Chapter 1- The Exchange Shock
1582 Words
Third Person Limited – Kendra
“Hey, guys!”
Dan’s voice boomed across the canteen long before he reached the Grade 11 table. He jogged over with his tray, face lit with excitement.
Her friends all greeted him in chorus.
“Hey, Dan!”
“What’s up?”
“Morning!”
Kendra didn’t bother lifting her head fully. “Mmm,” she mumbled into the crook of her arm.
Dan dropped into the seat beside her, practically vibrating. “So, have you guys heard? Mr. Christie is thinking about adding our school to the abroad exchange program that happens every year!
He wiggled in his seat like a puppy that had just heard the word walk.
“Yeah, we heard,” Kendra said, folding her arms on the table and resting her head. “You're kind of doing most of the things that happen every year, don’t you think? The only difference is we’re on the ‘abroad’ list instead of local this time. Nothing special.”
“That is the exciting part!” Jeah said, eyes bright. “Some of us might actually get to travel and go to school overseas.”
“School abroad, hoo-ha,” Kendra said flatly, lifting one arm in a limp cheer. “Like every year, I sure don’t want to go. I wonder which poor fools are going to get picked this time.”
“I also heard it's only going to be seniors,” Dan added proudly. “That gives me a better chance of being chosen.”
“Good. Fewer people to interact with,” Kendra muttered.
“Oh, come on, Kendra,” Jeah groaned. “Cheer up. It’s the first day of school, and you’re already grumpy. This exchange program could turn into something good.”
“If only,” Kendra sighed. “My stomach’s been acting up ever since I stepped on campus this morning. Something’s going to happen, and I’m not going to like it one bit.”
Before Jeah could answer, a deep, gruff voice rolled across the canteen.
“Alright, everyone.”
They all looked up. Mr. Christie, their principal, stood on the small stage in the middle of the lunchroom with a microphone in his hand.
“Morning, everyone,” he began. “Before we start our morning devotion, I want to let you know I’ll be making an important announcement afterward. Only Grade 11 students should remain when the devotion is over. The rest of you are to go straight to your first classes.”
Kendra saw Dan’s shoulders twitch as he tried, and failed, not to look even more excited.
Devotion went by like usual—thirty minutes of singing, prayer, and a short message. When it ended, the younger graders filed out, dragging chairs and bags, leaving the room strangely quiet.
“Alright, Grade 11,” Mr. Christie said once the doors closed. “I’m sure you’ve already heard the rumors about the foreign—sorry, abroad—exchange program. I am here to confirm that it is, in fact, true. We will be announcing the five students involved in this program and explaining everything else.”
The air shifted. The canteen, usually loud and restless, suddenly felt too still. Kendra kept her head in her arms, listening but pretending she didn’t care.
“You will be sent to the United States,” he continued, “and your plane leaves Jamaica on Wednesday at 10 a.m. Your parents or guardians have already been informed and are preparing for your departure.”
Kendra’s head shot up.
Already been informed?
He had to be joking.
“The students selected are: Jeah Gordon…” Jeah gasped and clutched Kendra’s arm.
“… Alrreah Thomas…” A squeal sounded behind her.
“…Erica Campbell…”
“…Kendra Atchinson…”
Her heart missed a beat.
“…and Jennie Bailey. Would those students please stand and follow me to my office, where I will explain further. Thank you, everyone. Have a good day.”
He stepped off the stage like he hadn’t just rearranged her entire life.
Kendra stayed seated for a second, stunned.
“What the hell was that?” she whispered.
“I don’t know,” Erica said, grinning so wide it looked like it hurt, “but we’re going to the US, and it’s going to be awesome.”
“I knew something bad was going to happen today,” Kendra muttered as she finally stood. “I felt it in my bones.”
Mr. Christie’s office was cool and very neat, the AC humming quietly. The five girls sat on the chairs facing his desk. Plane tickets and Manila envelopes were laid out in a tidy row, like a lineup of decisions already made for them.
He went through everything.
They would be living in a decent-sized two-story house in a small town in the US. Just the five of them, no guardians in the house—on purpose.
“This is to see how you behave with no direct adult supervision,” he explained, folding his hands. “A social worker will visit three times a month to check on your progress, discuss any complaints about the house, the community, or the school.”
The school itself, he said, was bigger than any school in Jamaica. Very expensive. Very elite. Highly respected.
Kendra felt a curse word rise to the tip of her tongue and barely swallowed it back. Elite. She could already feel the judgment from people she hadn’t even met yet.
Bills would be covered by the school.
School supplies and instruments: covered.
A monthly stipend would be placed into their accounts for personal use.
“This program is an honor,” Mr. Christie said firmly. “It will be very educational. We expect you to represent our school well. No embarrassing behavior. Understood?”
They all nodded. Some of them looked ready to burst with excitement. Kendra just felt like someone had taken a blender to her insides.
Once he was sure they had no more questions, he dismissed them and permitted them to go home early.
Time to panic alone, then.
Time Skip – Norman Manley International Airport
The airport was pure chaos. It always was.
People rushed past them in every direction, trying not to miss their flight, and others were arguing over missing luggage. A few made last-minute purchases at the gift shops. Kids ran wild while tired parents yanked them back into place. The overhead voice kept repeating flight information that barely anyone seemed to be listening to.
Kendra almost choked trying not to laugh when an old Jamaican man lightly slapped a boy on the back of the head for disrespecting his mother. The boy froze immediately, shame written all over his face. No one around them even reacted. Classic.
She sat on a bench near her gate, one suitcase at her feet, her carry-on between her legs. Her mother stood in a nearby line, buying patties for her to take along—because if Kendra was going to suffer in a strange foreign country, she deserved at least one familiar comfort in her bag.
Her friends weren’t late; she was just early. An hour and a half early, actually.
She pulled out her phone and opened w******d, going back to one of her favorite stories: Love Knows No Weight. Her chest tightened with a mix of nostalgia and affection.
If the author ever saw this, she thought, she’d probably beg them out loud to repost it, just the way it was.
She was fully absorbed in the book when the intercom crackled to life.
“Flight 357 will begin boarding in fifteen minutes. Will all passengers on this flight please begin making their way to the gate? Thank you.”
Kendra sighed and reached for her phone to call Alrreah—just as something heavy flopped onto her lap, knocking the phone from her hand and into her open bag on the floor.
“Wah do yuh, likkle gyal?” she snapped automatically. “Weh yuh woulda do if mi phone did drop an mash up?”
Translation: Girl, what’s wrong with you? What if my phone had hit the floor and broken?
“Nothing more than apologize,” Alrreah said, shrugging.
Kendra snorted. “An’ mi woulda kick yuh so hard, you and yuh madda anyweh she deh woulda feel it.”
She didn’t bother to translate that one.
Alrreah didn’t get the chance to reply. Erica shoved her off Kendra’s lap and took her place. Kendra kicked Erica off, too, sending her half onto Alrreah.
“We don’t have time for games,” Kendra said, standing and grabbing the handle of her luggage. “Our flight is going to start boarding soon. People are already lining up. Look.”
She pointed toward the gate, where the line had grown long in a matter of minutes.
She walked over to her mother. Saying goodbye suddenly felt heavy.
“Call me as soon as you land,” her mother said, smoothing a hand over her hair as she used to when Kendra was little.
“I will, Mommy,” Kendra promised.
She hugged her mother tightly, then repeated the routine with her friends’ parents. After that, she headed for the line, which was now even longer.
“I know I’ve been here longer than half of these people,” she muttered, joining the very back. “When you have friends…”
- Writer
