The Trouble with Flying (25 page)

From:
Felicity, the Hippy Writer

Sent:
Sat 1 Feb, 8:42 am

To:
Sarah Henley

Subject:
‘Write it or Bite It’ January Competition

Dear Sarah

Congratulations! Your story took
first place
in the January ‘Write It or Bite It’ competition! You’ve won a spot on our Hall of Fame page along with an interview feature on the main page of The Hippy Writer’s Guide to the Galaxy (see attached questions). Many voters commented on how they wished they could read beyond the first three pages of your entry. We urge you to continue with this story and hope to one day see it as a completed work on bookstore shelves.

Thank you for entering ‘Write it or Bite it’!

Kind regards,

Felicity, the Hippy Writer

_____________________________

THE END

Turn the page for bonus content!

South Africanisms

Those who’ve never spent any time in South Africa may be wondering what the following words mean:

boot
(of a car) – known as a trunk in the US.

lus
(pronounced LIS) – an Afrikaans word meaning to have a craving for something.

matric
– Grade 12, the last year of high school.

sisi
– a Zulu word meaning sister.

slip-slops
– the equivalent of flip-flops (you probably figured this one out already!)

‘Visit’ The Places Mentioned In This Book

The Drakensberg

Zimbali Coastal Resort

uShaka Marine World

artSPACE Durban

What Were They Really Saying?

If you want to know exactly what Elize and Simone were saying about Aiden, here’s the translation from Afrikaans into English.

With Afrikaans

They look up, greet me, and then Elize straightens and points to someone. “
O, daar is hy!
” she says to Simone. “
Die
hot
ou wat ek jou van vertel het. Hy’s net myne.
” I pull my chair closer to the table and follow Elize’s line of sight.

Aiden. Of course. Who else would she be pointing at?

“
Is ons nie familie van hom nie?
” Simone says.

“
Nee
.” Elize giggles. “
Ek sou definitief geweet het as ons familie was van
daai
ou
.”

Simone scrunches her nose up in confusion. “
Ek dog ons is familie van almal hier.
”

I roll my eyes. “His name is Aiden. I’m pretty sure he’s your cousin.”

Elize’s mouth drops open. “That’s
Aiden
?
Tannie
Hannah’s son?” She tilts her head to the side as she examines him. “But I thought everyone from England was pale with bad teeth.” She slumps across the table and groans, then lifts her head and turns back to the cell phone. “
Ag toemaar
,” she says to Simone. “
Ek kan hom in elk geval nie hê nie.
”

“
Ek het jou mos gesê
,” Simone mutters.

With English Translations

They look up, greet me, and then Elize straightens and points to someone. “Ooh, there he is!” she says to Simone. “The hot one I was telling you about. He’s all mine.” I pull my chair closer to the table and follow Elize’s line of sight.

Aiden. Of course. Who else would she be pointing at?

“Aren’t we related to him?” Simone says.

“No.” Elize giggles. “I would totally know if we were related to someone that hot.”

Simone scrunches her nose up in confusion. “I thought we were related to everyone here.”

I roll my eyes. “His name is Aiden. I’m pretty sure he’s your cousin.”

Elize’s mouth drops open. “That’s
Aiden
? Auntie Hannah’s son?” She tilts her head to the side as she examines him. “But I thought everyone from England was pale with bad teeth.” She slumps across the table and groans, then lifts her head and turns back to the cell phone. “Never mind,” she says to Simone. “I can’t have him after all.”

“Told you so,” Simone mutters.

Sarah’s Photo Journal

View
Sarah’s photo journal
online.

Dear Reader

Thank you for reading
The Trouble with Flying
! Whether you liked it, didn’t like it, or just want to tell me where you stand on coincidences and happily ever afters, I’d love to know your thoughts. Please leave a review
somewhere online
! Reviews don’t have to be lengthy or intellectual or fancy—they’re simply what you thought and felt about the story. Reviews help readers to find new books, and authors appreciate every single one.

Thank you!

