Red Dirt Diary 2 (3 page)

• Rolling eyes backwards in head while fanning face rapidly with both hands (save for very emotional moments, like a closer look at the enormous ruby and diamond engagement ring)

Who would ever have thought that being excited for the joy in someone's life could be such hard work????

Mum interrupted my eyelash fluttering practice this evening to let me know that James Welsh-Pearson is coming to stay with us on the weekend!!!

I clutched my chest, swayed from side to side and rolled my eyes back into my head.

‘Hosiery … carnations … rubies … taffeta …' I sighed and swooned onto my bed.

Mum left my room laughing.

Petal pooped on my bedspread.

I'm with Petal on this one.

Wednesday, 29 November

Dad started harvesting today. Don't suppose we'll see too much of him before Christmas. He sure was happy when he headed off this morning, whistling and making up silly songs about bumper crops.

‘Nothing like a good harvest, Blue,' he said.

He took a fistful of wheat grain out of his pocket and poured it into my hand. He said it was a bit of gold to remind me why the Westons stick with the red dirt no matter how tough the going gets.

Petal came to school with me today. She sat in a shoebox full of tissues on my desk. Lynette and Sarah were dead jealous of the way Petal talks softly and nibbles my cheek. Even Mat thinks she's cute.

At lunch time, Lucy Ferris had just filled a bowl of water for her rabbits when Petal popped up onto the edge and jumped in. She swam round and round in the tiny dish and looked like she was in heaven.

Mr Cluff said she took to it like a duck to water! Ha, ha, ha!

Miss McKenzie wanted me to bring Petal into the little kids' classroom for Show and Share after lunch, but I pretended it was her nap time.

I just don't know what to say to Miss McKenzie any more. I can't go on avoiding her forever, though, can I?

Thursday, 30 November

Wes didn't come to school today. Just before we were meant to leave, he ran in crying. His arm was bleeding all over the kitchen floor.

Fez ran in after him, carrying three steak knives, yelling, ‘It's Wes's fault, Mummy! He was a coward! You're not meant to move halfway
through a knife-throwing performance!'

He's right, you know. The lady at the circus didn't duck when Rasmov the Great threw knives at her. She didn't even blink.

Petal is crazy about water. Today she spent our entire maths lesson swimming around in an ice-cream container full of water on my desk. She stopped every three or four circuits to
peep
happily at me, as though she wanted to share her joy.

And then I realised — Miss McKenzie wants to share
her
joy.

I must try harder with this whole wedding thing.

Friday, 1 December

Looked at material samples with Mat and Miss McKenzie for THIRTY WHOLE MINUTES at lunch time today. It was TORTURE!

I tried really hard to say things that would make Miss McKenzie think I cared. I tucked my hair behind my ears and asked her what colour she thought would look best for our bridesmaids' dresses. Mat and Miss McKenzie both stared at me oddly. That's when I noticed that all
eleven
samples were pink …

So I giggled and clutched my chest and fluttered my eyelids. I think I might have even said ‘hosiery' a few times. I crossed my legs and swayed from side to side and rolled my eyes back into my head like I'd seen Mat do. Unfortunately, I lost my balance and fell over sideways, banging my head on the edge of the tank stand.

The next thing I remember is Mum arriving to pick me up. Banjo was standing over me with
his notepad, mumbling, ‘Blue … twit … fell … head hit.' That boy has to make a poem of everything!

I'm in bed with Petal and Fluffles as I write this. Petal is eating the coconut from the lamington Mum brought in for me. Fluffles is flicking her tail from side to side. I think she would like to be eating Petal.

I must practise fluttering my eyelids and rolling my eyes back in my head so that I can do it without getting dizzy.

HOW AM I EVER GOING TO GET THROUGH THIS WHOLE WEDDING THING?

9 pm

Good grief! Mum just came in to kiss me goodnight and reminded me that James Welsh-Pearson is arriving tomorrow. I think I'm going to be sick and it has nothing to do with the lump the size of a golf ball sticking out the side of my forehead.

Saturday, 2 December

Poor James Welsh-Pearson.

