Sydney's Song by Ia Uaro

speaker with a forceful intellect, but in today’s holiday mood not everyone cared for his opinions.
    â€œThen thank God they don’t produce tobacco here as well,” Moya cut him short. She slouched down next to me, crossing her legs. I noted black nail polish on her toes. “Hey Sydney, we’ll put up with a teetotaller like you any day. Tell me your plans. You staying on with 1300500?”
    â€œProbably. Now that I have the hang of it, I rather like knowing what’s happening in Sydney. Need to switch to part-time, though.Uni starts February.”
    â€œ Uni ? Indeed?! Aren’t you going to take calls until you’re 64?”
    Everybody guffawed again.
    â€œAre you really going to uni?” Sinead asked. “Oh blessed! What will you study?”
    â€œAnimation.”
    â€œWhy animation?” Pete asked, just when I thought he would remain watching in silence.
    â€œWell… I want so much to draw or paint. But I’m hopeless at those.We had a school excursion to the Design Centre in Enmore. And hey, I thought I could learn animation. Digital technology makes it possible.”
    He waited. Nervous, I plunged on.
    â€œAnimation is fun. It’ll be challenging too. I dream of creating stories and peopling them with my own characters.” I sensed his penetrating gaze could see my dreamland… No Mrs Fu yelling. No manager breathing down my neck for lower AHT. No one to dictate what I should create… “I’ll learn the basics of 3D animation, visual effects, basic game programming. If I can’t create stories, at least I’d get a job in media advertising.”
    â€œGood choice,” he agreed. “Seeing how rapidly the online technology is advancing, you’ll always be in demand.”
    Respecting my parents’ house, the friends drank moderately. No mayhem.
    â€œCome often Jane,” I teased Jane when she washed up after us. She even microwaved the wipes for a few minutes to kill the germs.
    The friends used my computer to email their “Grand-Christmas-In-The-Sun” pictures back home, showing off to families suffering snow in the northern hemisphere. They invited me to their homes too, giving me their details.
    â€œKeep in touch when this is all over,” Sinead suggested.
    My head swivelled to Pete at this. He held my gaze from across the room and my heart thundered at what I saw in his eyes. I don’t want this to be over… Time stood still as we became oblivious to the others. The rest of the room ceased to exist.
    Until Sinead whistled aloud.
    She turned on the music and we moshed on the back veranda. I danced with all the boys including Pete, heart thumping loud, gaze averted. Too fragile and confused, I was not in a fit state to make decisions. Not ready for more than friendship. He did not push me, giving me breathing space. But what an effect he had on me… I was a bundle of nerves.
    His eyes, charged with a strong current, bored into mine as they were leaving. I was rather unmindful when the others said “Thanks a million” with their Pommy accents.

On The Porch To My Heart
    One day, I would be free of pain. One day, I would bounce back and be happy.
    But why on earth couldn’t it be today?
    I smiled at the ceiling when I woke up, reliving the rioting sensation of my very beautiful first kiss. Until I remembered today was Boxing Day.
    Dad was thousands of miles away diving in Sulawesi. This reminded me that Pete was not from Sydney. Just like Dad, one day soon Pete would be thousands of miles away from me. In a few months he would not be here. No more gazing with tender feelings or electric promises.
    Gone.
    And he would spare me no more thoughts, just like my parents.
    Suddenly Boxing Day slammed me with acute depression.
    Now in case you don’t know what Boxing Day is, it is the day after Christmas, when long ago rich western aristocrats sent boxes of gifts to the houses of their