Red Dirt Diary 2 (10 page)

After they'd gone, Sophie and I tried to console her.

‘It wasn't that bad,' said Sophie. ‘I'm sure he didn't notice anything odd.'

‘And even if he did,' I said reassuringly, ‘I'm certain he feels like you're dumber than him.'

Mat gave me one of those withering stares.

Sunday, 28 January

Petal is all grown up!

I accidentally shut her inside while I went to feed the chooks. She carried on like a pork chop until Mum opened the door for her. She ran straight off the edge of the veranda and
flew
to me! I caught her in my arms and she nibbled my ears with joy.

I'm so proud. Her first flight!

Mat and Sophie are both driving me nuts. They spent the day in the sleep-out, painting their toenails purple and going through Sophie's
Girl Alive
magazines. They were reading the Love Doctor letters — the ones where girls write in and say things like:

Sophie and I usually laugh ourselves stupid at them. But Mat was taking the letters really seriously. She said maybe
she
should write in and ask about her relationship problems with Gavin.

Relationship???

I told Mat she was such an expert on love that she should start her
own
Love Doctor column. She took it as a
compliment
. Good grief!

I went outside to muck around with Peter and
Gavin. We spent the afternoon shovelling sheep manure from under the shearing shed to put on Mum's garden. It turns out that Gavin is
fascinated
by poo. He has serious plans to start his own organic fertiliser company, using the vast quantities of unused poo lying around on farms. It sounds like a great idea, actually — environmentally friendly and money saving.

Mat, however, was not impressed when I told her. I pointed out that Gavin probably wouldn't have time to study the law if he was busy travelling the countryside, collecting enormous vats of poo.

She stared out the window for a long time, then said, ‘Who cares? I never liked him anyway!'

Just like that!

Can it really have been love if a little bit of poop scares it away?

I JUST DON'T KNOW.

Monday, 29 January

Peter reminded us all at breakfast that, next week, he, Sophie and Gavin are returning to boarding school.

I hate boarding school. All it does is rip families apart and drag them away from the land where they belong.

At least
I'm
not being banished from Hillrose Poo. Mat, Ben Simpson and I will be starting our online tutoring for year seven at Hardbake Plains Public School. Thanks to three years of drought, no-one can afford to send more kids off to boarding school. This is obviously a
good
thing, but Matilda Jane the Mature thinks it's as devastating as global warming.

‘Another year at Hardbake Plains with all those silly children will be
torture
,' she moaned. ‘I need to get away from here or I'll die. You're so lucky, Sophie. Boarding school is as cool as.'

Yeah right! As cool as a poke in the eye with a blunt stick, or boils on your bum.

Wes and Fez brought the three-legged dead sheep from the dam home this afternoon.

‘We've got big plans for her, Blue,' said Wes.

‘Her name's Wendy,' said Fez.

As if that explains it!

Tuesday, 30 January

Mat, Sophie and I were climbing on the hay bales beside the driveway today when a big black car arrived. Out popped Miss McKenzie followed by MRS WELSH-PEARSON AND JAMES!!!

Sophie and Matilda Jane the Mature flew at them, squealing and blowing so many air kisses that I thought they might start a dust storm. Mum, the big fat traitor, invited them all inside for a cuppa.

James, Miss McKenzie and Mrs WP sipped tea. They laughed and chattered as though nothing in the world was wrong …

As though Miss McKenzie hadn't nearly cried herself to death with a broken heart …

As though James Welsh-Pearson wasn't the biggest doofus in the whole wide world …

AS THOUGH THE ENGAGEMENT HAD NEVER BEEN BROKEN OFF!!!

‘Of
course
the wedding will be here at Hillrose Poo!' Mrs WP cried. ‘It was all just a silly misunderstanding.'

‘Katherine is the love of my life,' James declared.

Spew central! It was an absolute disaster and I was sick of listening to all the drivel — wedding, wedding, wedding, love, kissy, kissy, blah, blah, blah …

It would have gone on for hours if it wasn't for the Flying Ferals and their latest catapult stunt. Suddenly there was an enormous bang, as the dead sheep from the dam slammed against the
dining-room window. It slid slowly down the fly screen, leaving bits of decayed eyeball and maggoty wool behind as it went.

Sophie screamed and hid her face in the tablecloth. Mat started to retch and ran from the room. Mum sighed wearily and poured herself another cup of tea. James and Mrs WP stared in horror, speechless, and Miss McKenzie burst out laughing.

‘That's Wendy, the Flying Ferals' new assistant,' I explained.

I went outside to congratulate the boys. I was elated. I thought
that
would be the end of it. I was ready to tell Wes and Fez that I love them and that they were the cleverest boys in the world for driving the Welsh-Pearsons away from Miss McKenzie FOREVER.

But they hadn't.

Half an hour later, James and Miss McKenzie left, arm in arm, making googly-goggle eyes at each other. Mrs WP followed behind, chatting to Mum and smiling. She didn't even snarl when Dad drove by in the ute, yelling, ‘Hello Jacinta!'

