All because of a Cream Puff
Dulwich College Beijing, Imi Parker, Fiction: Group 2
To: A stranger
Hi. My name’s Summer. I live in Philadelphia. I go to ISA. I have a brother and sister. George
is seven and a pain in the butt. Christina (Prissy-Chrissie) is sixteen and thinks she knows
everything. I am twelve and I hate school because I don’t have any friends. George has tons of
friends and even Christina has friends! Well, of course she does. She’s perfect. She’s so perfect
she makes me sick. I hope your family is nicer than mine. Another thing about me is that I didn’t
want to write this crappy letter to you, whoever you are.
From: Summer
I folded the paper in half and walked to Mr. Cranks’ desk. “I’m finished.” I said. No answer.
“Excuse me?” I tried. “Mr. Cranks!” I yelled. He started. ”SUMMER!” he protested. “I’m sorry Mr.
Cranks” I mumbled, flushing. “Alright. What did you need to speak to me about?” “I finished my
letter.” I told him.
“Give it to me and I’ll post it” I handed him the letter just as the bell rang. Everybody began
to pour out of the room. “Have a nice holiday!” He called after me.
“Dad and I are going out.” Mom told us later that evening. “Christina, you’re in charge.
George, it’s your turn to wash up, and kids…” We looked at her expectantly. “Don’t kill each other.”
And with that, she stepped into our dirty jeep and drove away.
“Summer!!! Where did you put my headphones?” Christina roared, storming into the living
room. I smirked. “Up there.” I said, pointing. I had hung her expensive purple headphones from
the chandelier! Before Christina could speak, George called out: “Hey, Prissy-Chrissie, get a load
of THIS!” and threw a cream-puff at her. It hit her right between her eyes. Christina’s face turned
red, purple, then, finally, white. Screaming with rage, she picked up a side-table and hurled
it at him. George dodged, and the heavy piece of furniture thudded against the wall. A single
crack began to form. It traveled from one side of the room to the other. It stopped just above
the mantelpiece, by Great-Grandpa’s ornate brass egg timer, which began to shake violently, the
grains of sand moving inside, like tiny demons fighting to get out of the cage that held them
captive. Then, it exploded in golden sparks. A tornado formed above our heads, gaining power and
strength with every magical moment. It dropped on us, a bomb, engulfing us in what seemed like
molten gold. Then, everything went black.
When I woke up, we were surrounded by sand. Sand and Animals. I’ve always loved animals,
so I could identify some of the species around us. There was the Jerboa, the Marbled Polecat, and
the Camel, all desert creatures. By this time, Christina had woken up. “Where are we?” she asked,
sleepily. Then she noticed what she was sitting next to. “Ahhhhhhhhhhh!” she screamed. “A rat!”
“Actually, it’s a Jerboa.” I told her mildly. George, who had been staring at the Camel, suddenly
yelled “It’s wearing CLOTHES!” we all turned to look. “Of course I’m wearing CLOTHES! You’re
wearing them aren’t you?” exclaimed the Camel. Christina’s eyes widened, I gasped and George’s
jaw was millimeters away from the dusty ground.
