The Move: A Short Story by Natalie Bramer

Many of you know that Natalie is usually very hesitant to share any of her stories that she writes. She doesn't even let Tom or I read them. I looked the other day and she had more than 20 fiction stories on her computer! So we have been encouraging her to complete a story and then share so that people can enjoy them. We also encouraged her to enter a local writing contest. The grand prize is an iPad2! The challenge is that it had to be 2000 words or less. This is difficult for someone who uses 4 adjectives to describe everything! But she finished it and we submitted it. It was a great process for her to go through. And me to go through. I had to keep reminding myself she is only 9 so in her mind boxes can and do "sit blankly"! And now we can finally share. Enjoy!

THE MOVE

by Natalie Bramer 

“We’re moving to Canada?!” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them.

My dad nodded happily, like we had won the lottery. Ron was pumped, Nina was surprised. I was angry. Ron danced up behind me. “We’re going to Canada!!” He sounded happier about it. I glared at him.

My mom shot me a look. I refused to shut up. “We’re going to Canada?” I asked stormily, looking sulkily at my parents.

My father had a dangerous glint in his eye. He nodded sharply as he pushed his glasses up his nose.

I banged down my hand on the table. “I don’t believe you were so stupid that you took the job offer! How could you?!”

Mom turned to me icily. “Camarina, room. Now.” she pointed a finger at the staircase. I glared at her and stomped up the stairs, then slammed the door to my room.

For a while I lay on my bed, staring at my endless amount of posters that were pasted to my wall. “We’re moving.” I whispered. The reality hit me with a bang.

 “Have you got the snacks?” Mom barked at Ron. He nodded.

“Your pillows?” Mom snapped at me. 

“Yes.” I snapped right back.

Mom rounded on Nina. “Got the drinks?”

Nina nodded blankly.

Mom nodded approvingly and ushered us out the door.

Dad was loading the last of the luggage into the trunk, where thousands of suitcases and bags were scattered in the back.

“Ready, troops?” Dad asked.

Nina and Ron nodded eagerly. I just crossed my arms.

Dad ignored my stormy spirits and started helping us into the van. As soon as I got in, I stared out the window, although all I could see was the dirty blank wall of our garage. Nina was sitting next to me, and Ron squeezed into a tiny seat in the back, where all the luggage was.

I took one last glance at our house. The dead trees shifted in the wind, waving at me as if to say ‘goodbye!’.

The world was a blur of snow: at least outside the window.

It had been about six hours since we left; we had entered Canada and arrived at our home in Toronto.

Dad’s eyes twinkled as we pulled into the snow-coated driveway. “Grab your suitcases and go!” he announced as he parked the car. “We have arrived!”

The next day was busy. The boxes were still sitting blankly in all of the rooms. Occasionally, someone would slip something out of them and place it in its correct spot, but the house did seem to stay bare and cold.

I, myself, had more worries to attend to. Today was the first day of school.

As I undressed and pulled the uniform of the shelf, I pondered the question that had been in my head for days. ‘Would I make any friends?’ I slipped on the uniform. It had a skirt in it. I groaned inwardly. I hated skirts.

I emerged from the bathroom moodily, swinging my arms at my sides.

My mom was waiting for me in the hall. She wrinkled her nose in disgust at the sight of my hair, and sent me to Dad for a brush.

“Here you go, sport.” He handed me a brush wearily. “I swear, the boxes are multiplying.” He sighed and ran a hand through his messy black hair.

I jogged down the carpeted hall into the kitchen, where utensils, cutlery, boxes of frozen food and plates were strewn all over.

Nina was rooting through a box of Easy-To-Make Pancakes, a gooey mess of sour tasting mix, all ready to go. Nina knew nothing about cooking. She could barely make anything. But one of the things that she did know how to make was boxed pancakes.

I watched Nina pour the batter into a pan she had managed to find. She adjusted the temperature and pulled out her phone as the pancakes sizzled.

I joined Ron, who looked both tired and hungry. “We get to have pancakes.” I jammed a finger in Nina’s direction. I smirked as Ron’s hungry look vanished.

“What is that smell?!” Mom gagged as she entered the room.

“Nina’s making breakfast.” I said matter-of-factly. Mom nodded in recognition. “Pancakes?” she asked, taking a long sniff in the smoky air.

Nina entered and handed us each a charred pancake. We ate in silence. Well, we didn’t really eat.

Soon, a bus honked outside. Our cue to go.

I slipped my coat on, then threw away my pancake, snatched my bookbag and raced out the door into the chilly winter day.

The school bus for Toronto Eons Public School was much bigger than your average one. A lot of windows were lined down the bus, with faces studying me critically from each and every one. I stepped toward the front of the bus.

The bus doors opened automatically, and I stepped in to find thousands of eyes staring at me. I uncomfortably nodded and slipped in the only empty row left, the one right over the wheels, the ones that get the biggest jolts. I scrunched myself into the seat, trying to make myself look smaller as the occupants of the bus stared me down, some as young as five.

Ron had to sit next to me, and Nina sat with another girl who was texting away on her phone.

