I fold my hands and stare at the girl across from me, who looks at me placidly, yet with mirth still evident in her dark eyes. She’s wearing a green Slytherin shirt. I raise my eyebrow at her choice of outfit, but choose not to comment. “Hey, L.A.!” I start brightly.
She offers a deadpan nod. “Hi, Skittles.”
Put off by the lack of energy, especially after my last interview, I hesitate for a moment before moving on. “Okay, here are the basics. Lee Anna Davis, fifteen years old, tenth grade, lives in Egypt. Anything you want to add?”
“Nope,” she replies simply.
I blink and shake my head. “Short and to the point, I guess…” I mutter. “So, is there anything in particular that you’re known for?”
Lee Anna stares at me, still completely deadpan. “Excellent question. What am I known for, Skittles? Am I even known for a particular trait?”
I freeze. “Ummm… I don’t know, Silva says that you’re super crazy… Although I-” I laugh suddenly. “Yeah, uh, you seem crazier online. Crazier? Is that… the right word? Nevermind… Have any siblings?”
She nods. “Sawyer is 13, and a current TPSer; Sarah Claire is 10, and is joining our ranks next year; Jack is 5, And Talks Like He’s Capitalizing Every Word.”
I laugh, trying to imagine that. “Okay, what’s your personality? Tell me your MBTI, or whatever.”
“I’m an eight wing seven on the Enneagram. Myers-Briggs – ENTP. I’m also a Slytherin and, from Silva’s point of view, that crazy friend who talks too much.” She eyes me. “Which is probably what she meant by crazy, unless she was referring to the Prank…”
I glare for a brief moment. “Let’s not talk about the Prank, okay?” It’s phrased as a question, but the deadly look in my eyes warns of consequences. I decide changing the subject would be wise and quickly continue. “So, which classes are you taking with TPS this year? And do you play any sports?”
“Algebra 2 Honors, English 3 Literature Survey, World History, Arabic 2, Bible Survey, and Chemistry,” she replies easily. “And for sports, a little soccer and…” Her eyes sparkle with hidden amusement. “Spoons. Very competitive Spoons. We’ve done some crazy things with Spoons.”
I eye her with slight concern at this sudden burst of energy. “That sounds… interesting? So, what goals do you have?”
She grins, practically bouncing with excitement now. “To survive the zombie apocalypse, of course! We have this whole plan to rescue Silva, and then you, from New Jersey, and bring you to France to our base, and…” She goes on for several minutes about how she’s learning to fly a helicopter, and the different positions everyone would have on their zombie apocalypse team.
“There’s the L.A. I knew,” I say to myself, “Well then. Moving on. That sounds very interesting! At least I’ll have someone to rescue me from the impending zombie apocalypse. What are your favorite…things? I’m not even gonna specify anything…”
She looks up at the ceiling, and then back at me. “My favorite color is dark green, my favorite country is Africa, my favorite book is Les Miserables, my favorite game is Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, my favorite sibling is (God forgive me) Sawyer, my favorite things are hoodies, my favorite bands are Imagine Dragons and Andrew Peterson, favorite playing card would be the Ten of Diamonds,” a slight smirk here, “and my favorite drink is hot chocolate. There. Does that satisfy you?”
“Yeah… yeah, that definitely does. What places have you traveled to?”
“I’ve been to fifteen different countries,” she offers. “I’ve also been to about nine U.S. states, but those were less interesting.”
“Nice!” I reply, impressed, “What’s something you’d be interested in pursuing.”
Suddenly, she’s deadpan again. “I’m gonna be violently pursuing the next person to call me short.”
I raise my hands. “Not gonna be me. Do you have any pets?”
“We have one small, extremely foolish Pekingese named Mason.”
I grin. “Foolish, eh? So, what’s your biggest accomplishment?”
She sits up as straight as she possibly can. “Being taller than five feet!” she responds with determination. I raise my eyebrows and grin.
“Well, you’ve beat me on that one,” I respond, slumping slightly. “I’m always short, but it’s fine. I’m not mad at all. It’s fine. I’m fine. Any catchphrases you’d like to share?”
“I lost the game,” she replies brightly.
I grimace. “Seriously, LA? I didn’t need to lose the game twice today… I already lost once… So, what languages do you speak?” I eye her warily, concerned by what her response might be.
“Oh, English of course, I’m learning Arabic, and a tiny bit of Spanish.” She shrugs. “Not too much. I’m hoping to learn some more Spanish so I can get into Spanish 2 next year.”
I frown slightly. “Why not just start with Spanish 1?”
A familiar figure pokes her head in the door briefly. “Because, I’ll be taking Spanish 2 next year! We really want to take a class together!” Silva quickly vanishes before I can even move. L.A. has an innocent smile on her face that conveys that she had snuck Silva into the building to listen in. I facepalm hard.
“What is it with you two and eavesdropping?” I demand of no one in particular. Without waiting for a response, I quickly continue, aware that we are running out of time. “What advice would you give to your younger self?”
She offers a faint smile. “Hush, my child.”
I pause, waiting for more, but seeing that she did not continue, I glanced down at my notes quickly. “Any last notes?”
“Don’t count your hatches before they chicken!” She responds enthusiastically. I shake my head.
“Alright, I think that’s everything! Merry Christmas, Happy New Year, and thanks so much, L.A.!”