had to carry the plates of food from the stove, where their mother was dishing out, to the table, where the others were already waiting, hungry and quiet.
Lockie was the only one talking, chatting on about a project he was doing for school, a “roots project,” which had him drawing up a family tree that went back four generations and including whatever basic biographical details he could find.
“How come you don’t know where Dad’s father was during the war?” he asked as their mother sat down.
“Your dad never talked about that sort of thing with him. Apparently your Uncle Rob asked about the war once and your grandfather got out the wooden spoon. It was the only time he ever did it.”
“What spoon?”
“It means he bashed him,” Steve explained to Lockie. He sucked up a piece of spaghetti until it disappeared through his pursed lips.
“Steve!” their mother said.
“Well, it’s true.”
“So there’s a history of abuse in our family,” Ramona said.
“What history?” Lockie asked.
“Haven’t you heard? Tony abused me last year.”
“Shut the fuck up, Ramona,” Steve said.
“Steve,” their mother said.
“She’s a liar,” Steve said.
“She’s in therapy,” their mother said. “Now, pass the salad.”
Tony sat next to their mum, looking tired and worn out as usual, putting food in his mouth, then twisting more spaghetti around his fork before he had finished chewing that mouthful.
“Can I put this in my roots project?” Lockie asked.
“Sure,” Ramona told him.
“No,” her mum said. “Ramona, everyone at this table has had a hard day. You’re not the only one alive in the world, you know.”
Steve smirked as the toe of his shoe found her ankle under the table.
“Ow,” she said. “He kicked me. Mum! Tony.” Their mother tossed the salad and said nothing. Tony, his head still bowed over his bowl, raised his eyes briefly to look at Ramona, then turned back to his food. Tears filled her eyes and the table blurred as she pushed her bowl away. “Can I be excused?” she asked.
“Yes,” her mother said.
Ramona ran up the stairs, crying, but secretly pleased that she wouldn’t have to dry the dishes that night.
—
In her room, she opened her laptop, hoping to find Kirsty or Minyung or one of the popular girls online. Instead it was just Danielle and Skye, chatting about the turkey slap incident on
Big Brother.
That girls a whore,
Danielle wrote.
Yeah they always say they forget theres cameras but as if u rlly would
Totally
Hows therapi? ;),
Skye asked her.
Ok. Now Im depressed
Y?
Ramona typed her answer and hesitated before pressing ENTER .
I found out I was sexually abused
R u serious? Like raped or something?
No but kinda like that
By who?
My stepdad
That sux!
Dont say anything
Omg I never would
Me neither :)
Are u still gonna have ur slumber party?
I dunno
—
By the time she got to school the next day, most of the girls in her year already knew.
“Hey,” they all said. “Are you okay?”
They gathered around her locker, watching her pull out her books. This was exactly how they’d been two years earlier when Amber’s mother had died of leukemia: a crowd of mourners with big sorrowful eyes, who stood around exchanging hugs and sad meaningful expressions.
It was like that all day. Even the girls who didn’t know what had happened could sense a shift occurring in the social structure at Kenley Girls. Seats were being switched, and notes passed in class, and everyone knew for certain that Ramona MacKenzie was riding the elevator to a new floor in the tower of popularity.
In PE, Mrs. Parker started the lesson by telling the girls to run two laps around the oval. Ramona raised her hand.
“I’m not feeling well. Is it okay if I sit out?” The teacher extended an arm toward her, her palm opened expectantly. “What?” Ramona asked.
“Where’s your doctor’s note? You either bring me a note or you run with the others.”
“But
Lockie was the only one talking, chatting on about a project he was doing for school, a “roots project,” which had him drawing up a family tree that went back four generations and including whatever basic biographical details he could find.
“How come you don’t know where Dad’s father was during the war?” he asked as their mother sat down.
“Your dad never talked about that sort of thing with him. Apparently your Uncle Rob asked about the war once and your grandfather got out the wooden spoon. It was the only time he ever did it.”
“What spoon?”
“It means he bashed him,” Steve explained to Lockie. He sucked up a piece of spaghetti until it disappeared through his pursed lips.
“Steve!” their mother said.
“Well, it’s true.”
“So there’s a history of abuse in our family,” Ramona said.
“What history?” Lockie asked.
“Haven’t you heard? Tony abused me last year.”
“Shut the fuck up, Ramona,” Steve said.
“Steve,” their mother said.
“She’s a liar,” Steve said.
“She’s in therapy,” their mother said. “Now, pass the salad.”
Tony sat next to their mum, looking tired and worn out as usual, putting food in his mouth, then twisting more spaghetti around his fork before he had finished chewing that mouthful.
“Can I put this in my roots project?” Lockie asked.
“Sure,” Ramona told him.
“No,” her mum said. “Ramona, everyone at this table has had a hard day. You’re not the only one alive in the world, you know.”
Steve smirked as the toe of his shoe found her ankle under the table.
“Ow,” she said. “He kicked me. Mum! Tony.” Their mother tossed the salad and said nothing. Tony, his head still bowed over his bowl, raised his eyes briefly to look at Ramona, then turned back to his food. Tears filled her eyes and the table blurred as she pushed her bowl away. “Can I be excused?” she asked.
“Yes,” her mother said.
Ramona ran up the stairs, crying, but secretly pleased that she wouldn’t have to dry the dishes that night.
—
In her room, she opened her laptop, hoping to find Kirsty or Minyung or one of the popular girls online. Instead it was just Danielle and Skye, chatting about the turkey slap incident on
Big Brother.
That girls a whore,
Danielle wrote.
Yeah they always say they forget theres cameras but as if u rlly would
Totally
Hows therapi? ;),
Skye asked her.
Ok. Now Im depressed
Y?
Ramona typed her answer and hesitated before pressing ENTER .
I found out I was sexually abused
R u serious? Like raped or something?
No but kinda like that
By who?
My stepdad
That sux!
Dont say anything
Omg I never would
Me neither :)
Are u still gonna have ur slumber party?
I dunno
—
By the time she got to school the next day, most of the girls in her year already knew.
“Hey,” they all said. “Are you okay?”
They gathered around her locker, watching her pull out her books. This was exactly how they’d been two years earlier when Amber’s mother had died of leukemia: a crowd of mourners with big sorrowful eyes, who stood around exchanging hugs and sad meaningful expressions.
It was like that all day. Even the girls who didn’t know what had happened could sense a shift occurring in the social structure at Kenley Girls. Seats were being switched, and notes passed in class, and everyone knew for certain that Ramona MacKenzie was riding the elevator to a new floor in the tower of popularity.
In PE, Mrs. Parker started the lesson by telling the girls to run two laps around the oval. Ramona raised her hand.
“I’m not feeling well. Is it okay if I sit out?” The teacher extended an arm toward her, her palm opened expectantly. “What?” Ramona asked.
“Where’s your doctor’s note? You either bring me a note or you run with the others.”
“But
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