Year 9 mentor group

YEAR 9

FRONT ROW: Jessica Nearn, Georgia Vogt, Olivia Cambouris, Constance Rochios, Lauren Pulley, Sonja Luland, Yunqi (Tara) Dai, Mr J Compton, Isabella Rajek, Lily Wong, Arieta Varvaressos, Olivia Martin, Helena Comino, Kelly-Ann Kwan, Alicia Elliott

SECOND ROW: Charlotte Davidson, Katherine Dovolis, Alexandra Webster, Eden Timbery, Natasha Pollett, Sofia Avramides, Phoebe Moore, Sophie Bell, Emily Shorthouse, Sophie Scaffidi, Sarah Kelly, Lynette Zhang, Claudia Roussel, Sydney Hure, Zara Sheldrick-Aboud

THIRD ROW: Chilee Roland, Margaret Bolas, Nicole Chong, Constance Skeffington, Charlotte Sork, Isabella Meyrick, Semi Kim, Emily Lim, Amelia Tsimos Costantoura, Scarlett Pike, Ava Edwards, Harriet Amos, Rosa Mollica, Olivia Tajer, Alice Mourant

FOURTH ROW: Sophia Zhang, Isabella El-Haddad, Zoe Wotherspoon, Hannah Cheung, Chloe Sassine, Hailey Vincent, Lucy Giuffrida, Lily Foxall, Daisy Strike, Sophia Pinter, Mia Rogers, Eloise Bolton, Emma Higgins, Aarya Kaul

FIFTH ROW: Jiaxuan (Stella) Dong, Ruoyun (Yolanda) Li, Ya (Priscilla) Gao, Sarah Anastasiou, Lux Strugar, Julia France, Felicity Taylor, Hannah McDonald, Scarlett Pellegrini, Eliza Morgan, Tamsyn Taylor, Madison Souvlis, Alicia Vaughan, Harriette Gardiner, Connie Li

SIXTH ROW: Dominique Leeming, Chloe Brooker, Eeshani Parameswaran, Georgia Shearer, Mia Bennett, Catherine Aulia, Alexandra Cairncross, Amelia Boyle, Michaela Dyson, Amelia Cooper, Alydiira Price, Zoe Sullivan, Zarlie Brewis, Bella Taper

SEVENTH ROW: Isabelle Hooker, Lucinda Parshall, Olivia Kinnaird, Lucinda Edwards, Georgia Griffen-White, Morgan Gaden, Lara Sciberras, Jamie Podmore Taylor, Bridget Kluck, Imogen Spence, Phoebe Ryan, Fiona Yu, Isabella Davison, Elena McEwan

ABSENT: Amelia Dunkley, Adela Eshuys, Elyse Hovenden, Bronte Howarth, Patricia Kapsalis, Sophie Kay, Eliza Kwek, Kayla Muir, Chloe Munro, Chawanya (Quantum) Charoensawad, Yunrong (Sarah) Ye

As I step off the train with suitcase in hand, a creature attacks me much like the way a child attacks a present on Christmas Day. Ice azure eyes stare up at me, and pearly white teeth break into a grin.

“Nattie!” Molly, my younger sister by 12 years embraces me tightly, and I think my heart actually bursts, from joy, and also from how hard she is squeezing me. Finally, she releases, and I take in my surroundings. The scent of the sea washes over me; a salty sensation fills my nostrils. Giggling children whip past, playing tag, with their frazzled, frustrated parents rushing after them, calling for them to come back. I glimpse Sallie’s Sweet Shop, neatly tucked away in a corner. Unbeknown to visitors to this town, that sweet shop sells some of the best cinnamon doughnuts that I have ever tasted. Immediately, that craving enters my stomach and I know it won’t go away until the demand has been satisfied. I can already taste the sugary-spicy cinnamon and hear the crunch of fried dough that melts into soft clouds of fluffiness on my tongue, and…

“Oh, Natalie, I’ve missed you so much!” Mum croons, running out from the car. Dad follows close behind. Upon seeing them, I am hit with a wave of nostalgia. This was my home for 18 years and I haven’t been back for six years. It sure has been a while.

As I walk into Sallie’s Sweet Shop, a giddy feeling overcomes me. It’s not the ‘falling in love’ kind of giddy, nor is it the ‘I got full marks on an exam’ giddy. It is a childhood feeling, when you rush into a place that has something you can never have. The excitement I once had as a child has returned. But as I glance at one of the workers, I freeze. A childhood memory invades my mind. And it’s not a good one.

I was around four years old, by myself, in this very sweet shop, with an assortment of coins that added up to $10 gripped in my chubby fist. Determined to buy a box of chocolates for my mum’s birthday, as a surprise. I also had a $100 note sticking out from my pocket, which Daddy said was ‘only for very extra special emergencies’. I was determined not to use it. This purchase was to be all on my own merits.

I marched up to the counter, proudly placed down my carefully saved coins, and recited the speech I had been practising in secret for days.

“One assorted chocolate box, please.” I announced. The lady at the till did not even move. Her beady eyes stared me down; I felt like an ant about to be squashed by some ruthless human’s heel. Internally, I had panicked. Questions exploded in my brain. What did I do? Did I say something wrong? Did I say ‘assorted’ right? But I plucked up my courage and repeated my sentence. The lady’s eyes grew even beadier. Finally, she replied.

“That will be $100.”

$100 dollars? It couldn’t be. I had planned this for ages. I passed this shop every day, on my walk to school, and the price in the window said $10.

“Don’t you mean $10?” I had sweetly asked, genuinely believing that she had simply made a mistake.

“No, the price is $100. If you don’t have the money, you can leave.” She croaked, thin lips forming into a smug smirk.

Now, this was the moment everything got a little blurry. I recall screaming like a banshee, crying louder than when dealing with a break up, and throwing a tantrum such that I nearly hit my mother when she walked in, aghast at what her little girl was doing. My plan was ruined. I had left all my money sitting on that counter and that $100 was gone from my pocket.

I remember this experience clearly and as Molly and I walk out of the shop, I glimpse a little boy, on tiptoe to reach the counter, placing a shiny $2 down for a lollipop. The same lady, at her most weathered and wrinkled, still manages to say, “Sorry, that lollipop is actually $20. Why don’t you run along to ask mummy for more money?”

As the little boy’s face falls in dismay, I strut back into the shop, look her in the eye and reply, “Actually, I think you’re mistaken. That sign says $2, doesn’t it?” I make sure the sass stays in my tone. ‘Witch-woman’ simply narrows her eyes at me and hobbles away, taking the $2 with a swift swipe. I hand the lollipop to the young boy, who beams back. Sometimes, ignorance truly is bliss.

Emily Lim