Before we entered the house, Michael and I fell short behind Uncle George. Michael whispered, "Hey, I want to warn you before you get disappointed. Toby isn't on the lookout for a girlfriend right now."

"Neither am I," I assured.

He stared at me as if I had said something weird. "What I mean is that don't get your hopes up for him--"

"Chill, I was just trying to bring a smile to his face," I said. "Don't overthink. I don't have any interest in your best friend." He almost appeared relieved. "There's something you should know about me. I either speak from the heart or the head. Therefore, my words will either come across as thoughtless or heartless. Generally, I stick with staying thoughtless."

He grinned. "Finally, I found someone of my own kind."

Merrily, we entered the house and allowed Aunt Arisa to usher us into the dining area. Miley was already seated and eating her food. Like a gross, teenage boy they show on TV, Michael sat down, not the slightest bit concerned about showering or at least, cleaning his hands. Uncle George and his wife offered no scolding.

We enjoyed the delicious meal and discussed minor aspects of our lives.

By the time we went back to our rooms, I was whipped.

"Wait a minute," Miley said. I was headed up the steps to my bunk and halted at her words. "Where did you get that hoodie? That's not Michael's."

I never said it was your brother's," I shrugged. She crossed her arms. "It's one of his friends'. Toby, I believe," I casually said.

"Toby?"

"No, Golum," I said and sneered, "My precious."

"Shut up and give me the hoodie," she ordered rudely.

I furrowed my eyebrows. "First, say the magic word," I drawled.

She let out an exaggerated sigh before spitting out a "please." I shook my head at the word she chose. "Then, what is it?" she demanded.

"Flibbertigibbet."

"Flibber what?"

"Fli-bur-tee-ji-bet," I enunciated. "A woman on my flight here called me that. It means I'm fabulous."

Or so the lady said.

"Flibbertigibbet, okay? Now, can I have the hoodie?" she asked, her tone much more humane. I didn't even know what was so special about a school hoodie. Were there some unknown magical powers it held? Like an invisibility cloak? Or like in cliched stories, a girl wearing a guy's hoodie earned her jealousy and hatred from other girls.

Frankly, I would rather not get hated on my first day.

Shrugging off the hoodie, I handed it to an eager Miley. Not caring what she did to the hoodie, I skipped up the steps to my sleeping area.

Although the springy mattress gave a rigid pretense, it was unexceptionally fluffy. For a brief moment, I felt like I was sleeping on a cloud. Maybe having the top bunk wasn't so terrible, after all.

* *

Mom and I only received ten minutes to talk before she had to go and run her country and I my school. Nonetheless, she had given my aunt and uncle all the instructions and information regarding my protection.

"The bodyguards will protect you under multiple guises. Try not to divert too much attention to yourself," Aunt Arisa told me.

Miley scoffed.

"That's going to be difficult," Michael even admitted. I was offended by the lack of confidence they had in me. "Nothing personal, but Noor, with your pronounced, amicable personality, it's hard not to draw attention."

I sighed heavily. "Why must I be so lovable? It's a curse!"

They all laughed except Miley.

Something told me, the artists despised every single word I said. For no particular reason.

"It's okay, I understand," Michael said consolingly, "the troubles us socially active people have to suffer through."

"Michael, Miley, and Noor, just stick together at school, alright?" Uncle George said. "The school staff and faculty already know about Noor and they'll also make sure she stays safe. With the school year just having started the previous week, a new student entry shouldn't create any suspicion. Hopefully."

We discussed the rest of the details and then headed off to school in Miley's car.

Michael's was apparently sent to a garage to be fixed for something.

We arrived at the school in record time and Miley gestured us to proceed. Maybe she didn't want to be seen with me? On the contrary, her brother had no problems.

"Let's go," he said. "I have to introduce you to my favorite Russian hitman."

"Hitman?" My eyes popped wide.

His eyes sparkled and he dragged me to the main office, first, to grab my schedule. The school had something called a block schedule, where four classes were conducted on one day and four on the next. So, basically, I had classes every other day. Lunch was split into four thirty minute sections during third period each day.

Classes on "A" Days

Calculus Honors

Forensics

Study Skills (first lunch)

AP Literature

Classes on "B" Days

Earth Science & Astronomy

Spanish 4 Honors

AP Psychology (fourth lunch)

Ceramics

The secretary was overwhelmingly sweet when she realized I, the Great Noor Afrah Khan, enlightened her with my presence.

