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I remember sitting in the Principal's office one dully Friday afternoon, waiting anxiously, my fingers twiddling and rotating over one another; as my mum wandered in to the office.
From experience, there are mainly two reasons why your parent shows up - uninvited - to your school: one, either I am in grave trouble with the police or school, or somebody in the family has passed away.
I glanced from the principal to my Mum. Her face usually blossomed with a cheery smile; her round blue orbs usually filled with joy and laughter, and as clear as oceanic water; today, they looked distant, dull and gray, like the clouds outside the window to the rear side wall of the office.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the principal rest his hand on to my mum's shoulder, mumbled something too vague for my keen ears to reach, and sauntered out of the room. Suddenly everything in the room looked as distant as my mum's eyes. There was a wonderful dark red and brown cabinet to the left; many ointments and leather bound books rested in their place; and a photograph of the Principal dressed in his graduation robes, with a gigantic clown like smile on his youthful face.
Now I just had to find out what had happened to create such a gloomy atmosphere. I turned languorously, and faced Mum directly, watching her intently. "Whatever it was...I swear it had nothing to do with me," I began, trying to lighten the mood with some ill-attempt at dry humor.
Mum scoffed, but smiled reassuringly, as she plumped down in to the seat next to me. For several long, quiet, agonizing moments, Mum just looked at me, her face buzzing with skepticism; but through her graying eyes, I detected an usual emotion brewing behind her mask; sadness, a deep, perpetuating sadness that had drastically gnawed away the joy in her heart.
Thoughts of distant relatives began to flood in to my head, trying to force me to remember a time and place when the family had been gathered in one massive group; laughing, cheering, and singing. But no memories drifted in to recollection. I tried thinking about my brother, Mark: No, I told myself flatly. Mark was only a year younger than I was. He wouldn't have been seriously hurt by anything; he was as strong as a wild bear; he had thick, wavy bristled hair, and two small light brown eyes, and a light freckled nose. He did have a slight problem for taking on the dangerous side of life; doing stupid stunts on that mountain bike that Uncle Steve had bought

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