I was always doing something wrong. I was doing poorly in school and always got made fun of, and today I got into a fight while defending my little brother, who was called dumb by a boy I passed on my way home from school. The idea of me getting into a fight disgusted my other brothers, since they were supposed to be the ones protecting the family. On top of it all, I had trouble hiding my emotions. This particular night, with a hurricane brewing outside, I was unable to sleep, so I paced for awhile. Downstairs I heard our big dog, Fortinbras, barking, which is odd because he never barks without reason. I then remembered, at that moment, that I heard about a tramp who had stolen twelve sheets from the constable’s wife. The tramp hadn’t been caught, and I worried that they were headed to my house next. I visited my brothers’ room, twins Dennys and Sandy, next. Dennys and Sandy weren’t great students, but they still usually got Bs. They were strong and good athletes, and were never made fun of. When I made my way to the kitchen, I saw my “dumb baby brother” Charles Wallace, who was not at all dumb and quite intelligent, and had a strange way of knowing exactly what mother and I were thinking and what we wanted at any given time, making cocoa.

My mother was the complete opposite of me. She was beautiful and a smart scientist, compared to my plainness and unfortunate school life. I loved my mother, but sometimes I had feelings of resentment towards her. In the kitchen, Charles Wallace brought up the name Mrs. Whatsit, who was supposedly a woman who lived in the haunted old shingled house in the woods with her two friends. This was extremely odd news to me, since I thought that no one lived in that old house. Just then, Fort started barking again, and I worried that it had to be the tramp. Mother went to the door to see who it was, and moments later, brought in a figure who was bundled up in many layers of clothing. It was even hard to tell the gender of the figure. However, Charles Wallace seemed to know exactly who it was: Mrs. Whatsit. The odd woman had apparently been blown off course, and ended up resting at our house. I was extremely confused. This old woman just comes barging into our house in the middle of the night and no one thinks anything of it. She must be the tramp, I thought. And, to my surprise, I proved to be correct. I listened to the conversation happening between Charles Wallace and Mrs. Whatsit, with Charles Wallace scolding Mrs. Whatsit about taking the sheets and Mrs. Whatsit saying she can’t return them because she’s used them already. Not only has this odd lady barged into our house in the middle of the night, but she’s also stolen Mrs. Buncombe’s sheets! I brought over the sandwich I was making for Mrs. Whatsit, still extremely confused. Mrs. Whatsit requests to take her boots off before she eats, and she needs mother to take them off for her. When the boot comes off, Mrs. Whatsit goes flying backwards and water pours out of the boot, and the same happens with the other boot. Mrs. Whatsit seems content, and decides that it’s time to leave. On her way out, she tells mother that “there is such a thing as a tesseract.” Mother does not react to this well, and her voice trembles. I am immediately concerned. What could that possibly mean?

A few days later – on the Planet Uriel. When I finally stop crying, Mrs. Whatsit decides that it is finally time to explain the tesseract to me. It is clear that she is extremely knowledgeable on this subject, another trait that further proves her presence to be unhuman like. She goes on to explain how squaring of the dimensions can eventually lead to the tesseract, like in math. I don’t understand at first, and even after the concept being explained a second time, I still don’t understand. “Oh dear, I guess I am a moron,” I say. “That is because you think of space only in the third dimensions. We travel in the fifth dimension. This is something you can understand, Meg. Don’t be afraid to try.” She is extremely patient and kind with me. She doesn’t call me stupid or scold me for not understanding like the kids at school or my teachers; she just explains it again, more clearly.  I wondered if Mrs. Whatsit could have been some kind of a guardian angel or something, sent to aid Charles Wallace, Calvin, and me. The second time Mrs. Whatsit tries to explain the concept of the tesseract to me, she has Mrs. Who demonstrate with her skirt. “La experiencia es la madre de la ciencia. Spanish, my dears. Cervantes. Experience is the mother of knowledge,” Mrs. Who recites. Mrs. Who’s character always intrigues me. She seems even more knowledgeable and wise than Mrs. Whatsit. Her quotes can seem random to anyone who doesn’t know her or her situation, but to us, they always make perfect sense. Maybe Mrs. Who is a manifestation of wisdom, like a goddess perhaps, but more humble and modest. Whatever are these ladies? Things? How they have truly been created and sustained for is completely out of my knowledge, but I am grateful for the comfort and wisdom they bring.