Dreaming of Amelia

by Jaclyn Moriarty

  • Jacob Mazzerati suggested that if the dramatic coproduction happens, Amelia and Riley could get involved. They might feel more relaxed with the Brookfielders around, and they are both taking Drama.

  • Constance inquired how the pair were performing academically. (During the above discussion, she had exclaimed ‘A-hah!’ at various points.)

  • Chris Botherit said he has not yet seen any of Amelia’s written work. Neither has Roberto — and so far, they have not performed in Drama. Lucy said she had invited Riley to perform a drum solo, and he had politely declined. She had asked Amelia where her musical interests lay, and Amelia had smiled and wandered away, humming to herself. ‘It is sadly clear,’ said Lucy, ‘that there is nothing remotely musical about either of them.’

  • Roberto noted that neither Amelia nor Riley had chosen performance as their individual projects for Drama. It was legitimate, he said, for them to study the theory of both Drama and Music, without having practical talent in either field.

  • Roberto said that, according to the Scholarship Charter, the next step will be for their subject teachers to provide written reports; followed by interviews with the winners themselves to discuss their progress.

  • Constance pointed out that, once again, she would not be able to attend the interviews of Amelia and Riley, on the grounds of fearing for her life.

  • Patricia Aganovic said, ‘How did they go at the Zones? My daughter, Cassie, told me —’ and Jacob Mazzerati began, ‘Yeah, Toby tells me their swimming —’

  • At this, there was an explosion of conversation, as all the teachers present exclaimed about Amelia and Riley’s extraordinary success at the Zones. Much talk about the fact that they have already met the ‘outstanding potential’ component of the scholarship, and that their swimming was even better than we’d expected.

  • ‘Well, then,’ said Constance, serenely, ‘we will certainly not be spending any of Sir Kendall’s money on sports equipment. That’s what Amelia and Riley are, aren’t they? Sports equipment.’

  • An uncomfortable silence.

  Agenda Item 6: Any Other Business

  • Jacob Mazzerati wanted to know why Patricia Aganovic was ‘Parent Rep 1’ while he was ‘Parent Rep 2’.

  • Much discussion about this.

  • Jacob eventually said he’d only meant the question as a joke.

  • Roberto Garcia said: ‘Let’s go back to Jacob’s and drink all the wine in his wine cellar.’

  Meeting Closed: 9.00 pm

  8.

  www.myglasshouse.com/shadowgirl

  TUESDAY 4 MARCH

  My Journey Home

  The woman approaches

  with

  Her tongue pushed so

  pressed so

  firmly

  pressed so

  tightly

  into

  Her cheek

  That

  For a moment

  I think it’s

  a distortion of

  Her face

  Green leaves on the footpath

  Such bright

  Such translucent

  Pressed so

  Stamped so

  Firmly into

  The footpath

  Stamped so

  Rained so

  Firmly into

  The footpath

  So

  That now

  They

  Are

  Like

  Lime

  glass

  The woman —

  or girl maybe —

  As if I

  Do not see

  As if she does

  Not see —

  As if for a moment

  She is

  More

  Alone

  Than anyone has ever

  The woman

  Or is she a girl,

  Relaxes her

  Face

  Relaxes

  Her hands

  Her shoulders

  Her chest

  Her hips

  Her tongue

  As if

  She were

  More

  Than

  Alone.

  Relaxes even her

  Hair

  Even her hair

  Which is

  Then she sees me

  and she sees

  that her

  hair is the exact

  same colour

  as mine.

  I remember

  myself in

  a graveyard,

  wind blowing sideways,

  smell of crushed

  ants,

  and here come

  soldiers

  on

  horseback

  in red,

  so it’s not a memory,

  it’s a dream,

  and I get onto the bus.

  A boy with

  four bags

  gathered at his feet says

  Is this the bus to Central Station?

  Well,

  Why do you think

  It says Railway Square on the front?

  There’s a mystery.

  The cockatoos are eating my building,

  says the man

  in the seat behind.

  Why do some things have so many names

  Like Central Station is

  Railway square

  An oblong is a rectangle

  A biro is a pen

  A woman is a girl

  A cyclone is

  A hurricane is

  also

  A typhoon

  And Riley is

  All three.

  Look for

  The woman

  Or the

  Girl

  With the

  Hair

  But she

  Is

  Gone.

  A small boy walks past

  The window

  instead

  His hands around his

  Throat

  Choking himself

  He sees me see him

  Hesitates

  Decides to see it through.

  0 comments

  www.myglasshouse.com/emthompson

  TUESDAY 4 MARCH

  My Journey Home

  I journeyed home from school yesterday.

  Wait a minute. Did someone say the words: déjà vu?

  Yes. They did. Because we wrote this blog a month ago. Our teacher has given us the exact same topic.

  Well, if Mr B is trapped in the past, I, for one, am not going to tell him.

  I merely sigh.

  And turn to my friends.

  Farewell.

  Much love,

  Emily.

