Yet I, alone, it seemed, was alone.
Nobody else seemed to care. Lyd and Cass humoured me because they have to. They’re my friends. But others? Well, I remember saying to one person, ‘Where do you think Riley and Amelia came from?’ And that person immediately began to explain the mysteries of human reproduction. (I stopped him, of course.)
In English, I continued to watch Amelia while she continued to watch Mr Botherit.
In History, I was unable to watch Amelia because she sat behind me. And she was exasperating in that she sometimes didn’t come to class at all. And when she did, she never said a word and therefore did not give me an excuse to turn my head and look.
But one day, Amelia spoke.
It happened like this.
We had just written a deconstructive analysis of three different perspectives on a relevant historical event. That was teaching us what History is. (It’s nothing. It doesn’t exist. That’s my conclusion.)
So, we had just done that and Mr Garcia, our History teacher, was jumping around like a child who has eaten the whole box of Smarties. (Mr Garcia is a lively man and hates having to be quiet for half an hour while people work.)
‘So!’ he exclaimed. ‘Everyone has written the analysis, I think?!’
At this, a sleepy, husky voice spoke.
‘Does it count if you dreamed that you wrote it?’ said the voice.
I turned around.
It was Amelia.
Oh, profound and beautiful mystery. What did she mean?
I gazed at her with fascination. She was blinking her sleepy eyes.
Mr Garcia looked startled. Then he continued with his class. (This was unexpected. Usually he leaps on surprises and follows them wherever they lead.)
Afterwards, someone told me that Amelia had put her head on the desk and fallen asleep at the start of the class.
She must have dreamed she wrote the analysis.
And yet, even this told me little about her. (Except that she was tired and has mysterious dreams. Me too, sometimes, and so, I’m sure, do you.)
And then! Pay heed, my gothic reader!
A couple of days after this, my dad drove me to school. I waved absent-mindedly to him as I wandered away from the car.
I was recalling to myself that this was the morning of the Zone swimming carnival. I knew that Riley and Amelia would swim like the wind, but yet? Their fame would not be resuscitated. Oh, in the next day or two there’d be an announcement at assembly — maybe a note in the school newsletter — but amidst the students? Barely a ripple. I knew that nobody else — not even Cass and Lydia — would know that the Zones were on today.
Such is the nature of events outside school grounds. They mean almost nothing to humanity.
Anyway, I was sunk in thoughtful melancholy about this, when Lyd appeared beside me at the school gate.
We chatted as we walked, and then Lyd said, like an idling car: ‘Oh yeah, and they’re from Brookfield.’
‘Who?’
She looked sideways at me.
‘Amelia and Riley?’ I whispered. I stopped still.
‘I ran into Seb at a petrol station last night,’ she explained, still walking, only more slowly so I could hear her from my frozenness. ‘He says they were enrolled at Brookfield but they never showed up.’
I was shocked, confused, all manner of impossibilities — but you, dear reader, might just be confused. For you do not know this Brookfield!
So, please be patient and I will explain a background tale. And if you are frustrated by this detour? Let me remind you that the great gothic novel, The Mysteries of Udolpho, is 704 pages, at least half of which pages are completely irrelevant descriptions of the weather.
So, I take you by the hand and lead you to a time two years ago. This was when we were in Year 10, and our English teacher, Mr Botherit, compelled us to write letters to the public school down the road.
Brookfield is a den of iniquity, violence, vandalism, drug abuse, knife wars, and no doubt extensive gun possession. At the very least, it is a public school with students who dress badly.
So, my face took on a ghastly paleness when Mr Botherit told us to write to it.
But I did as he commanded, and perchance! I met the only wonderful boy at Brookfield! His name was Charlie and he became my boyfriend.
Another perchance! Lydia wrote to the only other great guy at Brookfield. His name was Seb, and although he was kind of a bad Brookfield boy himself, still, he had a golden heart, and you will guess that Seb became Lyd’s boyfriend.
And you will be right.
