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Personal Narrative : A Short Story : Moving Back To A High School

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I moved here with my parents when I was 6 years old. Both my mom and my dad worked very hard so they could get a nice house, and they sent me to a public school. School was confusing because I had a tutor who helped me learn to speak English, but I still had a very strong accent. One day, while I was practicing German with my tutor, the principal called me down to the office. So, I went down to the principal’s office.
When I entered his office, he was typing something onto his computer, but the moment the door hatch locked closed, he shut his monitor off, and looked up at me. “Jakob, your parents were going for a walk, and somebody attacked them,” the Principal said.
“Are they ok?” I asked.
“A waitress was taking the trash out, and found their bodies. Neither of them had their wallets, so we assume they were killed by a mugger.”
I couldn’t take what he had said. I burst into tears, and ran out the door, to the only person I felt comfortable around; my mentor. I ran back to the classroom that I do my work in, and saw her sitting at her desk, reading a novel. She looked up at me and started to smile, but saw that I was sobbing, and she jumped up, and asked, ”What’s wrong?” So, I told her what happened, and she gazed at me, with the most mournful look in her eyes. “I promise you that they are in a nicer place now,” she assured me.
“I know, but I already miss them,” I sobbed.
“Hey, if you would like, I could take you to a place that your parents took me to once,” she

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