Lina at the Games

by Sally Rippin

  Lina jumped up and placed the bundle of crinkled papers on the desk. Then she and Sarah turned the draft pages carefully.

  ‘So, this page is where we want to include book reviews . . .’ Lina began.

  ‘And this is where we’ll have profiles on the Year Twelve prefects . . .’ Sarah added.

  ‘And this is where we want to put all the students’ stories and poems . . .’

  Lina blushed when they came to the page on rock-and-roll stars, with a feature on Elvis Presley. It had been one of Mary’s early suggestions and a popular interview topic with the girls, but now that the page was in front of the Mother Superior, Lina suddenly worried that rock and roll might not be considered appropriate for a St Brigid’s magazine.

  But the Mother Superior chuckled. ‘Perhaps you could include some classical music, too?’ she suggested. ‘Just to balance out your selection.’

  ‘Of course!’ Lina promised, quickly flipping to the next section.

  The girls went over page after page, getting more and more excited by the Mother Superior’s response. When they finished, they both looked up at the elderly nun, breathless and hopeful, waiting on her final verdict.

  ‘It’s marvellous,’ the Mother Superior said, smiling broadly. ‘Truly marvellous. You girls have done a splendid job. I will remind the students in assembly to submit their work by the end of the month. How does that sound?’

  ‘Great!’ said Lina. ‘Sister Rosemary said we could set up a submission box in the library.’

  ‘Good idea,’ said the Mother Superior. ‘Well, I think all that’s missing now is our Olympic coverage, don’t you?’ She reached into her top drawer and pulled out three paper tickets. ‘How would you two like to accompany me to the Opening Ceremony next weekend?’

  Lina and Sarah squealed and clutched at each other’s hands.

  ‘Girls! Girls!’ the Mother Superior said, pulling her face back into an owl-like glare. ‘I hope it goes without saying that as representatives of St Brigid’s you will carry yourself with decorum at all times?’

  ‘Of course!’ they assured her, sucking back their excitement and sitting as straight as pokers.

  The Mother Superior leant back in her chair and smiled at them fondly. ‘Just imagine! Your grandchildren may ask you one day if you were lucky enough to have seen the Olympics come to Melbourne. It’s such a momentous occasion. I think it would be splendid to have a feature article on the Games for the cover, don’t you?’ The Mother Superior paused for a moment, considering her idea further. ‘What about a profile on one of our female Olympic athletes? I think that would be a great thing for St Brigid’s girls to read. I’m rather fond of Dawn Fraser, myself.  A good female role model. You could call it something like The Story of a True Australian Girl. What do you think?’

  Lina and Sarah both nodded eagerly, but the bubble of excitement in Lina’s chest rapidly dissolved into concern. That’s who I’m writing about! she panicked. And I’ve already started! I hope Sarah won’t want to write about Dawn Fraser, too, just to have her article on the front cover. Dawn Fraser is my hero. And this magazine was my idea! The more Lina thought about it, the more worried she became.

  ‘I CAN’T believe the Opening Ceremony is only three days away!’ Lina said to Sarah, as they worked side by side in the school library.

  Sarah giggled. ‘I know! It will be funny going with the Mother Superior, though, don’t you think? I hadn’t really pictured her as being interested in sport!’

  ‘Well, it’s not just about sport, Sarah,’ Sister Rosemary said, appearing from behind a shelf, a load of books in her arms. ‘It’s about countries from all over the world coming together in friendship.’ She placed a hardback book on the history of the Olympic Games on the table in front of them.

  ‘I know,’ Sarah sighed. ‘We’ve been talking about it for weeks in class. And it’s a symbol of global unity and all that. But it’s still sport!’

  Lina always felt a little shocked at the disrespectful tone Sarah used towards Sister Rosemary. She might only be an old nun to Sarah, but Sister Rosemary had read more books than anyone Lina knew and this made her the most interesting person in the school.

  Lina opened the book she had put in front of them and read the introduction aloud:

  ‘In ancient Greece, wars would stop for the Olympic Games. It was not merely a time out for recreation, but rather an opportunity for humans to honour the gods by achieving acts of human excellence.’

  ‘Boring!’ Sarah whispered when Sister Rosemary had wandered off.

  Lina forced a giggle. She actually found the history of the Olympics quite interesting but she didn’t want to seem like a square.

