see any reason why the murals can’t stay”.
Just before I head off to school, I get a phone call from Steve Bridges – he recognised my work.
“Congratulations on your great painting, Matt,” he says.
“Thanks.”
“Have you thought any more about my art classes?”
“Yeah.”
“If money’s an issue,” he says, “we can deal with that.”
“It’s not the money. It’s Dave. He doesn’t like me painting.”
Up until now, I always wondered why Dave was so negative about my art. Now I know. It’s because of Mum. It’s because she paints. He’s scared too – scared I’ll turn out like her. Man, I have to get to the bottom of this.
“Gotta go, Steve.”
“Fair enough. I’ll talk to your dad myself. See if I can change his mind.”
Fat chance! “Thanks. That would be great.”
At school Troy has already told anyone who will listen that he and I were the ones that painted the water tank.
First period is History. “Interesting artwork, boys,” says Mrs D.
Troy stands and bows, and tries to drag me up with him, but I stay in my seat. Everyone laughs.
Mrs D focuses on me. “Perhaps if you applied the same dedication and creativity to your History assignment, Mr Hudson, you might make more progress.”
I nod. Whatever.
All day Troy makes the most of the celebrity status – tells Tina that we’re going to be famous artists one day. She just rolls her eyes and walks off. I spend most of the time thinking about Mum, wishing she could see my painting and wondering if she’d reckon I’m any good.
After school Troy and I sit at my kitchen table chomping on cheese sandwiches with bread. That’s what Dave always calls them. He always whinges because I cut the cheese so thick.
“What are you going to do about your mum?” Troy says, his teeth yellow with cheddar.
“Maybe I should just forget the whole thing. There must be a reason she stayed away till now.”
Troy cuts another slab of cheese. “It probably took her all this time to find you.”
“Can’t have looked too hard.”
Troy sticks the cheese on bread and slaps another slice on top. “Maybe she wasn’t allowed to see you. Didn’t she go to court after that business in the shopping centre?”
I kick the leg of the chair on the other side of the table. “She was allowed supervised access, just chose not to do it. What if I find her and she doesn’t even like me?”
Troy laughs. “As if that’s likely. All mothers have to like their kids. It’s an unwritten law.”
I kick the leg harder and the chair clatters to the floor.
Troy reaches across and picks it up.
“Wait here.” I go to my room and get the black folder Dave gave me.
I shove it in front of Troy.
“Read this – then try telling me that she liked me.”
While Troy reads, I close my eyes and think about Mum.
Troy’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “And you haven’t seen her since the shopping centre?”
I wipe a wet patch from underneath my eye. I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak yet.
“Why don’t you Google her?” says Troy.
“I have. Couldn’t find anything.”
“Not even about the court case?”
“Nuh.”
“That’s weird.” Troy keeps looking through the short history of my life in newsprint.
He turns to me. “Did you even read these?”
What’s he on about?
“’Course I did.”
“And what was the name you Googled?”
“Zara Templeton. That was the name in the bible.”
“Yeah, well I don’t think that’s what she’s called.”
“What are you talking about?”
Troy points to the article about the court case where Dave got custody of me. “Her name’s Zora, not Zara. See!”
I go back to my room. Troy follows. I fling open my desk drawer and rummage through until I find the bible. I open it to the first place. Troy could be right. I read it as an “A”, but it could be an “O”.
“How come Kathryn Armain and Scott Reesborough never said anything?”
“They probably just thought you couldn’t
Just before I head off to school, I get a phone call from Steve Bridges – he recognised my work.
“Congratulations on your great painting, Matt,” he says.
“Thanks.”
“Have you thought any more about my art classes?”
“Yeah.”
“If money’s an issue,” he says, “we can deal with that.”
“It’s not the money. It’s Dave. He doesn’t like me painting.”
Up until now, I always wondered why Dave was so negative about my art. Now I know. It’s because of Mum. It’s because she paints. He’s scared too – scared I’ll turn out like her. Man, I have to get to the bottom of this.
“Gotta go, Steve.”
“Fair enough. I’ll talk to your dad myself. See if I can change his mind.”
Fat chance! “Thanks. That would be great.”
At school Troy has already told anyone who will listen that he and I were the ones that painted the water tank.
First period is History. “Interesting artwork, boys,” says Mrs D.
Troy stands and bows, and tries to drag me up with him, but I stay in my seat. Everyone laughs.
Mrs D focuses on me. “Perhaps if you applied the same dedication and creativity to your History assignment, Mr Hudson, you might make more progress.”
I nod. Whatever.
All day Troy makes the most of the celebrity status – tells Tina that we’re going to be famous artists one day. She just rolls her eyes and walks off. I spend most of the time thinking about Mum, wishing she could see my painting and wondering if she’d reckon I’m any good.
After school Troy and I sit at my kitchen table chomping on cheese sandwiches with bread. That’s what Dave always calls them. He always whinges because I cut the cheese so thick.
“What are you going to do about your mum?” Troy says, his teeth yellow with cheddar.
“Maybe I should just forget the whole thing. There must be a reason she stayed away till now.”
Troy cuts another slab of cheese. “It probably took her all this time to find you.”
“Can’t have looked too hard.”
Troy sticks the cheese on bread and slaps another slice on top. “Maybe she wasn’t allowed to see you. Didn’t she go to court after that business in the shopping centre?”
I kick the leg of the chair on the other side of the table. “She was allowed supervised access, just chose not to do it. What if I find her and she doesn’t even like me?”
Troy laughs. “As if that’s likely. All mothers have to like their kids. It’s an unwritten law.”
I kick the leg harder and the chair clatters to the floor.
Troy reaches across and picks it up.
“Wait here.” I go to my room and get the black folder Dave gave me.
I shove it in front of Troy.
“Read this – then try telling me that she liked me.”
While Troy reads, I close my eyes and think about Mum.
Troy’s voice interrupts my thoughts. “And you haven’t seen her since the shopping centre?”
I wipe a wet patch from underneath my eye. I shake my head, not trusting myself to speak yet.
“Why don’t you Google her?” says Troy.
“I have. Couldn’t find anything.”
“Not even about the court case?”
“Nuh.”
“That’s weird.” Troy keeps looking through the short history of my life in newsprint.
He turns to me. “Did you even read these?”
What’s he on about?
“’Course I did.”
“And what was the name you Googled?”
“Zara Templeton. That was the name in the bible.”
“Yeah, well I don’t think that’s what she’s called.”
“What are you talking about?”
Troy points to the article about the court case where Dave got custody of me. “Her name’s Zora, not Zara. See!”
I go back to my room. Troy follows. I fling open my desk drawer and rummage through until I find the bible. I open it to the first place. Troy could be right. I read it as an “A”, but it could be an “O”.
“How come Kathryn Armain and Scott Reesborough never said anything?”
“They probably just thought you couldn’t
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