A Lesson for Lina Page 2

  Lina stood still for a moment, letting her thoughts settle. Now she was truly torn. Mary wanted to be her friend again! Mary was so pretty and so popular and they’d had such a great time together at the beginning of the year . . . Well, most of the time. But perhaps Sarah was right? Maybe Mary was bad news? After all, she had dumped her like a hot potato with almost no explanation.

  And now Sarah wanted to be Lina’s friend, too! But could I ever really trust her completely? Lina wondered. What should I do? Who should I choose? Now that the magazine has made me so popular, it seems like everybody wants to be my friend.

  This last thought washed over Lina like a salty wave, clearing away all the mess that was cluttering up her mind. That’s what this is all about, she realised. Mary and Sarah only want to be friends with me because of the magazine! And who knows how long it will last?

  At that moment she knew the right thing to do. The only thing to do. And she set off to where she hoped there would be a true friend waiting for her. Someone who didn’t care if she was pretty or popular, and who wouldn’t drop her as soon as someone better came along.

  Lina crossed the courtyard and found a small group of girls sitting on the grass behind the Science laboratories.

  ‘Hey, Lina! I was hoping you’d come,’ Julia said, smiling and patting the grass beside her. ‘We were just saying how much we loved your story!’

  ‘Yeah, we think it’s the best story in the magazine,’ said the girl beside her, nodding enthusiastically.

  ‘Except for my article on Anne Frank,’ Julia joked. ‘No, seriously, it’s a beautiful story, Lina. Your family sounds amazing! It’s so funny and sweet and interesting. I wish I could write as well as you.’

  ‘Oh, thank you!’ Lina let herself down onto the grass next to Julia in case her trembling legs should give way under her. They like my story, she thought, dizzy with pride and relief. No, they don’t just like it – they love it!

  THAT night, when everyone was seated at the dinner table, Lina pulled out the magazine to show her family. They all gathered around as she slowly turned the pages.

  ‘Haven’t you got anything in here?’ Bruno asked, nudging Lina.

  Lina blushed and turned to a page near the back of the magazine. There, between the book reviews and celebrity profiles, was her story. It felt like she had already read it at least a hundred times that day, yet she couldn’t help skimming over it again now it was back in front of her. It was so strange to think that something that had begun as secret scribbles in a notebook late one evening was now in print. It looked so official, so permanent, in a way that late-night scribblings never were.

  ‘Will you translate it for us?’ Lina’s mother asked, as Nonna began to gather the dishes from the table.

  Lina nodded then took a deep breath and began. Her family sat still, listening intently. Even Nonna paused, mid-tidy, to tune her ears to Lina’s voice. When Lina had finished, she looked up to see that her father’s eyes were shiny with tears.

  ‘You are a very fine writer, my girl,’ he said.

  ‘Hear, hear!’ Zio Mario agreed. ‘Great story, Lina. I must say, I hadn’t realised our family was that interesting!’

  ‘Especially me,’ Bruno joked.

  ‘Am I instering? Am I instering?’ Enzo asked loudly.

  ‘Yes, Enzo,’ Mama said, to quieten him down. ‘You are very interesting. Well done, Lina. It’s a beautiful story. And thank you for writing about all of us in such a lovely way. You have certainly portrayed me as a more patient mother than I know I am.’ She smiled.

  ‘I like the bit about the Parmesan.’ Nonna nodded, a smile twisting up her normally grumpy face. ‘It’s funny.’

  ‘And the bit about Bruno’s fight with the goat!’ Pierino teased.

  ‘Ha, ha,’ said Bruno, punching his big brother in the shoulder. ‘Maybe you should try looking after Bessie some day.’

  ‘I think the most powerful part is where you write about what it means to be Australian,’ said her father. ‘I’m proud of you Lina. You have put this into words more beautifully than I would ever have been able to.’ He raised his glass. ‘To Lina!’

  All the others lifted their glasses, too.

  ‘To Lina! To Lina!’ little Enzo squealed, and clambered into her lap to try to gain some of the attention for himself.

  ‘Thank you,’ Lina said shyly, kissing Enzo’s soft black hair. ‘I couldn’t have done it without you.’

  ‘That’s true,’ Bruno admitted. ‘Who else would give you such great material? I’ll bet your friends’ families aren’t half as crazy as ours!’

