Instead, I needed to concentrate on ballet practice. And sneaking into the school hall later.
‘Hey, Brynna, wait! Slow down.’ Lucy ran up and put her arm through mine. ‘Don’t worry about Jade. She’s totally obsessed with the netball team, that’s all.’
‘Whatever,’ I said. ‘I didn’t want to play anyway.’
‘No, don’t worry, you’re in the team. Wing defence. She wanted you in, really she did. She’s just –’
‘Rude?’ Up herself? Aggro?
‘Well, yeah.’ Lucy giggled. ‘We’re used to her. Ms Wilson’s the coach. She’s good. Training’s straight after school.’
‘But –’ I wanted to practise at home and then come to the hall. I didn’t want to waste time on stupid netball with stupid Jade.
‘It’ll be fine. I’m going to come and watch.’ Lucy hugged my arm against hers so tightly that she hurt me. I pulled away as gently as I could.
‘I don’t think I can come today.’ When her face fell into a frown, I added quickly, ‘Mum expects me straight home after school. She’ll freak out and I can’t ring her at work. Sorry. I really can’t do netball today.’ Or any day.
Mrs Nguyen was writing something on the board and the bell had long gone, but still Lucy held me back by the doorway.
‘Oh. But you’ll be okay for Wednesday, won’t you? Please? You’ll get to know everyone that way and make more friends.’
I didn’t want netball friends. I didn’t mind the idea of having just Lucy as a friend, but I couldn’t figure her out. Was she really helping me? Or was she maybe thinking it wouldn’t be such a terrible thing if I was hurt playing netball?
No, that was silly – and mean, too. Lucy didn’t have to talk to me and be nice, but she was, even after I’d walked out on Jade. ‘I’ll have to ask Mum,’ I said weakly.
‘Great. The team will be so much better with you in it. And Jade’s desperate for us to win the inter-school championship this year.’
I rolled my eyes and managed to keep my mouth shut. Just as Mrs Nguyen began ordering us all to sit down and be quiet, Lucy tugged on my arm one more time and whispered, ‘You made that goal shooting look so easy – you could be better even than Jade.’
I slid into my seat, hands gripping the sides of my desk so hard my knuckles turned white. That was all I needed – to push Ms Kingpin out of her goal shooter position in the team. I might as well have broken my own legs there and then.
chapter 5
At lunchtime, Mrs Nguyen wanted to talk to me about what I’d been learning at Acacia Hill, and I was glad to have an excuse not to hang around with Lucy and Jade. By the time the last bell rang, I’d got more used to my class and most of the other kids were chatting with me, even though I still couldn’t pronounce some of their names. Mrs Nguyen said she didn’t think I had anything to catch up on, apart from maths, and she gave me a bit of extra homework.
‘Lucky you,’ said Lala, the girl who sat next to me. I’d discovered she was from Sudan – which she pointed out on our classroom map.
I was first home, as usual, and after a snack, I put the lino down in the garage and practised for an hour. Plies, tendus, ports de bras. Warming up, stretching legs, hips and back, hearing the rhythm in my head like a ticking metronome. Centre work, adage, arabesque. My left leg wobbled and I concentrated on holding strong, balancing, feeling the centre of myself pull up tall. Mrs Calzotti talked about a piece of silver string from your toes to the top of your head, and I imagined it getting thicker and stronger as I improved.
Finally I tried some pirouettes, staying in one place on the lino and focusing again on balance. It was hard, so hard. I yearned to accomplish perfect pirouettes, a series of graceful turns across the floor, my eyes in one spot, my balance exact and my body flowing in one continuous movement. Just one perfect pirouette would make me happy! But the little square of lino wasn’t a good place to try.
Orrin passed me with a grunt, which sounded a bit like a hello, and I heard the TV go on. Then he headed out for a training run and I picked up the lino before Mum was due back in the car. Tam came in and went straight to his room without saying a word.
I’d spent most of the day trying to work out how I could grovel to Mum so that she’d let me try out for the special class, but what it would take was me finding some way to earn money. Babysitting, gardening (I hated weeding, but if that was what it took), dog walking, car washing. Okay, no one in this neighbourhood was going to pay me to walk their dog. And with water restrictions, I wasn’t allowed to wash cars. I’d checked out the whole street and most people didn’t even have a garden. That left babysitting. Yuck.
