A small finisher before PART 2. And don't worry- part one will be by far the shortest. Anyway, review etc., and sorry about the delay.
As soon as I stepped out of my bedroom on my fifteenth birthday, I felt that something was different. There was this tension in the air, created by either the best or the worst news. Then I remembered; this was the day that the Weymere letter would arrive. I took a deep breath, and the smell of lemon pancakes hit the back of my throat. Something was most definitely up if my parents were cooking at eight in the morning, and that something was not just a birthday treat.
After twenty-three steps down the landing, I found myself at the top of the staircase. When I was younger, I counted the number of paces from each room,and eight years later, it became morbidly useful.
"Melissa darling... we're so proud of you!" My mum shouted over the sizzle of the pans as she noticed me at the door, and I felt a surge of hope in my heart. "You've got into the academy!"
"Really? Really?" I jumped up, knocking my shin on corner of the kitchen table. But I didn't care; I was free, for the first time since the accident.
"Dear Melissa Finch," my father read from a letter, pausing as he adjusted his glasses. "We are very pleased to offer you a scholarship at the prestigious Weymere academy for your studies on the violoncello. We were impressed by not only your technique, but your deep understanding of the music-"
"Scholarship?" I gasped, my mind reeling. "You mean... I haven't just got a place?"
My mum laid a hand on my shoulder. "Just like that famous Mr Howard, darling." I narrowed my eyes. Was I fated to be associated with this man?
"But... there's one catch." My dad cleared his throat. "They want you to start tomorrow."
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So there I was that afternoon, sitting beside my dad on the train to Weymere. My suitcase, containing the bare necessities for the next few weeks, crushed my stiff leather boots as it rocked from side to side.
I didn't feel confident enough to board the train alone, so I had asked my dad to take time off his work to accompany me up there. There was an awkward silence in the compartment, and I knew that nobody knew what to say. Everything was all too sudden.
At that very moment, as I fell asleep to the rhythm of the train, Mia heard the message on her mobile from my mum. One hundred miles away, tears fell over the steaming cup of hot-chocolate she cradled in her hands. But how could I have known?
And she swore, that for the rest of her life, that she would hate me for leaving.
End of part one.
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When Light became Dark (Old TDEC)
Teen FictionReader, think carefully about your life. First remember that argument you had with your loved one, then remember the day you walked away. Then think about those failing moments, when you were crushed and left behind in the dirt. I can, and will, sha...