Nah, not really.

Her main concern was probably keeping me content since I was the President's one and only daughter. Who knew? She might actually just be a sweet soul.

"If you ever have any problems, feel free to drop by here, darling," she said.

"I can't drop by if I don't have any problems?" I asked a bit disappointed.

She chuckled. "You can visit me any time."

"If you insist."

I left her on a cheerful note and accompanied an impatient Michael to our same first period class. Either he knew it or not, but he was extremely restless to introduce me to the "hitman." On the way, I examined the mob of students, busy in their own worlds, not noticing me. The hallways were lined with aquamarine blue lockers.

Many teachers and students held coffee cups, high on the caffeine, yet low on the liveliness.

Complains regarding "another Monday" flew around in the sound waves.

What was exactly horrifying about Mondays?

Unlike the rest of the population, I was dying to converse with other people.

We entered a crammed classroom with confined space to shuffle around. The classroom clock displayed 7:15 am, meaning we still had twenty minutes till the class started. I followed Michael to his seat, hoping I'd find available space next to him. Quite unfortunately, I wasn't that lucky. An extremely lean and tall figure sat on the desk next to Michael's.

The guy's spiky, brown hair with tiny blonde specs, stood on his head in a styled manner. I met his grayish-azure eyes and was almost mesmerized by them, if only he hadn't turned away.

"Your cousin, Mike?" he asked my cousin in his deep, yet suave voice.

"The hitman, Mike?" I asked, copying his tone.

Michael nodded his head vigorously to both of our queries. "Noor, meet my favorite Russian hitman. Viktor, meet Noor, my cousin from . . . from W--West Chester, Pennsylvania."

He ought to be kidding me!

We fixed on Los Angeles, California, in the car. That was obviously more exhilarating, in comparison, to the state next door.

"Just because I'm Russian does not mean I'm part of a mob," Viktor said in a dark voice.

"Dude, you could pass a vampire," I said without thinking.

"Vampire who sucks people's souls," a different voice said behind me. I glanced over my shoulder just in time to see a girl my height join my side. Her eyes were a DNA copy of Viktor's, but her hair was entirely blonde. "I'm his sister, Baibichia," she introduced with a dimpled smile. "Feel free to call me--"

"Babushka," Michael said.

"Hey! No!" she said defensively. Michael and Viktor chortled, whereas I stood entirely baffled. "First, Viktor, and now, you too? Stop calling me Babushka!" The word sounded extremely cute.

"Babushka," I repeated smiling. "That's adorable!"

"It means old granny," she replied unamused.

"Not everyone knows that, though," I pointed out. "You can easily tell people Babushka means darling or sweetheart. Besides, why do they even call you that?"

"She's junior taking senior classes, that's why. Little Babushka," Michael answered, his lips curved in a teasing smile at Viktor's sister. Now I understood why he was so impatient to reach this class.

Viktor wasn't the sole reason.

"Nice choice," I complimented him. All of them frowned. "The name, I meant. Nice choice of name," I corrected, slyly. It was difficult to control my laughter. I was totally confronting Michael, afterwards, about his Little Babushka.

The math teacher came out of a closet in the back of the room.

When she saw me, she gestured me to come to her desk. I followed the intruction, meeting more students entering the class on the way. Ms. Page handed me the current packet the class was working on and showed me how to do a few problems, which I already knew how to solve. Thanks to homeschooling.

"You're a bright one," Ms. Page said impressed. "We're still finishing the Pre-Calculus review these first three weeks. I think you'll do just fine. Your seat's in front of Michael, next to Babushka."

I suppressed my laughter and trudged back to my new friends.

Plopping down next to Babushka, I put the packet in a binder and began flipping through it. The other three were in their seats by now, because of the bell ring. One student came rushing in class at the last second and took the seat next to mine. Well, there was a foot of space between our desks unlike mine and Babushk's desks, which were touching.

I was pleasantly surprised to come across his familiar face.

The grumpy, miserable expression was similar to yesterday's.

When his dark brown eyes met mine, I grinned, leaning back in my seat.

"Hey hottie, what's up?"

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Yaga - pull someone by the hair.

Flibbertigibbet - A slang or term used for "a frivolous, flighty, or excessively talkative person."

Join the #TeamFlibbertigibbet for a happy time.

Block schedule: 4 classes on one day and 4 on the next. So you have 4 of your classes every other day.

Do you like Vladimir and Babushka?

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