Project and Waves

When Gizem’s eyes opened to the soft light of the morning, she remained still in her bed for a moment. Exactly one week had passed since her first day, but this morning, she had woken up with a different feeling—it was as if the town’s grey sky was whispering something to her, as though an invisible bond was being formed between her and this place. She pulled the blanket closer to her chest, her fingers tangled in the worn edges of the fabric, as she heard the sound of the sea’s waves seeping in from the window. A light, rhythmic hum filled the room, blending with the town’s silence and giving her a strange sense of calm. Slowly, she sat up, her bare feet touching the cool wooden floor, the chill biting at her skin. She walked to the mirror, adjusted her navy skirt, pressed the collar of her white blouse with her hand, and draped her cardigan over her shoulders. As she looked at her reflection, her eyes met her own, and a whisper rose within her: A week has passed, Gizem. This place is no longer a shadow; it feels like a real place. The sea is the same, but am I seeing it differently? Is this town telling me something, or am I giving it meaning? Maybe it’s deeper than I thought, maybe I’m finding a piece of myself in this silence. As she combed her hair, the details of the town came to her mind—the slight rocking of the fishing boats on the shore, the subtle rustle of the wind in the pine branches, the taste of the salty air on her lips. This place isn’t an end, but more like a stopover. But where am I going? I don’t know.

When she quietly opened the door and descended to the kitchen, her mother, Nuray, had prepared breakfast. There was a plate of toast on the counter, with olives and white cheese on the side, and the steam rising from the teapot had fogged up the windows. Nuray’s face, which usually carried lines of concern, seemed a little softer today; her hair was tied up, her movements still quick but less frantic than a week ago, as if the town’s calmness had affected her as well. Hakan sat at the other end of the table, his glasses slipping down his nose, absorbed in his newspaper; his tall frame slouched slightly in his chair, his coffee cup trembling in his hand. As Gizem sat down, she caught her mother’s gaze—a familiar questioning look was still there, but this morning it was a bit softer, a bit more understanding.

“Good morning,” Gizem said, her voice still thick with the traces of sleep as she sat down and picked up her fork.

Nuray lifted her head and looked at her, a small, almost imperceptible smile appearing on her lips. “Good morning, did you sleep well? How are your lessons today?” Her voice, no longer as stern as it had been a week ago, now carried a hint of curiosity, as if she were trying to gauge Gizem’s place in the town.

Gizem thought to herself: Mom, a week ago you would’ve asked a million questions, but now it feels like you’re accepting something. Is this town changing you too? “I slept well, Mom,” she said, her voice soft but calm. “The lessons aren’t bad, we have a project assignment today.”

Hakan lowered his newspaper, peering over his glasses, a calm pride gleaming on his face. “A project? Nice, you’ve always been hardworking,” he said, his voice warm with memory, his eyes distant. “Do you remember the science fair in Istanbul? We worked until midnight, cutting cardboard until morning.”

Gizem looked at him with gratitude. “Yeah, Dad,” she murmured, thinking to herself: Those days feel like a dream now. But I can do something here too, right? “I think we’re doing something on marine pollution,” she added, taking a bite of toast.

Nuray raised her eyebrows slightly. “A good project, it would be good for the town too,” she said, her voice carrying rare approval as her eyes scanned Gizem, as if seeing her place in this town for the first time.

As Gizem got up from the breakfast table, she threw her bag over her shoulder, grabbed her bike, and stepped out the door. As she pedaled through the narrow streets of the town, the wind hit her face, her hair flowing lightly, and the scent of the sea filled her lungs. The streets were still not fully awake in the early morning; fishermen were collecting their nets by the shore, a street cat lazily passed by a trash can, and the flickering streetlights were fading. This town is like a story, she thought. Every day, I open a new page. The sea is always the same, but am I seeing it differently now? Maybe this place is a mirror, showing me myself. As the bike tires bounced slightly over the rocky road, the school building appeared in the distance. The grey concrete structure, with its large windows and high fence, still felt a bit foreign, but after a week, the fear from the first day had been replaced with a strange acceptance.

