Away from home

NEW YORK -- It was the first day of school for the girl in the plaid dress. She posed for a photo with her hands on her hips and a confident smile. There were no tears that day, no clinging, no fretting.

"Nothing," says her mother, who still marvels at her daughter's self-assuredness as she headed to class 13 years ago. "I dropped her off and she didn't even look back."

Moments like those inspired her mother's boyfriend -- the man young Alana Hamlett would eventually grow to love as her father -- to give her a nickname. "I called her Supergirl," he says, "because to me, that's what she was."

Now the parents who let go of Alana's hand as she strutted off to kindergarten in her brand new school uniform are preparing for an even bigger step.

"Yes! I'm going to college," says Alana, who will attend Brandeis University in suburban Boston this fall. The quaint, leafy campus will be a world away from the only home she's ever known -- New York's gritty South Bronx and the family's small, two-bedroom apartment in a public housing high-rise.

'A new toy'

Even before she packs her bags, Alana is finding that going to school is about more than leaving home. It is about a graceful, young woman moving toward adulthood. It is about a giddy 17-year-old redefining the close bond she has with her parents, Annie and LeFleur Barreto.

"It's that 'I kind of want my freedom' but 'you're still a child' thing," Alana says, tugging on the Cupid pendant necklace her mother bought her.

The freedom of adulthood, she says, is "like a new toy. I want to play with it because it's just been given to me."

Her mother, a special education teacher, knows what it's like to strike out on one's own. She left her native Trinidad in search of a better life when she was 24 and went to New York City.

Though it was difficult at times, she made a life for herself and formed a family of her own. She had Alana in 1984 and, two years later, met LeFleur, whom she eventually married.

"Alana was a really nice reflection on her and vice versa," LeFleur remembers.

LeFleur very much thinks of Alana as his daughter and stepped into the void left by her biological father, who is not in contact with Alana.

LeFleur fondly remembers the days young Alana waited for him to come home from work, screaming, "Daddy! Daddy!" when he'd open the door.

Psychologists and parents expect a waning in such enthusiasm, especially in the years when teens are testing the boundaries of independence. Yet LeFleur still finds himself longing for some sign that his bond with Alana, even if it's different, will last.

"Now she lights up when she talks to her friends," he says, noting the time Alana spends with her buddies -- or chatting with them via phone and computer when she is home.

Parent talk

He wishes she'd talk to her parents more. "I'd like to know what she thinks about sex and boys and God -- anything," he says.

"No, no, no!" Alana shouts. She smiles and giggles, hiding her face with her hands. "It's personal. I don't want to. And I'm still figuring out what are my ideals and what I believe."

Annie smiles. Intellectually, if not always emotionally, she has an easier time with Alana growing up. She's been making college shopping trips for months -- buying pillows, sheets and storage bins for Alana's dorm room.

LeFleur "has a hard time letting go," Annie says. "Maybe it will change, hit me later. But there comes a time when she has to go."

Alana says she'll miss the "little things" -- "like waking up when my mother turns on the light each morning -- like going to church with Daddy on Sunday mornings."

She recalls attending a service with him last New Year's Day and turning to see him cry.

"I'm going to miss you," he told her.

Her mother also is preparing for the break, savoring small moments with her daughter. Last school year, she and Alana often walked halfway together to their morning destinations. Then as Alana continued across the Macombs Dam Bridge to 155th Street in Harlem, Annie split off to catch a bus to work.

"I would go one way and she, the other way," Annie says.