Who ever knew?

Who ever knew,
A small note,
With just a few numbers and a picture could make people so happy?

Who ever knew,
That a few coins help people survive?

Who ever knew,
A person with notes and coins;
With money,
Could save the world?

Who ever knew,
That though many try,
Few donate to those who don’t have an education

Who ever knew,
People would ever think of the poor as dangerous?

Who ever thought,
The world would be rid of poverty.

My Brother - Chapter 5

I feel sick in the head - really sick in the head. Three days till Luke comes, including today. I wish it didn’t arrive so quickly. Mum and dad still want him; even though they recently found out he was mute. Mute is when you can’t talk, by the way. It used to be dumb, but now it’s mute, since dumb means a stupid idiot now. I am blinking back tears, and everything is blurred. I’m listening to Britney Spears right now, so I can laugh at her and not get angry at Jason. But all I can do is think about him. It feels as if I’m holding a remote, and my thumb is glued to the rewind button, but I don’t want to see what’s happened. It keeps on coming back. I can vaguely remember every single word Jason said: “You’ve gotten what you wanted”, he’d said. “You wanted a brother. Now it’s time for me to go”. And then me, just standing there, not doing a single thing. I’m relieved when mum calls “dinner!” I pray she does that ‘I want Hannah to be happy so I’ll make her favourite stuff’. As I plod downstairs, I realize she hasn’t. Lasagne! I loathe lasagne. It’s so cheesy and disgusting! I fall into the chair. I don’t feel like living anymore.

What’s to look forward to in life? Last night was probably the worst I’ve in my last fifteen years of living. The lasagne for one, and secondly, The News. I’ll explain it once now, but from then on I’ll just stick with The News. Luke is going to be sleeping in the spare room. Now you may think this isn’t huge news, but it is. You see, the spare room is right next to mine! Well, for the first week or two he’ll be sleeping with mum and dad, since we haven’t completely got the room set up, but after that, it’ll be torture. I won’t go into details, or I might die right here and now, but you get the problem. I don’t feel comfortable with Luke, looking at all the stuff his biological dad did to him. It makes me feel like spewing. I roll around and check the time. Half past three - in the morning. I haven’t gotten any sleep since all I’ve been thinking about is The News. I can totally wait. Life totally sucks. I totally like saying totally, since it totally makes me feel like a total idiot. I am so scared and nervous, of what I’m not sure, and I just sit here, hoping daytime doesn’t come.

My prayers aren’t answered, and daytime arrives faster. So here I am, in my room, hoping everyone forgets I exist. Actually it’d be great if I arrived in the hospital soon, so then we won’t have to pick up Luke tomorrow. Well, we’d probably postpone it anyway, but who knows? Maybe I can mysteriously faint then. I check the time: 10:59 am. Whatever the time, I collapse onto the bed and sleep.

I slept till 1:00, and I didn’t even realize I was so tired. My parents apparently did try to wake me up for lunch, but I, being the devil I am, kicked them. So I’m eating lunch at 2:00. As I put my plate in the sink, the doorbell rings. I look through the hole. It’s Jacinta, my next door neighbour.
“Hey Hannah!” she says and hugs me. I’m a bit taken aback.
“Hi…” I say shyly.
“Well, I just came to give you this”, she says. I know what to expect. The postman always gives our letters to Jacinta’s house instead of hours. As she hands me a baby blue envelope, my heart skips a million beats. Hannah, it says. An invitation! I smile politely at Jacinta.
“Thanks!” I mean it. It’s been ages since I’ve been invited to a party.
“Well, seeya!” she says, and with that, she leaves.

Mum and dad are happy about the invitation too. For a moment, I actually forget all about Luke, but then reality hits me.

My Brother - Chapter 4

Luke sat in Luna’s lap, watching her knit and listening to Jeff Burman’s Show me. It was a country song. “Show me those eyes; let me touch your hand”. Luke noticed that Luna nodded her head in beat to the song. Suddenly she put the wool and needles beside. She looked at Luke and smiled. “Show me that face; let me stare at you”. “Talk”, she commanded. Luke opened his mouth and closed it. Soon a few grunts came, then hazy sounds. She frowned thoughtfully. At times like this, Luke wished he could read peoples’ minds.