  ‘Who are you going to write about for your Olympics article?’ Lina asked a little nervously.

  ‘Oh, I don’t know yet,’ said Sarah shrugging. ‘I haven’t really thought about it.’

  ‘Well, I’m writing about Dawn Fraser,’ Lina said as firmly as she dared, hoping this would be enough to discourage Sarah from doing the same.

  The bell went, and they packed up and made their way out. A warm wind swept through the courtyard and the paving stones were covered in a swirling sea of pink and white blossom. Butterflies and dandelion spores spun in the air.

  ‘Oh, I love springtime!’ Lina said, breathing in deeply. ‘Don’t you?’ She turned to face Sarah, who was pinching her nose with her head tipped back.

  ‘Except for all the pollen,’ Sarah groaned, then sneezed noisily and the two girls laughed.‘I’m going back to my locker for my handkerchief.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Lina. ‘See you next lunchtime?’

  ‘Sure thing,’ said Sarah. ‘Bye, Lina!’

  Lina watched Sarah go, feeling springtime happy.

  On her way home from school, Lina gazed out of the bus window, thinking about how her life at school had taken an unexpected turn for the better. Only a month ago she could never have imagined spending all her lunchtimes with someone who had once been her enemy, working together on a project they loved. Who could have guessed Sarah Buttersworth would turn out to be an almost-friend? Lina thought.

  ‘Um, hello,’ came a voice from the corridor. Lina spun around to see John, the boy who occasionally smiled at her, hovering next to her seat. ‘Is it okay if I sit here?’ he asked shyly.

  Lina scanned the bus and saw that it was almost empty. Why does he want to sit next to me? she worried, but heard herself say, ‘Sure.’

  Lina shuffled over and the young man slid into the seat beside her. ‘John Ian Wing,’ he said, sticking his hand out for Lina to shake.

  ‘I know,’ she said, feeling her cheeks heat up as she shook his hand. ‘We spoke once before. I mean, I knew your name was John. I didn’t know your last name. I’m, um, Carmelina Gattuso. Most people call me Lina. I think you knew my name already. Lina, that is. Not Carmelina.’

  Oh gosh, I’m babbling! Lina thought. For some reason she felt nervous talking to John, even though she’d spent her entire life around boys. But this was different. John wasn’t her brother. Or a cousin. Or even a primary school friend. Plus, Lina had always thought he was cute. Not movie star handsome, but definitely cute. Having him sit this close to her made her heart jump about like a rabbit.

  ‘I see you on the bus almost every day so, er, I thought maybe we could get to know each other?’ he said in a hurry, his cheeks turning pink. Lina was relieved to see that he looked almost as nervous as she was. ‘Do you go to St Brigid’s?’ he asked, gesturing to the emblem on the straw hat that lay in her lap.

  Lina nodded. ‘I’m in Year Seven. How about you?’

  ‘I’m studying carpentry at Swinburne,’ John said proudly. ‘I’ve nearly finished my first year.’

  ‘Oh!’ said Lina, a little shocked. It hadn’t occurred to her that he was that much older. Then she became aware that sitting silently, mouth open, probably wasn’t her most attractive look so she tried to think of something to add to the conversation. ‘So, er . . . are you still living
with your parents?’

  John shook his head. ‘My mother died when I was only a baby. My father couldn’t look after me so I grew up in a children’s home.’ He grinned at Lina’s look of concern. ‘It wasn’t like a Dickens novel or anything. It was actually fun sometimes. I moved back with my dad when he remarried. I actually preferred it in the home, to tell you the truth.’ He looked away. ‘We don’t have much in common, my dad and I. He’s still . . . very traditionally Chinese, if you know what I mean?’

  ‘I do!’ said Lina, smiling sympathetically. ‘I mean, I don’t know about Chinese, of course, but my parents are Italian. My dad’s not too bad, but my Nonna is very traditional. She’ll only eat Italian food, she refuses to learn English and she’s made it quite clear that we all have to marry Italians.’ Lina blushed again. ‘Not that I’m even thinking about marrying, of course,’ she mumbled. She couldn’t believe how much she was telling a total stranger. But something about John’s gentle face put her at ease.

  John grinned. ‘Would she be okay with you being friends with a Chinese boy?’

