Kathy

As the plane touched down, I took a deep breath and looked around me. Everything seemed so… normal, especially since my world had just been turned completely upside down. I knew that looks were deceiving. I was in a foreign place and I knew no one. All I knew at this point was that Mr. McGregor was going to meet me at the airport and bring me to the family I would be staying with.

I waited at the baggage claim with my gym bag over one shoulder and my backpack over the other. I snagged my suitcase as it came around then looked for the oversized baggage claim. I spotted my equipment and practically lunged for my goalie pads as someone almost touched them. No one touched my equipment except for me. Once I had all my equipment and bags, I took stock and wondered how I was going to carry all of it. With a shrug, I slung my gym bag containing all my workout gear across my body, put my backpack on my back and then grunted as I staggered under the weight of my hockey bag and pads. I grabbed my suitcase, which thankfully wheeled along behind me, in one hand and my sticks in the other.

Once I was set, I looked around for my ride. Once I found my way to the lobby, I spotted someone holding a small sign with my name on it. I rolled my eyes and made my way towards him with all my luggage in tow.

When I stopped in front of Mr. McGregor I dropped all my bags and rolled my shoulders, which practically sighed in relief now that the load was off them.

Mr. McGregor raised an eyebrow slightly, “Is that it?” he asked me, his voice a mix of surprise and amusement.

I furrowed my brows in confusion, “Yes, what else would I need?” I asked, feeling like the confusion is completely apparent in my voice.

The man shook his head with a small smile and reached for my heaviest bag, which was my hockey bag.

Before he could touch it, I said, “No, it’s ok, I’ve got that. You can grab some of my other bags if you want to help.” He gave a strange look, so I elaborated and explained, “It’s like a rule: goalies carry their own stuff.”

The man nodded, and without another word, grabbed my suitcase, gym bag and backpack and then ushered me to the door.

While on the road, Mr. McGregor started talking, “While you are here you will be attending the local high school. I’ve already made the arrangements for you, so you will be in the sophomore class. Your billet house is a few minutes from the school and you will be staying with Irene and Robert Pengere. They have an older son named Thomas, and a daughter Meaghan, who is also a sophomore….”

Mr. McGregor kept talking about little details that I didn’t really care about as I began to space out. I thought about my friends back home, about my family and my own school that I left behind.

Without really thinking, I asked, “Is there a French class at this high school?”

Mr. McGregor stopped and blinked at me, “Well yes, but Kathy, why do you want to take a French class? Spanish classes are much more popular and would be better off for you to take in the long run.”

From the way he had said ‘French’ he made it sound like it was a bad thing.

I felt my face grow hot as I replied, “I’ve been taking French classes since I was four, I would really like to continue.”

He smiled tightly and said doubtfully, “I will see what I can do.”

We spent the rest of the ride in silence.

As we pulled up outside a house that was painfully ordinary, I took a deep breath and tried to settle my churning stomach, hoping that I would be able to fit in here.