Post by KYLIE KIRKLAND on Jun 17, 2014 7:38:30 GMT -5
According to the cafeteria menu Kylie’s lunch was bangers and mash (sausages and mashed potatoes), however the contents of her plate begged to differ. The “mashed potato” on her plate was runny, except where it was gathered in powdery lumps. And that sausage look very suspicious. Kylie remembered how at home her mother would make up mash made with lots of milk and butter to go with the potatoes (which were real potatoes to). The barbecued sausages would be crisp with some slightly burnt bits for flavour. And then if she finished all her dinner there would be ice cream for dessert.
Kylie blinked hard. She was not going to cry, not in front of all these people in the cafeteria with her. Wes was the crier of the family, the mummy’s boy. Kylie was the tough cookie, she was not going to hide under the table and start bawling like baby. She was eleven and that was almost nearly grown up, far too old for tears. And yet despite all these arguments, there was still a little voice in the back of Kylie’s mind that said ‘I miss my mum, and my pets, and my bed, and I don’t like it here, and I want to go home!' Funnily enough it was the little things that she missed most. The floorboards that creaked on the stairs, the three minute walk to the milk bar, the fat possum that lived in the backyard. All the things that she had not expected to miss at all, we’re now suddenly the things she most wanted to see again.
Not wanting to cause a scene by getting up and leaving in the middle of lunch Kylie instead slid down off her seat and crawled under the table, the ancient refuge of all children. There she curled up into a little ball and hoped that nobody’s feet accidentally kicked out because that would give her away when all she wanted to do was hide.
She had of course completely forgotten that a tablecloth is needed if you want to hide under a table successfully.
Kylie blinked hard. She was not going to cry, not in front of all these people in the cafeteria with her. Wes was the crier of the family, the mummy’s boy. Kylie was the tough cookie, she was not going to hide under the table and start bawling like baby. She was eleven and that was almost nearly grown up, far too old for tears. And yet despite all these arguments, there was still a little voice in the back of Kylie’s mind that said ‘I miss my mum, and my pets, and my bed, and I don’t like it here, and I want to go home!' Funnily enough it was the little things that she missed most. The floorboards that creaked on the stairs, the three minute walk to the milk bar, the fat possum that lived in the backyard. All the things that she had not expected to miss at all, we’re now suddenly the things she most wanted to see again.
Not wanting to cause a scene by getting up and leaving in the middle of lunch Kylie instead slid down off her seat and crawled under the table, the ancient refuge of all children. There she curled up into a little ball and hoped that nobody’s feet accidentally kicked out because that would give her away when all she wanted to do was hide.
She had of course completely forgotten that a tablecloth is needed if you want to hide under a table successfully.