The people two doors down had a boy about three, who seemed to spend most of his time playing on their front porch with ice-cream containers. They also had a baby who screamed a lot. A Vietnamese family down the end of the street had three kids, but they also had an old grandma who looked after them. Maybe I could advertise in the milk bar window? But I was going to need Mum’s permission.
I checked the time – surely netball training would be over by now? But it was nearly dark and if I sneaked off to the school now without telling Mum, she was going to throw a hissy fit. I fumed and paced from the kitchen to the lounge and back again. Then I peeled a mountain of potatoes and got Mum’s coffee mug ready, expecting her to collapse on the sofa and throw her shoes off. Through a friend, she had found a job working in a factory canteen, where she had to be on her feet all day. Her bad leg often ached, especially in the winter, and I hated to think of her being in pain. In Bendigo, she’d had a part-time job answering phones and could sit most of the time.
She came through the back door, her face drawn and pale. ‘Potatoes, Brynnie! Thanks. I’ll sort dinner out in a minute.’ And she disappeared into her bedroom and shut the door. I poked the spoon into the coffee granules in her mug, pushing them around and around. What was she doing in there? Then I heard the shower going and relaxed a bit. I sat and waited, running through the arguments in my head, so I’d be ready when she came back out.
She’d changed into what I called her gypsy clothes and piled her hair on top of her head with jewelled combs. This wasn’t a good sign. Mum usually dressed like this when she was trying to cheer herself up.
‘Let’s get dinner rolling,’ she said.
‘Mum, I wanted to ask –’
‘Later, Brynna. I’m not in the mood right now.’
‘Oh. Okay.’ I defrosted the sausages she gave me, watching the microwave plate spin them around and around. If I stood on a revolving plate, would that make pirouettes any easier? No, I’d probably spin off into the wall.
As soon as Dad walked in the door, he was put on barbecue duty. The weather had turned nasty at dusk with a cold change and more showers, and the icy wind whistled into the garage, but Dad rigged the barbie up in the corner and soon had sausages sizzling. I shivered as I took a plate of onions out to him – maybe this wasn’t a good night to sneak back to school, but I couldn’t stop thinking about that empty hall.
Dad finished cooking, Mum served up dinner in record time, then rounded everyone up to eat. Dad and Orrin tucked in, shoving huge forkfuls of food into their mouths; Mum and Tam pushed and poked at their food, but didn’t eat much. I watched them all and chewed slowly, wondering when I could safely bring up the subject of finding a job to pay for the class. Not at the table, that was for sure.
Dad scraped up the last of the sauce on his plate with a slice of bread and said, ‘How was everyone’s day?’
‘Long,’ Mum said.
‘Boring,’ Tam said.
Before I could say a word, Orrin leapt in ahead of me. ‘I was talking to this guy today and he reckons I can go down to the local footy club tomorrow night with him. They’ll be training and I can suss out whether they’ll take on a new player.’
‘Sounds promising,’ said Dad. ‘Go for it.’ He waved his fork at Tam. ‘What about you?’
‘Told you – school was stupid.’ He poked a sausage
so hard it skidded off his plate, onto the table.
‘Tam.’ Mum glared at him.
‘Sorry,’ he muttered, picking it up with his fingers.
‘Brynna?’
I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I couldn’t say what I wanted to and I didn’t feel like explaining the netball problem. ‘It was fine,’ I mumbled.
But Mum zeroed in on me. ‘What did your teacher say about your school books from Acacia Hill?’
‘I can use them.’ I glanced at Tam, who was now smashing his tomato sauce and potatoes into a pink mess. His mouth was pinched in a hard line as if he was trying to avoid crying. What was the matter with him? He got up without a word, put his plate on the bench and left the kitchen.
Mum looked at Orrin. ‘What’s going on?’
‘Dunno.’ He stuffed a piece of sausage into his mouth.
‘You go to the same school. Didn’t you see him all day? Is he settling in?’
