FLIPPING BOOK CHRONICLE 2024

condition…” My eyes were instantly wide in disbelief. In a split second the next hour on the bus became hell. Eyes cried out, sobs and cries sounded like dying cats. Comfort became crucial. In the following days, showers started to feel like warm hugs; hard work felt like a waste. I kept ringing his phone but it never answered. I checked his bed to see if he was sleeping there. I went to the cricket nets because he might just be there. I went up to the Reserve: he might just be there. Words started to become jumbled, comfort became annoying, emotions became motions and the breeze became a storm. And all that was useful became useless. I started asking for answers but it always led to a dead end. Replacements didn’t fill the missing hole. I tried taking a new identity but I didn’t even know my own. It all just became a huge fuzz… All this, until… I realised he is the reason I still stand up and the reason I open my eyes. He is the reason I give all I have until my chest compresses and my blood stops circulating. God gave me an answer I truly needed. My motivation is not a House nor a country, it is a boy with the biggest heart, pale skin and crystal blue eyes: a brother bound through heart. It is Garth. As all the other athletes arranged themselves at the starting line, I could feel my heart hammering, threatening to erupt out of my chest. The scent of newly laid rubber crowded my nostrils, and the sun, low in the sky, cast lengthy shadows across the stadium. The excessively vast stadium loomed over us, reminding me of a colossal prison. The blindingly white lines only made the feeling worse, making me feel boxed in and trapped. The crowd thundered and screeched as they waited for the starting gun to go off. As we all got ready, everything else faded into insignificance. The moment that we had all spent months training for had finally arrived. The cacophony of voices and whistles started to tone down in volume, which was immediately replaced by a suffocating silence. It seemed that time was slowing down to match the rhythm of our beating hearts, which all seemed to beat in perfect accordance. The air was almost palpable as it was buzzing with energy, so much so I could almost taste it. As we crouched down, my fingers mere millimetres away from the line, my stomach was bubbling with anticipation and excitement. My legs felt powerful and as tense as a tightly coiled spring. The starter loaded his gun with the capsule, a bright ring of red circles stuffed with gunpowder. As he raised the gun, his dark glasses glinting in the sun, he shouted: “On your marks, get set, GO!” My feet pounded on the rubber, as I took those strides into the unknown. 73 THE RACE Matthew Grant (E Block)

dust snuck out my mouth as I giggled. It was at this point the scratches and cuts came second, as my humour prevailed while my appearance was made apparent to me. It was clearly a shared feeling, as the staff member giggled back. Once again, I mounted my bike, taking far softer and more cautious strides compared to the sprint before my brief humbling. The house which earlier taunted me matured from a facetious bully to again being a warm beacon of hope, as it grew bigger to the point we eventually met. After uttering a few unkind words beneath my breath, I made headway to join the rest of my group to grab the evening tea I had been dreaming about on the steep slopes which led to my destination. The humour of the earlier predicament seemed to have followed me, as a herd of smiles, giggles and laughs flocked around me as Mr Strudwick whipped out his phone to take a picture of my grubby face, which was complemented with a bright-red gush of blood on my forehead. The mind is a battleground which hosts an everlasting war of emotions. The crimson wave of anger, the blue ocean of sadness, the golden ray of happiness or, in this case, the red hot wave of embarrassment, in a battle with the relentlessness of laughter. Luckily in this predicament, my humour came out victorious. Which is why I find myself smiling when I recite the events on that day, where my face met that rocky road.

MY MOTIVATION – IN HONOUR OF GARTH FINNEMORE Logan van Wyk (E Block)

With the stench of sweat set in my clothes, and legs gone all weak, I finally heard the whistle. Disappointment was being passed around the team like a wave.

“Aye, Logan!”

It is a voice I am never going to forget, nor the navy tracksuit flying towards me.

“Sho, Garthy, check you!”

A thousand horses were marching as the boys walked across the charcoal pavement. I felt the bus engine rumble, as it boiled in my chest. I received my rest as I threw all my worries and exhaustion onto the seat along with me. All that filled my ears was the sound of laughter. Peace became our reality, but not for long. We sensed his presence first. “Mr Verstaan” as we like to call him. It looked like he had just returned from war. We were struggling to grasp what had happened. “I don’t know how to tell you…” His eyes became damp. In an instant moisture filled my hands and my heart was pumping as the adrenalin flowed through me. “Unfortunately, one of the boys who was playing with us was in a serious car crash.” He said the words as “Who?” became the common theme. I was desperately hoping I didn’t hear his name.

“…three unfortunately passed away, and one is in a critical