See If I Care by Judi Curtin Page A

looked through the glass door into the family room. The TV was off, so things must be very bad indeed. Her dad was sitting on the couch, and her mum was standing by the door. Elma started to tidy up the kitchen, straining to hear what was going on next door. Soon she didn’t have to strain any more, as her parents’ voices got louder and louder. After a while she tried not to listen, but she could still hear scraps of sentences.
    ‘… two accidents … bound to ask questions …’
    ‘… not my fault …’
    ‘… they’re sending someone around …’
    ‘… they’re going to find out the truth, and then we’re all in trouble.’
    ‘… my bad back …’
    ‘… get over it!’
    After a while, Elma couldn’t take it any more. She went upstairs. Zac and Dylan were both asleep in Dylan’s bed. She sat on her own bed, and heard the crinkle of Luke Mitchell’s latest letter, which was still in her jeans pocket. She pulled it out. She didn’t even smile when she saw the upside-down stamp with its candle burning the wrong way up. She wished her penfriend was a girl. Maybe she could have told a girl all her problems. But how could shetell a boy? How could she tell Luke Mitchell what was really going on in her life?
    She ripped open the envelope, barely noticing the snowman Luke had drawn on the flap. She read through the letter quickly. All of a sudden, Luke Mitchell sounded like a nicer person – or maybe after what had happened that evening, anyone who wasn’t totally horrible would have sounded nice. She wondered why he was so caught up with The Beatles. She really didn’t care how many were dead, and what they’d died of. But she wished she hadn’t told him so much made-up stuff. She was tired of writing lies about vegetables and cookery books and non-existent sisters and a cuddly cat that was really a vicious dog. It would have been nice to tell Luke all about Dylan’s arm, and her mum’s three jobs, and how she was so worried about the future. But there were so many lies that she didn’t know how to go about setting them right.
    Then she had a thought. She reached under her bed and took out the Christmas card she’d made for her mother. She rubbed her finger along the glittery pink and purple star. She looked at the swirly Happy Christmas that she’d carefully written on the inside. She decided that her mum didn’t deserve such a nice card. Her dad was sick; he couldn’t help it that hewas useless. But her mum wasn’t sick, and she was the adult. She should sort things out. She should be there so Elma could go to parties without leaving her brothers to mind themselves. She started to cry at how unfair it all was. Tears dripped down her face and onto the glittery star, making it slightly soggy. Then Elma picked up her pen and wrote inside the card:
    To dear Luke ,
    Have a happy Christmas, from Elma .
    She shoved the card into its envelope, addressed it, and stuck on her stamp (upside down of course). Then she tore a page from an old copy, and watched as yet more lies flowed from her pen.
    Dear Luke,
    Thanks for your letter. I’ve kind of got used to the upside-down stamps by now. Maybe we’ll start a new fashion.
    I was just kidding about The Beatles. Of course I knew they weren’t all dead.
    I don’t like soccer all that much. Lots of days I play basketball after school, though. (That’s when I’m not playing the violin or going to ballet lessons or just hanging out with Tara.)
    I’m really looking forward to Christmas. Jessica is too young to understand, but I’ve bought her lots of lovely presents already. My favourite is the life-sized doll who cries real tears. I’ve bought a lovely new cat bed for Snowball. It’s made of soft, pink furry stuff and I know she’s going to love it.
    Have you bought nice presents for your mum and dad and your sisters and your granny? At least you’ll have lots of money from your car-washing job.
    Tara had a great party today. I was going to sleep