The Last Bell

When we are younger we listen to our parents. Why? Because we know that we are too young to make the right decisions. They're the people who have our best interests at heart. But what happens when we're older? Should we have the choice to make those decisions, even though the parents disagree? Isn't arguing with your parents the normal thing to do when you're a teen? What if it concerns your life? But what if it's not only your life your making a decision for, what if what you decided affects n

CHAPTER 1 – THE FIRST BELL.

The sky was crystal clear with only the source of all energy shinning dominantly above me. It could not get any better than this, could it? The eagles were soaring and searching for their breakfast, the trees were fluttering absorbing the scattered rays. Children were arguing with their parents as they are asked them continuously to get ready for school. Teenagers were screaming inside with the idea of the autumn term of school.

            Everything was just right. Well for me it was. Today I shall enter the rooms which I have missed so dearly. The rooms which are filled with the smell of chalk and the screeching sounds they make when it hits the blackness; the suffocating aromas of posh expensive perfume battling against the stench of those who don’t use deodorant; the language of learning and the atmosphere of people my own age. The things I long to see before I go. My pain relief; my dying wish - to return to school!

Well it was not as perfect as what I wanted it to be. I wanted to be able to walk through the main doors head high with everything about me placed in a box sealed with a lock which only I could open. But no! My ever so loving mother decided it would be best if I she came along with me to make sure the headmaster knew about my condition and set some ‘rules’!  

I sat outside the headmaster’s office whilst my mum gave Mr Harold an ear ache of a speech which explained what the teachers should and should not do and how I should be treated and what would happen if they did not do what she said. I could not help but feel sorry for Mr Harold. The problem with my mum is, well, she tries to be supermom, but, she can’t be. I don’t want her to be supermom. I just want her to be a mom who loves me so much that she will allow me to die the way I want to. 

I am not exactly sure what mother said to Mr Harold but when I went in he looked like he was walking on egg shells; looks like my mum’s thunder like nature affected yet another person. He looked as though my mother was the only one who had given him an ear ache. He offered me a seat opposite his desk, I took his offer and sat down and then he started at me in a statue like posture as though he was thinking of what to say to me without saying anything that will provoke me to have an outrage like my mother. I stared aimlessly back at him. What? Did he want me to say something? Was he trying to have a staring competition? Well if it was a staring competition I won. Mr Harold coughed which made me smile with satisfaction that a conversation could finally get under way.

“Ceri, please excuse my rudeness I was merely thinking of what your mother told me”

I groaned, silently, well I thought I was quiet, until I heard Mr Harold laughing.

“From what your mother told me about you, I was expecting a weak girl who could hardly fend for herself, but you look healthy and very much capable of looking after yourself.”

I could not help but laugh, trust my mother to talk about the negative thoughts about me.

“Ah, I’m sorry about that. My mum, what can I say? Well she likes to make sure people know my condition in a more negative dramatic way.”

“Yes I shall bare that in mind for my next encounter with your mother. Right so today, have you got any concerns you would like to ask me before I tell you the basics”

Whilst waiting outside his office I thought of how to say that I wanted to be treated like any other pupil. Because of my mom’s time dwelling speech I could think of a big long, impressive if I do say so myself, speech which will blow him over. And now was my chance to try it.

“Actually yes there is. From what I think my mom would have told you, she would have wanted you to let every living soul in this school know that I am dying and that they should treat me differently than the others, I should not be allowed to do Sports, or get as much homework as others or be obliged to do tests – anything that will cause me to become stressed and feeling ill I am not allowed to do. But I am begging you please do not tell the other teachers or students. When I choose to come back to school I wanted to be able to feel the pressure which normal teenagers have to go through, to have the annoying task of revising, to moan about how much homework we get, to fret about looking good in school. For the last part of my life I want to live as though I am not dying. I don’t know whether anyone could understand why but all they need to know is that it is how I want to feel when I die.”

I sigh, it feels like such a weight to finally get this off my chest, yet why does it have to be my headmaster?

“If it is okay with you sir I would very much appreciate if only you and I knew about my condition and until I am ready for everyone else knowing I would like to tell people, myself. And that is all I have to say.” I smile please with myself for finally speaking to someone else about it.

“Well Ceri that was an impressive speech and just between you and me I think we can establish this as our little secret, we do not have to tell anyone if that is what you want?”

 After that our conversation was pretty much a typical pupil headmaster talk where he explained the rules of his school, what my classes were and who my teachers are. He also handed me my timetable and a map, which I think he knew would come in handy.  

And then an hour later our talk ended. He shook my hand, led me to the door and gave me to the secretary. I closed my ears off to my surroundings whilst Mr Harold talked to the secretary as I heard the sound I had longed to hear, the sound of the white painted brass clanging, telling my fellow students to get to their other class. And that is where the secretary was taking me to, my first class, Maths. And for me that made it even more perfect! This was the beginning of my last chapter.

The End

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