I awake long before my alarm clock sounds. When I open my door, Mrs Lunga is there in her nightdress, holding an iron lantern aloft.

 

“Mrs L? Everything OK?” I ask, rubbing my eyes.

 

She shakes her head.

 

“Please come quickly,” she says.

 

We pass the girls’ dorm and cut across the courtyard towards the stables. She opens the bottom half of the stable door.

 

A giant shape on the ground is covered by a vast white cloth. I don’t need to lift it to know what’s beneath.

 

“He was old, and we were expecting it.”

 

Mrs Lunga lifts the blanket. Hand over her heart, she tsks softly.

 

“Are you OK?” she asks, touching my elbow.

 

I can’t believe this. Earlier today, Starburst let me feed him carrots and apples; didn’t once try to bite my fingers the way he did with everyone else.

 

“Kat?” Mrs Lunga’s voice sounds far away.

 

I’m thinking of my father, of how I did not cry the day he died. How I watched them lower his casket, and my eyes remained dry. How I went home and the days turned to months, turned to years, and still no tears came.

 

“Would you like a moment with him?” Mrs Lunga asks.

 

I nod.

 

Before leaving, Mrs Lunga squeezes my forearm and says, “The kids who come here are all running from something. For you, it was the death of your father. We must all end, Kat. This world is temporary, but” — she turns to glance at the dead horse — “it’s what we do with our time here that counts. And you can spend your life being miserable, or you can spend it being useful like your friend Starburst did.”

 

Once she’s gone, I drop to my knees and lift the blanket.

 

I place my hand on the horse’s thick neck, still faintly warm, horrified that such a powerful creature could have no life in it any more.

 

I bite the inside of my cheek, trying to swallow an unfamiliar lump in my throat. I sit beside Starburst for a long time. My eyes sting. The last time I cried, I was just a child who’d scuffed their knee on the playground.

 

The only bright side? I have done my test. At least I get to go home now.

 

Tell us: Have you experienced a loss that hit you differently than you expected? How did you cope with it?