  Everyone laughed and stood up from the table to move on to their evening business. Zio wandered out the back for a smoke, Mama began getting Enzo ready for bed, and Bruno and Pierino disappeared into their bedroom to begin their homework. Soon, only Lina and her father were left at the table.

  Lina put his coffee on and placed the newspaper in front of him. Then she washed up the last of the dinner dishes. Outside, the goat bleated mournfully and the chickens gossiped amongst themselves as they settled down to rest. The evenings were longer now that summer was here, and the sun slanted in through the kitchen window. Light bounced off the upturned glasses drip-drying on the sink and shimmered across the cracks in the ceiling where the rain came in. The coffee sizzled in the pot. Lina poured her father a cup, picked up the sugar bowl, and sat down beside him to help him read the paper.

  ‘So,’ he said, placing his big oil-stained hand on top of hers. ‘What next? Now that you’ve started your writing career, you can’t stop here.’

  ‘I guess so,’ Lina said, smiling shyly. ‘I’d like to write more, but I can’t just keep writing stories about me and my family.’

  ‘Home is a good place to start,’ her father said, patting her hand.

  ‘I know. But I want to write other things, too. Important stories. About things that happen in the world. Like Stella Davis does,’ Lina insisted.

  ‘Well, perhaps before taking on the world you could begin with your neighbourhood?’ Lina’s father said. ‘I’ll bet there are plenty of good stories close to home. You just have to keep your eyes and ears open.’

  ‘I suppose so,’ Lina said doubtfully, looking down at the newspaper and turning the pages slowly. She spied an article about life after the Olympics, and then suddenly it came to her. She had the perfect story!

  THE next morning, Lina caught the late bus to school. She caught a glimpse of the person she was looking for and pushed her way through the mass of bodies, sticky with the morning’s heat. ‘John!’ she called, as she squirmed her way closer to her friend.

  ‘Lina!’ he called back, waving his hand high so that she could find him.

  She broke through the mass and found him wedged between two stout ladies with very full hessian bags, on their way home from the Victoria Market. As Lina glanced down, one of the bags jiggled and a chicken’s head poked up over the top and clucked irritably. Lina giggled. ‘You really should catch the earlier bus,’ she scolded. ‘It’s nowhere near as crowded and most days you can even get a seat.’

  John grinned. ‘If I caught the earlier bus I wouldn’t be able to sleep in, would I?’

  Lina moved closer, avoiding the chicken’s nasty beak, and lowered her voice. ‘So, did you hear about the Closing Ceremony?’ she said.

  John turned to look at her and tapped his lips with his finger. ‘Actually I missed it,’ he said. ‘But I saw it on the television news in a shop window the next day. Pretty good, huh?’ He grinned again. ‘I didn’t really think they’d do it, to tell you the truth.’

  ‘John, it’s not just pretty good, it’s amazing!’ Lina said, excitement making her voice rise.

  John tapped his lips again and Lina lowered her voice to whisper in his ear. ‘You’re famous! Everyone wants to know who the mysterious Chinese boy is!’

  ‘Just as well I know that I can trust you to keep our secret then,’ John said, dropping his eyebrows to show how serious he was.


  Lina sighed. ‘You’re so modest, I can’t believe it. If I were you I’d want everyone to know it was me. You could be on the front page all around the world! They’d probably even name a street after you, or something.’

  John shrugged. ‘My father always says: It’s not important to know who it was that made a difference, only that a difference was made. Besides, my family would freak out if they knew it was me. They’re not really into calling attention to themselves. It’s not very Chinese, if you know what I mean? Look,’ he said, finding a way to change the subject. ‘Did you see they’re pulling all those old houses down?’

  Lina nodded, feeling slightly annoyed. She had wanted to ask John’s permission to write a story about what he had done. It was a story that everyone would want to read. A story that might even get published in a real newspaper! But now she knew if she asked him he would just say no. And if he said no then she wouldn’t be able to write the story.

  She sighed again. Then another thought came to her. But if I don’t ask him  . . .  well then, he can’t really say no, can he? And if I don’t mention who it was, don’t write his name, I’m not really breaking her promise, am I? Lina tucked her idea deep into her mind.

