Mrs Thompson Goes Away (a story by 11-year-old me)

My mum recently found a book of stories I wrote in Grade 5, age eleven. I've been sitting here laughing so hard I'm crying and thought I'd share one.

Here's an insight to how my serious (and spelling- and punctuation-perfect!) mind worked twenty years ago...

MRS THOMPSON GOES AWAY

"Hi, Mrs Thompson," I said. I was visiting Mrs Cordelia Thompson. Mrs Thompson lives at a nursing home. She is eighty-nine on Saturday. Mrs Thompson is my only friend (apart from my cat, my dog, my fish and my mice). All the kids at school make fun of Mrs Thompson. Anyway, Mrs Thompson's reply was, "I've told you so many times, Cassandra, call me Cordelia."

"And I've old you so many times, Cordelia, to call me Cassy," I said with a laugh.

Mrs Thom, whoops, Cordelia laughed, too.

"Okay, Cassy, what book have you got for me today?"

"It's a book of Folktales from different countries."

"Okay, then read me one from China."

I looked it up and found that I couldn't read it, because it was written in Chinese! So I decided to play a joke on Cordelia. I looked at my watch and pretended that I had to rush. I said, "Sorry, Cordelia, but I have to go now."

I put the book on her lap, and went and stood outside her door, waiting to see what would happen.

"Cassandra Louise Smith," I heard Cordelia say. "That little brat. Trust her to do something like that."

I ran away, not wanting to hear anymore. I couldn't believe it. As soon as I got home, I ran outside, and cried and cried. So I didn't have any friends anymore. (Except for my cat, my dog, my fish and my mice.) I admit, I was getting sick of Cordelia. All she ever wanted me to do was to read to her. She was boring. She couldn't even get out of her wheelchair, let alone out of the nursing home. She didn't even say please or thankyou to me. I didn't need her. Anyway, there was going to be a new girl coming to school tomorrow. Maybe she would be nice to me.

The next day at school I found out who the new girl was. She was shy, like me. She was pretty, like me (well, like everyone says). Guess what? She had to sit next to me, and I got to show her around the school at lunchtime. She was really nice. (Oh, by the way, her name was Cassandra!)

I couldn't believe it! She even had the same name as me! Wow! What a good sort of pair of friends! She was friendly to me, and if anyone was mean to me, Cassandra glared at them.

That night, she came to my house. We were just playing 'Girl Talk' when mum came to my room and said to me, "Cassy, Mrs Thompson is on the phone for you."

So I went to the phone and said, "Hi, MRS THOMPSON."

"Hi, Cassy. It's Cordelia, remember? And why haven't you been visiting me, you naughty girl? And what about that book?"

"Yes," I answered. "Trust me to do something like that, right? I'm such a little brat, listening through the door, right?" And I hung up.

I went back to my room. Cassandra and I kept playing 'Girl Talk'.

The next day, I got to school early and I saw Mrs Thompson waiting for me at the front gate. I walked straight past her. But as soon as I had she walked up to me. Then suddenly, Mrs Thompson fainted. I ran to the office. No-one was there. I called, "Miss Sommers". No-one answered. I ran back to Mrs Thompson. I hadn't been quick enough. She was dead.

The End.


Cheerful little soul, wasn't I?