by John Marsden
Finally the magic moment came. I’d survived one term: bloody, battered but unbowed. Mavis picked me up. She and Dad had been pretty mad when they rang, but I hadn’t been able to explain much on the phone. Mavis was OK though, especially when I started in on my troubled love life. I still had hopes of putting it back together but I wasn’t too confident. Mel was pretty screwed up in some ways, thanks to her parents, but I’d known that all along and I still loved her. Anyway, I went through all that, or most of it, with my mother and that helped overshadow the drinking situation. Things were a little tense with Dad though when I got home and they stayed that way for a few days. Once I started working in the shop it got better.
One of the biggest things was deciding about Linley: the bottom line was whether I should go back there for second term or not. My father just said, ‘I don’t want you going back to Gleeson High’, as if that settled it. My mother said to him, ‘But dear, there’s no point in his going back if he gets in trouble all the time.’ For me it was more complicated. I guess it all came down to whether I liked Linley or not. I was ripping petals off flowers: ‘I like it, I like it not’. Linley and Melanie were the only two things I thought about as I stacked newspapers and dusted shelves of toys and swam laps and mowed lawns and watched TV. I liked the boarding life, I liked the kids in the dorm, I was doing more schoolwork than I’d ever done before. But I didn’t like the discipline, the rules, the constant routine: ‘do this, do that’. And I missed home, even though I think I was getting on better with my parents since I’d been boarding. The decision would have been a lot easier if I’d still been going with Melanie.
Somehow, without my even noticing it, I’d been building up for the State swimming titles. There hadn’t ever been a definite decision that I’d go for it. I hadn’t thought about it much, consciously anyway. But I’d been doing the Ks, and now that the holidays were rolling, Mr Scott started ringing up every other day to check on how I was going. So it looked as though I was a contender, whether I liked it or not. It was something else to get nervous about.
The days ticked away, too, like the second hand on a stopwatch. Nothing was resolved. There were no highlights. I went to a few movies, went to the beach a couple of times, hung out for a while with some of the Gleeson kids, like Jesse and Rob. But it wasn’t the same. They kept cracking jokes about my ‘capo’ school, and they were talking about stuff that had happened while I was away, so that all the private jokes had become private even from me. There was a big party at Grant’s place. I went, cracked onto Tracey Sullivan, wiped myself out nicely with a mixture of Jack Daniels and vermouth — not in the same glass though, I’d better explain. I linked up with my old coach, Mr Ho, again and trained with him most mornings. Life was about as exciting as warm pineapple juice.
Funny how things can change though. That guy Bell, who invented the telephone — at least I think it was him — I owe him a big one. It was near the end of the holidays — three days before the State titles, five days before Linley started back. I was easing up on the training, in readiness for the main event. I went down to the beach at about seven for a quick surf before starting work at the shop. It was good down there at that time of day. There weren’t many people around, except for a few and they were always interesting, kind of eccentric, I thought. The shop was quiet. I spent twenty minutes helping some nice old lady pick a birthday card, and an hour moving the childrens books to a new section and arranging them so that they were half organised. At about eleven my father said I could go home if I was back at four o’clock, so I figured I’d do that and watch the midday movie. No-one was home but there was a note from my mother in the kitchen: ‘Erle, a girl rang for you but didn’t leave her name.’
‘Hmmm, uh huh,’ I thought, and got myself a snack and turned on the movie. Wouldn’t you know, it was The Great Gatsby, about this guy who gets dumped by a girl when he’s young and then fritters away the rest of his life brooding about her till he more or less wipes himself out. Some choice for a movie. I wondered how The Great Gatenby was going to sound in twenty years. Still, I watched it through to the bitter end, then put on some music. The mail came and there was a letter from James Kramer, saying he and Michelle O’Byrne had broken up after a party that they’d gone to at McLean Smith’s. ‘Must be infectious,’ I thought. But there was a paragraph near the end of the letter that got me going some.
‘Melanie was there and asking if I’d heard from you. She wasn’t with anyone; in fact I think she went home early. She didn’t look too happy — maybe it’s not as over as you think it is.’
I read that last sentence about four times, wondering if it meant anything, then wandered back to the shop. Although I was trying to choke it down I did feel just a touch of excitement. I wished my mother had been home so I could have pumped her a bit about the phone call. For one thing, I’d like to have known if it was long-distance. In the middle of all this thinking I nearly had my foot broken by the parcel of afternoon papers being chucked out of the delivery truck, as it did its usual demolition derby routine. That woke me up and for a couple of hours I was too busy to do anything sophisticated like thinking.
When we shut the shop up at last and headed home I had a strange feeling that there was going to be something from Melanie waiting for me. I mean, I’m the least psychic person I ever met — I’d go fishing in the Bermuda Triangle any day — but I had a totally definite knowledge that Mel had been thinking of me in her castle in the heart of Pelham.
Well, there’s not much more to tell. I walked in that front door to the biggest shock I’ve had since toilet training.
‘Any messages for me?’ I asked my mother, trying to sound as casual as possible.
‘Yes, one,’ she answered, poking around the bench near the telephone. ‘I wrote it down, word for word. Here it is.’ She handed me the piece of paper, giving me a strange look as she did so.