Miss McKenzie arrived at eleven, looking beautiful as ever. She was wearing a white dress
covered in big red roses. Her hair looked a bit odd — sort of tidy, as though she'd tried to make it straight — but the carroty curls were soon frizzing out all over the place. A quick race in a pig chariot pulled by Doris saw to that.

Just after midday, Wes and Fez cheered from the top of the chook shed as James Welsh-Pearson drove down the driveway. Fez leapt from the chook shed roof onto the trampoline and flew through the air, landing feet first on the dirt like a real pro. Wes leapt down from the chook shed roof onto the trampoline and flew through the air until he hit the peppercorn tree face first. He staggered over to the driveway.

Our welcoming committee was all there — Doris, Mildred and Gertrude, the three fattest sows on earth, Gunther with his three ducklings, Fez grinning stupidly, Wes bawling his eyes out with blood gushing from his nose, Mum in her apron, Dad in his dusty work clothes just in from the paddocks, me practising my fake welcome-and-congratulations-on-your-engagement smile, Petal peeping out of my pocket, and Miss McKenzie looking like she was about to open the best Christmas present ever.

A red Ferrari screeched to a halt, sending gravel flying towards Gunther's ducklings. Gunther was furious.

James Welsh-Pearson stepped out of the car, holding an enormous bunch of red roses. Gunther squealed and lunged forward, frothing at the mouth. He latched onto James's shin and chomped down. The red roses flew into the air and landed on Doris's back. The thorns must have given her a terrible fright because she spun around and bit the first thing she found, which happened to be the Ferrari's front tyre. It exploded like a gunshot and sent a flock of cockatoos screeching overhead, splattering the car with fresh white parrot droppings. Gunther started to growl and shake James's leg from side to side.

Meanwhile, Gertrude sneaked into the car, lured by the smell of food. She found a large box of chocolates which she ripped open and scoffed, then went on to eat the leather upholstery from the passenger seat.

James let out a cry of agony — I'm not sure whether it was pain from the deep gash on his leg, or horror at what was happening to his car.

Thankfully Fez stopped laughing long enough to yell, ‘Gunther! Dinner time!'

Gunther let go of the leg and sprinted around to the back door, where he gets fed. Gertrude leapt from the car, knocking James to the ground, and trotted after Gunther, followed by Doris, Mildred, the three ducklings and Wes, who was bawling and dripping blood.

Mum and Dad helped James hobble into the house. Miss McKenzie followed behind looking a bit dazed.

Of course, Mr Sweeney, local vet and pretend doctor, had to be called. But even
he
couldn't mend poor James's savaged leg. Dad and Miss McKenzie had to drive him to Dubbo, where he's spending the night in hospital.

Sunday, 3 December

James Leg-Torn-Off has gone back to Sydney on crutches!

His red Ferrari is parked in the shed with the tractor and the hay-baler.

Miss McKenzie is heartbroken. She won't be seeing James again until Christmas. She sat in the kitchen with Mum and cried for TWO HOURS.

I'd never seen Miss McKenzie cry before. I once saw her lip wobble when we thought Mrs Whittington was going to be sent back to the nursing home, but I've never ever seen her cry. She's always smiling and laughing. That's why she's got wrinkles around her eyes when she's only twenty-seven.

I kept wondering what Matilda Jane the Mature would say in this situation. She seems to know an awful lot about boys and romance and all that stuff. Even though she's an airhead, I couldn't help thinking that she would have known the right thing to do here.

I tried fluttering my eyelashes and rolling my eyes, but Miss McKenzie didn't seem to notice.

‘Love hurts sometimes,' I said in my most mature voice.

Mum scowled and sent me outside to feed the chooks and get the washing off the line.

Monday, 4 December

I thought I'd be glad when James Leg-Torn-Off left, but Miss McKenzie is miserable. Her eyes looked all red and puffy when she came out for playground duty at lunch time.

Mr Cluff tried to cheer her up with a cup of tea. He even put his arm around her shoulder and gave her a squeeze. She didn't crack a smile, but it
did
seem to cheer Mr Cluff up a bit.

I took Petal over to say hello. She pecked Miss McKenzie's cheek and said, ‘
Peep-peep-peep
,' so sweetly that I was sure she would smile. But she didn't.