  She turned back to John who was looking out the window at a row of tiny terrace houses that had been partially knocked down. ‘My parents are worried they might want to pull our house down soon. My dad goes to meetings to talk about how to save all the old houses in Carlton from being knocked down by developers. Our house may be old and crummy but we can’t afford to move. Everyone in our street is the same.’

  John frowned. ‘One day people will love all these old houses,’ he said. ‘They’re part of our history! Newer isn’t always better.’

  ‘Maybe,’ sighed Lina. ‘But this is the third week in a row our water pipes have been leaking and yesterday a big piece of ceiling fell down in our hallway. Our house might have lots of history but it’s not very comfortable to live in. I’d swap it for a new house any day.’

  Lina’s school week was filled with excitement as many more girls came up to congratulate her on the magazine. Some of them asked if they could help make the magazine next year and Lina explained that she couldn’t decide herself and that they should really check with the Mother Superior. The truth was she didn’t know if she wanted to do the magazine next year anyway, especially if it meant spending time with Sarah again. Now that Lina had become friends with Julia, Sarah pretended that they’d never even been sort-of friends, and that working together on the magazine was just something she’d been forced into. Mary, too, had resumed her nasty looks and whispering eye-rolling every time she passed Lina and Julia in the corridors.

  ‘She’s so ridiculous!’ Julia snorted in laughter one day, after passing Mary huddled in her little group of mean girls. ‘Like we would even care what she and her friends were saying about us!’

  ‘I know,’ Lina agreed, her confidence growing daily now that Julia was by her side.

  ‘The thing about girls like that,’ Julia continued, ‘is that you have to feel a bit sorry for them. They think everybody wants to be their friend, but the truth is that nobody wants to, once they really get to know them. That’s why they have to latch on to new girls like you, who haven’t discovered how awful they are yet. Honestly, I have no idea how you spent so much time with either of them!’

  ‘Me neither,’ said Lina quickly, even though she remembered having had some good times with both of them. But then she reminded herself that even during the best times, she had never felt completely comfortable. She’d never felt good enough somehow, and she’d been ashamed of her family, who weren’t as stylish or wealthy as theirs. Yet with Julia, Lina felt, for the first time in a long time, that she could completely be herself.

  On the last day of the week, when she and Julia were sitting under the peppercorn tree behind the Science labs at lunchtime, Lina finally screwed up the courage to ask something she had never dared ask anyone from St Brigid’s before. She swallowed her mouthful of bread and took a deep breath before she spoke, feeling suddenly nervous.

  ‘Um, I don’t know if you’re free tomorrow, if you’re not, don’t worry, but if you are, and you have nothing else to do, I was wondering if you’d – um – like to come over to my place?’ The last bit came out in a hurried mumble.

  ‘Great!’ said Julia, smiling broadly, like it was the most normal thing in the world for Lina to be asking. ‘I’d love to! Where do you live? I’ll ask Dad to drive me. He’s been wanting to meet you and your family for ages!’

  ‘Really?’ said Lina, surprised.

  Julia nodded. ‘Ever since he read your story.’

  ‘Oh,’ Lina said, feeling a thrill pass through her. ‘That’s nice! We, um, live in Carlton, though. Do you know where that is?’ Lina tensed, waiting for Julia’s reaction. Would she look down on Carlton the way Mary and Sarah had?

  ‘Of course I know where Carlton is!’ Julia scoffed. ‘Dad goes there all the time to buy his coffee. He says it’s the only place to get good coffee in the whole of Melbourne.’

  Lina giggled, relief and happiness making her light-headed. ‘Your dad and my dad are definitely going to get along.’

  ALL Saturday morning, while Lina helped Nonna around the house, she was distracted and clumsy, until finally, after dropping a whole apron-full of eggs, her grandmother shooed her out of the kitchen. Lina sat on her bed, her Maths books on her knees, trying to study. In all the excitement about the magazine, she hadn’t forgotten what her teacher had said about failing the exam. Still, Lina couldn’t help looking out the window every few minutes to see if Julia had arrived.

  Finally, there was the noise of a car drawing up outside their house and Lina sprang from her bed to open the front door.

  ‘Julia, hi!’ she said, a little too excitedly, then tried to look casual, like she had friends dropping over everyday.

