Short Story

I blinked and winced as salty sweat trickled down my forehead and into my eyes. The summer is truly hideous up here in Darwin! I thought in frustration, dragging a hand across my sweaty face. I groaned and layed my head on the cool surface of my desk.
"How are we supposed to concentrate on schoolwork in this heat?" I whispered to my friend Jenny, who also had her head on her maths book.
"I don't know Millie." She mumbled "and I'm not even going to try."
I smiled at my friend and proceeded to ignore the teacher setting us work. I could do all this for homework in the sanctuary of my living room, te only room in the house with a currently working fan. I day-dreamed thorughout the rest of the lesson and when atlast the bell tolled, Jeny and I raced out the door.

We sped down the hill to her house on our bikes and then I was left to continue on my own up the hill. At long last, I was wheeling my bike up the garden path and parking it in the shed next to my brother's. I thumped on the front door with my fist. I could hear raised voices coming from inside the house and I tensed up. I couldn't face another one of these arguments again. My older brother Tom had just finished schol. He was in a band with his friends and all he ever seemed to do was mess around and do whatever he liked. At least, that was how Mum and Dad saw it. They wanted him to be a doctor like Dad, but Tom wasn't interested.
" Come on in, it's open!" Mum called out.
" What are you going to do with your life?!" My dad yelled from the kitchen. I could imagine the anger on his face as he lectured my brother yeat again. "Isn't it about time you sarted Uni?"
" For the hundredth time, Dad! I am not going to University!" Tom retorted, but Dad waasn't giving n yet.
" If you spend your twenties messing around, where do think you'll end up?" I'd heard this argument many times before and I was sick of it. " Unemployed and uneducated, like those damn black fellas I see in the clinic everyday!"
" That's it! I've had enough of this." Tom's voice was bitter. " Why did you become a doctor Dad? When you don't even like helping people."
I knew he'd left the room then because I could hear his footsteps striding down the hallway
" Thomas!" My mum called after her son. Her voice was so strained and emotional that I almost felt sorry for her, but ten I remembered that she was no better. She was just letting Dad do all the yelling for her.
I felt a burning need to get out of the house, so I ducked back out the door and ran down the street.

The local library was barely a few streets away from our house, so it became my regular sanctuary when things got to be too much at home. The librarians knew me well by now and even took to giving me book recommendations every now and then. This time as I approached the counter, I was handed a battered copy of "The Getting of Wisdom".
" Something I think you'll like, Emilia." Greta's face crinkled into a smile as I took the book from her.
" Boarding schools and the like, I rather enjoyed it." I smiled my thanks and made to leave the library. But something caught my eye on the way out. An elderly woman who I had seen here before, but never actually met, was scolding a younger black woman. I had known for a long time that the Aboriginals in our area had not benn allowed to use the local library, but the protests a couple of years back in 1963 had changed that. Nonetheless, there were always going to be people who disagreed- my Dad for one. Greata was watching anxiously as if she wanted to interfere but knew she couldn't . I watched indifferently. Whatever this young woman had done to offendthe elderly one, was her problem. Eventually the black woman left in a state and the older one left soon after, muttering abour "riff-raff disrupting the peace of her library.I hurried out the door, keen to get home now, but stopped as I felt something soft under my foot. A samll paper notebook was lying on the floor as if one of the women had dropped it on thw way out. Curious, I bent down and slipped the notebook into my pocket.

Later that night in the peace of my room, I picked up the notebook and stared at it for a while. I knew it would be wrong to read something that wasn't mine. What if it was a diary? Curiosity overwhelmed me once again and I peeked at the first page.

1st July, 1955
I have decided to write a journal. Paula says that it's a good idea to get my thoughts onto paper and that lots of English girls do it. But I'm not an English girl, at least not completelyand I'm sure that Paula wouldn't approve of what I'm writing about here. This new home is very different from my old one. Much too white and cold. It doesn't fit into the bush landscape. It makes me feels so... separate. Within the first few weeks of my stay here I demanded to know what was going on, why I was being taken away from my family. I kicked and screamed and refused to learn what I was taught. I only wanted to go home but Paula said that mother was dead and that they had adopted me purely out of the goodness of their hearts. I wasn't that foolish though... I was older than the others.

The second entry was even harder to read than the first.

2nd July, 1955
An aboriginal woman came to the bungalow today, asking to seee me. I didn't recognise her but she said she was my mother's sister. Mother had had many sisters so I wasn't surprised. I told Paula and John that I recognised her anyway, I just wanted to speak to family, no matter how distant. We went and sat under the trees outside and she cried and cried, clinging onto me, saying my name over and over. John came out and told her she had to leave as if she were dangerous or something. But maybe it was just because she was Aboriginal.

I jumped as the doorbell rang and shoved th notebook into my pocket before running downstairs to answer it. I was surprised when I recognised the young woman from the library.
" I believe you picked up something of mine." She told me. Her face was calm but I could that she was anxious inside.
" How do you know where I live?" I demanded, trying to hide my guilt with hostility.
" I asked the girl at the desk and she said that she'd seen you pick up something at the door." She explained.
" I'd like it back." Well, there was no way I was going to get out of this one blame-free so I pulled the diary out of my pocket and handed it to her.
" I only read a bit of it." I said hastily. "I'm sorry." But her eyes narrowed angrily.
" You had no right!" She spat. I dropped my head ashame. "You think you can do anything you want because you're superior to me, is that it?" I shook my head mutely, but she ignored it. I didn't blame her.
"You had no right..."
She turned on her heel and strode away, not looking back. I stared after her for a while, until evening faded into night. Finally I turned back into the house, shutting the door quietly so that no one would notice how long I'd been out there.
" Millie?" My brother stuck his head into the hallway, looking slightly worried. "Who were you talking to?"
Oh... no one." I said indifferently. "Just the ahh... postman. Had a package... but wrong adresss. It's fine now." He raised his eyebrows questioningly, but chose to leave it alone.
" All right then, if you say everything's fine then I'm sure it is."
I smiled gratefully. Everything was fine. I would think for myself from now on.