In the House of Gathering Snow
King George V School, Angelo Wong, Fiction: Group 4
The weather for the Gobi region will be sunny, with daytime maximum temperature at 18
degrees Celsius and nighttime minimum at 3 degrees Celsius…
Mum! It’s summer break! Can I go out and play?
Alright, sweetheart. But come back in time for dinner. And don’t forget to drink plenty of water.
I told you not to call me that! Bye!
I get up from the table and stand in the middle of my square, symmetrical room. The
thermostat, a cheap affair with a flimsy case and old-fashioned seven-segment LEDs, dimly reads
-5°C. It is midday, summertime.
Outside, the sky is dark with whirling frost.
The tape spins rewind and time is flat.
Play.
I’m back!
Take off your shoes before you come in! And wash your hands too!
Okay, okay. Hi Dad!
Hey.
Dad nods at me over his newspaper as I enter the living room. I throw down my bag and look
into the kitchen for a cold drink.
Here. Chocolate milk.
Mum! I’m not a kid anymore!
I take the cup anyway and drink greedily from it. Its smooth creaminess spreads down my
throat, washing away the parched heat and gritty air of the day. I drain it in moments and set it
back down.
Thanks, Mum!
I pad out into the living room again. Dad’s still on the couch, absorbed in his newspaper. I root
about in my bag for some folders and am about to carry them out when his voice halts me.
Your offer. It came out today?
I look back and catch Mum peeping out of the kitchen as well. For all their earlier nonchalance
it is clear that they are both very concerned about the news.
Yeah. Gobi Central sent me an offer. They accepted me unconditionally for meteorological studies.
Dad turns back to his paper and nods once.
Good job.
Taciturn as always. It won’t be long before he starts bragging to all our relatives about it,
though. Mum’s taken a few steps out of the kitchen, a look of incredulous happiness on her face.
It’s real, isn’t it? We’ll have to celebrate! Go for a buffet, have some salad and ice cream and
wine on ice. You want to, don’t you?
You’re overreacting, Mum.
Nonsense! We’ve got to have something to celebrate your being accepted!
* * *