And that's when I realised. The Welsh-Pearsons really
do
want Miss McKenzie to be part of their family and they will do
anything
to make sure it happens. And why wouldn't they? She is just wonderful and warm and cheerful and kind and generous. No-one would ever want her to walk out of their life once they had her there.

But she's going to walk out of
our
lives.

Soon.

What a lousy, rotten bummer of a day.

Wednesday, 31 January

Mat and Gavin have both gone home. Mat tried to leave without taking Sheba, but Mr Sweeney wouldn't let her. Hee, hee, hee!

Mum sat me down after they left and gave me a serious talking to.

‘Miss McKenzie is a grown woman, Blue, and has to make her own decisions in life,' she said.

I rolled my eyes and tried to look unconvinced, but then Mum said, ‘If we truly love Miss McKenzie, we will support her in whatever she chooses to do. We will also accept and love the people that she loves.'

She wasn't suggesting. She was telling.

I hate it when Mum does that.

Thursday, 1 February

Helped Wes and Fez bury Wendy down behind the old outdoor dunny. We made a little cross out of timber and I said a prayer.

Wes said she was the bravest three-legged circus sheep he had ever known.

Fez said she was the most acrobatically gifted sheep ever to have lived at Hillrose Poo, and burst into tears.

Friday, 2 February

Woken at 5 am by Gunther's squeals and snorts, and a high-pitched shriek which turned out to be coming from Macka. We ran out the back to see a fox disappear into the dark.

The ducks were quacking and flapping on top of the chook shed. Silly things must have flown up, but they couldn't get down again. Peter had to climb up and rescue them.

Gunther paced back and forth like an anxious mother, huffing and puffing until all three ducks were safely back with him on the veranda. He grunted gently and tucked them away between his fat body and the firewood box. Macka trotted back and forth on the grass, keeping watch.

Rotten foxes. I'm glad Macka the crazy alpaca is here to play bodyguard.

Mum took Sophie and Peter into Dubbo for the day to buy school stuff. I stayed home to help Dad weld a new gate for the shearing yard. I refuse to be part of something as horrible and destructive as setting children up for another year of boarding school.

Saturday, 3 February

Miss McKenzie, James and Mrs WP came out for lunch today. I was very supportive and smiled sweetly at everyone. I even gave Mrs WP an air kiss with a mega-loud
Mwaah
!

Mum scowled at me.

Miss McKenzie had her beautiful, curly, carroty hair pulled back into a tight bun so that you could hardly see it. Why would she want to do that? James kept tucking escaping frizzes back into the bun, saying, ‘That's better.'

Mrs WP had to inspect the garden for the wedding. It looked beautiful — golden brown grass, an enormous shady peppercorn tree, and a view that stretched for miles across the dry, dusty plains. There were yellow flowers on the honeysuckle vine that grows over the chook shed, and creamy white blossoms on the gumtrees. I thought it was perfect, but Mrs WP had all sorts of ideas to make it
better
— potted plants, paved paths, avenues of pink roses …

It would have all been incredibly boring if Macka hadn't appeared from nowhere and spat at Mrs WP. He lifted his top lip to show two ugly buckteeth and trotted away, gurgling happily.

Mrs WP's hat was dripping with green slimy goop. Mum wiped it clean with her apron and sat it on the veranda to dry. She said the hat would
be as good as new in no time, and it probably would have been if Gerty hadn't eaten it.

When Mrs WP left, her smile was so stiff that her face nearly cracked. I scratched Gerty behind the ear and told her she was a good girl.

Sunday, 4 February

Peter and Sophie leave tomorrow.

They spent the day helping Wes, Fez and me build a cubbyhouse in the peppercorn tree. We used an old machinery crate for the main part and built timber platforms on either side, staggered up the tree. It was all joined by ladders. It looked amazing — a bit wonky, but a real home-made tree cubby.

Mum brought dinner out so we could stay in our new house. She and Dad sat on a picnic blanket nearby with Macka, Doris, Gertrude and Mildred, listening to the cricket on the radio.

Sophie sat on the tree-house balcony and sighed, ‘There's no place like home.'

I thought she was dreading going back to boarding school, but it turns out she's just sooky because she'll miss out on all the wedding preparations. She's made me promise to email her all the details!

I'm
dreading
the wedding preparations so much that I
almost
offered to go to boarding school in her place, but that would be like offering to give up the chance to have the flu for the opportunity to have the Black Plague.

Monday, 5 February

Well, they're gone. Dad drove Sophie and Peter away, down the driveway, out through the front gate of Hillrose Poo, away from the land where they belong.

And here I am, left with nothing to cheer me up except a packet of chocolate biscuits, Petal and the hope that Gunther will turn nasty and eat Wes and Fez alive before sundown.

Tuesday, 6 February

Spent the morning helping Wes and Fez organise their stuff for school. I covered twelve exercise books with contact, and stuck name labels on forty-eight pencils. Wes ironed two school shirts, a pair of shorts and fourteen pairs of undies while Fez arranged the lunchbox snacks in alphabetical order in the pantry. It was so weird — almost like they were trying to be helpful.

