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    quokka
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 

Another Brother - 1. Bro Chapter 1

Life was just usual and average, well it was until I received the devastating news that my parents were killed in a train derailment crash, while on a short holiday in Queensland, and while they were away, I was staying with my maternal grandmother – my only relative on Mum’s side of the family.

My12 year old younger brother Oscar is currently living with my Aunt Kitty and Uncle Frank on my father’s side of the family, and for some reason that side of the family have had a total dislike of me since I became a teenager and started high school.

“Austin, can you come and help me in the kitchen please,” a familiar voice asked me through the intercom from the house, “Yes Gran, I will be right there,” I replied after pressing the button to the intercom from the back guest house, where I like to hang out and where I prefer to do my studies. I quickly finished the last sentence of my assignment, and I closed the borrowed school laptop, before heading to the house and the kitchen.

It has now been three months since I received the life changing news of my parent’s death. Mum and Dad were both professional workers, Mum was an accountant, working from 10 to 2 pm each week day, so she could make sure that we got to school and so she was home when we arrived home at the end of the day.

Dad was a high school science teacher at a private elite school, where he once attended, and although he wanted me to attend the same school, Mum agreed with me that I would prefer to attend a local high school, which I have been doing for the past four and a half years.

Just as I was about to walk into the kitchen, I heard a crash and a thud, and I raced in to find Gran laying on the ground, and a smashed bowl and vegetables scattered everywhere. I called for an ambulance, before sitting on the ground stroking Gran’s beautiful silvery hair.

When I was told that Gran had suffered a heart attack, and that she was in a critical condition, as she was loaded into the ambulance, and I was left standing there, with tears streaming down my cheeks, and I was not sure what to do.

After cleaning up the mess in the kitchen, I locked up the house, and grabbing my bike, I rode to the hospital to check on Gran, and as I locked up the bike to a sign post, I sent a quick message to my brother. “Hey bro, just letting you know that Gran has had a heart attack and was rushed to hospital, I have just arrived there, and will update you on how she is going. Austin.”

When I mentioned to the hospital reception, that I was here to see my Grandmother, and mentioned her name, the receptionist asked me to take a seat and someone will come and speak to me soon. About half an hour later, I walked out of the hospital in shock.

“Hey bro, Gran has passed away, I will let you know details of the funeral as soon as I find out about it, Austin,” I text to my bro, before unlocking my bike and walking away from the hospital. I ended up walking the whole way back to Gran’s place, which was a good three kilometres away, and after putting my bike in the guest house, I collapsed onto the double bed and started crying again.

I must have fallen asleep as it was well after daybreak, and when I eventually glanced at the clock, it was well after 9.30 am. I groaned, realising that I was late for school, then remembering what had happened yesterday, I lay back down and started to cry once more.

When I woke up again, I staggered to the bathroom and after having a pee and washing my face, I staggered over to the main house, and made myself a sandwich, and poured a glass of juice. Once I had eaten and cleaned up the kitchen, I went to my bedroom, where has spent the next twenty minutes packing all of my belongings, which was not really that much.

After Mum and Dad had died, my Uncle and Aunt told me to pack up everything that will fit into the small trailer, and everything else would be sold or given away. The trailer load of belongings consisted of mostly books, clothes, shoes and a few school items; were taken to Gran’s place where I was unceremoniously dumped, and it was the last time that I saw my little brother.

The guest cottage, which was once where Mum lived as a young lady while attending university, is at the back of her family 2-acre property, and backs onto an access laneway. Unknown to me, as a graduation gift, the back ¼ acre of the property had been made a separate title.

This was why there was a tall fence that separates the main part of the block, and with the help of the trees and shrubs growing along the fence, the connecting gate is fairly well hidden.

Once I had moved my belongings to the guest house, I returned to the house to empty the pantry and the fridge, taking it all down to the guest house, as I didn’t want to been in the house anymore, now that Gran is gone.

The last thing that I did, after giving the house a thorough clean, was to disconnect the intercom system, so it is no longer connected to the guest house, and I walked back down to the guest cottage, closing the gate for the last time, bolting it from the guest house side.

