Traveler
"Mulan! We're leaving in 30 minutes!" yelled Mr. Goodman down an empty dorm hall.
Mulan, startled from the sudden noise in her once silent bubble, took a deep breath.
"Did you hear me?" he asked, this time from her doorway.
She didn't even look at the graying, middle-aged headmaster as she carefully packed an archery set. "Yes."
"Do you have your carry-on bag packed?" he asked, surveying the once lively room. Only three boxes were on her bed.
"No."
"Make sure you pack plenty to do then, 'kay?"
Silence.
He sighed and sat on the bed watching the once problem child pack her life into those few boxes. "You know we'll all miss you."
She looked at him as though that had never crossed her mind.
"But," he continued, "this is for the best. You need someone who is better able to focus on the woman you will become; and there are the girls in your life. You need female company." He looked once more at the strawberry blonde, 17 year-old in front of him. Her hair fell past her shoulders. She was wearing her favorite black revealing vest, and skintight pants. Her shoes were some black sandal pumps.
She had always been strange to him. Her arrival from the girl's boarding school was a shock to his all male school, but during her stay she blended in so well. The boys loved her and would miss her. But, he was glad she was going. Now someone else has to deal with all of her tricks and fights. A burden was being lifter off his shoulders.
Finally he left her alone. She was used to packing light. Only the essentials went into a medium backpack-a change of clothes; mascara, eye shadow, lipstick, and eye liner for makeup; a number fill in; MP3; and crochet.
Three men came to take the boxes away. She followed them out with her pack.
Down stairs were several of her teachers. Mulan hated teary, huggy goodbyes & this is what she got. Each instructor stepped up to either shake her hand or hug her. Mr. Yokovich, her Russian, French, German, Chek, & Romanian teacher was crying. Since she was his brightest pupil, he gave her a gift, as did her music teacher.
The school rebels had skipped class to see her off. Jewelry, nail polish, and a CD of songs they had composed with her help were their tokens of friendship.
Finally it was time to go. She got in the car still waving to everyone.
Mr. Goodman started drilling on what bus to take, how long between bus arrival and plane takeoff, who to expect and all that. She answered in monotone, and held up the tickets as he asked which was for what mode of transportation.
At the bus station, they bade each other farewell and she boarded the bus. She soon settled down for the 6 hour ride- falling asleep listening to LinkinPark, GC, EveneSence, etc.