  ‘Lina!’ Julia said and threw her arms around her. ‘Sorry we’re late! Dad had trouble finding your street.’

  ‘Oh,’ Lina mumbled, wincing. ‘I guess it’s more of a laneway, really. I should have explained.’

  A tall, skinny man with olive skin and glasses emerged from the driver’s side of the car. He had the same black wiry hair as Julia’s but it was sticking out at the sides, like a clown’s, and he was shiny bald on top. The moment he loped around the rear of the car and spied Lina in the doorway, his face broke into a goofy grin, and all Lina’s anxious butterflies fluttered away.

  ‘I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you, Lina,’ he gushed, sticking out a hand, but then he changed his mind and pulled her into an unexpected hug. ‘You are quite a writer! And your family sound fascinating. May I come in?’

  ‘Oh, um, thank you! Yes, of course,’ Lina said, feeling a little overwhelmed by all the enthusiasm. ‘Please come in, Mr Goldbloom.’

  ‘Oh, please! Call me Alfred!’ he insisted. ‘Mr Goldbloom is way too formal.’

  Lina felt her cheeks turn pink. She had never in all of her life called a friend’s parent by their first name. What an unusual family Julia had!

  Alfred strode down the corridor ahead of Lina, looking like a great gangling giraffe in a gloomy narrow cave, and within only a few giant steps he had reached the kitchen. Lina skipped to catch up to him but before she was able to shoot her grandmother a warning look, he had grasped the stout old lady in both arms and was kissing both her paled cheeks with gusto.

  ‘That’s how they do it in Italy, don’t they?’ he said, pulling back to admire Lina’s grandmother, who was now blushing like a girl. ‘Is it three kisses or four? I can never remember.’

  ‘Da-ad!’ Julia sighed, rolling her eyes. ‘You are sooo embarrassing!’

  Nonna shot Lina a desperate look and Lina quickly translated for her benefit. Nonna mumbled something in return.

  ‘She says it depends on the region,’ Lina told Alfred.

  ‘Oh, how fascinating!’ Alfred said, gazing at Lina’s nonna again like she w
as a beautiful young movie star, not a plump old granny. ‘I have been so looking forward to meeting the famous matriarch of Lina’s story! Oh!’ he sighed, as Lina’s mother walked in from the backyard, a basket of freshly picked herbs on her hip. ‘And this must be your mother?’ He bowed theatrically. ‘She is even more beautiful than I’d imagined.’

  When Lina’s mother spied the tall, well-dressed man in their kitchen, she quickly smoothed down her hair and pulled off her apron. ‘I didn’t know we had a guest,’ she said shyly in her heavy accent. She shot Lina a furious look. ‘I’m sorry, this house is so untidy!’ She began clearing things off the table and onto the benches, as if it made any difference to their cluttered kitchen. ‘Please, sit down!’ She pulled out a chair and brushed off some imaginary dirt from the seat. ‘I will make coffee.’

  ‘Dad!’ Julia hissed. ‘You can go now.’

  But Alfred had already folded his long legs under the worn wooden table and was looking up at the two women eagerly.

  Julia grabbed Lina by the arm. ‘Oh boy, I knew he’d do this,’ she said, rolling her eyes again. ‘Come on, let’s split. Can we go out the back? I want to see all your animals.’

  Lina giggled and led Julia out into the back yard. Instantly she forgot how grubby and small her house had once seemed. Through Julia’s eyes, everything was fascinating.

  ‘Oh, you grow your own vegetables!’ she exclaimed. ‘How fabulous! And look at those beautiful sunflowers.’

  They reached the end of the yard, where the chickens lay limply in the shade of the fig tree. Even Bessie the goat was so hot and tired she let Julia stroke her greying muzzle without baring her teeth for a single nip.

  ‘You definitely have a way with animals,’ Lina said. ‘I’ve never seen Bessie this calm for anyone. Not even Papa!’

  ‘I love them,’ Julia sighed. She squatted down and rested her cheek against Bessie’s neck. ‘When I grow up I want to be a vet. You’re so lucky to have so many animals at home. We can’t keep anything with fur because Babushka is allergic. But I have a lizard, an axolotl and three Mexican fighting fish. I used to have four but Cupcake died.’