The following day, I headed to school as usual, and as I locked my bike, I heard someone step up beside me. Mr Kimbolton, your presence is required at the Deputy Principal’s office pronto,” one of the teachers said to me, “Yes Miss, thankyou for letting me know,” I said politely, before heading in the direction of the administration building.

After waiting for nearly twenty minutes, I was called into Mr Jordan’s office. “Mr Kimbolton… Austin, I would like an explanation for your absence from school for the past two days,” Mr Jordan said to me sternly, and my head dropped down as I could feel tears filling my eyes once more, and I didn’t know what to say so I remained silent.

“Well, I am waiting for a reply… I have tried calling your grandmother a number of times, but there has been no answer, maybe you can fill me in on what is happening?” Mr Jordan asked me. “That would be because she has just passed away,” I mumbled.

“What? Speak up boy,” Mr Jordan snapped at me, “I took a breath and cleared my throat, “I said… Sir, that you would not be able to contact her, as she passed away recently,” I said clearly, and the Deputy Headmaster froze and his mouth dropped open, not sure how to respond to that statement.

“Err… I am terribly sorry to hear that Mr Kimbolton, I had no idea, so I am presuming that this was very recent, and that you are now staying with other relatives,” Mr Jordan commented. “I… I’m currently living at home still, I have been busy with cleaning up the house, and dealing with the loss of my Gran,” I replied.

“Do you have other relatives? You have a younger brother, don’t you?” Mr Jordan said to me, “Yes and yes, I have an Aunt and Uncle and cousins, and my younger brother lives with them since Mum and Dad died. I don’t get along with them, so at the moment I am just trying to deal with Gran no longer being here, and getting the house sorted,” I replied.

Mr Jordan picked up his telephone on the desk and dialled a number. “Mark Jordan here, can you come to my office please, we have an urgent matter to deal with,” I heard him say before ending the call. A few minutes, later there was a knock on the door and the door opened.

The school’s counsellor - Mrs Young walked in and she looked at Mr Jordan and then to me before frowning. “It’s Austin Kimbolton, isn’t it?” she asked me, before taking a seat next to me, and she gave me a smile. “Now Austin, would you like to tell me what this is all about, I believe that you have missed a couple of days of school,” she said to me.

“My… my Gran died of a heart attack the other day, and my…” I started to say, as I felt tears welling in my eyes. “I gather he is currently living alone, dealing with the grief on his own,” Mr Jordan said to fill in some of the information.

“Well, we cannot have that can we, now can you remind me, how old are you now?” Mrs Young asked, and I frowned, as I tried to think what month it is now, then the date. “Err… my birthday was the day after Gran died actually, but with everything happening over the past few months, I forgot all about it,” I reply.

“So, you are 16 now?” Mrs Young asked me, “No, I am now 17 actually,” I replied, and both Mr Jordan and Mrs Young looked shocked. “Oh well, that does change things, we don’t need to worry about your welfare as much as, since you are only a year away from being 18, but do you have any financial security?” Mrs Young asked.

“I have no idea, I have just been dealing with my losses for now,” I commented. At that moment, there was a knock on the door, and the Deputy Principal called to enter. “Sorry to disturb you, I have a lawyer by the name of Mr Stephen Masters, who is looking for Mr Kimbolton,” the receptionist said from the doorway.

“Please let him in,” the Deputy Principal said right away. Over the next twenty minutes, I learnt that my education future was secure, with all my high school and university education costs covered by a trust account, but Gran’s house would be kept in trust, until I have reached the age of 21 years, and in the meantime, the house would be leased out, until then.

In regards to income, I would be receiving a fortnightly income to cover general living costs, which would be paid directly into my personal bank account, and that if I do choose to stay with my relatives, they would get a small payment to cover costs of food and accommodation, until I have completed my high school education.

Once I have reached the age of 21, I will be entitled to an inheritance from my Mother’s side of the family that will keep me comfortable for most of my life.

I was a little surprised by this news, and before he left, Mr Masters handed me a sealed envelope and his business card, and said to me to call him any time, if I needed any advice. After the meeting with the Deputy Principal, I decided to take some time to myself, and I retreated to the one place where I felt the happiest, in the piano rehearsal room.