‘I don’t know, Mum. Honestly. The school’s huge and divided up into sections. I didn’t even see him when I walked home.’ Orrin finished his dinner and grunted when Mum told him he was on dishes, then went off to watch TV for a while.
Mum shook her head. ‘Those boys …’
‘You didn’t say how your day went, Dad,’ I said.
‘Place is a bit of a shambles,’ he said. ‘I’m glad I’m outside, even if it’s cold. The machines inside are pretty old – and unsafe, too. They’re lucky the inspectors haven’t been out.’ He was at a place that made plastic pipes and tubing and stuff; in Bendigo, he’d worked at a big hardware place, where he’d driven the forklift. He knew all the WorkSafe rules – he’d been the OH&S rep there.
‘What about you, Jen?’ Dad said.
Mum slumped. ‘It’s all right, I suppose. The other women are nice; we have a bit of a laugh. So much fried food there – the smell of the cooking oil gets into your skin and up your nose. Disgusting.’
Dad sighed. ‘Sounds like we all had first days that weren’t wonderful.’
‘Except Orrin,’ I said. ‘If there’s footy in his day, he’s happy.’
He laughed. ‘True.’ As Mum tried to stand up, she winced.
‘Go and sit down in the lounge,’ Dad said. ‘Brynna’ll clear the table and I’ll rub some liniment on your leg.’
‘All right,’ she said, leaning on the table for a few moments. ‘It’s the cold weather does it.’
Dad jumped out of his chair and put his arm round her. ‘Come on, love, we’ll soon sort you out.’
They left me sitting at the table, stabbing peas. I was itching to go to the school, but it was pitch black outside and I was scared of walking there on my own. Back home, I’d never worried about walking to the scout hall any time I wanted, but here it was different. If Tam hadn’t wrecked his bike, I could’ve taken it. But then Mum and Dad’d want to know where I was going and something told me they wouldn’t be happy with my plan. I kept stabbing away and sighed loudly. I wasn’t hungry anymore. I cleared the table and scraped leftovers into the bin, then went to my room out the back. From my window, I could see Tam sitting, hunched over, on the back step. His whole body spelt misery.
‘Tam?’ I hovered by the back door, my heart thumping painfully.
‘Go away.’
I took a step closer – was that a bloodstain on his T-shirt? ‘Are you okay? Do you want to talk?’ I knew the answer would be no, but I had to try.
‘Why would I want to talk to you?. Leave me alone.’ He jumped up and charged off into the darkness, head down, legs pumping. I stumbled back into the house and shut the door. My eyes were burning and my throat was aching. He was often grumpy, but he’d never spoken to me like that before. And I was almost sure he’d been in a fight. I wasn’t sure whether I should tell Mum or Dad. Tam would think I was dobbing. I thought I’d better keep my mouth shut. It might’ve been paint, or grease. I couldn’t decide – I went into the lounge room and sat quietly on one of our stubbly grey armchairs. Dad had finished rubbing Mum’s leg and the sharp smell of liniment hung in the air.
‘So,’ Mum said to me, ‘what did you want to talk about?’
I was still thinking about Tam, his hunched shoulders, the tears in his voice, and it took me a moment to swing my mind back to my own question. ‘I really, really want to do that special class, but I know the extra fees are a problem. If you let me babysit around here, put up a notice in the milk bar, I could pay for it myself’
‘No, Brynna, I’m afraid not.’
‘But the class is for dancers going to audition for the National Ballet School. It’s important!’ I hated the whine in my voice, but I couldn’t stop it coming out.
She leant over and lifted my chin so she could see my eyes. ‘You think this class is the one thing that will ensure you get into the NBS, but we both know it’s not the make-or-break element. You’ll be auditioning, with or without the special sessions.’
‘Isn’t that up to Ms Ellergren to decide?’ I wasn’t going to give up without a fight.
‘That’s her opinion,’ Mum said. ‘But your application to audition isn’t tied to her school.’
‘Can you at least think about it?’
Dad cleared his throat. ‘Isn’t this expert teacher one of the reasons why we’re here?’
Mum sighed. ‘I suppose. But I just don’t think we can afford it.’
‘I’ll give up all my pocket money for the next ten years,’ I said.
