Fate

Part four: 8th January 2005

Chapter 12 -Stephanie

I was rudely awoken by my alarm clock that sounds like a door bell ringing. I span around in my bed towards the alarm. I still can’t believe that I had to set it to 5. I tried slamming my face against the pillows but that didn’t seem to work very well. My parents were moving and shuffling, obvious getting ready to drop me off at the school gates. (To be completely honest with you, I thought normal people weren’t allowed at school at 7).

Even though I tried my hardest to get back to sleep, a loud bang was echoed through my room. Footsteps were approaching my bed. My light was then flicked on and off a number of times. The curtains were then opened, I don’t know why someone was doing that it’s not like any sunlight will be coming through.

“Stephanie, get up!” Dad shouted down my ear. “We need to get you to school, so you can go to on that trip.”

“Dad, I don’t want to go. Bangladesh wouldn’t be like I described. Please, I have learnt my lesson. Don’t send me there.”

“Honey, I am glad you learnt your lesson,” Dad whispered to me, sounding like he didn’t want to cause an argument. “But even if we wanted to pull you out, the school won’t let us since we have paid. We are sorry.”

“Fine,” I whispered back to him.

Reluctantly, I shifted myself awkwardly out of the warm heaven and retreated to the wardrobe to get ready. What kind of clothes would make me look like I blend in?

*******

“Steph, hurry up! It’s 6, you need breakfast!” Mum called from the kitchen.

“I am almost finished packing. Give me a minute!” I shouted down the stairs. I was literally almost done and all they do is rush me and I just feel like saying calm down, just take a breath and relax for a change. I folded my entire wardrobe into my pink suitcase and all of my electronic devices into my purple suitcase. My makeup is in my blue bag and my books are in my shopping bag (and yes I do read, don’t worry I’m not a nerd). Carefully, I was dragging it all down the stairs. I’m not going to lie, it was heavy.

“Dad! Mum! Can you help me carry my suitcases down the stairs?”

“Stephanie, you don’t need all this luggage. You are just going for a week,” Mum commented with a disapproved look on her face. “What do you have in there anyway?”

I told my parents what I had packed in my bag and they both looked like they were going to explode with anger.

“Stephanie you don’t need all that junk.” They both chorused together.

“But I need clothes otherwise I would smell, I need my books as they are something I can read, my makeup helps to make me myself and I need technology so I can keep in touch.”

“You don’t need technology, children your age in Bangladesh don’t have it, so why shall you?” Mum said, grabbing the gadget suitcase. “And you don’t need the makeup bag.” She reached for that too.

“Please, can I have my books at least? I need something to do on the flight and I need something to entertain myself in that misery place.”

“Fine, but you don’t need tablets or computers or mobile phones. If there was a problem the school would call us. Now come on, eat some breakfast before you go. It is a 10 hour flight you know.”

Wait, 10 hours. You have to be kidding me?

******

“Watch your step.” Mrs Potter called as me and about 15 other students walked up the stairs to our sits on the plane. I haven’t really travelled on an airplane before; my palms were shaking violently with nerves. Why can’t I control myself?