The driver shifted gears. He pulled his orange cap tighter on his nearly hairless head and started the engine. The bus vibrated when it was moving, so I felt extremely uncomfortable throughout the ride, with my insides scrambling around. Not just from the bus.

When the bus reached the school, I felt sick all the way to homeroom. The door to my classroom was littered with signs saying Ms Sterner, so it was easy finding my class.

I was really hoping that the teacher was not like Mrs. Paddington, my fluttery teacher I had in second grade.

Just my luck, my teacher Ms Sterner waddled up to me and took me by the shoulders. “Why, hello Camarina!” she said loudly. Several classmates looked up.

“Uh, you can call me Marina.” I said. I snuck a look at my classmates.

Most classmates stared blankly at me. I tried to smile as the knot in my stomach squeezed tighter. A girl with blonde hair smiled back kindly. “Hi, I’m Marina.” I managed to get out.

The girl smiled at me more, than gave a shy, small wave. I didn’t wave back.

Ms Sterner started a speech. When it was done, she asked “Can we have a volunteer to help Camarina out? What about you, Jessie?”

The girl who had waved nodded vigorously. “You can sit next to me!” she said excitedly.

I nodded numbly.

Jessie smiled at me again. I kept my head down, staring hard at the circles expanding from the wood.

A shrill whistle pierced the air. A teacher shook his finger at the boys playing soccer. I snuck a look as I skimmed the field. Nothing interesting.

“Hey Marina!” a cheerful voice said behind me. I turned to find Jessie standing behind me, grinning like a lunatic. “Whatcha doin’?” she grinned.

I shrugged. “Nothing, really.”

“You wanna jump rope with me?” she asked.

This was my chance to make a new friend! “No thanks. I’m fine on my own.” The words came out of my mouth without me thinking about it.

Jessie looked taken aback for a second, than said in a surprised tone. “Uh, okay.” She walked off towards her waiting friends.

I buried my head in my hands. My only chance to make a friend and I blew it!

Nina flagged me down after the bus rumbled away. “Tell Mom I’m going to Lilly’s house.” she told me, then set off towards the park with a girl.

I nodded. I already had to tell Mom that Ron was going to a kid named Matt’s house.

I trudged home, my feet unusually heavy against the light coating of snow. As I passed the park next to our house, I saw Ron and his friend engaged in a game of soccer with some other boys. Nina was still in sight, chatting with Meghan as they walked across the street.

My mom was waiting for me as I opened the door.

“Hey sweetie. Dad’s at work.” She looked up from a cardboard box that she was unpacking. “How was school?”

I responded by trudging over to the table, leaving my coat and bag in a heap at my feet and crossing my arms as I sat on one of the chairs.

Mom leaned away from the box. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked, sitting down beside me.

I shook my head and crossed my arms even tighter.

“Oh, don’t be such a bad apple.” My mom persisted, resting a hand on my shoulder. I hesitated for a moment. Then the story tumbled out, from the second I walked outside to when I walked home.

My mom listened all the way, twisting a strand of her hair in her finger. “So Ron and Nina made new friends and you didn’t. Do you know why?” she asked softly, looking deep into my eyes. I didn’t move, just stared down at the tablecloth.

“Because,” Mom continued. “You didn’t try.”

I looked up and Mom stared back at me. “Well, I guess I didn’t try too hard.” I admitted.

Mom placed a hand on my head. “Tomorrow, you are going to go up to Jessie and ask her if you could jump rope with her.” She insisted, eyeing me apprehensively.

“All right, all right.” I put my hands up and gave a laugh. It felt nice to laugh, like I had been holding it in.

My mom smiled and stood up. “Now, dinner isn’t going to make itself. You can start with the salad…”

The sun was warm on my back as it drained the little amount of snow left. I was standing beside a large bush, trying to gather my courage. I could see Jessie and three other girls hopping as the long jump rope swished over their heads. I took a deep breath and emerged from the bush, slowly making my way to where the girls were skipping faster and faster.

“Teddy bear, teddy bear, turn around, teddy bear, teddy bear, touch the ground!” The rhythmic beat matched the speed of my thumping heart. I watched as Jessie touched the ground as the other girls repeated the chant.

One girl messed up. She was handed the end of the rope, the other gladly joined the middle. This was my only chance…

“Hey Jessie. JESSIE!” I bellowed at the top of my lungs. Jessie turned, looking surprised.

I ran towards her. “Can I play?” I panted, sweat pouring down my forehead.

“Sure.” She beamed at me. But it was more than just a smile. It was an act of kindness. A smile of relief.

Maybe even a sign of things to come.

The next day found me waiting in line to be a jumper. Slap…slap…the rope worked out a beat as it slammed into the stone ground. The spinners of the rope, who were named Meghan and Josie, were chanting a beat, spinning the rope faster and faster.

As I waited, I reflected on the day. The sun poured on my back as I stepped to the front of the line. I had had lunch with Jessie, Meghan, Josie and their friends, and Jessie invited me over to her house!

After the talk Mom had given me last night, I realized I really did act like a bad apple. Cranky, rude, and all the rest of that stuff. And when I had been more open to the situation, wham!, I made a friend. I listened to the chant for a few moments.

Then, smiling, I joined Jessie and her friends, jumping to the beat of the rope.