‘Let’s find out how much it is first, before we decide,’ Dad said. ‘But if the final answer is no, I don’t want to hear any more about it.’
‘Yes, Dad' I said, and had to be satisfied with that. It didn’t solve my problem with Tam, though, but I knew he’d hate me even more if I busted him. I just couldn’t figure out what to do, except wait and see.
As I was racing out the door to school the next morning, I remembered that I hadn’t asked Mum about the netball team. I’d been going to ask her to write me a note to say I wasn’t allowed to play, even if it sounded pathetic. It was too late now – she’d gone to work. Maybe Jade and Taylor and Lucy would’ve forgotten. No such luck. Before class started, they all stopped me in the corridor.
‘How come you didn’t turn up to training yesterday?’ Jade said.
I was surrounded by them, all waiting on my answer. ‘Um … I had to go straight home.’
‘Do you think you’re too good for our team?’ Jade demanded.
‘No, of course not!’ I’d been edging away from Jade and now my back was to the wall. This didn’t seem to be about netball anymore and my throat closed over, as if Jade’s scrawny hand was gripping it tightly. ‘I … um …’
‘Our school’s famous for our netball team. We have to win the trophy this year. Understand?’
I nodded so hard my neck cracked.
‘So you’d better decide whether you’re in or out.’
This time the message was totally clear. She meant in or out in the whole school. If I didn’t play, everyone would treat me like I had a disease, even Lucy.
Before I could force out a reply, even just ‘Okay, Jade and Taylor walked away, leaving me with Lucy, who looked at me like I was already infectious.
Great. As Dad would say, I was stuck between the devil and the deep blue sea. For the first time, I understood what he meant.
Lucy pursed her lips. ‘You are going to play, aren’t you? Jade is, like, totally serious. And she’s mad at you. She told Ms Wilson that she’d found a great new player and then when you didn’t turn up, she looked stupid. She was not happy.’
‘But I told you I couldn’t go last night,’ I said. ‘Why didn’t you pass the message on?’
‘Oh, I didn’t stay to watch netball training,’ she said, flicking her hair back. ‘I was too busy with my ballet.’
The bell rang and there was no more time to talk. As I trudged into Mrs Nguyen’s room, I wondered why everything had to be so complicated. I longed for the familiar faces at my school in Bendigo, my frie
nd Josie and my other mates, and all the fun I used to have with them. Tears filled my eyes and I sat at my desk, head down, wishing I was anywhere but here.
chapter 6
While everyone else did silent reading, Mrs Nguyen called me up to her desk.
‘I wanted to tell you' she whispered, ‘that next week we’re starting a unit on the oceans. I’m afraid you’ll be repeating the material from your old school, but we do go to the beach for an afternoon, which I don’t think you have done.’
‘No beaches in Bendigo,’ I said.
She smiled. ‘But there are gold mines, and when we do some Australian history in Term Three, you will be able to tell everyone about the gold mine in Bendigo.’
That was not something to look forward to. But I used Mrs Nguyen’s quiet conversation as an excuse and told Lucy I had to do extra work in the library at lunchtime, which meant I avoided having to talk to Jade again. It was a lie, but I couldn’t face her stony face and snappy voice again.
I checked the hall window as I left school at three o’clock and I was pretty sure it was still unlocked. I wouldn’t wait for later – I’d come back at four-thirty, when everyone was gone. I raced home, ate an orange and some crackers, packed my gear and headed back to school. There was still one car in the car park, but, as I waited behind a tree by the gate, it drove off and there wasn’t a sound.
My heart thumped and bumped in my chest. No one had minded me using the scout hall back home. Here, if I was caught, I’d be in big trouble. I was trespassing. Was it worth it? I thought of the wooden floor and all that space. Yes, it was worth it.
The window was still unlocked, but stiff, and it took me several minutes and a broken fingernail to get it open wide enough to crawl through. My feet scrabbled up the wall as I hauled myself through, headfirst, and grabbed the side of the cubicle to help me the rest of the way, hauling my backpack after me. There! I was in. The palm of my hand stung where I’d scraped it and my heart boomed in my ears, but I pulled the window closed and waited a couple of long minutes to make sure no one had seen me and was coming to check.
One Perfect Pirouette Page 4