When she reached the garden, she locked her bike, threw her bag over her shoulder, her steps more determined now, but her hands still tightly clasped around the strap. Students were gathered in groups, some laughing and joking, others dropping their backpacks to the ground and chatting. As she stepped into the hallway, the bell hadn’t rung yet, but the sounds coming from behind the door of 12-A greeted her. When she cracked the door open, the familiar chaos of the class unfolded before her—Pınar and Beste were whispering in the corner, laughing between sentences; Pınar’s long black hair spilled over her shoulder, and there was the usual sharp sparkle in her eyes, while Beste’s cheerfulness pierced the air. Emre was leaning back in the front row, messing with his messy hair with one hand, talking to Mert, who was listening with his hands in his pockets and responding with occasional grins. Beyza sat in the corner, her short brown hair falling over her face, sketching something in her notebook—she seemed like a peaceful island in the middle of the class’s noise. Selin was checking the class notebook, her glasses slipping down her nose, her face serious. Yiğit was sitting in the back row, leaning calmly against his desk with his tall frame, his dark brown hair falling onto his forehead; he was holding a book, his eyes scanning the pages, but he was indifferent to the class’s chaos. Kaan, sitting next to him, gazed out at the grey sky, his hoodie up, and the faint sound of music leaked from his headphones.

As Gizem moved toward her seat, Emre’s voice rose, “We played basketball with Mert yesterday, but this guy threw the ball out again!” he said, slamming the desk with a laugh, his face mischievous.

Mert shrugged, “You didn’t pass, so is it my fault?” he said, his voice lazily mocking, his eyes flicking to Emre.

Pınar interjected, “You two fought on the court last year too, didn’t you? The coach had to separate you,” she said, her voice full of teasing joy, giggling at Beste.

Beste nodded, “Exactly, Mert threw the ball at Emre’s head!” she said, her laugh filling the class, her eyes sparkling.

Emre grinned, “But Yiğit came to the court and calmed us down, remember?” he said, his voice tinged with respect as his eyes briefly shifted to the back row.

Mert shook his head, “Yeah, we stopped when Yiğit said something,” he said, his tone relaxed, his eyes momentarily meeting Yiğit’s.

Yiğit lightly lifted his head from his book, “You’re exaggerating,” he said, his voice calm and measured, his eyes scanning the class for a moment before returning to his book.

Selin lifted her head and furrowed her brow. "Are you still kids?" she said, her voice carrying tired irritation as she placed her notebook on the desk.

Emre laughed. "Selin, you fought with Mert during the 9th-grade project too, remember?!" he said, a mischievous victory in his voice, his eyes gleaming.

Mert rolled his eyes. "That project didn't fail because of me, Selin wanted to control everything!" he said, his voice tinged with old anger as he lightly slapped the desk.

Selin gritted her teeth. "It failed because you were lazy, not because of me!" she snapped, her voice trembling, her face flushed.

As Gizem sat at her desk, she listened to the conversation, thinking to herself: This class's past is like a web, everyone is connected to each other. Yiğit speaks little, but there's a certain weight to him. Her gaze shifted to Beyza, whose calmness felt like a safe harbor amidst the chaos. Why is Beyza so quiet? She must have a past too, Gizem thought as she placed her bag on the desk.

When the science lesson started, Teacher Ayşe entered with a thick file in her hand, her eyes scanning the class. She was middle-aged, with thin-framed glasses and a neat bun, exuding a strict presence, but today her voice held a weary softness.

"Today, I'll assign a group project," she said, turning to the blackboard and writing the title with chalk: Environmental Issues in the Town. "You'll work in pairs, research the environmental issues in the town, and prepare a report. It's due next week." The class filled with murmurs.

Emre grinned. "Teacher, the town itself is the problem, what should we research?" he said, slapping the desk with laughter, his eyes sparkling.

Ayşe Hanım rolled her eyes. "Stop joking, Emre. Find something serious," she said, with a light reprimand, placing the file on the desk.

Gizem thought to herself: A project? Leaving a mark in this town... Maybe this place is teaching me something, she reflected, looking at Beyza, whose gaze had also turned to her. Beyza gave her a small smile.

Pınar, in a mocking tone, said, "Is the new girl going to save the town?" her voice laced with teasing joy as she glanced at Beste and giggled.

Beste nodded. "Exactly, the eco-princess!" she said, her laughter filling the class, her eyes sparkling.

Ayşe Hanım began assigning the groups, pairing Gizem and Beyza together. Mert and Selin were in one group, while Emre was paired with Kaan. Of course, Pınar and Beste were together. Yiğit sat quietly at the back, and Ayşe Hanım turned to him, asking, "Yiğit, who would you like to work with?" her voice respectful.