I took the note and read it. It said: ‘Melanie Tozer rang, said she hopes you don’t go back to Linley next term.’ I felt like a great weight had suddenly formed in my stomach, like I was a pregnant elephant or something. This was it? This hurtful insulting message? What had I done to deserve this? I felt my face redden, my eyes fill with tears. Then, luckily, I turned the sheet of paper over and read the other side: ‘Otherwise she won’t be able to keep her hands off you.’
I looked up. My father had a puzzled expression on his face as he tried to work out what was going on. My mother was smiling as she rolled some pastry.
‘Getting me to write down immoral messages,’ she sniffed. ‘In my day we wouldn’t even ring up a boy, let alone ask his mother to pass on a message like that.’ But I was heading for the phone already. ‘I thought she was coming to stay these holidays,’ Mavis yelled after me. ‘Better tell her to hurry — there’s only a few days left.’
I lifted the phone and started to dial.
John Marsden
The Journey
By the author of So Much To Tell You, The Journey is a story of young people in a world so different and yet so like our own. It is a world in which young people must undertake a journey of discovery on their way to becoming adults.
Argus sets out on his journey away from his valley and his parents, never knowing what adventure will befall him next. He learns how to survive in the wild until he meets with a travelling fair, which he joins, becoming a friend of Mayon the storyteller, of Lavolta and Parara — twins who share the same body — and many others.
But it is with the sweet and wise Temora that he learns some of the deepest secrets.
All journeys must find an end. Argus leaves the fair and travels on alone, until his last and greatest adventure beckons him home. There he tells, for the approval of his elders, the seven stories which are now his story. But all is not done.
There is one more chapter to be lived out in the story of Argus.
‘. . . an extraordinary story . . . I would commend it to everybody. Although ostensibly it’s a children’s book it’s somethi
ng that any adult can read with great pleasure. It’s one of those books that don’t actually belong to any particular age group . . . like The Snow Goose’
TERRY LANE, ABC RADIO
John Marsden
Out of Time
James reads by his open bedroom window at night. Other lives and other worlds beckon. One of these worlds is conjured by old Mr Woodford, a physicist who looks more like an accountant and who constructs a strange black box.
One day when James slips into the laboratory, he makes a dreadful discovery and learns to master a great power.
Who is the little boy in Mexico who scratches pictures of aeroplanes in the dust? How will the girl caught in a wartime bomb blast be reunited with her parents? And why does James sit alone in his island of silence?
With Out of Time John Marsden has produced a novel that will further enhance his reputation as one of the most successful writers of fiction for teenagers. This is a challenging novel which poses a new question on every page as it draws us into an ever-widening series of mysteries, into magical, dangerous worlds — in and out of time.
John Marsden
Letters From the Inside
Dear Tracey
I don’t know why I’m answering your ad, to be honest. It’s not like I’m into pen pals, but it’s a boring Sunday here, wet, everyone’s out, and I thought it’d be something different . . .
Dear Mandy
Thanks for writing. You write so well, much better than me. I put the ad in for a joke, like a dare, and yours was the only good answer . . .
Two teenage girls. An innocent beginning to friendship. Two complete strangers who get to know each other a little better each time a letter is written and answered.
Mandy has a dog with no name, an older sister, a creepy brother, and some boy problems. Tracey has a horse, two dogs and a cat, an older sister and brother, and a great boyfriend. They both have hopes and fears . . . and secrets.
‘John Marsden’s Letters From the Inside is, in a word, unforgettable. But this epistolary novel deserves more than one word. It is absolutely shattering as it brings to vivid life two teenage girls and then strangles your heart over what happens to their relationship . . . John Marsden is a major writer who deserves world-wide acclaim’
ROBERT CORMIER
John Marsden
Take My Word For It
You know what Tracey said to me after English today? She said: ‘The reason you’ve got no friends is that you don’t tell anyone your problems’ . . . I hate the way they tell everyone every single detail about themselves . . . If you ask me, it’s dangerous. Once you start, you don’t stop.
Strong, cold, private . . . this is Lisa, as seen by Marina in her journal, So Much to Tell You.
But Lisa too keeps a journal. It’s a record of her friends and family, her frustrations and successes, her thoughts and feelings. As page follows page, the real Lisa begins to emerge. Not always strong, not always private and certainly not cold.
As in the best-selling So Much to Tell You, award-winning novelist John Marsden takes us into the world of young people trying to make sense of their lives.
‘John Marsden is a major writer who deserves world-wide acclaim’
ROBERT CORMIER
Learn great new writing skills, with John Marsden
You are invited to spend a few days with John Marsden at one of Australia’s most beautiful properties.
The Tye Estate is just 25 minutes from Melbourne’s Tullamarine Airport, and is perfectly set up for writing camps and other activities.
Every school holidays, John takes writing and drama camps, where you can improve your skills, make new friends, expand your thinking, and have a huge heap of fun.
Accommodation is modern and comfortable; meals are far removed from the shepherd’s pie they gave you at your last school camp, and supervision is by friendly and experienced staff.
Between the workshops with John, you can explore 850 acres of spectacular bush, looking out for rare and highly endangered species like Tiger Quolls and Powerful Owls, as well as koalas, platypuses, wedgetail eagles, kangaroos and wallabies.
Mountain bikes, bushwalking, orienteering, and a picnic at nearby Hanging Rock, are among the highlights of your memorable stay at the Tye Estate.
School groups in term time are also welcome.
For details, write to:
The Tye Estate
RMB 1250
ROMSEY
VICTORIA 3434
Or fax: (61) 03 54 270395
Phone: (61) 03 54 270384