  ‘Definitely not!’ Lina giggled. ‘But maybe she would prefer it to an Australian boy. She says that Australians have no respect for their elders. There was this time on a tram when an Australian boy wouldn’t get out of his seat for her to sit down and she started abusing him in Italian. She scared him so much he got off at the next stop. Now if he’s at the tram stop and sees she’s on the tram, he waits for the next one. My nonna is fierce!’

  John laughed loudly. Lina liked the way he tipped his head right back and his eyes crinkled at the corners.

  ‘Oh! This is my stop!’ Lina said, standing up and pressing the bell. She rapidly gathered up her things and shuffled past John.

  ‘See you next time?’ he called. ‘You can tell me some more funny stories about your nonna!’

  ‘I’ve got heaps!’ Lina shouted as she bounded down the steps.

  As the bus pulled out of the curb, Lina looked up at the windows. John Ian Wing waved back and she felt her stomach ripple with butterflies.

  IT was the day of the Opening Ceremony. Lina was beside herself with excitement. She tried on her mother’s best dress (too big), her own best dress (too wintery) and her nicest summer blouse and skirt (too old-fashioned). For a moment, Lina even wished she was still friends with Mary so she could get some advice on what to wear. Or even borrow something pretty and fashionable. Knowing that Sarah would be in some expensive new outfit made Lina feel sick to the stomach.

  She decided, in the end, to wear her crisp school uniform. It was the newest dress she owned and besides, they were going as representatives of the school, weren’t they? She would pretend she had thought that’s what they were meant to wear. Pleased with her decision, Lina pulled on her summer gloves and straw hat and did a quick spin in front of the mirror. She caught a glimpse of Bruno’s face in the reflection, peeking through the doorway. His scars were still angry pink but the swelling around his eye had gone down and he almost looked himself.

  ‘Go away, Bruno!’ Lina shouted. ‘Can’t a girl get a little privacy round here?’

  Bruno laughed. ‘You look very pretty, Lina.’

  ‘Really?’ Lina said, feeling her cheeks heat up. ‘Thanks, Bruno.’

  ‘Nah, just kidding,’ Bruno teased, then ran down the corridor before Lina could hit him.

  Lina met Sarah and the Mother Superior at the school gates.

  ‘I don’t think we were supposed to wear our uniforms,’ Sarah whispered to Lina, looking down to admire her own pretty pink dress and matching shoes.

  ‘Well, why ever not?’ the Mother Superior interjected, amazing the girls with her supersonic hearing. ‘I’m wearing mine.’

  Lina smiled gratefully. The three of them boarded the tram to the city and as it trundled along, the girls peered out the windows at the streets packed full of people, noisy with excitement. Banners flapped in the wind, and there were posters everywhere, all printed in the five colours of the rings.

  ‘Stay close, girls!’ the Mother Superior instructed as they got off at Flinders Street to catch another tram to the MCG. ‘Your parents would never forgive me if I lost you.’

  Lina and Sarah stuck close to the voluminous folds of the Mother Superior’s robes as she bustled her way through the crowds, which seemed to part around her.

  ‘Afternoon, Sister!’

  ‘God bless you, Sister!’

  The Mother Superior nodded and smiled graciously to all who addressed her, but didn’t slow her pace for a minute.

  ‘Come along!’ she huffed. ‘At this rate we’ll miss the arrival of the torch!’

  ‘Yes, Ma’am!’ the girls chorused, trotting a little to keep up.

  Eventually they reached the smart, newly renovated Melbourne Cricket Ground. ‘Thank goodness we don’t have to line up for tickets!’ the Mother Superior said, pulling a delicate lace handkerchief from the big basket she was carrying and dabbing at the small stretch of forehead not covered by her habit. Her cheeks had turned shiny pink and, not for the first time, Lina wondered how hot it must get under all that fabric.

  They found their seats and settled in for the show. It was late in the day and the sun slanted across the stadium and reflected off the wide shorn field into the crowded bleachers. Even Lina, in her light cotton uniform, felt herself begin to sweat. She was grateful for her wide school boater shading her face, though she would have loved to take her gloves off. They were making her hands itch in the heat, but she didn’t dare remove them while the Mother Superior was sitting beside her. Other people in the audience who had arrived without hats were fashioning them from newspaper or making fans from programs as they waited for the ceremony to start. Lina pulled her notebook out of her pocket and began jotting down everything she could see so that she would remember all the details later on. Just like a real journalist! she thought.