  37 comments

  Cass said … Okay. I’m here. ’Tsup? Whatcha doing?

  Em said … I still can’t believe nobody knew about Riley and Amelia.

  Cass said … Knew what about them?

  Em said … Ha ha. But seriously, how could we not have known they were from Brookfield? It’s, like, three minutes from here. What were we thinking?

  Cass said … I wasn’t thinking anything. This has been your own personal quest, Em.

  Em said … That is a harsh yet fair attack. I failed in my quest.

  Em said … But, to be fair to me, it’s the people of Ashbury that failed me. I asked EVERYONE if they knew the story behind R and A, and I even turned to my contacts in power; ie, teachers. They were as dumbfounded as me. And I talked to Bindy Mackenzie, who, as school captain, really has a responsibility to know everything about everyone, doesn’t she? (And normally I think she does.) Bindy promised she’d raise the issue of Riley and Amelia’s identity at the School Leaders’ Conference in Canberra but I don’t think she ever intended to.

  Cass said … Why would she not have? It’s up there with greenhouse gas emissions, global financial meltdown, and all the other issues that high school leaders are gonna figure out for us in Canberra this year.

  Cass said … Hey, is Ly
d okay? Is she around? Is she really okay about seeing Seb the other day?

  Em said … She’s right beside me and she’s writing her blog and ignoring me even though I keep telling her to cut it out and join this conversation.

  Em said … And I know, I doubt she’s okay about seeing Seb, even though she says she is, with her indifferent shrug. I would find it difficult to run into Charlie by chance, and we broke up a long time ago and in different circumstances! So. Of course she’s not all right.

  Em said … Although, I would also be stunned to run into Charlie because, guess what, I decided to get back together with him!

  Cass said … I feel like something doesn’t follow there, but anyway, really? You decided to get back with Charlie?

  Em said … Yeah, I thought, well, this has gone on long enough, me not being with Charlie. Plus, if I’d had a contact at Brookfield (Charlie), he could have told me about Riley and Amelia long ago. Then I could have got on with my life.

  Em said … But would Charlie have known R and A? Most other Brookfielders didn’t know them. Hmm. Why didn’t they? Seb told Lyd it’s because they NEVER EVER went to any classes, but how can that be? Isn’t that, I don’t know, illegal?

  Cass said … Em, you decided to get back with Charlie and then what?

  Em said … Oh, yeah. Turns out he’s in Singapore. So, no luck getting back together. That’s why I’d be stunned if I ran into him. I’d be in Singapore. Which would be stunning.

  Cass said … Why is Charlie in Singapore?

  Em said … His mother got some job offer there. I called his home to announce my decision that we were together again, and one of his older brothers told me they were in Singapore. I was so MAD. But then I was weeping like a willow for an hour.

  Cass said … You want to go into Castle Hill this arvo? To weep like a willow some more?

  Em said … But they’re still not regular folk really. They’re athletes. I thought scholarship kids like that only existed in American movies. This is the first time I’ve met one.

  Cass said … You still haven’t technically met Amelia and Riley.

  Em said … They must be out of their depths, treading water in the sophisticated halls of Ashbury, can’t afford the bus fare home etc. They’ll be ‘flunking out of classes’ and have to work hard or be ‘cut from the swim squad’. Don’t you think?

  Cass said … I don’t really know if I have anything else to say about A and R.

  Em said … But you should have, because you should have found out they were from Brookfield from your mum. So, I totally withdraw my acceptance of failure of my quest. It’s your fault.

  Em said … Ha ha, just kidding. Because I guess your mum was being confidential, but what’s so confidential about them being Brookfielders? It should be the opposite. We should have been warned they were in our midst. They could have violent/criminal tendencies and distribute drugs and be on steroids. Or do you think not? I guess Charlie and Seb are great, and therefore not all Brookfielders are psychopaths, but technically, any of them could be.

  Cass said … You betcha.

  Em said … I think R and A are more sweet than psychopathic. What do you think?

  Cass said …

  Em said … Okay. Sorry. We can talk about something else.

  Cass said … Is it just me or is skipping classes kind of a strange, flat thing these days? Ms W actually came out of the library while I was coming in today and she knows I’m in her English class but she just said, ‘Casso!’ in her weird cowgirl way. It turns out you can do anything you want in Year 12, which is relaxing but is it also depressing?

  Lyd said … It’s cos we’re equals now and they trust us to be responsible for our own academic futures and Ms W knew you were going to the library to do intensive study.

  Em said … Lydia, finally. Don’t waste time typing your own blog like that again. We need you in our conversation, eg when we were asking if you were all right about seeing Seb. You can talk about it now if you want.

  Lyd said … Coupla things, Em. One, just read over your above conversation with Cass and you’re not exhibiting any upper middle-class conservative prejudices re A and R or anything, oh no, don’t worry about that. And two, I’m guessing you only let Cass and me have access to this blog? Cos, if not, why aren’t we doing this conversation the normal way? You get that the internet’s kind of like a public forum?

