For five weeks I’ve refused to leave my bed. I’ve been living with grandmother for the last month. Mum only just arrived a few days ago. I feel sorry for her. I got to relax and recuperate while I was in hospital. She had to organise Carol’s funeral while she was still in bed.
My ankle’s all better. The only reminder of the accident is a scar on my head from where the stitches were. I try not to look at myself in the mirror when I’m in the bathroom; I don’t want to see who I am nowadays. I look at my hands instead.
I’ve just gotten back from Carol’s funeral. I wanted to cry. I told myself how bad it must have looked that I didn’t cry at my own sister’s funeral, but still nothing came. Now my eyes are still dry.
I hate myself for it.
“Lavina, Sweetie,” mum speaks slowly. I turn my head to look at her through the crack in the door. She walks in awkwardly on her crutches. The doctors say she only has another week left before she can get her cast off. Then she’ll probably need a walking stick for several weeks after that.
“Yeah,” I answer.
“Honey, you need to go to school,” she says, sitting down on the end of my bed.
“Mum, no. I can’t handle it.”
“Listen to me,” she sighs with the effort of the emotion. “You need to go to school. You can’t let yourself get behind. And besides, if you go, at least one semblance of normality might come back to your life.”
“No…”
We end up talking long into the night about the fact that I don’t want to go. In the end I agree to go to school twice a week. Then I’ll go for three days, then four, then the whole week. I have as long as I need to get back into the swing of things. But I still need to go.
A week goes by before mum makes me get up. I complained that I still needed to get over Carol’s death. The funeral had been too much for me. Mum wasn’t able to leave hospital soon enough, so she wasn’t allowed to see Carol before her casket was air-locked. I didn’t want to see her.
The funeral had been filled with flowers and perfumes that made me want to sneeze. I didn’t want to attract attention to myself so I was constantly having to stop myself from sneezing.
I hadn’t wanted her to die. She was annoying, and at times I hated her, but this wasn’t what I had asked for. She was supposed to be there, bossing me around until she left home. I suppose that’s not going to happen anymore.
…
“See you, Pumpkin,” mum whispers as she kisses me goodbye. I get out of the taxi and take a look at the school. Nothing’s changed. Nothing. But if nothing’s changed, why do I feel different?
“Mum, can’t I start coming next week?” I turn around and ask her.
“No, honey. We talked about this. If you get into the habit of skipping school, then you’ll never go back. You have a future. You need to take care of it.” And yourself, I can almost hear her say.
“Bye Sweetie,” she says again.
“Bye, mum,” I say. I want to glare at her, but I can’t. Not after what she’s been through. Several years ago my dad died in a motorbike accident. Now mum’s lost both him and Carol.
I walk slowly towards the buildings. I’m dreading seeing my friends. They’ll be wanting to comfort me. The last thing I want at the moment is for people to crowd me.
“Lavina!” I hear Francis call. I spin around multiple times before I finally see her running towards me. Before I can even say hi, she’s giving me the biggest bear-hug I’ve ever received.
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When My Life Changed
किशोर उपन्यासA fifteen year old girl has been homeschooled for her whole primary school life. At the beginning of year 7 she is thrust into a world that she has no idea about. For the past two years she has been struggling and fighting to stay above it all. But...