Since the age of eight, Gran encouraged me to keep practicing the piano, and I agreed on the condition that it remains between us, and over the years, each fortnight that I spent weekends with my grandmother, I learnt and practiced the piano, with the assistance of a piano teacher that she had employed.

Mr Perugino was a talented piano player and teacher, who insisted that I learn classical music, but also to learn a variety of jazz and some country music too, and I was always happiest when I was playing the piano. When he died suddenly when I was 15 years old, I felt empty and lost, but Gran encouraged me to continue to play in his memory.

Now in the practice room at the school, I was going to play in Gran’s memory, thinking back to all the hours that she spent sitting listening to me play. I sat on the piano stool and thought for a moment on what to play, and smiling, I began to play Deux Arabesques No.1 in E Major, and I continued playing with a more difficult piece, Pour Le Piano Toccata, and Valse Romantique, all from Debussy, also Wonderful World by the late and great Louis Armstrong, and finally Chattanooga Choo - Choo by the Glen Miller Band.

By the time that I had finished, I was tired but also happy at the same time, and moments later the school bell rang to signal the end of class for the morning, and with it now being lunch time, I knew that the practice rooms would soon be filled with students wanting to practice.

As I raced to exit the practice room, I stopped suddenly, as I saw Mrs Young standing there, and she was wiping away a tear. “That was absolutely beautiful, how long have you been playing piano, and why is this the first we have heard you playing?” she asked me.

“That was not me playing Mrs Young, I was pretending to play while listening to the music on my phone,” I explained, and I wondered if she would accept my explanation. “I highly doubt that, when I just heard the teaching style of my old music teacher, Mr Perugino,” she responded, which surprised me.

“You were taught by him too?” I asked, and Mrs Young smiled and nodded her head yes. “Please Miss, I don’t want anyone to know that I play piano, I only do it to help me relax and for my Gran, who is no longer here,” I said as I began to feel upset as I thought of her.

“You secret is safe with me, but I want you to keep up with practicing the piano daily, and if you can’t do that at home or here at school, come and see me, and you can come to my place and play on my piano,” Mrs Yong said to me, before walking down the hallway.

Heading to the canteen to get some lunch, I almost didn’t go in, with the place now full of students, and I hesitated at the door and thought about if I should go in or not, before stepping inside. With a tray of food and a drink, I looked around the canteen to see if I could find a place to sit, and I almost gave up the search, when I felt a tap on the elbow.

“Hey dude, where have you been the past few days, we have been wondering if you are ok,” the familiar voice of my classmate George Castalia said to me, and I turned my head and smiled. “Hey Georgie Boy, yeah, I am doing ok, I have just had a very tough few days with personal family stuff, I will be fine,” I replied, as George growled for me using that nickname that he hated, and which he would only let me get away with.

“Good, now come over to our usual table and tell me all about it, I want to help you, as do the others, we are all friends, so we are here to help you,” George said, as he turned and headed for our usual table and I groaned before following him.

Margaret, Toby, Samantha and Julia were all there at the table and they smiled broadly when they saw me approaching. “Here he is, our lost puppy has found his way home,” Toby commented, as George sat down opposite him and a shout of pain from Toby, indicated that he may have just received a kick in the shin from George, and I sat at the last free spot, next to Toby.

Copyright December 2021 All Rights are reserved, Preston Wigglesworth
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Stories posted in this category are works of fiction. Names, places, characters, events, and incidents are created by the authors' imaginations or are used fictitiously. Any resemblances to actual persons (living or dead), organizations, companies, events, or locales are entirely coincidental.
Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you. 
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Being American I am new to reading Australian writings. I must confess I do love the style and localisms of  their derivative of English.  So much more polite than here in the states. The author moves the story along beautifully with just enough descriptive passages. You have cry for poor Austin losing his Mum and Da and now his Gran. Thankfully he has been provided for with inheritance. I am anxious to see how he gets on. A great start to what seems like an excellent story.

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I'm an Aussie-phile and love a good story with that accent. 

I'll be following Austin and the story Q.

 

🙃 Down under smiley.

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6 hours ago, jamessavik said:

I'm an Aussie-phile and love a good story with that accent. 

I'll be following Austin and the story Q.

 

🙃 Down under smiley.

Thanks mate.

🤗🤗🤗

😀😀😀

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