‘Come and have some dinner. It’ll make you feel better.’
‘I’m not hungry.’ I dragged my sleeve roughly under my nose to wipe it. ‘I’m going to my room.’
Still dressed, I crawled into bed and raked the blankets over my head. I couldn’t erase the image of May’s bare flesh from my mind. Or the look of greed to hurt it that had burned in the tiger’s eyes. It was something I’d never forget.
Despite the pain that burned all over my body, I was glad I’d stopped Dad hurting May. Relieved. Like I told Mum, what happened to me was nothing. I was used to it. Dad hit me, not May, and that was okay. As long as he was hitting me, he wasn’t hitting anyone else.
On Friday morning, we split into our various teams and marched down to the school oval for our sports carnival. My team was Kangaroos. I’d been hoping Teena would be in Kangaroos, too, but Mrs Murcher said the Kookaburras needed numbers so that’s where she ended up. Chloe was in Emus and Miranda was in Wombats.
We had to wear our sports colours, so I dug out my faded red T-shirt. Teena mustn’t have had a chance to buy her sports uniform yet because she wore one from her old school. It was yellow, her team colour, but it had a blue emblem that said, ‘Waterfall Public School’. She also wore black shorts instead of blue.
The first race was the one hundred metres. The first two placegetters in each race went through to the zone carnival. Teena was as calm as anything. Me? I was so nervous my legs were shaking.
Wibble-wobble, jelly on a plate kind of stuff.
Running was all I had. I was desperate to win. Something. Anything. Everything.
‘I hope you don’t think you’re going to win,’ Miranda said, lining up beside us.
‘Huh?’ Teena said.
‘Well, apart from the fact you’ve done no training, which shows, Chloe and I win everything every year. Didn’t Ebony tell you?’
‘You don’t win everything,’ I said.
Chloe rolled her eyes. ‘Just about.’
‘Besides, Dad’s been coaching us for months,’ said Miranda. ‘We wouldn’t want you girls getting disappointed, that’s all.’
‘Thanks for the warning,’ Teena said. ‘I’m sure you’ll do great. Best of luck.’
‘Wow,’ I whispered. ‘Nice comeback.’
Teena shrugged. ‘Dad started work at the Gordon’s soft drink factory yesterday. He’s made me promise to be nice to the twins.’
‘Why didn’t you – ’
Mr Gospel’s booming voice cut me off. ‘Okay, girls. On your marks, get set … ’
The whistle blew and I took off, a fraction behind the others. My heart hammered in my chest as I screamed silently at myself to run faster. Somehow, I caught up with Chloe and Miranda. Throat burning, legs pumping, long hair flying, we crossed the line together. It was so close Mrs Murcher was called in to adjudicate. Chloe was declared the winner. I came second.
Miranda was furious. ‘You were lucky. It won’t happen again.’ She stormed off.
‘They sure don’t like losing, do they?’ Teena said.
‘Not to me.’ I was still trying to catch my breath.
‘Not to anyone. What’s their problem?’
‘Don’t know,’ I panted. ‘Need a drink.’
Teena and I watched as the boys got ready for their race. Angus trudged over to the starting line, the other boys elbowing him and giving him a hard time.
‘Go, Angus!’ I called out, hoping to make him feel better.
Angus turned tomato red while the other boys ribbed him even more.
‘Ooh, lovers,’ Kyle said.
Jake joined in the fun. ‘Ebony and Angus, sitting in a tree …’
Angus’s tomato face went even redder. He shook his head, his eyes pleading with me not to say anything else.
I shrugged back at him. At least I tried, I thought.
Mr Gospel blew his whistle. Moments later the race was over. No surprises on the places. Kyle first. Jake second. A handful of boys in between. Angus last by a long way. It was the same every year.
The next event was the two hundred metres. As soon as the race was called, I started shaking again. Chloe and Miranda were as cool as ice statues, going through their warm up routines and talking themselves into the ‘zone’.
This time, the twins took out first and second place. I came fourth while Sophie came third. The way she carried on you’d have thought she’d won an Olympic medal. She didn’t care that she hadn’t won a spot at the carnival. I don’t think she really wanted to go anyway.