Meanwhile, poor Cass wrote to the devil himself. But that is another gothic story.
Okay, so let us hasten through times which need no analysis. Charlie and I decided to break up at the start of Year 11, so that we could stretch our legs and kiss other people. Or at least, so that I could. I didn’t want him kissing anybody else, and I was quite frank about my preference that our break be one-dimensional. He gave me quite a look and it was manysplendoured, that look. It meant that you can’t have your bed and make it too. If you eat a cake, lie in it. Hmm. You know what I mean.
Anyhow, Lyd’s relationship with Seb rode the waves of Year 11.
But at the end of Year 11? At the start of the summer holidays? A shock in the face for Lyd.
Seb broke up with her.
Now, this was a surprise for all of us because Lydia has always been the breaker-upper. She is the kind of girl who leaves behind a trail of shattered hearts. Nothing of this kind had befallen her!
So, but anyway, now it was the present day and Lydia had run into Seb at a petrol station! And she had found out who Riley and Amelia were.
They were from our very neighbourhood! Regular public school students!
And yet, how could this be?!
Lydia was talking.
‘I’m thinking maybe I’ll join something this year,’ she was saying. ‘Like the yearbook committee or, I don’t know, sign up for a school musical. Does our school even do musicals? I’m thinking it’s time to participate.’
Well, that was preposterous enough.
Lydia has never done anything participatory in her entire life. But far more preposterous was the idea that she could be trying to change the subject.
‘They’re from Brookfield?’ I gasped.
And then, before my very eyes?
It was they.
We were walking by the teachers’ parking lot at this point. Across the lot, I could see one of the sports teachers hurrying along — and Riley and Amelia were following. The teacher had her keys out ready to open her car.
Lyd and I became silent. The trio across the parking lot were themselves eerily quiet. Their footsteps made a subdued scuff-scuff along the asphalt.
I felt a strange surge of emotion, watching them.
Could it be true? Were Amelia and Riley just Brookfielders: innocent, everyday, truanting, badly dressed Brookfielders?
‘I give them six months,’ Lydia murmured.
At first, I thought she meant they would not last at Ashbury.
Then something made me turn a sharp eye. ‘You think they’re going to break up?’ I whispered.
Lyd didn’t speak. We were almost upon them.
Within a moment, we were passing close by the passenger side of the car. The sports teacher was already behind the wheel, pulling on her seatbelt. Riley was in the front passenger seat, and Amelia was directly behind him. Neither had yet closed their doors.
As we passed they both paused, hands on the door handles, and glanced at us.
I looked away quickly, ready to hurry on.
Then, behind me —
‘Hey,’ said Lydia. ‘Good luck at the Zones.’
She said it at just the right distance from the car. She said it in just the right way: cool, almost indifferent, yet genuine too.
And then she smiled her Lydia smile.
I cannot explain the Lydia smile, except to say that I love it.
It see
ms like a flash of something beautiful, cutting through to the truth. There’s something ironic about it, an almost raising of her eyebrows at the rules that require us to smile. But at the same time it’s a little shy. It’s a warm, real, generous and vulnerable smile, and it lets you straight into her heart — even as she’s laughing at herself and at you and the world.
‘Thanks,’ said Riley and Amelia. And I stared in wonder as they offered Lydia genuine, laughing, ironic smiles of their own.
Riley T Smith
Student No: 8233569
They’re lined up, rigid, fervent, taut and the starter gun signals: Attack.
Not Amelia.
She slides in like a mermaid. She picks up the water, she’s polite, and she takes it for a stroll. Unfurls it behind her, stretching it, stretching — and the water sighs and relishes her touch.
The water loves her body; so do I.
Now she’s treading water, wiping her nose with the back of her hand, waiting for the rest of the racers to finish, a vague, dazed look then a brief, bright smile when she hears her time. It’s another record or another personal best. She’s all the winning swimmers in all the TV shots in all the swimming races of all time.
