same.
That day after she had gone Marshall turned back to the house. He was made of stone. His heart did not beat. Blood did not move through his veins. The river inside of him dried up. The bush began talking again but he did not hear it. He did not hear it again after that.
I N THE BEGINNING BETH DIDN'T TRY TO SAVE ANYTHING BUT INSECTS: A BLACK BUG FROM A REDBACK SPIDERWEB, A THREE-LEGGED GRASSHOPPER STAGGERING AWAY FROM AN ARMY OF ANTS, A LACEWING STUCK BEHIND A SLIDING GLASS WINDOW.
“Oh God,” she said when she saw something struggling. “Poor thing.”
“But it's only a moth,” Mum said. “If only you were so interested in schoolwork.”
School had begun. Beth's brown-paper-covered notebooks rarely emerged from her canvas bag.
“Give her time,” said Nanna. “You are too hard with her.”
“Kylie does hours of homework each night,” said Mum. “Cheryl told me. I haven't seen any homework here.”
“Cheryl,” said Nanna, “she exaggerates, you know this.”
66
Kylie had started grade 9 too. Beth complained about her.
“She won't leave me alone at school,” she said. “If I smile at her she thinks she can spend the whole day with me.”
“That's the meanest thing I've ever heard you say,” said Mum. “Did I raise you up to be so mean? She's your cousin.”
“I know.”
Kylie and Beth were born only a month apart and were nearly the same height.
“Look at them, will you, like two peas in a pod,” Aunty Cheryl always said.
But Kylie was a much paler copy. Her hair was thin and lank. Her pink scalp showed through it. She was sallow-skinned. Her large front teeth were stained from too many antibiotics.
“You're supposed to look after her,” said Mum. “Here, you'll rescue a moth but you won't look after your own cousin. Your cousin hasn't had it as easy as you lot.”
By that she meant that Kylie didn't have a father. It didn't matter that she had the Barbie campervan and the Barbie town house, a fashion stencil set, and a real rocking horse, not a hobbyhorse, which is only just a horse's head on a stick, and even though she had grown out of all these toys they were never handed down. She had a wardrobe full of brand-newclothes, her own record player decorated with love-heart stickers, and an orange bike with pristine white handlebars. Mum put her finger to her lips when I started to remind her of all this.
“She had to grow up under difficult circumstances. I want you to always be good to her.”
“I am being good to her,” said Beth.
“Otherwise I'll worry all day,” said Mum.
Dad said Mum was a champion at worrying.
Nobody bothered about Beth's saving of insects. She had always done it. Being smaller I could not remember a time when she hadn't. But she seemed sadder now when she found things that were beyond hope. She cried over a troop of ants stuck in a pool of spilled honey on Nanna's kitchen bench. They were struggling, tiny legs swimming through the thick tide.
“Stop it,” said Mum. “Why are you crying like that?”
“I just can't bear it,” she cried.
“Bear what?”
“Just the thought of it.”
“Stop it,” said Mum. “It's nonsense.”
“It's their own fault,” I said. “They wanted the honey.”
“They paid the ultimate price,” said Danielle.
“Be quiet,” said Mum, wiping the honey and the ants up with a rag in one movement.
Nanna, who was at the little kitchen table, didn'tsay a thing. She reached her hand out and held Beth's arm as she passed. She tried to get Beth to look at her but Beth kept her eyes turned away and shrugged herself free.
Beth was only just beginning to change but we still didn't know it. None of us could sense it yet. It would have seemed impossible if we'd been told that Beth, ballet dancer, prettiest girl in school, would change so much. That rushing toward us, unseen, were all of the angry words and turned-away faces. All the slammed doors and keys turned in locks and all the rivers of tears. We didn't
That day after she had gone Marshall turned back to the house. He was made of stone. His heart did not beat. Blood did not move through his veins. The river inside of him dried up. The bush began talking again but he did not hear it. He did not hear it again after that.
I N THE BEGINNING BETH DIDN'T TRY TO SAVE ANYTHING BUT INSECTS: A BLACK BUG FROM A REDBACK SPIDERWEB, A THREE-LEGGED GRASSHOPPER STAGGERING AWAY FROM AN ARMY OF ANTS, A LACEWING STUCK BEHIND A SLIDING GLASS WINDOW.
“Oh God,” she said when she saw something struggling. “Poor thing.”
“But it's only a moth,” Mum said. “If only you were so interested in schoolwork.”
School had begun. Beth's brown-paper-covered notebooks rarely emerged from her canvas bag.
“Give her time,” said Nanna. “You are too hard with her.”
“Kylie does hours of homework each night,” said Mum. “Cheryl told me. I haven't seen any homework here.”
“Cheryl,” said Nanna, “she exaggerates, you know this.”
66
Kylie had started grade 9 too. Beth complained about her.
“She won't leave me alone at school,” she said. “If I smile at her she thinks she can spend the whole day with me.”
“That's the meanest thing I've ever heard you say,” said Mum. “Did I raise you up to be so mean? She's your cousin.”
“I know.”
Kylie and Beth were born only a month apart and were nearly the same height.
“Look at them, will you, like two peas in a pod,” Aunty Cheryl always said.
But Kylie was a much paler copy. Her hair was thin and lank. Her pink scalp showed through it. She was sallow-skinned. Her large front teeth were stained from too many antibiotics.
“You're supposed to look after her,” said Mum. “Here, you'll rescue a moth but you won't look after your own cousin. Your cousin hasn't had it as easy as you lot.”
By that she meant that Kylie didn't have a father. It didn't matter that she had the Barbie campervan and the Barbie town house, a fashion stencil set, and a real rocking horse, not a hobbyhorse, which is only just a horse's head on a stick, and even though she had grown out of all these toys they were never handed down. She had a wardrobe full of brand-newclothes, her own record player decorated with love-heart stickers, and an orange bike with pristine white handlebars. Mum put her finger to her lips when I started to remind her of all this.
“She had to grow up under difficult circumstances. I want you to always be good to her.”
“I am being good to her,” said Beth.
“Otherwise I'll worry all day,” said Mum.
Dad said Mum was a champion at worrying.
Nobody bothered about Beth's saving of insects. She had always done it. Being smaller I could not remember a time when she hadn't. But she seemed sadder now when she found things that were beyond hope. She cried over a troop of ants stuck in a pool of spilled honey on Nanna's kitchen bench. They were struggling, tiny legs swimming through the thick tide.
“Stop it,” said Mum. “Why are you crying like that?”
“I just can't bear it,” she cried.
“Bear what?”
“Just the thought of it.”
“Stop it,” said Mum. “It's nonsense.”
“It's their own fault,” I said. “They wanted the honey.”
“They paid the ultimate price,” said Danielle.
“Be quiet,” said Mum, wiping the honey and the ants up with a rag in one movement.
Nanna, who was at the little kitchen table, didn'tsay a thing. She reached her hand out and held Beth's arm as she passed. She tried to get Beth to look at her but Beth kept her eyes turned away and shrugged herself free.
Beth was only just beginning to change but we still didn't know it. None of us could sense it yet. It would have seemed impossible if we'd been told that Beth, ballet dancer, prettiest girl in school, would change so much. That rushing toward us, unseen, were all of the angry words and turned-away faces. All the slammed doors and keys turned in locks and all the rivers of tears. We didn't
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