Take My Word for It by John Marsden Page A

him, as if enough people weren’t doing that already.
    J UNE 29
    Mum called in this afternoon. I was at basketball but she found me, and gave me some tuck, and some clothes I needed for the snow. She was on her way to the McCowans—she’s staying there for a few days. She said Chloe cruised through her exam this morning.
    It’s funny, there she was standing at the end of the gym, with all these bags and parcels, looking a bit self-conscious in such a foreign place, but trying to be cool while she told me all the news and explained what was going down, and there was I in my PE gear, sweaty and red-faced and panting a little, hands on my hips, and feet apart, and in the background was the noise of the ball and the pattering feet and the refs’ whistles and the players’ calls and I had this huge sudden urge to throw my arms around her and give her a hug and tell her I loved her. I didn’t of course, because I wouldn’t have wanted her to die of shock, but I did have the urge. Anyway I just thanked her for coming and for bringing the things, and I wished her goodbye and I put the stuff on the side benches. I ran back into the game without looking back, and I guess she went off to the McCowans’ place at Longwood.
    I’m going to wear jeans to this Year 9 Dance. It’ll be a big anti-climax, I think. I can’t imagine anything Mrs Graham organising being a really wild night. But I might be wrong. I’ve got a stunning Koori top that I bought with my Christmas money, so I’ll wear that. It’s got this wonderful design in gold and black. K, S and T have to do a det on Tuesday night while we party on. Soph’s such a joke—she’s complaining that the det’s illegal, because gating was their only punishment and now Mrs Graham’s adding more. Tough, Soph—get yourself a good lawyer.
    J UNE 30
    I’m so bored and hyper this week—I don’t know why. We haven’t had much Prep since the Crusades assignment finished. There’re Science and Maths tests on Monday but I’m not in the mood to study. I know I can pass OK anyway.
    I think I’ll write a description of Kate, for something to do. I remember writing one of Sophie a long time ago in this Journal.
    To start with, Kate’s bad points are that she’s big and lazy and she can be as rough as a downtown dunny. She doesn’t give a damn about manners, or things like cheating in tests or lying to a teacher. But she’s honest in other ways: for a start, she’s honest about herself. Her good points are that she’s got a heart of gold. She’s loyal to her mates, she’d never dob, she’s generous with everything she owns. Or maybe it’s that she doesn’t care about possessions. If she’s going out to play tennis she’ll take the nearest racquet, whether it’s hers or someone else’s. If your Walkman’s missing, the first person you ask is Kate—she just picks up the nearest one. Her parents own a string of hotels somewhere in country towns. They’ve got heaps of money, so maybe that’s why she doesn’t care about possessions.
    Because she’s so casual and carefree, not many teachers like her, although she gets on well with some—Miss Curzon, and Mr Ross, which is a bit surprising, but I think he likes the way she’s always stirring him.
    Kate’s got a loud voice: she’s biologically unable to whisper. She’s also got a huge laugh. When she laughs you either join in or leave the room. The only problem with all this volume is that she snores like a dinosaur. They say there’s a snorer in every dorm, and Kate sure rattles the windows and brings down the plaster. I’m used to it now, but it took a while.
    I don’t think Kate could ever live in a city.
    Kate knows more jokes than anyone I’ve ever met but the trouble is none of them are funny. You do get sick of them after a