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The agitating clanging of the bell resonated through the school,

causing the silent classroom to erupt with chatter. People streamed

out from their classes into the hallways as they hastily tried to reach

their lockers before everyone else. The door closed with a soft click

and I was left alone in the classroom, with nothing but the dim

sunlight to keep me company. Unhurriedly, I slid my books one by

one intomy bag, and got out of my chair, making sure to push it under

the table. I slowly trudged to the gaping school gates. There were

many students outside, all of them on their phones, rapidly texting

their families and friends. I found my way to a decently shaded spot,

where I placed my bag on the ground. Sliding my hands into my

pockets, I began to wait.

Mere minutes of waiting felt like hours to me. One by one, my

classmates left with their parents. I listened to their animated voices,

chattering about what they did at school as well as other pointless

trivialities. Watching and waiting patiently, I stood still like a living

statue as the wind whispered around me, gently ruffling my brown

locks. After what seemed like an eternity, the last of the students left,

and I was finally left alone.

It is an immensely strange feeling to wait for no one; like expecting

a wish to be granted when it hasn’t even been made. I knew my

parents weren’t coming. That was a fact I knew to be true. Yet, I

stood there, silently waiting for them to arrive.

‘They have to come,’ I thought. ‘They will come.’

Seconds of waiting became minutes, and minutes became hours.

My bottom lip trembled and the last of my foolish hope crumbled to

dust. A single crystalline tear slid down my face and paused for a

second on my chin, glinting in the sunlight, before dropping onto

the grey slate ground. Another followed, and soon my body was

racked with sobs, my former feigned composure completely lost. It

was as if every individual one of my tears, was a fraction of my hope,

so pure and perfect; and when they hit the unforgiving ground,

splattering in all directions, my innocent longing would shatter,

piece by piece. As I sank down onto the ground, defeated, I felt

something cold drip suddenly onto my head. Slowly tilting my head

upwards, I was met with grey clouds and rain. It didn’t take long for

it to start pouring down. Closing my eyes, I let the cool drops mingle

with my own hot tears until there was no telling the difference

between the two. You wouldn’t be able to tell that I was crying, but


Felicity Chen

Isobelle Carmody Award

for Creative Writing