The next event was the eight hundred metres. I was a much better sprinter than distance runner, but I had to give myself as many chances to make it through to the zone carnival as possible. That’s why I’d been practicing every morning before school.
Our sports oval was so small we had to run around it four times to make eight hundred metres. On the final round, Chloe pulled out with a cramp. At least that’s what it looked like when she dropped to the ground clutching her leg and screeching at the top of her lungs for someone to call an ambulance.
‘She overdid it in the two hundred,’ Teena said as she jogged beside me. ‘Show off.’
‘Save your breath,’ I gasped, my throat burning.
Up ahead, Miranda turned back and saw Chloe on the ground. She slowed down, looking worried.
‘Come on,’ I panted, ‘Let’s ... go.’
‘I was wondering when you were going to say that,’ Teena said.
We put on a burst of speed, coming up on either side of Miranda then overtaking her. Too late, she realised what had happened. Teena and I galloped along together and finished equal first.
‘Yay!’ Teena squealed, hugging me. ‘We did it.’
I was sweating and puffing and holding my side while my face pulsed like an oven. Teena hadn’t raised a sweat. Was it my imagination or had she been hanging back for me the whole time?
I didn’t have time to ask. ‘Well done, girls,’ Mrs Murcher congratulated us. ‘You’ve made it through. Now, off you go to the high jump.’
I didn’t do any good in the high jump, but I came second in the long jump. In the end, I qualified for three events. One hundred metres, eight hundred metres and the long jump. Teena was only in the eight hundred metres, but she was ecstatic about it.
‘And don’t forget the relays, girls,’ Mrs Murcher said. ‘You may be competing against each other in several events, but for the relays you’ll have to work as a team.’
I congratulated Chloe and Miranda on their wins.
‘Thanks,’ Chloe said. ‘You did better than we expected, Ebony. Good one.’
I think that was a compliment. ‘You two should be really happy with how you went today. If I won as many events as you, I’d be ecstatic,’ I said.
Chloe started to say something, but Miranda silenced her. ‘There’s a long way to go yet,’ she sneered as she hooked her arm through Chloe’s and led her away.
The Wombats were declared winners of the carnival. Everyone headed to the change rooms. When Teena and I walked in, the twins were talking quietly in the corner. When they saw us, Miranda nudged Chloe. Her twin shook her head and busily tied her shoelaces.
I pretended not to care and started getting changed. When I heard someone behind me, I turned. Miranda was standing there, watching me.
‘What?’ I said, feeling my cheeks heat up.
‘You know you won’t win at the zone carnival, don’t you?’
I shrugged. ‘I might.’
‘You won’t.’
‘How do you know?’ Teena asked.
‘Because she hasn’t – ’
Just then, Mrs Murcher rushed in, panic scrawled across her face. ‘Girls!’ she shrieked. ‘I don’t wish to alarm anyone, but there’s an outbreak of head lice in the school. Now, stay calm. If we act quickly we can bring it under control.’
A collective groan rumbled through the girls.
‘Who is it this time?’ Miranda demanded. ‘One of those grotty kinder kids, I
bet.’
‘Yeah. I hope they’ve been quarantined,’ Chloe grumbled.
‘Girls, please,’ Mrs Murcher said. ‘Head lice has nothing to do with how clean or dirty you are. And, for your information, it wasn’t a kindergarten child.’
‘Then who was it?’
‘I’m not at liberty to say, but I will ask you all to report to Miss Newton and me outside once you’re dressed. I want to stop this outbreak before it sweeps through the school.’
‘What about the boys?’
‘You girls worry about yourselves.’
Outside, Mrs Murcher and Miss Newton had the girls lined up on benches, their heads bent for inspection and not daring to move until they were given the all clear. Nearby, the boys were undergoing the same ordeal with the male teachers. At that moment, Mr Gospel was flicking through Angus Brown’s hair with a wooden ruler. The look of distaste on his face almost made me laugh out aloud.
Teena and I took our spot on the bench and waited our turn.
‘Are they allowed to do this?’ Teena whispered to me.
I shrugged. ‘I don’t ask questions.’
When Mrs Murcher and Miss Newton finally reached Teena, they checked every honey coil, every inch of her scalp. They even checked behind her ears and down the collar of her shirt.