Yiğit closed his book. "It doesn't matter," he said, his voice calm and clear, his eyes briefly meeting Ayşe Hanım's.

Ayşe Hanım nodded. "Then work with Mert and Selin," she said, rummaging through the file.

Mert glanced at Yiğit for a moment. "Alright," he said, his tone relieved, his eyes briefly flicking to Yiğit.

The rest of the class continued discussing their projects, but the atmosphere remained as chaotic as ever.

Mert leaned back in his chair, spinning his pen on the desk, while Selin turned to him, furrowing her brows.

"Mert, are you going to leave everything to me again?" Selin said, her voice carrying suppressed irritation as she slammed her notebook onto the desk, her gaze piercing through Mert.

Mert shrugged. "Do your own work, queen," he said, his tone lazy and mocking, not even bothering to meet her eyes.

Selin gritted her teeth. "You said the same thing in 9th grade, and the project failed, remember?" she said, her voice trembling, the anger of the past flooding her face.

Mert laughed. "You sold me out, it's not my fault!" he said, his voice tinged with old bitterness as he lightly slapped the desk.

Yiğit briefly looked up from his book. "Just divide the work, enough," he said, his voice calm but firm, his gaze briefly flicking to both of them before returning to his book.

Mert and Selin fell silent for a moment. Mert nodded reluctantly. "Fine," he said, his voice carrying a note of surrender.

Selin sighed. "Alright," she said, her tone reluctant, returning to her notebook.

The class quickly became focused on this old argument.

Emre, laughing, jumped in. "Exactly, Selin and Mert’s project was an epic disaster, the teacher yelled at both of them!" he said, his voice filled with mischievous triumph, his eyes sparkling.

Pınar grinned. "We pranked the teacher last year and got the whole class punished, right, Beste?" she said, her voice full of teasing joy as she winked at Beste.

Beste giggled. "Yeah, we filled the board with paint, and everyone was mad at us!" she said, her laughter filling the room, her face shining with childish pride.

Emre shook his head. "But I outdid all of you, I stole the mascot plush and hid it last year. They still haven’t found it!" he said, his voice dripping with self-satisfaction as he grinned.

As Gizem listened to the conversation, she thought to herself: The past of this class is like a puzzle, every piece explains something. Her gaze drifted to Beyza, whose calmness was like a safe harbor in the midst of the chaos. Why is Beyza so quiet? She must have a story too, Gizem wondered.

When the bell for the break rang, the class became livelier, but the project discussions continued. Gizem and Beyza pulled back to their seats and decided to choose the topic of marine pollution. Beyza wrote a small note in her notebook: "The trash is increasing on the beach, we could write about that."

Gizem nodded. "Good idea, we can check the beach after school," she said, her voice filled with excitement as she looked at Beyza with gratitude.

Meanwhile, Mert and Selin's argument was intensifying. Mert slammed his hand on the desk, shouting, "I’ll work, but not under your orders!" His voice was full of anger, his eyes locked on Selin.

Selin adjusted her glasses. "Then stop being lazy and let’s divide the work!" she retorted, her voice shaking, her face flushed.

Yiğit briefly looked up from his book. "Think simple, break it down into parts," he said, his voice calm yet clear, his eyes flicking briefly to both of them before returning to his book.

Mert nodded, "You're right," he said, his voice carrying a sense of relief.

Selin sighed. "Fine," she said, her tone reluctant, returning to her notebook.

Meanwhile, Emre secretly drew a cartoon on the board—an amusing version of Ayşe Hanım, with a crown on her head—and the class burst into laughter. When the bell rang for the end of the lesson, Ayşe Hanım returned, saw the drawing, and furrowed her brows. "Who did this?" she asked, her voice stern yet tired, her eyes scanning the class.

Emre grinned. "Not me, teacher!" he said, though there was a suppressed laugh in his voice, his eyes shining with mischief.

Ayşe Hanım sighed. "I told you to be serious, Emre. These jokes won't get you anywhere," she said, wiping the board and leaving the room.

Gizem thought to herself: This class is like a theater stage, everyone plays a role. She noticed Yiğit’s calm yet effective demeanor but chose not to dwell on it. Turning to Beyza, she said, "Let's go to the beach," her voice full of hope, her eyes tired but determined.

