The perception of light, death of a species, chance and luck, all happen in the blink of an eye.

"Where have you been? I know it's Miss Havisham's place but still, you have to at least leave a note saying you're gone." He is in for a fight. My father usually starts with the rational argument before going for the kill.

If he was a hunter, it goes without saying, he'd first trap you in a corner before crushing you. With him, your words are his arrows.

"You're not going to talk?"

I stand silently nonetheless. Feelings of guilt beam inside me. It's this existential angst, for lack of a better word. The feeling that I am way better than this.

My whole life is definitely a bunch of star dust, whatever that means. It is so much a bunch of star dust that one doesn't need to add star to star-dust.

For one thing, I stand looking him in the eye. It's an unnerving experience I learnt from one sage on my online pyschology class. You look them in the eye. Your opponents, that is.

"I am sorry. I'd have called sooner but Miss Havisham had some urgent issue and she needed help."

He looks at me as though he can't believe I exist. In his eyes, I am either a lying entitled teenager who can't realize that her father works day and night to pay them bills, and that he doesn't have time for teenage drama or I am telling the truth.

Which is funny to think of with his look. Maybe his grimacing look is just one of his accountant rages that every so often pops up when the world drifts from being pure simple numbers to outright chaos.

"I didn't mean to shout. I'm sorry too, but next time, do inform someone you're not around. It means a lot. Now who's in for a big hug from dad?"

I smile. "You've not just switched faces in a few seconds, have you?"

"You don't want your old man to be all gloomy face and self-pity and sad, now do you?" He grins devishly. I sometimes wonder whether it's possible to hate some people.

I believe it goes beyond personality. Some people are just there. And by 'there' I mean there. Someplace where you've mastered the art of being your true self with no need to impress or avenge.

Call it enlightenment.

It might be weird but it doesn't hurt to say I am the proud daughter of an enlightened sage.

***

Havisham or Miss Havisham, I get confused what to call her, is standing in the garden, taking a cigarette.

It's so impervious of her when she does smoke. She goes from super cool to super not-cool. She works her way through her first one before opening the pack for another one. My enlightened father would definitely disapprove of this if he had not been enlightened in the first place.

I enter into her space.

"Oh, Alexas. You came?" Her face is definitely and absolutely sad. The look is sinister and dangerous, as though she has, moments before, seen the devil and his horns.

"I don't mean to intrude but, you said you don't..." I point to the cigarette pack.

"Oh, it's a long story." She says, her face beaming with a wry smile.

We stand awkwardly for a very long time.

"I don't smoke anymore, Alexas. For your information, I am just sad Liz is going for that competition and I won't be by her side." Her crying feet ensues. Jeez, who knew lady scientists could break down so easily?

I am crying too at this point, suddenly overwhelmed by both facts- Liz's going for that competition, and Miss Havisham's crying about it.

It takes an hour of sobbing before we are back to our normal selves.

"You cried too, uh?" She teases, smiling emphatically. I can't help but smile.

"She's already packed?"

"Don't be silly, Alexas. She's already gone."

"Gone?!"

"As if you didn't already know."

"No, I didn't!"

"Or you didn't listen when I said Liz's departure is tomorrow?"

"No, I heard that part. Emphasis on 'tomorrow' though. Today is not tomorrow, if I presume."

Miss Havisham smiles. "You're being sussy and funny."

"No I'm not."

"Yes, you are." She stops mid-sentence, sighing with emphasis, "Ok, news alert. She is supposed to arrive at the competition in New York by tomorrow. And her flight is sixteen hours for your information."

I nod my head taking it all in. Liz, my Liz, was gone ad infinitum. Ad infinitum, my Liz was gone.

"But she's coming back, right?"

"Maybe, but that will depend upon her performance."

"What do you mean it'll depend upon her performance?"

"It turns out, the winner is not just going to have a tour on some old museum with old antiques and stuff. They're having a scholarship to Brooklyn School of the Gifted."

" You don't think Liz is gifted, do you?"

"Alexas, it doesn't matter what I think. It's what the organizers think that matters. If Liz wins and they think she is super smart, kudos to her. She has won a scholarship."

"But Liz doesn't need a scholarship."

"Think again, because a few moments earlier she was telling me how fantastic it is to get a scholarship."

"No, what I meant was, her tuition can be covered even if she lives school up to a hundred years of age."

"That's not the issue, Alexas. For Chrissake, can't you see it's about achievement. Money is besides the point. The real point here is achievement, and achievement and even more, trust me, achievement."

"Yes." I say, defeated, "I already got it. But that doesn't exclude the fact that all this happened without me ever getting to say goodbye to her."

"I think she has a phone number for that."

"No, I mean like, face to face. My poor Liz is definitely thinking I am such a horrible sister."

Miss Havisham puts out the last cigarette. "You're too hard on yourself. She'll probably understand. Trust me, she's a big girl. Not your-age-big, but brain-big. And what were you doing anyways? You said you were coming after breakfast."

"Not so much actually. I just went for a walk before running into this pretty lady, she's old by the way, and her name was Christine."

"And?"

"And apparently, her dog which was a birthday gift from one of her grandsons, got lost and I had to help her find it. Which brings me to the part where we found it and ...."

"Did you say her name was Christine?" Miss Havisham interrupts.

"Yeah. I guess so. Christine Appa-something. But it was definitely Christine. Anything wrong."

"No there's none. I confuse that name for someone else."