Now she’s standing by the side of the pool, slick, wet, practically naked, facing away from me. The back of her knees are pale purple. (Press your foot to the back of the knees and they buckle.) I can’t see her eyes but I can tell you this: she’s staring at nothing now; she’s looking for her past.
7.
Progress Meeting — The Committee for the Administration of the KL Mason Patterson Trust Fund — Minutes
6.00 pm — 9.00 pm, Wednesday 20 February
Conference Room 2B, the KL Mason Patterson Centre for the Arts
Chair:
Roberto Garcia (History Coordinator, Drama Teacher, Ashbury)
Secretary:
Christopher Botherit (English Coordinator, Ashbury)
Participants
Constance Milligan (Ashbury Alumni Association)
Patricia Aganovic (Parent Representative 1)
Jacob Mazzerati (Parent Representative 2)
Lucy Wexford (Music Coordinator, Ashbury)
Apologies
Bill Ludovico (Ashbury School Principal/Economics Teacher)
AGENDA ITEMS
Agenda Item 1: Preliminaries
Welcome Back, Constance
The group welcomed back Constance Milligan (Ashbury Alumni Association).
Constance chose not to attend the interviews of our scholarship applicants, and therefore did not participate in the last meeting, when we chose the winners. Hence, we hadn’t seen her for a while.
Constance said she had missed us. She was very touched to be ‘welcomed’ and said it reminded her of the good old days when her cat Lulu was alive.
Minutes of the previous meeting
The minutes of the previous meeting were circulated for comment.
• Most of the comment came from Constance Milligan who said that she was ‘bewildered and horrified’ by our choice of the two scholarship winners, and seriously doubted if we had ‘our wits about us’.
Agenda Item 2: Financial Report
Roberto Garcia (Chair) circulated the latest Financial and Audit reports and invited comment.
• Everybody looked at the reports for a while and there was a long period of quiet.
• Eventually, Patricia Aganovic (Parent Rep 1) said that it was a shame that Bill Ludovico (Ashbury School Principal/Economics Teacher) has stopped coming to meetings.
Action points
• Roberto Garcia will pass on our best to Bill, and tell him we really miss him.
Agenda Item 3: The KL Mason Patterson Centre for the Arts: Progress Report
Chris Botherit (English Coordinator/Secretary/me) circulated a Progress Report on the KL Mason Patterson Centre for the Arts.
• ‘We’re sitting in the KL Mason Patterson Centre for the Arts,’ said Lucy Wexford (Music Coordinator). ‘Why do we need a Progress Report on a building that is already finished?’
• Roberto Garcia said that nothing is ever truly finished. ‘Everything, all life,’ he mused, ‘is in progress. I am in progress! You are in progress! Even stars that seem fixed to the sky are in progress — a progress that only the future will see, a progress that took place in the past!’
• Lengthy discussion about the death of stars, black holes, the speed of light, space–time continuum, whether death is progress, whether progress per se is good/bad, the new parking lot at the local Woolworths, etc, etc.
• Chris Botherit interrupted in a smooth, firm voice to explain that: ‘Teachers and students are very pleased with the KL Mason Patterson Centre for the Arts, especially the AV equipment, and the comfortable chairs.’
• ‘However,’ Chris continued (sternly), ‘there are always hiccups when you rebuild an old building — and this is why we need a Progress Report.’ He tapped his finger on page 2 of the report, which refers to cracks in the brickwork.
• Roberto Garcia said that he himself had noticed a crack in the brickwork as he came in tonight, and had thought: Here is the fine jagged line at which the past and the future meet. Here, he thought, is the NOW.
• ‘That’s all very well,’ said Lucy Wexford tartly, ‘but is this building safe?’ Unexpectedly, a chill breeze wafted through the room and we all looked around uneasily.
• At that moment, the faintest cracking sounded in the distance. Patricia Aganovic inquired where the nearest exit was.