Luke played with his baby seat in the car. He wished he could stop the un-invited silence. It was Luna who first talked. “Perhaps we should call Megan and Ben, Rob”, she looked at the drivers seat. Robby was still frowning. Not in an angry way, but in a thoughtful way, like they usually did. Robby had a tight grip on the steering wheel, as if it would go out of control if he let go. “Mmm…” he grumbled. “Shoot! I don’t have their number on me mobile. Soz, sweety”, he said. After four years of marriage, Luna was used to Robby saying ‘me’ instead of ‘my’ and ‘soz’ instead of ‘sorry’. Luna put her head in her hands. Luke hoped she wouldn’t cry. “I just can’t believe it”, she sobbed. Robby took one hand off the steering wheel and put it on Luna’s lap. “He’s still the same boy. Nothings different. When we get home, you can lie down to counteract the shock”. He patted her thigh a couple of times, and then put his hand back on the steering wheels. Luna looked up. “I don’t know why we didn’t notice earlier. It’s just so...so...unpredictable. I don’t know what Megan and Ben are going to think. What about their little daughter…Heather, was it?” Luke wanted to open his mouth and say Hannah, but he couldn’t. He’d just arrived from the doctor and he couldn’t…couldn’t speak.

Luke couldn’t help what was wrong with him. None of it was his fault. He hoped his “parents’’ wouldn’t think differently of him. He didn’t even know what he meant when he said “parents’’. Megan and Benjamin? Or Luna and Robby? Luke was lost. Not physically, but mentally.

My Brother - Chapter 3

Is he going to be my brother? I cover myself with the mosquito net. A week. Precisely seven days till The Big Day. Precisely seven days till that little dude enters and sabotages my life. My horrible life. And I bet you, he’ll sabotage it so that it’s worse. The smell of home-made spaghetti wafts through my room. “Mum, what are you cooking?” I shout from upstairs. “What was that honey?” comes the reply. I sigh and trudge down the stairs. The smell is getting stronger. I like it. “What are you cooking?” I repeat. Mum looks at me proudly. “Ah, I’m making some home-made spaghetti; I know it’s your fave”. I roll my eyes. “Who are you adopting today?” I ask. Mum sighs.
“No-one. I just want you to take the whole…situation, calmly. Happily. Proudly”. Great! I’m glad mum’s not a psychiatrist. Fortunately, she’s a dentist. I grunt and walk back upstairs. I turn the fan on, even thought its seventeen degrees outside. Suddenly I shift my thoughts to Luke. Do I have to play with him? Where will he sleep? How does he behave? I fall asleep in the pit of questions.

“Mum! I can’t find my shoes!” I call to mum from under the bed. I shift all the junk I stuffed there away, and make my way out. I sigh. Not in there. “Have you checked the shoe cupboard?” she responds from the laundry. Derr. I walk towards the laundry room. “Honey! I have to leave for work!” shouts dad. You haven’t heard much about dad. He’s tall. Obedient. Warm. Late for work. “Coming dad!” I shout. “Mum, have you seen them?” I repeat, to find her crouching beside the washing machine. “Aha!” she says, holding a pair of dirty shoes enveloped in spider webs. “I’m not even going to ask how they got there”, she says. “I’m questioning myself”, I murmur.
“Pardon?” says mum. Better not let anything slip: she’s quick.
“Ready dad!” I yell, running to the car. He’s already there. “Han”, he begins. Han? “You have to get more organised. You’re in grade twelve-”
“Eleven”, I correct him. “Eleven next year. Exams!” If I get through, and not get held back in grade ten. I’ve kept my luck with me, so I’ve never been held back. Was it that bracelet that Forshar Senkevitch (some really weird psychic lady) gave to me as a lucky charm at the Royal Adelaide Show? I hadn’t really believed it was a lucky charm; I just bought it because it was pretty. When I went back to Sydney after the holiday, I caught some people eyeing it. I wonder if they’d go to Adelaide just to get the bracelet. I shake it on my wrist. “Han! Hannah!” I look up. “Did you say something?” I ask dad. “What lessons do you have today?” he repeats. My eyes widen. Art! I think of wagging art, but then I kick away the thought. It’s been ages since I did art. There’s only one thing that’s slightly standing in my way. Mr Shokhaseen.
“Maths, English”, I gulp, “the usual”. I stare out of the window, trying to make it obvious that I don’t want to speak. I adore silence.

My Brother - Chapter 2

Luke stared out of his window. He’d be leaving. His house, his parents, his sister. He’d be leaving. Of course, they hadn’t been his real parents. They adopted him from the ABC. The Adopt-a-Baby Centre. When Luna and Robby had adopted him, he had been one year old. Now he was four. Almost. When he was one, he had already been through rough times. He vaguely remembered the memories of his parent, though.