She didn't even smile when Davo ran over the top of Wes on his BMX bike. And that really
was
funny.

Good old Mrs Whittington popped over at lunch time with a steamed golden syrup pudding. She often brings me one as a reward for an essay competition I won two years ago. She thinks it was only last week and keeps forgetting that she has already made me lots of puddings.

Mrs Whittington took one look at Petal today and said, ‘I don't know what the world's coming to, Blue. That's the sickliest looking dog I've ever seen. It all has to do with this dreadful global warming. Before you know what's happened, the cows and sheep will be so small that there won't be enough meat for us to eat and we'll all starve to death. I just hope and pray that I don't live to see the day.'

She walked straight back out the gate and across the road to her house, shaking her head sadly all the way.

She took the pudding with her.

Miss McKenzie looked at me and burst out laughing.

Thank goodness for Mrs Whittington!

Tuesday, 5 December

Petal, Mat and I sat on the steps in the sun, watching Gabby Woodhouse at lunch time. She spent twenty-five minutes trimming one of the shrubs with a pair of scissors. We thought she'd taken a sudden interest in gardening, but when she finished, she held up a mirror, leant over the shrub and asked if it wanted a bit of hairspray to keep things in place.

We nearly died laughing. Mat laughed so hard she snorted a bit of snot out her nose. She was
so
embarrassed!

What would Gavin O'Donnell think????

The Flying Ferals started working on their latest acrobatic trick when we got home. Fez jumped up and down on the trampoline, getting higher and higher. When Wes ran past, Fez was
going to do a somersault in the air and land on Wes's shoulders.

Yeah, right.

Fez did
one and a half
somersaults in the air, landed on a rock and split his forehead open. Wes kept running while he was looking back at Fez and ran into the veranda post. He split the back of his head open.

Mr Sweeney came over with his vet's bag and gave Wes five stitches and Fez three stitches. Fez was bawling his eyes out.

Mum thought he was scared of the tetanus needle, but it turns out he was jealous that Wes got more stitches than him.

Wednesday, 6 December

Miss McKenzie has given me, Mat and Lynette a bridesmaid's scrapbook each. It has pictures of different dresses and little squares of pink fabric stuck all over the place.

Mat is ecstatic. I've never seen her eyes roll so far back in her head, or her hands work so hard fanning her face. It was such an EMOTIONAL moment.

We're meant to be deciding on which fabric
we like best, but they all look the same to me — pink and totally gross.

Showed Gerty the scrapbook and she snuffled sadly at it. She seemed quite upset at the idea of me wearing a dress that would make me look like a ball of fairy floss. Then again, she might have been upset that I was showing her pieces of fabric rather than a slice of cake or a crumpet with butter and honey. You never can tell with pigs.

Thursday, 7 December

Fez was attacked this morning. He went out the back door to get his school shoes, and Gunther's ducklings popped out of nowhere. They charged like a mini light horse brigade and pecked his bare feet over and over again.

Fez danced around, half-laughing, half-crying, because it tickled so much. Gunther lay on the veranda, watching out of the corner of his eyes.

When Fez ran inside, the ducklings waddled back to Gunther and lay down between his front legs.

I think Gunther
smirked
!!!!

How cool is that? Ducklings trained to kill Wes and Fez.

Gunther is my hero.

I was going to pat him on the head, but when I stepped forwards, he bared his teeth and snarled at me like a dog. That pig is so out of control.

Friday, 8 December

Lucy, Banjo and I spent lunch time playing with Lucy's baby rabbits and Petal. Mat sat on the grass nearby and pretended to be totally unimpressed.

The baby bunnies were frolicking around, so Petal started jumping like a baby bunny. It was so incredibly cute that Mat couldn't resist. She just had to join in and play with us.

We were having so much fun until Mat went and spoiled it all by talking about the wedding.

‘It's so romantic,' she sighed. ‘Miss McKenzie is going to be so happy … James and Katherine Welsh-Pearson … It sounds so
perfect
.'

She rolled her eyes and fluttered her eyelids … and she didn't even seem to get dizzy!

‘She's so, so lucky. James will take her away from all this.' Mat made a dramatic sweeping
movement with her arm that took in the whole playground.