Beyza smiled. "Okay, we can get some fresh air," she said, her voice calm but sincere, as she packed her notebook into her bag.

After school, they grabbed their bikes and pedaled through the narrow streets of the town towards the beach. The wind hit their faces, and as the sun set, the sky was painted with shades of orange and purple, the sea stretching out like a grey blanket. When they reached the beach, they leaned their bikes against a tree, dropped their bags on the ground, and sat on the sand. The sea was rolling under the grey sky, a few seagulls gliding on the horizon, and the waves gently lapping the shore. There was no one else around—just the two of them, the silence of the town, and the whispers of the sea. Gizem took off her shoes, buried her feet in the cool sand, and felt the refreshing chill. Beyza sat beside her, hugging her knees to her chest, her short brown hair gently waving in the wind. For a moment, they were silent, watching the rhythm of the waves.

Beyza took a deep breath. "Gizem," she said, her voice soft with curiosity, her eyes still fixed on the sea, "Why did you come here?" She turned to Gizem, a hint of shyness on her face, but her voice was sincere.

Gizem stared at the sea for a moment, a small smile forming on her lips. "Because of my dad's job," she said, her voice calm but hiding a tinge of sadness. "We used to live in Istanbul. It was busy, vibrant. But my dad found an engineering job here two years ago, so we moved. My mom didn’t want to at first, but I think she's getting used to it." Her gaze drifted to the waves, as though recalling a memory from the past.

Beyza nodded. "Istanbul? It must be a beautiful place," she said, her voice filled with curiosity. Inside, she thought: Istanbul must be as lively as my Izmir. "So, have you gotten used to it here?"

Gizem shrugged. "You know the situation, it's been hard," she said, her voice trembling a little, her eyes still focused on the sea. "I miss my friends, the streets, the sea... But this place has its own vibe. It's quiet, lonely but beautiful. I’ve been writing in a journal, I think that's how I’ll get used to it."

Beyza started drawing shapes in the sand with a stick. "I’m from Izmir too," she said, her voice tinged with nostalgia as her eyes gazed far away. "It was crowded, but familiar. Here, it’s so quiet, sometimes it feels suffocating."

She turned to Gizem. "Do you miss it?" she asked, her voice filled with genuine curiosity, her eyes studying Gizem’s face.

Gizem sighed. "Yeah," she said, her voice shaky but honest, "I miss my friends, the streets, everything. But here... I don’t know, sometimes it feels nice. What about you?"

Beyza smiled. "I miss it sometimes too," she said, her voice carrying a slight fragility, "But here, I feel like I can be myself. There, everything was so fast."

Gizem looked at her. "What was life like in Izmir?" she asked, a sense of curiosity growing, feeling closer to Beyza.

Beyza paused for a moment. "It was nice," she said softly, with a nostalgic tone, "I had my friends, school... But my family was always busy, so I was mostly alone. It’s quieter here, but there’s loneliness too." Her eyes drifted to the sea, as though seeing that loneliness in the waves.

Gizem thought to herself: Loneliness... Maybe this town is what brings us together, she reflected. "I feel lonely sometimes too," she said, her voice a confession, "But you’re here, and that changes everything." A small smile appeared on her lips, her eyes filled with gratitude for Beyza.

Beyza’s cheeks flushed slightly. "You’re the same for me," she said, her voice shy but sincere, "When I first came, I couldn’t talk to anyone, but you... You’re different."

Gizem laughed. "Different?" she said, her voice full of amused surprise. "Pınar and Beste call me a clown!"

Beyza laughed loudly. "They call everyone something," she said with a teasing tone, "But I see strength in you, I really do." Her eyes locked onto Gizem’s, a sincere trust in her gaze.

Gizem thought to herself: Am I strong? Maybe I am, she mused. "You are too," she said with approval in her voice, "It’s not easy to hold on in this town."

Beyza nodded. "You're right," she said, her voice calm yet resolute, "But we can do it together, right?"

Gizem smiled. "Yeah," she said, her voice filled with hope, "We can do everything together."

They talked for a while longer, sharing stories about their pasts, their dreams, and the small memories from the town. As the waves crashed against the shore and the wind tousled their hair, the bond between them grew stronger. Gizem thought to herself: This town is tough, but with Beyza, everything is possible. She embraced this moment that the town offered her.