Luke’s bedtime was 6:30, but he stayed up until around 12:00. When Luna came to tuck him in bed, he’d close his eyes. When she left, he’d open them and stared at the star-filled sky. One night, he began to count them. Now he was being put up for adoption again. Finally.

Luke liked Luna and Robby. Even Eva, who was only ten months old. But he still wasn’t used to them, even after two years. Luke hazily remembered when he was adopted. Probably because he had been sleeping. He fingered the scar on the back of his neck. It was the only memory of his father. His only memory and his worst.

Luke’s father had given Luke many scratches, but only the scar stayed with him. Luke’s father, who spent every night getting drunk and going to pubs, because his wife left him. Luke didn’t want to remember his father. Not ever again.

* * *

Luke watched as Luna and Robby waved in high spirits to the unfamiliar navy-blue car. Luke was deeply offended. So you want me leave? He stood on his tip-toes. He could see two overjoyed people waving back. He shifted his gaze to the back seat. He could see a girl, who was consistently trying to avoid eye contact. She had Sienna brown hair, which went down to her shoulders. Luke noticed how her hair was straight at the top, and curly at the bottom. Had she got it done for her, or was it natural? Luke had so many questions, that hair was the least of his problems.

Luke watched as the people walked out of the car. Luna and Robby hugged them. The girl with the weird hair glanced at him, then walked hastily. Was she eager to go in, or eager to go home? He was about to go ask her, when he stopped himself. It’s rude he noted.

Luna and Robby knew that Luke was very mature for his age. They were worried about him. Luna remembered the time when she heard voices, so she went to go and check on him. He lay there staring at the ceiling. She was about to go put him to sleep, but she thought he might start crying. She bit her lip, frowned, and walked back to her own room.

Once they were all seated in the lounge, Luna looked at the lady. “Megan, right? And Benjamin”, the people nodded. Megan put her hand around the weird girl. “This is Hannah, our daughter”. Hannah smiled falsely. “Splendid”, mumbled Luna. Luke was thinking the opposite. Is she going to be my sister?

My Brother - Chapter 1

My name is Hannah P. Collangelo. I like people to guess what my middle name is, then frustrate and infuriate them by not telling. I don’t have any nicknames (I’ve been trying to get people to call me PC, but it’s not really working); dark brown eyes, usually frowning, and brown hair, almost exactly the same colour as my eyes, maybe a bit lighter.

I’m not very popular, but I’m not un-popular. I’m just not worth noticing. I don’t have many friends, either at home or at school. There’s only one person whom I trust, and that’s my older brother Jason. Well, he’s not really my brother. He’s kind of like an imaginary friend, except he’s an imaginary brother. My favourite imaginary brother. My only imaginary brother.

He’s like a diary. A diary I can talk to. Only problem is, when I talk to him, people think I’m crazy, since I’m talking to “myself” (also known as Jason). Sometimes I think I’m crazy too.

My parents don’t understand me. They’ve tried sending me to counsellors and psychiatrists. They’ve tried inviting people over so that we could ‘socialize’. They’ve tried everything; at least, that’s what they think. They haven’t tried talking to me. They’ve never tried asking me what the problem is. Only problem is, I have no idea what the problem is. Maybe it’s because I don’t talk. Okay, I may not talk a lot, but that doesn’t mean I’m shy. I would talk to people, if I wanted friends, which I don’t. That’s also the reason I discourage inviting others over.

“Hey kid”, says Jason. “What’s up?” he sits down on my bed. I take a seat next to him. My bed is messy and safe. I never want to leave it again. I shrug, and then walk and press my ear to the door. I turn around. “It’s mum and dad. They’re fighting again”. I plop myself down again, and dig my face into my hands. Jason puts his arm around me. Whenever my parents fight, it’s always because of me. Just about how I’m getting “lonely” and how I’m talking to myself. It’s about what they think they should do for me. It makes me feel guilty, even if I didn’t do anything.
“Don’t worry, kiddo”, says Jason. He squeezes my shoulder. “Everything’s gonna be fine”. The sentence echo’s in my head. Everything is going to be alright. Everything is going to be fine. My parents always say that. For some reason, though, when Jason says that, it actually sooths me. “You know, I reckon we should start meditation”, he suggests. “I was on the net, and there was this complete guide to yoga and meditation. It’ll be so fun”, his eyes gleam. I look at him and laugh. He’s sitting crossed legged and closing his eyes. “Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Make sure you exhale your inner emotions. Let them out”, I say in a voice very close to a whisper. Jason opens his eyes. He presses his hands together and bows. “Thank you for your teachings master”. He looks up at me and we both express our amusement with laughter.