• Constance Milligan surprised everyone by exclaiming, ‘Why, you should have seen the antics of my chums and I, back when I boarded here! And what of the larrikinism they got up to in the boys’ wing? Including, I might add, Sir Kendall Laurence himself! If it could cope with the hijinks of us girls and boys, it can cope with a couple of new wings!’
Action points
• Chris Botherit (Secretary) will contact the Structural Engineer to arrange an inspection of the cracks in the brickwork.
Agenda Item 4: Further Spending Proposals
Roberto Garcia read through the contents of the ‘How should we spend the money in the KL Mason Patterson Fund? You tell us’ Suggestion Box. The box is kept in the Ashbury Upper Staff Room.
• There were several suggestions from the sports teachers about getting new sports equipment.
• Somebody pointed out that maybe it had been a mistake to have a Suggestion Box? It only reminded the other teachers that the fund existed, and then they felt irritable when money wasn’t spent on their subjects.
• Chris Botherit said he’d been thinking of a joint drama production between Ashbury and the nearby public school, Brookfield High, to foster better relations between the schools, and as a kind of ‘community outreach’ project — distributing some of our wealth to the much poorer Brookfield.
• Constance assured us that Sir Kendall never intended his wealth to be distributed. ‘He didn’t even know what “outreach” meant,’ she said, ‘and he certainly never gave a hoot about the poor.’
Action points
• Chris Botherit and Roberto Garcia will put together a proposal for a joint Ashbury–Brookfield Dramatic Production.
• When nobody is looking, Chris Botherit will remove the Suggestion Box from the Upper Staff Room.
Agenda Item 5: Scholarship Winners Progress Report
Roberto Garcia noted that the two scholarship winners, Amelia Damaski and Riley Smith, were now in their fourth week at Ashbury. Roberto invited the teachers present to share any observations they had on the scholarship winners’ progress.
• Constance interrupted to say that we should first discuss whether the scholarships could be withdrawn from Amelia and Riley at once.
• It was made clear to Constance that this was not possible.
• Constance repeated her assertion that she was ‘aghast’ at our choice of winners.
• Jacob Mazzerati pointed out, carefully, that, as Constance wasn’t
there when we interviewed the applicants, maybe she wasn’t in a position to judge?
• Constance said she had had no choice but to absent herself from the interviews, as her life had been at stake. (This had come to her in a dream.) Everyone was quiet and thoughtful.
• Lucy Wexford interrupted the quiet to say that she was now inclined to think that maybe Constance was right, and that we had chosen the wrong scholarship winners.
• We reminded Lucy that she had agreed with our choice. Lucy said that, upon reflection, she could not understand why she had been so impressed by the winners. She now doubted whether ‘outstanding potential’ could mean sporting potential, although she admitted she had agreed at the time that it could. She thought she must have been ‘in some kind of a trance’.
• Constance breathed in sharply and seemed about to speak, but:
• Roberto Garcia suggested that we hear from the scholarship winners’ teachers (including himself). He passed on a report from their Art teacher that their attendance at Art classes had been perfect.
• Chris Botherit said that Amelia’s attendance at his English class had been close to perfect.
• Lucy Wexford said that both Amelia and Riley were in her Music class and that, to date, their attendance had been abysmal. Also, when they did attend, neither of them said a word. Either to her, or, as far as she could see, to any other student.
• Chris Botherit here admitted that Amelia and Riley seemed to keep to themselves. ‘Perhaps,’ he suggested, ‘they have not integrated into the Ashbury community just yet?’
• ‘That,’ said Lucy Wexford, ‘is an understatement.’ She added that they both have the habit of watching her extremely closely while she talks. She finds this unnerving.
• Chris Botherit confessed that Amelia did focus on him to a considerable degree when he speaks. He worried that she was having trouble understanding what he was saying. Or that she thought it was more important than it actually was.
• Roberto Garcia said that Amelia is in his History class, and they are both in his Drama class. So far they have simply watched the other students with slightly bemused expressions. He does not blame them. He often feels exactly the same way when he walks into a room full of Ashbury students.
Dreaming of Amelia Page 6
