The Flying Brownie

• Sophie Merrin, Grade 2
• Short Story
• 2015

I was sitting at Tosca Brown’s with Mum. She had taken me for a treat and I had chosen a big gooey brownie with extra cream. While we were waiting for our food to arrive, I noticed our school music teacher, Mrs Major, sitting at a table nearby. I smiled at her shyly. I wasn’t sure if she was the sort of teacher who liked talking to students outside of school.
Finally the waitress came over with the big brownie and a mountain of cream on top. I stabbed my fork into it. OH MY GOODNESS!!! The brownie slipped off my fork and flew across the room and straight into Mrs Major’s face. The cream splattered all over her. Mrs Major glared at me furiously. I was so frightened. Everyone in the café turned around to look at me. My face turned red. I backed out of the café nervously and ran down the street. I would never go out in public again. NOT EVER!
Dingalingaling. The bell rang. I ran to the classroom and looked at the schedule, I froze. Right there in front of me was the word ‘music’. I stood there for a while. Then I gathered up my courage and walked out of the classroom. I ran to join the line that was waiting to go into the music room. I saw Mrs Major walking over to open the door. When she opened the door she looked bigger, her eyes looked fiery. “You may come in,” she said sternly. When it was my turn to walk through the door, she gave me a hard stare. I quickly ran over to the very far corner of the room. “Who would like to sing a song on their own?” Lots of hands shot up. I kept mine well down. I was terrified of singing by myself. “Chloe!” “What, I didn’t have my hand up.” “Come on! Stand up and sing Worlds Full of Joy.” I felt like crying but I had to do it. The whole class turned to look at me. Everyone knew that I was a hopeless singer; I began to sing. A sick sound came out of me and I stopped. Mrs Major said, “Come on Chloe, louder we can’t hear you,” she seemed to be enjoying herself. When I finally finished singing nobody looked at me. They all knew it had been terrible. That night I went straight to bed. I was still recovering from my terrifying day.
The next day was a weekend. Mum asked me if I wanted to go to Tosca Browns. “No thank-you,” I said quickly. “I never want to go to Tosca Browns again.” “Why not?” asked my brother. “It’s a long story.”