At the dinner table, I open a chair for Jason. He sits down. Mum walks past and pushes the chair back in. Jason looks like he’s going to break. I chuckle and open the chair again. Jason gasps. He looks at me, relieved. I look at mum. “Where’s dinner?” I asked. The table’s empty. “Well, I thought since you’ve been such a good girl, we could order in. Ah, that’s where that pamphlet got to”. She grabs the small pamphlet for Penny’s Pizzas. “Honey! I’ve found the number!” She calls out to dad. I stare a Jason. He nods. He’s read my mind. Something’s going on.

Season #4

Spring;
Flowers beam at me;
Insects wink at me;
I trudge through the colourful street, careful not to tread on living things;
I see a child;
I sit down onto the bench, watching the children sadly;
Jumping on flowers, poking ants;
I wonder what they'll be when they grow up

Season #2

Autumn;
Flowers blossom in the distance;
Leaves scattered all over the valley;
Tall trees shelter, though let in enough light to see;
I watch as the children play hopscotch;
My eyes dart to a gloomy lady, dressed in a coat;
Dull, expressionless;
She's empty

Season #1

Summer;
intense sun schorching my back;
I touch the bench oww!
Metal burns;
Kids laugh on the playground, they can't even feel the sizzling monkey bars;
Parents watching, sheltering their eyes with the hands;
Sweat trickles down my cheek;
"Let's go home now, honey"

Season #3

Winter;
Cold, icy;
Wind whips my face as the dull clouds plaster the sun;
I watch people avoid the strong breeze and grip there coat tighter;
Winter, it's almost over.

Snow

Snow;
White and foamy, slipping between my fingers;
Enveloping the mountain tops, reaching the grey clouds;
Enclosed in the gloomy mist, clinging to bare trees;

Stiff, but slippery;

Beautiful but deadly.

Me

Brown, light skin, to match my black hair;
Small, yet strong head, of which I wouldn’t like to share.

Two small hands, fingers smooth and easy;
Thin, slim arms, tender and free.

A small neck, cute and rare;
Nice, slender shoulders, curved and fair.

Dark brown eyes filled with life and energy;
A small unique smile, which I hand out constantly.

I am who I am, with no-one to control me.

A short biography of Albert Einstein

Albert groaned as he recalled his timetable. Science! Ms. Schmitz had “followed” him throughout school. She had been his maths teacher in grade one, two, three four and five, and his science teacher during grade six, seven, eight, and now nine. Nine years of tolerating this, thought Albert, doing a quick subtraction sum in his mind. Since I was five, and now I’m fourteen.

He flushed as he entered the science room, discreetly. Unfortunately, Ms. Schmitz noticed him anyway. “Mr. Einstein, may I remind you that you have not handed in the six-page essay on the periodic table. I am not impressed with your progress” she said sternly. Albert bit his lip. He ignored her, and sat in the front seat, which had been decided his permanent one so that Ms. Schmitz could keep an eye on him. “There are many types”, began Ms. Schmitz, “of energy”. She picked up a piece of chalk. “Wind energy, for example is blah blah blah”, Albert’s mind drifted off. He imagined of holding Ms. Schmitz captive. He smiled. “Mr. Einstein”, she’d be saying. “If you do not give me one type of energy by the count of five, I shall give you a caning on the wrist”. Albert was dragged back to earth. “Umm…err…” he stammered. “Wind energy?” Ms Schmitz stared into his innocent face with cold, piercing eyes, and with that, she walked back hastily to the black board. Albert sighed silently with relief.

Albert bit his tongue. Oww! He was shocked. It was Hermann Einstein, Albert’s father, who opened the door. Albert had least expected his teacher to be on his doorstep. His mother was out so Ms Schmitz asked if she could talk to Hermann in private. She should have been clever enough to realize Albert would listen anyway. Albert stood by the door, listening intently. “Mr Einstein, may I suggest private tutoring for you son?” Albert bit his lip. Hermann nodded embarrassed. “I am sorry, and quite embarrassed, to say that it is obvious, that it doesn’t matter what he does, he will never amount to anything”. Albert’s eyes raised in anger. He made a vow then and there, to show Ms Schmitz that he was a smart child. And guess what? He did!

Born in 1879, died 1955, Albert Einstein won a Nobel Prize in 1921, and became famous for his equation E=mc2. Take that, Ms Schmitz!