End of the Alphabet by Fleur Beale

‘How did you learn to say that, Davey?’
    He puffed out his chest. ‘I can say more things too.’ He told them about the CDs and how I wanted to go to Brazil.
    ‘Hmm,’ said Maria. ‘That’s very interesting.’ She turned to me. ‘Ruby — would you like Catarina and me to teach you Portuguese?’
    ‘Me too!’ Davey said.
    ‘Yes, Davey. You too.’ She tipped her head on one side. ‘Well, Ruby?’
    I found my voice. ‘Oh, yes! Yes — please.’ They laughed, because I said it in Portuguese.
    ‘Excellent!’ Maria clapped her hands. ‘We start as soon as you look me in the eye and tell me you can’t read or write.’
    She hadn’t forgotten. Damn. And it wouldn’t be a blind bit of good trying to argue with her. Oh, to hell with it! I straightened my backbone.
Bloody backbone
. ‘I can’t read properly. And I can’t write properly.’
    ‘Better,’ she said. ‘Go out the door. Walk back in and say,
Maria, there’s something I want you to know
. Then tell me. I want you to believe in your heart that it’s not important. That you are a clever and competent person. Do it, and then we start the lessons.’
    I didn’t want to but her determination felt like a wall of steel bricks.
    I did it. Not once, but six times until she was happy. And even then she said, ‘We will practise every day these holidays.’
    I glared at her and she laughed.
    She and Cat taught us the words for table, chair, room, house, bedroom, bed, kitchen, wall, light and door. ‘That is enough to remember for one day,’ Maria said.
    ‘Tomorrow you have a test,’ Cat said, clapping her hands.
    It was time to go home. Maria reminded me to bring my bank account number the next day. She was going to put my wages straight into my account.
    We walked home and cooked the dinner. I did it by myself because Davey wanted to help Calvin and Theo fix the mower. I liked having the kitchen to myself. What a day! I was earning money and I was learning Portuguese. A voice at the back of my mind repeated Maria’s words:
you are a clever and competent person
. Yep. That was me.
    I made up my mind to tell Mum I was going to have my old room back.
    When she came home, she went straight to the room —
my
room. She didn’t smile or say hello. She didn’t say anything to Calvin.
    Bloody Max! Even when he wasn’t here, he controlled my life. Well, I was sick of it. I marched into the room —
my
room. Mum was sitting on the bed, holding a T-shirt he’d left behind, and crying. ‘Mum. I’m moving back into this room. It’s my room and Max isn’t here.’
    She looked up. ‘How can you be so heartless, Ruby Yarrow? He’s
gone
.’
    I sat down beside her, took the T-shirt away and threw it on the floor. ‘Mum — he isn’t dead. He’s alive and having a ball in Australia. With our father.’
    She hunched away from me. ‘You don’t understand.’
    That was true. I stood up. ‘I have to check on the dinner.’
    She didn’t say anything. I walked out. That was my room and I was moving into it tonight. She could stop using it as a shrine to Max the runaway.
    I called to everyone to come and eat. Mum ate three mouthfuls before she said, ‘Ruby — you’re not moving into Max’s room. It has to be free for him if he wants to come home.’
    Calvin shook his head at me. He put down his knife and fork and said, ‘Tessie — Ruby and I are going to move her stuff after dinner.’ He held up his hand. ‘No. Don’t say anything. I’ve heard it all. You need to listen. If Max does come back, he fits in with us. We don’t turn ourselves upside down for him.’ He took her hand. ‘He will need to be part of our family, Tessie, not king of it.’
    She snatched her hand away, jumped up and ran from the room.
    Oh, great. Max was so lucky he was across the Tasman. Right then I could have pulled all his hair off his head — one chunk at a time.
    We finished eating. Calvin said, ‘Leave the dishes, Ruby. You and I have work to do.’ He looked at