Before I was six, I did get to go to boarding school. My mom put nametags on all my clothes for someone else to read at a place called the laundry. There was a list inside my suitcase, too, to help me not to lose anything, I think. (She would know what I had lost when I came home after three months.) I even got to live in the dorm.

There were five boys my age and a few girls in the other dorm, but girls didn’t count much then. My bed was the top bunk bed, and I could look out the window. Gary Kline’s bed was underneath mine, and he used to try to dump me off by pushing up on the leather straps that held up my thin mattress. Peter Epp and Kenny Schuit slept in the other double bunk bed. Lester Harris had the single bed. Mr. Schuit was our dorm parent, and he woke us up every morning with a bell.

Miss Stewart was our teacher, and she knew everything. She even knew we needed to run outside sometimes, “to get out the wiggles.” She talked about stick medicine. When we were disobedient, we learned what it was, but she let us sit on her lap when we read stories together. Mr. Miller was the principal. I think he was in charge of everybody. I liked it at Rethy Academy.

Gary broke his arm, and he got a white cast on it. Lester told lots of stories about hunting birds. Kenny was best friends with Peter. He collected stamps. Lester collected the birds’ eggs we found. He poked a little hole in one end of the egg with a needle. He made a little bigger hole in the other end and poked the needle all around inside the egg to break the yoke then blew gently on the small hole until all the slimy inside stuff came out of the egg. Then he put it on cotton in a box. Lester knew what kind of bird laid the egg by the pattern on the eggshell or by the shape of the nest. I watched quietly from my top bunk bed and wished I could find another chameleon.

Peter was the one with lots of ideas. Soon my roommates were talking about running away from school. They took bread from the dining hall for their trip. It was hard to tell how many slices of bread they took since each slice was smashed into their pockets and broke into smaller pieces as they took it out to put into the pillowcase from Kenny’s bed. They added some green guavas and blood oranges from the orchard. Sometimes the guavas were quite good if they were pink inside, even though they were tiny and green outside. We were always in the orchard looking for guavas at recess time, so it was hard to find any pink ones. I thought the guavas in the pillowcase looked like they might still be white inside. They decided that they would run away on Saturday, really early in the morning.

Saturday, before I could even see the sun out of my window, I felt the bed shaking. Gary was trying to get dressed. He was having a hard time getting his shirt on because the sling for his cast got in the way. Peter and Lester got dressed quickly. Kenny did too. I lay on my tummy with my pillow wadded up under my chin. I watched from my top bunk. Gary wanted them to help him, but they ignored him. His shirt kept getting stuck on his cast. He couldn’t bend that arm behind him very well even when he took off the sling. He was still asking for help when they put on their jackets, picked up the lumpy pillowcase, and snuck out the door. There was some whispering in the hall. Some other boys joined them.

Gary tried really hard to get ready. In the end his shirt wasn’t on right, and the buttons weren’t closed. He put on his jacket the best he could and went out the door to try to catch up with the others. After a few minutes, he came back. They were gone. A little while later Mr. Schuit came down the hall ringing the bell. It was time to wake up and have devotions.

I don’t know how the dorm parents found out. Adults don’t tell you what they are doing. I didn’t find out for a long time where they went or how far they got. I don’t know why they decided to run away. I never wondered why I wasn’t asked to join them. I didn’t feel like running away anyway.

Lester Harris is now a missionary, and he once was telling stories about that time. They had walked what seemed to them like a long, long time and almost got to the press at Rethy. The press is almost a mile from the dorm if you follow the road. If you sneak through the deep valley, through the marsh, through the thorn bushes and the black wattle forest, it is still almost a mile. The Congolese probably told the missionaries at Rethy which way the little band of runaway boys had gone. They were found near the Cook’s house, still on Rethy Station and very tired from their adventure.

Did running away help anything? They didn’t even get very far. I don’t know if they finished their smashed bread and green guavas, but they did miss breakfast.

On Monday, Miss Stewart told us lots about running away, stealing time and stuff, but I was only partly listening. (There was a Wagtail on the steps. I think he was trying to catch flies in that sunny spot.) There was a good Bible story about it too.

“A man called Jonah tried to run away,” Miss Stewart said. “ But God sent a storm to stop the ship. Then, when the sailors threw him into the sea to stop the storm, God sent a big fish to carry him back to where he was supposed to be. God had something for Jonah to do and a lesson to teach Jonah.”

Have you ever wanted to run away?

It is much better to do what God says. He loves you. Won’t He give you what you need each day? Sure He will. He likes to be with you. He said, “Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous. Do not be frightened, and do not be dismayed, for Jehovah your God is with you wherever you go.”

Can you run away from what God wants you to do? I guess you can try, but it won’t do any good.

The Bible story is in the book of Jonah