‘All clear!’ Mrs Murcher shouted, as if she was an army sergeant.
Teena grinned as she stood up. ‘I’ll wait for you.’
Mrs Murcher combed her sharp crimson fingernails through my hair, flipping it this way and that. Suddenly, she let out an excited squeak. ‘Miss Newton! Look at this.’
Both teachers leaned over me. Every moment that passed, I felt increasingly guilty, certain they must have found something. My ears and cheeks burned. I held my breath.
‘What do you think?’ Miss Newton said.
Mrs Murcher clicked her tongue. ‘Wait here until we’ve finished the others, Ebony.’
I nodded dully. The heat in my cheeks turned up a few notches. I couldn’t have felt more ashamed if there’d been a sign above my head that read ‘Contaminated With Giant Nits!’.
‘What’s going on?’ Teena said.
‘I don’t know, but you’d better not sit beside me. If I’ve got nits, you’ll get them too.’
‘Whatever you’ve got, I want.’
‘But, nits?’
‘There’s worse things you can catch.’
‘Name one,’ I groaned.
Chloe and Miranda strolled out of the change rooms wearing identical emerald dresses. Their hair was combed until it shone, their skin was scrubbed and white and flawless.
‘Girls,’ Mrs Murcher said, ‘you’re the last ones. Come on.’
‘But Mum’s waiting for us,’ Miranda said.
‘Girls,’ Mrs Murcher’s voice hardened, ‘you’re not exempt from this.’
‘Look, Mrs Murcher, there’s no way Chloe or I have nits, okay? Besides, we’ve got better things to do than take part in some silly nit hunt.’
‘Is that so?’
‘Chloe, Miranda.’ Mrs Gordon appeared behind Mrs Murcher.
‘You’re late. Into the car now.’
‘Mrs Gordon,’ Mrs Murcher began, ‘I haven’t finished with Chloe and Miranda yet. There’s been an outbreak of head lice in the school and I need to make sure your girls don’t have any.’
‘I highly doubt my daughters have head lice,’ Mrs Gordon replied, ‘and if they do, I’ll be the one inspecting them. You’ve got no right to go over them like they’re cattle. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we’re late for a portrait sitting.’
The girls sauntered past with their noses in the air. ‘Look who’s got nits.’ Miranda eyed me. ‘That’s what comes from never brushing your hair, I suppose.’
Chloe laughed. ‘I always knew Ebony was a bit nitty.’
Too ashamed to say anything, I simply sat there, staring at the ground and willing myself not to cry.
Mrs Murcher and Miss Newton watched as the twins and their mother sauntered out.
‘I don’t suppose lice would dare nest in those girls’ hair,’ Miss Newton said.
‘Not if they’ve got Sheila Gordon to answer to,’ Mrs Murcher replied.
The teachers cackled like a pair of clucky chooks then turned their attention back to me.
‘What is that?’ Miss Newton peered closer, making me feel like some hideous science specimen.
‘I can’t make it out,’ said Mrs Murcher. ‘Do you think they’re nit eggs?’
‘Could be, although they’re not clinging to the hair. They’re only on the scalp.’
Teena leaned between the teachers. ‘Those aren’t nit eggs,’ she snorted. ‘It’s sand.’
‘Sand?’
‘Yeah, sand. Ebony has sand in her hair.’
Mrs Murcher elbowed Teena out of the way. ‘I think you’re right. Have you been playing in sand, Ebony?’
I nodded. ‘We’ve got a sandpit at home and my little sisters think it’s funny to bury me in it.’
‘Well, it looks like you’re clear, too. Although it might do to wash your hair properly from now on.’
‘Yes, Mrs Murcher,’ I mumbled, dying with shame.
‘The boys all look fine,’ Mr Gospel said, striding over.
‘Looks like it’s been contained at the source,’ Miss Newton said.
‘Thank heavens,’ Mrs Murcher sighed.
Teena and I grabbed our bikes and headed home before anyone changed their minds.
‘Cheer up,’ Teena said. ‘It could have been worse.’
‘How? I may not have nits, but everyone thinks I do.’
‘Don’t let it bother you. Hey, why don’t you come over to my place this afternoon?’
‘I can’t.’ Dad was at home with a stack of jobs waiting for me. No way would he let me go to Teena’s. Not today. Probably not ever.
