The Three Sillies

For years, Hana was the only person in the convent I called friend and considered my family, but not until the three girls.

     The first one was Agnes. When she arrived at the convent with her mother, she was actually ecstatic. She was from a family of nine and they could barely fill their mouths, so her parents decided that someone needed to go, and she merrily volunteered.

     She was willowy with long legs and her fingernails were full of dirt. That day, she shed a tear when she received her new wardrobe, and wept more when she had her first decent meal. She seemed really happy.

     But after a few weeks, I caught her crying on her sleep. New clothes and decent meals were not enough to fill the infinite void she had from losing her siblings.

     So, during a class, I asked her to describe them, and one-by-one I drew versions of her that were slightly unalike, no worries, for I did not include her horrible parents. She sobbed happily as she stared at the first gift she had ever received.

     From then on, she became the first confidante whom I shared pranks with. She enjoyed them, but she was terrible.

     Then came Fatma. Like Hana and I, she grew up on the convent, but she was always timid around a crowd and it made her invisible. I never really noticed her until that day.

     I dared Agnes to steal an apple from the pantry that afternoon. She was there for more than we expected, so I decided to check on her. But as I went out my quarter, there she was standing without an apple, but a bruised girl.

     We learned that Fatma was being persistently bullied by a group of girls her age, and it was because of her complexion. For she had a beautiful caramel skin.

     I knew that I had to adopt the helpless little girl, and what grand way to welcome her on our pack, but to get back at her bullies.

     The next day, Agnes, Fatma, and I undergone our plan. Fatma was reading under the sycamore tree across the farm while Agnes was leading the bullies towards the scene.

     As soon as the three girls arrived, they started harassing Fatma. They tore the book she was reading, that was mine, and they kept poking her while they called her awful names.

     When they finally stood on the mark, I whistled from above. Fatma knew what it meant, so she moved away from them. And then I hastily spilled the oozing mixture of horse dump and mud over their heads. They shrieked like pigs as filth engulf them.

     That was the first trick we three pulled off, and it was not the last. 

     The final member of our gang was sweet little Edith. No one really knew her story, not because she didn’t want to talk about it, she just simply can’t.

     All that was known was a good farmer caught Edith stealing cabbages on his yard, and instead of punishing the little girl, he clothed and fed her. But the wife complained that they could not afford another mouth to feed, so the kindred man brought her to the convent. Edith was five then. 

     For weeks, she wore the same rugged overall which was too long for her and too thin for the winter. No sister could tend to her for she had always erupted with outbursts. She was very resistant to touch, and so we didn’t force her for it may scare her more. We understood that all was a stranger to Edith, and that she probably hated strangers. Who doesn’t right?

     But one day, it poured and Agnes, Fatma, and I were caught in it. We knew that it was forbidden, but we still danced around the pool of rainfall. We jumped, we splashed, and we shouted over the rain.

     As we enjoyed our zestful ritual, a little silhouette decided to partake. That was the first interaction she had with anyone during her stay in the convent. We were surprised in a moment, but we heard her little laughs and we saw her jumped in excitement, and it made our later penance worth it. 

     After that, Edith always tailed us like a pup. We were glad that there were three less strangers in her life in the convent, and that she was the last piece of us.

     Hana was a blessing and I was so favored to had three more. I knew I could carry on with life despite where, as long as I am with all of them. Maybe it was the people that makes a place to be truly a home, for all one can wish for in life is a family, or just a person, to really belong.

     They say that we met people for certain reasons. Maybe I needed them and they had to have me.

     We stayed the whole afternoon laying on bed of straws. Not because we were afraid that we might pass by the men if we gone out, maybe slightly, but because we wanted to savor the afternoon and wander our minds elsewhere, amidst all what was happening.

     I was about to doze off, when Fatma screamed so loud my ears almost burst.

     “What’s wrong?” I asked as she danced in circles, trying to shrug something off her clothes.

     “There’s a bug, it went in. Please get it off, get it off!” She desperately pleaded. She grasped the end of her wimple to wear it off, “Oh my, it feels like a spider…”

     “She hates spider.” Agnes informed me like I had no idea, I just nodded. But Edith signed, “We know, stupid.”

      We stared at the Petrified Fatma who unwarily kept dancing like a fowl, but Agnes did not even to bother to hold her laugh, and it made Edith and I rung with laughter too.

     “It is not funny guys, I said help!” Fatma complained. For a timid girl she sure had a loud mouth.

     “Stay still. We can’t help you if you keep dancing like a chicken.” I told her.

     Agnes imitated her, but included, a “Bok, bok, bok!” sound, and it seemed that it was necessary to add a “Cock-a-doodle-doo!”, so I did.

     We cackled more loudly, even Fatma, but we stopped as the door of the stable slid open. A boy strutted towards us, and I recognized him immediately. It was the flimsy boy, “Is everything alright? I was passing by when I heard a scream.”

     His blue eyes were staring at me, and it made me forget that I have my tongue, “Are you okay?” He asked again.

     Rufus whined as he moved closer, and it woke me of my short disablement, “You can’t just burst in whenever you like.”

     “Is that a yes or a no?” He grinned.

     I did not understand him so all I said was “What?” What was his question again?

     “I asked you is everything all right.” His tone changed back to concern.

   

“Yes. And even if it’s not, it’s none of your business, we, are none of your business.” I sourly replied while I posed my hands on my hips, acting tough.

     “Are you thanking me? You are welcome then.”

     “What? No!” I answered wide eyed, and it made him laugh.

     I noticed we had an audience, and they were looking at me like I grew another head, so I said, “Go away, boy!”

     “Actually, my name is Gabriel, not boy. Can I know yours?” 

     “Are you making fun of me? I didn’t ask for your name, I said go.” I extended my arm at the door. “Or do you want me to walk you out myself?”

     He just shrugged in agreement, “Lead me out then.”

     I thought of holding his hand, but that would be awkward, so I snatched his sleeve instead. He willingly followed me. I pushed him out the stable, and as I closed the door with so much vigor, he again turned at me and said, “Nice crown, your highness.” He chuckled.

     I was so embarrassed that I successfully shut the door in his face, even alone. What is wrong with that boy? I turned my back on the aperture, and the girls were lined up and still wearing their baffled faces so I redirected what happened, “Is the spider gone?”

     No one answered. It was so quiet that I could only hear the choir of cicadas from the outside and the breathing of horses from the stalls. But it broke when Edith came closer, and curiously signed to me, “Is that your prince, princess?”

     All of them cackled. I was so disgusted that I started striking them with a rod of straws. They ran off from me, and then one by one they lustily chanted, “Tilly has a boyfriend, Tilly has a boyfriend.”