Turn the page to read the first chapter of

THE TROUBLE WITH FLIRTING

Labeled a nerd for most of high school, Livi sees her first year of university as a chance to redefine herself. She can finally enter the popular crowd and maybe even land herself a super hot boyfriend. But Livi’s about to discover that the in-crowd isn’t what she’s always believed it to be, and that maybe what—and who—she wants most has always been right in front of her.

I had everything perfectly planned for my first year of university: I would be accepted to study my degree of choice; I would get into one of the best residences; I would secure myself an intelligent and attractive boyfriend; and, most importantly, I would finally ditch my high school nerd status. So eager was I to carry out my perfect plan, that—despite living on the other side of the world playing constant entertainer and care-giver to two German brats for the year leading up to Perfect Freshman Year—I had all my forms filled out and submitted long before any deadlines.

That, apparently, was a mistake.

Perhaps my forms landed at the bottom of the pile. Perhaps they were so early they ended up lost and someone only found them after the deadline had passed. Whatever the case, some grumpy admin lady took a look at my meticulously filled out residence application and came up with one word: rejected. My parents told me I should at least be grateful I was accepted to study my first choice of degree—a Bachelor of Business Science—at my number one university—UCT—but neither of them stayed in res when they were studying, so they have no idea what I’m missing out on.

Nevertheless, I moved onto Plan B. Digs. A room in a flat or a house. Surely I could find a group of people who needed a new digsmate this year. After contacting everyone I had even the vaguest sort of friendship with at school, I found the light at the end of my darkened tunnel with Nicky, a fellow violinist from orchestra. “My dad owns a flat in Rondebosch,” she told me, “and there’s a second bedroom. I’ve been using it as a study, but I think Dad would appreciate the rent.”

Great. Sorted. I was back on track for Almost Perfect Freshman Year. That is, until three minutes ago when Nicky sent me a message that completely annihilated Plan B.

I’m SO sorry to do this to you a week before registration, but I can’t offer you a place at the flat anymore. With the divorce and everything, my dad decided he has to sell it, so I’m going to stay with my aunt in Kenilworth. I’m so, so sorry. But I’m sure you’ll find something.

Panics tightens my chest as I stare at the message. She’s
sorry
? She’s sure I’ll find
something
? One freaking week before registration? THIS IS NOT HAPPENING! And I can’t even get mad at her because her parents’ divorce has been super messy, so I’ll come across as mean and uncaring if I express my intense frustration.

My phone starts playing Dario Marianelli’s
Mrs Darcy
from Pride and Prejudice. Sarah. I flop back onto my oversized bed and answer the phone.

“Congratulations!” Sarah shouts before I can say anything.

“What?” For a moment I have no idea why she’s congratulating me. Then I remember that this day hasn’t been completely terrible. “Oh, yeah. Thanks.”

“What do you mean, ‘What?’?” she demands. “You pass your driver’s first time and an hour later you’ve forgotten about it?”

“I happen to be having a housing crisis that is currently shadowing the euphoria of becoming a licensed driver.”

“A housing crisis? In that gigantic mansion you call home?”

“Not this house, silly. You know I’m supposed to be moving into a flat in Cape Town with Nicky next week?”

“Oh dear.”

“Yeah. Her father’s selling the flat.”

“What?” Sarah sounds suitably horrified. “Where are you supposed to live then?”

“Well, at this point, I’ll be camping in Adam’s lounge.”

Sarah laughs. “Does Adam know this?”

“Not yet.”

“You should tell him. Not just to find out if his couch is available, but because he might know somewhere else you can stay.”

“I doubt it.” I pull a blanket over my legs, then reach for the aircon’s remote control on my bedside table and increase the temperature a few degrees. “I’m pretty sure everyone’s made a plan already for this year.”

“Well, I guess that leaves Adam’s couch then,” Sarah says with a sigh. “It shouldn’t be too bad. Waking up every morning with three guys walking through your living quarters, one of whom is Adam’s Gross Cousin.”

“Ew, okay, you’re right. I should definitely ask him if he knows somewhere else I can stay.”

“Or, you know, your parents could just
buy
a flat for you to live in. Or five flats. Then you can move around when you get bored.”