I hauled my last case into the back of the taxi cab which had picked me up at Heathrow airport from Dubai. It was nice to be back on British soil; admittedly I wasn’t British but having spent the majority of life in Dartmoor I felt I belonged here. I originally came from Dublin; my parents had been living in Dubai for three years, but during those years I’d been at DMA. I’d also lived in London, Belfast, Glasgow and Cambridge. Having moved around a lot there hadn’t been a place I’d happily call home, but having spent three years at Dartmoor Academy I felt I’d finally found a place I could call home.
I sat in the back of the taxi watching the green vegetation pass by, I’d missed it. Dubai was full of sand and ostentatious buildings which didn’t suit their environment. I leant back in my seat, closed my eyes and prepared to endure the four hour journey to DMA.
“Excuse me Miss. Bridge, we’re here,” I opened my eyes to see the driver leaning through the gap. I grabbed my hand luggage and got out the car. The driver met me at the boot; he carried two cases into the reception and left them at my feet. A few pupils were mulling around the saloon but I headed to the reception to pick up my key and room number.
“Afternoon!” I chimed as I opened the door; the receptionist looked up slowly and raised her eyebrows.
“Name?” she was new, once you were in upper sixth everyone knew your name.
“Rose Bridge,” I told her,
“You’re in room 48 on the West wing, here’s a key.” she handed me the key and raised her eyebrows, “you’re the first upper sixth to arrive actually.” As she told me this the large doors opened again and Jack Simmons walked through. He was tanned after spending the summer back in California; he was in shorts and a t-shirt. He dropped his duffel bag and flicked his hair out his eyes, when we saw me his face broke into a grin and he walked across the room to me.
“Hey there Rosie!”
“Jack!” I exclaimed happily, “How are you?”
“Great! I mean I’ve been travelling for like fifteen hours but I’m so happy to be here!” his American twang resounded loud and clear.
“Jack Simmons?” asked the receptionist,
“Yeah,” he smiled back at her emotionless face,
“Room 52, West wing.”
“Awesome!” he enthused taking the key, “I forgot all the seniors got the West Wing! It has the view of the deer park I think! Which room are you?”
“48, so we’re on the same corridor!” I smiled. The door opened again and Sky Jackson walked in, a violin case in her hand, she smiled quietly to me and Jack and went to speak to the receptionist.
“Shall we?” he asked opening the door and letting me through. I picked up one case and hauled it towards the West Wing staircase,
“Need a hand?” someone asked, I turned round to see who it was and screamed. Jack covered his ears, I bounded towards Frankie and wrapped my arms around her neck. “I’ve missed you!” she cried,
“I’ve missed you too!” I told her wiping some tears from my eyes; she gave me a squeeze and released me.
“Come on, we haven’t got all day!” Jack groaned, his bag was propped on his shoulders and he was carrying another in his arms. Frankie held the door open for us and carried up one of my bags; I set it down in my dorm and smiled. I was home.