"Someone else, huh?"

"Someone I apparently don't know about, I presume." I say, mischievously.

"It's none of your business, Alexas." She bursts out, "Stop prodding, will you?"

"Alright, alright. I'm sorry. Okay."

"She was my first love." Miss Havisham says suddenly. This isn't the time to be prodding Alexandra. Control yourself.

***

"So you're literally telling me you had your first love?"

"Christine Megan was my first true love. She was the only person I first felt really close to. Like really really close to. Like 'share your secrets' type of close."

I nod sagely. First loves are a blur in anyone's imagination. They're usually fantasies, and if my psychology professor is doing a good job, they're plain brain defects.

I wish I could tell all this to Miss Havisham, but again, it will definitely be so mean of me. And speaking of mean, I surely forgot about the fifty pound note the old lady gave me.

Would it be mean if I don't tell Miss Havisham about it?

"But she went to Australia, and that was literally the end of it." Miss Havisham says tearfully, "And that was the end of it. Shit happens Alexas. Shit does happen. You just have to be ready when it does happen."

****

It's coming to past midnight when Miss Havisham finally leaves. My class scheedule is insane with guidance and counselling being the first class for the night. After that, there are five more classes to go. Miss one, and that's the end of one's entire semester. So much for online class anyway.

"It's a miracle I don't hate myself. All years before, I've always wanted to become a musician. Now nobody ain't been believing me, and that's when I realized if you gonna do something, you better do it. It's really not about failing, it's about killing your stubborn ego, and saying you're really better than this."

Professor Elliot says on my zoom class. She's the guidance slash counselling tutor and she's so good that you can't leave her class without feeling a part of you refeshened. You just can't.

There are five of us in the online classroom at this time, with three being new faces and the other three having hard-to-pronounce names.

"I have a question." I say, raising my hand.

"You don't need to raise your hand, Miss Alexandra. Just say what you wanna say."

"I am in a very difficult situation Professor. My friends are in faraway lands. One is in German, the other in Ireland. I really want to meet one of them face to face, but I can't because it's just too far to travel. My question is do you think it's a good idea if I visit one of them face to face by applying for a scholarship outside, or should I stay and continue with my studies here?"

"Well," The Professor smiles, "That is one big heck of a problem, isn't it." The whole class bursts out laughing. It's fun being here, you know.

"Well, first off, you need to understand that your choices are entirely yours to make. Me and anybody else are just there to guide you. Now are your friends comfortable with you going to visit them or is it just you we're talking about here?"

I try hard not to choke. Either I am super dumb or insane. I have not really thought about that. But would Cathy mind about me visiting her?

"Miss Alexandra? Any problem?"

"No professor. I think my question is answered. Thank you."

"You sure?"

"Yes. Of course."

"Alright. We can have a private chat when I am done here. Alright, anybody got any questions." One person raises their hand. It's one of those new faces in the class.

She is adorable in her rimmed spectacles.

"I was asking if ..." She speaks in a gentle yet unrehearsed voice. The type that one hears in the opera house.

"Oh, mind telling us your name please?" Professor Elliot chides in.

"Yes. My name is Abigail Montero. I live in Northampton. My family just moved here, and so I'd say I am just getting used to the new environment."

"New, it is then. It's a pleasure to meet you Abigail. Mind if I call you Abby?"

Abigail says she doesn't mind, hence officiating her name to Abby in front of the entire online class on planet Earth. I'm just exaggerating. It's only five of us. Five dropped out last semester and six new ones just came in this one, and two of them dropped out.

I think it has to do with the fact that the class is past midnight. It must be exhausting for them I presume.

"So what's your question Abby?"

"Is it possible to have a great personality without having to step on everyone toes?" She continues hurriedly, "What I mean is..."

"I understand what you mean. It's just that your question is in a topic in next year's semester. But I'll give you a hint. Yes and no."

A long silence ensues, before Professor Elliot breaks in.

"But in order not to confuse the rest of you here, me and Miss Abby will be in for a private word about their questions. And that includes you, Miss Alexandra.

"Now if there are no more questions, I think I am going to end this class. Abby and Alexandra I'll send you another link for your chats. The rest of you, make sure to be on time especially you, Mr. Rupert. I understand you have engineering class before this one, but make it up so that I don't have to wait for you every time my class starts. Is that understood?"

Mr. Rupert is simply a twenty-ish handsome and very cute pie with dimply cheeks and muffin-like eyeballs. He nods his head seriously.

I feel something for him but it's more of a fantasy anyway. He's probably dating the girl just below him on the zoom class.

"Mr Rupert, am I understood?"

"Yes, ma'am. I'll try my best."

"Don't ma'am me because next time, I'm not going to be so kind. Alright, the rest of you, you're reading Psychometric Test Agility by Cole Williams page number ten to eleven. Exercise is on page fifteen to twenty six. See you next week."

And with that, my only interesting class for the night is over. Thirty minutes from now Spanish class is coming up and if I am right, we're having a test from Mr. Pueblo. He's more of a jerk actually because he doesn't care whether you've understood the topic or not.

It's more of practice makes perfect for him, and that is actually fabulous if half of the class were Spanish, which isn't the case.

I wish I knew Spanish like a native. I'd have been his favorite student. Not that I hunger for his attention. It's just that sometimes he can really be nasty when one doesn't know Spanish really well.

And by 'sometimes', I mean 'a lot' of times.