Family reunion

• Beth Godfrey, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2005

FAMILY REUNION

Biting my nails, I read through my parents’ letters. Boarding school was depressing, but I had lived here for the past seven years so I knew not of any other emotion. When I had finished reading the last page of my mother’s neat handwriting, I placed the letter on my desk and sat back in my office chair, trying to remember the days of my livelihood. I found this difficult. Once a child always giggling and exploring, this boarding school had turned me solemn and set tight limits that were not to be ignored or there were always serious consequences.

In the middle of me pitying myself, there was a knock. I slowly stood and walked towards the oak door. Heaving it open, I was surprised to see Mrs. Henwool, our strict headmaster, standing there.
“Excuse me Miss Emily Rider, I just received a phone call from your parents. They have decided to move to Australia. They faxed me your airline ticket. Of course, I have discouraged this and would prefer you stay here where you have been brought up.”
I was going to be with my parents! I felt an emotion rush through me, like a raging river. Happiness! As soon as Mrs. Henwool left the room I packed quickly, trying to fit everything into my suitcases.

I dragged my luggage into the hallway, where girls turned their heads in curiosity. Mrs. Henwool stood across the hallway, waiting impatiently.
“We don’t have all day Emily,” she scolded.
“Can I have a minute?” I asked cautiously.
“Fine,” she answered bluntly.
I rushed down the hall to my best friend Felicity, who was just collecting her homework.
“Well hurry up. You’re going to be late,” she warned me.
“I’m not going to class,” I reasoned, carefully wording my speech.
By the time I had explained the story, Felicity was sobbing loudly. Luckily the rest of the girls had gone off to class. I said goodbye, and backed down the hallway to where Mrs. Henwool was glaring at me.
“You’re going to be late Emily Rider. Oh well, at least you’re consistent.”
Mrs. Henwool picked up my backpack, leaving me with two suitcases. Struggling out the door, I noticed a taxi waiting out the front.
“Am I going by myself?” I asked worriedly.
“Of course,” came back the answer I was dreading.
Mrs. Henwool passed me an envelope and handed my backpack to the driver, who then took each of my suitcases. I slid into the seat of the taxi and buckled up. The next hour that I spent arriving at the airport, checking my bags in and boarding the aeroplane, was quite scary. As soon as the passengers were given the signal, we departed the plane and walked out through the long tunnel leading to solid ground. It wasn’t until I had walked through the huge glass doors that the people started spreading out and I could see a couple wearing suits. I ran towards them, and when the lady spotted me she hung up on whoever she was talking to.
“Mum! Dad!” I shrieked excitedly, lunging into the man’s arms.
For the next three hours, we caught up on each others lives. This was the moment I was waiting to come for seven years; I was with my parents.