‘Don’t you want to come over?’
‘Of course I do. It’s just, I have things to do in the afternoons.
Mum gets really tired and the girls are a handful. She needs me.’
‘But I’m dying to show you my dragons.’
I wanted to tell Teena about Dad, but I just couldn’t. She wouldn’t understand.
‘I can’t today,’ I said, ignoring the look of disappointment on her face. ‘Maybe some other time.’
If Dad’s haven was his shed, Mum’s was her fernhouse. In it she had rows and rows of plants set out neatly in black pots of all shapes and sizes. She spent all her spare time in there and she had a real knack for growing things.
Her favourite plants were native orchids and colourful, spikey bromeliads. She also grew stacks of other things like nasturtiums, impatiens, geraniums and even a few roses, which she coaxed into life from tiny cuttings. Once a month Mum would take her best plants down to the markets to sell along with our surplus fruit and vegetables.
Three wide, level platforms bordered the walls of the fernhouse, one on top of the other. Every inch of bench space was covered with plants. In some places, the walls were also covered with vines that often drooped with pink and orange flowers or chokoes, grapes or passionfruit, depending on what season it was.
The only free space was the work bench, which had empty pots stacked on one side and a tub of fresh potting mix on the other. Jars crammed full of seeds, saved from our fruit and vegetables, were labelled and arranged along the back wall, ready for the next planting.
At the other end of the fernhouse was a rickety table covered in newspaper with seeds spread out on it for drying. At the moment, cucumber, tomato and pumpkin seeds were laid out. When they were dry enough, they’d be scraped off the newspaper and added to the jars of seeds Mum had already saved. We always had a supply of seeds drying, ready for the next batch of planting.
I knew Mum would be in the fernhouse when I got home, so I quickly made a sandwich and hurried out to tell her about the sports carnival. I found her bent over her work bench, potting geranium seedlings to sell at next Saturday’s markets. May
and Rose played on the grass at Mum’s feet.
‘Does this mean you’re in the zone carnival?’ she asked, wiping her forehead with the back of her dirty, gloved hand.
‘Yep.’ I grinned. ‘My first time. I’m so excited!’
‘I can see that, but you’re forgetting one thing. Your father hasn’t said you can go yet.’
‘Don’t worry, it’ll be during school, but you still have to ask him if I can train.’
Mum stood up straight, rubbing her back. ‘I’ll see what I can do, but I can’t promise anything. In case you haven’t noticed, your dad hasn’t been in the best of moods lately.’
I kicked a tuft of grass. ‘You said you’d talk to him.’
‘Look, Ebony,’ Mum snapped. ‘I know what I said. I’ll ask him when the time’s right.’
I could see Mum was getting angry. I was mad, too. I wanted this so badly yet neither of my parents cared less.
‘Why are you so afraid of him anyway?’ I lashed out. ‘He makes all our lives miserable. We’d be better off without him.’
May and Rose stared at me with flycatcher mouths. Mum shot me a fierce look and shooed the girls out of the fernhouse. ‘Go play in the cubby,’ she said. ‘Ebony and I are talking.’ As soon as the girls were gone, Mum turned on me. ‘How can you say such a thing?’ She hissed angrily. ‘He’s your father. You should love him.’
I blinked, struggling to understand how Mum could defend him. ‘Even after everything he’s done?’
‘Yes, Ebony, even then. You know your dad had it tough when he was growing up. His mum died when he was little and your grandad was very hard on him and his brother.’
‘So he’s always telling us.’
‘He’s only trying to teach you right from wrong. It’s his way of disciplining you.’
‘Is that what you call it?’
Mum’s face hardened and she sucked her lips in tight. ‘Watch yourself, Eb.’
‘I don’t understand why you don’t leave him. We’d all be better off.’
Mum stopped her potting and stared at me. ‘For a start, I love your father and I will never, ever leave him. I’ve seen first hand what divorce does to kids and it’s terrible.’ She shook her head slowly then glanced over her shoulder before continuing. ‘And besides, where would we go? I’m eight months pregnant in case you haven’t noticed plus I already have three kids to think of. How do you suppose we’d get by? Hmm?’
Running from the Tiger Page 3