  Em said … Don’t even worry about it, Lyd. I didn’t lock this blog down or anything, but seriously, nobody else will ever find it. Because, I mean, why would they? One thing I have learned in this tough, mysterious world is that the best way to hide is not to hide but to get out in the crowd. And that works even better online.

  Bindy Mackenzie said … HELLO EM, LYD AND CASS! BINDY HERE. JUST SEARCHING THROUGH THE GLASSHOUSE ASHBURY BLOGS AND FOUND YOURS. AND I HAD TO STEP IN TO CORRECT YOUR DEFAMATION OF MY CHARACTER, EMILY! BECAUSE I MEANT MY PROMISE TO DO YOUR DETECTIVE WORK ABOUT AMELIA AND RILEY IN CANBERRA AT THE LEADERS’ CONFERENCE! I don’t make empty promises. Thank heavens, I finally figured out how to undo the capslock, it was jammed.

  Lyd said … What a relief.

  9.

  Tobias George Mazzerati

  Student No: 8233555

  7 March 1802

  I’m in Sydney Town now. It’s pure madness and even the moon is topside turvy.

  The weather, she’s like an Irish jig; I mean, she’s mischievous and you can never pin her down.

  I’m living in a wooden shack with three other men: neither bars on the windows nor padlock on the door. I could slip down the cove and sail away! We talk of it, Phillip and I, of sailing home. (Phillip misses his wife and children with the fierceness of a wildcat.) We’ve even designed a boat with a stick in mud, and all we need is the materials.

  And a little free time to build.

  Or we could borrow a boat. Sure, and that might be simpler.

  In the meantime, I’m in the carpenters’ gang. That’ll help me with the building of the boat when the time comes. Phillip’s the overseer of stonemasons, which makes me proud, how important he is. We’ll not be needing stone on our boat though, it’d sink.

  You can’t leave your property alone here, what with the thieves everywhere. And they’ve public floggings of men, and women too; and they shave the women’s heads if they catch them having a good time.

  The girls here have wild ways, crinkle-set eyes, sun-browned faces and fine, long hair that they wear in braids down their backs. It’s enough to tear your heart out, they’re so pretty. And they’re up for it, too.

  Sure and the people here have not done a bad job, so far as building a colony from scratch goes. It makes me strangely proud to be a man. That men could start with nothing, and turn it into this. Five thousand people living under roofs, eating their breakfasts, and washing their clothes (or not washing them, if not inclined).

  You know, all my life I’ve thought myself a country boy, and now it turns out not to be so. Lives exploding or anyway breathing all around me — some days, it’s like I’ve fallen in love and want to kiss strangers and walls.

  I’ll never go back to the countryside or farming or it’ll mean the death of me. I swear it on the good book and on all books ever opened or closed.

  Maggie’s letters fret that I must be miserable, surrounded by the English in an English colony. But my friends are Irish, and it brings us closer, makes us more Irish than we ever were at home and, to be sure, I think I like that.

  All in all, it’s not so bad. Provided you keep out of trouble, make the overseer like you by cracking a joke, get enough grog, see enough pretty girls, and have enough laughs with the men —

  And speaking of that, it’d make you laugh if it didn’t make you cry — for what was I just saying about myself and farming life? Here and if it isn’t Phillip telling me they’ve started a new government farm at a place they call Castle Hill.

  There’s talk he and I might be sent there.

  They can’t be sending me
out to this farm, for haven’t I just now sworn an oath?

  Emily Melissa-Anne Thompson

  Student No: 8233521

  I have mentioned Mr Garcia, have I not?

  He is a large and mountainous man, Mr Garcia, with a voice — an accent — that belongs on television.

  If only television were the radio.

  How shall I put it delicately? Rugged and startling of appearance? A regular Frankenstein’s monster to look upon? Yes. That will do.

  Hearken though! Mr Garcia may be hideous to look at but he is kind-hearted, funny and he wears two hats.

  Not literally. I mean, he teaches History but he also teaches Drama.

  Now, near the end of Term 1, there came to be a History class, and Mr Garcia, as is his wantonness, had led us astray from the school. We had walked to Castle Hill Heritage Park.

  That is an immense and flowing park not far from our school where historical events of irrelevance took place.

  So, this day, we were at the park. It’s just stretches of grass, distant patches of gum trees, paths that rise too steeply for my calf muscles, and a series of those historical signs which, naturally enough, nobody reads.

  Mr Garcia was talking.

  I said that he wears two hats? Well, oft he lets his Drama hat fall into his eyes when teaching History. That can be enchanting, but sometimes it’s just, you know, please, you’re giving me a headache. Especially when I’m feeling sleepy.

  I can’t recall exactly what he was talking about this day but it seemed that he at least had read those signs. The land we were standing on had once been a government farm where convicts worked. (Woohoo.) I remember he said that. And I remember he said: Look! Just behind him! It’s the stone barracks where those convicts lived!