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.
Friday, November 7, 2008
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.
“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?
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?
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