Matilda Jane the Mature rang after lunch to ask what I am wearing tomorrow!! The year sevens aren't officially at school because of our online learning, so we don't need to be in uniform. Before I could even begin to think about whether I'd wear my new blue shorts or my old blue shorts, Mat described her whole outfit — a denim skirt and white T-shirt with love hearts on the front, four different types of bangles, red and blue cotton scarf, red ballerina-style shoes with silver studs on the straps and matching red hair band!!!

I told her that I was a little bit concerned that she hadn't chosen a necklace. She let out a scream of shock, thanked me
so much
for reminding her, and hung up.

She's obviously gone to search for the perfect necklace but, really, she should be spending the afternoon searching for a brain.

Wednesday, 7 February

Back to school today. Left Petal sobbing behind the kitchen door.

Wes drove the old ute down to the bus stop and didn't even speed, skid or side-swipe any trees on the way. He said he was turning over a new leaf, now that he was going into year three.

‘I'm gonna be mature, Blue,' he said seriously. ‘I've gotta be a good example for Fez.'

Fez grinned at me. He was wearing Grandpa Weston's old false teeth, which he'd found in the back of the kitchen dresser last night. He looked like buck-toothed Macka.

Mat, Ben, Banjo and I sat down the back of the bus and tried to have an intelligent conversation. It wasn't easy. Matilda Jane's bangles were jangling so much, I could hardly hear Ben talking about his trip to his cousin's house.

Miss McKenzie and Mr Cluff were waiting to greet the bus when we arrived at school. Miss
McKenzie looked as happy and sparkly as ever, although she was wearing very dull clothes and had her hair in a bun again. Mr Cluff looked like he'd just cut his hair with a carving knife.

Mr Cluff led Ben, Mat and me straight into the little study nook off the senior classroom, where our computers were all set up. He spent the first half-hour showing us how to log on to different sites and connect with other students, and left us a choice of activities to do for the week. We felt so grown-up in our own room without a teacher.

After recess we joined the rest of the school for a start-of-year assembly. There are three new kindergarten kids: Lucy Ferris's sister, Cassie; Sarah Love's brother, James; and Harry Wilson's sister, Dora. They all looked so proud to be at school and they all love Miss McKenzie. By the time Mr Cluff had finished his pep talk, Dora and James had fallen asleep on her lap and Cassie was twirling a piece of Miss McKenzie's frizzy red hair around her finger.

Banjo pointed out that Mr Cluff looked like
he
would like to be twirling a piece of Miss McKenzie's hair around
his
finger! Is he serious???

At lunch time Mat and I sat together on the steps, laughing at James Love. He's so cute and tiny but has a lunchbox the size of an Esky. He stayed at the picnic table for three-quarters of an hour and ate two cheese salad sandwiches, an apple, a banana and a muesli bar. He'd already eaten two lamingtons, a packet of chips and an orange at recess. He started to cry when the bell went because he hadn't found time to drink his chocolate milk. Gary Hartley has nicknamed him Worms, because he eats so much but stays so skinny.

By home time, Mat had sent four emails to a year seven boy out the back of Warren and was totally in love. Ben and I had used
our
time to do the week's lessons on division, research the three levels of government in Australia, and partner-read the first chapter of our novel,
Dusty Dreams
. It was kind of cool having our own space to work, but I miss being in with the other kids.

Petal was so excited to see me when I got home. She flew off the veranda, straight into my arms and covered me with duck-nibbles. What a cutie!

Thursday, 8 February

Mat actually did some work today, once she'd emailed Warren three times to see what subjects he was focusing on.

I was a bit confused and asked if he was
called
Warren or
from
Warren. Mat blushed and said both. Ben and I burst out laughing, so she wouldn't talk to us for the rest of the day.

Lucy, Cassie, Banjo and I sat in the shade at lunch time playing with Lucy's bunnies. Banjo stared at Mr Cluff as he walked across the playground to Miss McKenzie.

‘Watch,' said Banjo.

Mr Cluff put his hand on her shoulder and his eyes looked so terribly gentle. Just like Gunther looks when his ducks give him nibbley kisses on the snout. As Miss McKenzie walked away to the staffroom, his shoulders sagged and he sighed.

I felt guilty. Like I'd peeped through someone's window and seen them picking their nose and wiping it on the sofa. We weren't meant to see Mr Cluff's feelings like this.

I pointed out that Worms had already eaten two ham sandwiches, an orange, a pear and a tub of strawberry yoghurt.

Banjo seemed cross that I'd changed the topic.

‘Mr Cluff can't help feeling that way,' he said. ‘If you love someone, you just love them.'

Love?

Mr Cluff?? Miss McKenzie???

Is Banjo for real???

Why does everyone get this love stuff except me???

Friday, 9 February

Mrs Whittington is glad that the school term has started. She missed seeing and hearing all the hustle and bustle of kids in the schoolyard.

Today she came over at recess with a steamed golden syrup pudding and gave it to Worms, saying, ‘I've finally made that pudding that I promised you, Blue. Lovely essay, darling. The bush is the heart of our beautiful country. Well done. Well done. Enjoy the pudding.'