  At last, from one of the entrances, a marching band poured onto the ground, striding in perfect unison. Everyone in the crowd cheered as they broke into five slowly spinning circles to symbolise the Olympic rings. The band played Waltzing Matilda and a choir began to sing at the tops of their voices. Lina was sure she had never heard the song sound so beautiful, and she and Sarah joined in loudly and proudly. When it was finished, the band marched off to one side and a shiny black car slowly drove into the stadium.

  ‘Who’s that?’ Lina asked the Mother Superior.

  ‘The Duke of Edinburgh,’ the nun replied grandly. When Lina looked at her blankly, she frowned and whispered, ‘The Queen’s husband!’

  ‘Oh!’ said Lina. She watched him walk across the grounds to his seat in the stands while everyone applauded. Once the Duke had taken his seat, the athletes began to arrive. One team after another, marching in perfect lines.

  At first, Lina and Sarah clapped for every team, but soon Lina began to tire. There were lots of teams and after a while, from a distance, they all began to look the same. Lina stopped writing in her notebook and used it to fan her face. It was hot and she was thirsty and didn’t feel confident enough to ask the Mother Superior for a sip from the big thermos she could see peeking out of her basket at their feet. All the same, when Italy marched onto the field she gave them an extra big cheer, and was met with a glare from Sarah.

  ‘What?’ Lina said. ‘Dad told me to!’

  Last of all, the Australian team marched onto the field. Everyone in the audience cheered louder than ever.

  ‘Look! Is that Betty Cuthbert?’ Lina asked, craning forward. ‘And Dawn Fraser!’

  It was difficult to see clearly but Lina was sure that Dawn was the one in the middle, smiling and waving. Lina felt a thrill pass through her. It was amazing to think that Dawn was from a poor family, too, but here she was, living her dream. ‘Go, Dawn!’ Lina cheered. ‘Win gold for Australia!’

  After the Duke stood up to declare the Games open and a hundred or more birds were let into the sky, the moment everyone had been waiting for arrived. An expectant hush cam
e over the crowd. A tall man in white shorts and T-shirt burst into the stadium, flaming torch in hand. Everyone in the stands roared and all around them people stood up to wave and cheer. Even the athletes on the ground jostled forward in their rows to see who had been chosen for the honour of lighting the torch.

  ‘Who is it? Who is it?’ Lina asked as she watched the man take a lap of the grounds, sparks flying behind him.

  The voice over the loudspeaker answered the question for her: ‘Nineteen-year-old junior mile world-record holder, Ron Clarke, is our final torchbearer after the longest relay in Olympic history . . .’

  Lina watched as the young man jogged up the ramp towards the enormous chalice perched on top of the stands. He paused, mounted the steps and dipped his torch into the bowl, which instantly burst into flame. All around Lina, people cheered and whistled so loudly that she almost didn’t hear the band strike up again, the choir joining in to sing the Olympic song.

  ‘We dedicate these games to the promotion of goodwill . . .’ came the loudspeaker again and the choir sung ‘Hal-le-lu-jah!’ at the tops of their voices. Lina felt her skin prickle into goosebumps and when she looked up at the Mother Superior she saw the old nun fiercely wiping tears from her eyes. Lina knew how she felt. She didn’t think she would ever experience anything so glorious again, even if she lived to be a hundred and three.

  WHEN Lina got home that evening, her mother was waiting up for her in the kitchen. The house was quiet except for the sounds of the animals bleating and cooing softly in the backyard.  Aside from cracks of light under the bedroom doors, there were no other signs of life. It could have been just Lina and her mum, alone in a creaky old weatherboard house on the outskirts of the city.

  ‘How was it?’ Lina’s mother asked, looking up from the sock she was darning.

  Lina grinned. Her head still buzzed with all the excitement and her voice was croaky from cheering. ‘It was wonderful, Mama! I wish you and Papa could’ve seen it. There was music and speeches and they let off birds! The boys would’ve loved it, too. The Queen’s husband was there and I saw Mr Borsari, as well. He said to say hello to you and Papa, and to tell you to come down to his bike shop next week if you want to meet some Italian cyclists!’