TWL - 72-100.docx

**Lottie** On the weekend Auntie Skye comes to visit. She doesn\'t call first, because Dad doesn\'t like visitors anymore. She knocks on the door, shaking off rain, looks for a place for her spotty umbrella and tucks it under her arm instead. \'Hi Lot Bot.\' \'Hi Skye.\' Skye is Mum\'s...

**Lottie** On the weekend Auntie Skye comes to visit. She doesn\'t call first, because Dad doesn\'t like visitors anymore. She knocks on the door, shaking off rain, looks for a place for her spotty umbrella and tucks it under her arm instead. \'Hi Lot Bot.\' \'Hi Skye.\' Skye is Mum\'s little sister. She looks so much like Mum, sometimes I pretend she is. Same thick black hair, strong arms and big feet. Skin the colour of creamy coffee. She smiles too wide, and I can see the frown in her eyes, checking out the greasy bike parts in the hallway, stacks of dented surfboards, books on the stairs and boxes, and boxes, and boxes. Skye crinkles her nose. \'What\'s that smell? Mould?\' She starts to pick things up: tidy, stack, sort, wipe, fold. She squashes into the kitchen, then gives up, spreads a plastic bag on the floor and sits down. She lays another one for me and we stretch out our long legs and big feet. \'Where\'s your dad?\' \'Hard rubbish day. He\'s gone out for a while,collecting. He said he won\'t be long.\' \'When is he going to realise all this stuff isn\'t going to fill the hole in his heart?\' She hugs me, although she\'s not much of a hugger. Not like Mum. "You hungry?\' "Yes.\' \'Me too. Let\'s go out.\' I\'m glad to see Skye. She still tries even when things aren\'t getting any better. At first we had lots of visitors, bringing lasagna and curries, flowers,and presents for me. I miss the visitors. Skye buys us both fish and chips. We sit at a blue-painted table next to The Corso, dive-bombed by hungry seagulls, trying to swoop on our lunch. Skye shoos them away, but when we\'re full we chuck cold chips at them and laugh when they squawk, scratch and gobble up our scraps. After lunch, we go to the supermarket and buy everything I like. Grapes white.Seedless. Yoghurt vanilla. Apples red. Coco Pops not muesli. Sausages for dinner. Skye says she\'s staying over, whether Dad likes it or not. \'I\'m sorting out that filthy kitchen and you\'re having a long hot bath, Lot,with plenty of soap.\' She buys a mop, garbage bags, Spray and Wipe, bleach. Clears out all the bottles in the bath. Skye can clean up as much as she wants, but we both know it\'s like pulling an onion weed out by the stem: a few weeks later, three new green shoots will appear in the soil. More stuff will come to fill the spaces. We need to help Dad before we can clean up our house. **noah** Yesterday, when I was stuck at school, the surf was five foot and clean,with offshore winds. Now it\'s Saturday morning and I\'m frothing for a wave, but it\'s mushy, tiny and blown out. Dad and I go down to the beach for a closer look, but it\'s only for longboarders and Barney beginners. I head back home, kicking the sand as I go. In the kitchen, Dad starts making blueberry pancakes. Mum\'s stuck in the study on another deadline. \'Can I help?\' I say. \'Sure.\' I help mix the batter, and flip the pancakes. Dad and I eat four in a row, maple syrup dripping down our chins. \'It\'s pretty messy out there today,\' he says. \'Want to go to the mall? You need new runners.\' I like my old ones. They\'re worn in perfectly. Besides, I hate the mall, with alI the cars piled up, people wasting time drinking coffee and spending money. \'Nah,might just hang in my room,\' I say. \'Okay. Not too much YouTube. \'Same to you.\' \'Hey! Don\'t be cheeky.\' On my iPad I watch a surfing comp, play some chords on my guitar. Then I remember I\'ve got a letter from my pen pal in Mullin. I open the envelope. Dear Noah, My favourite things are: 1.Cricket 2.Soccer 3.AFL 4\. Rugby 5\. Salt and vinegar chips! My least favourite things are: 2.Homework 3\. Reading & maths 4.Assembly 5.Sultanas and bananas When *I grow up I want to be a cricket player* *for Australia and bat a century at the G.* BYE! WRITE BACK! Jack I get some paper, chew on a pen and wonder what Jack might like to know about my boring life in Manly. Dear Jack *My* *favourite* things are: 1.Surfing 2.Skateboarding 3\. Playing guitar 4\. Blueberry pancake 5\. Twisties *My least favourite things are:* *1.Cleaning* my *room* 2.Homework Dad\'s lying on the couch, playing on his phone. The door to Mum\'s study is still closed. It\'s so quiet. \'Hey Dad,you got an envelope?\' \'What for?\' Dad gets up and rifles around the kitchen drawers. He holds up a screwdriver, a whisk, rubber bands, pegs,highlighters and barbecue tongs. Finally,he finds an envelope. I address it to Jack Philips C/O-Miss Jessica Waites Mullin Public School We wrote to each other for ten years. Then we met up when I was backpacking in Europe.She was a laugh.\' He shows me a Facebook photo of a woman with three white-haired kids. \'We still send each other messages, every now and then.\' He takes down a photo of me, stuck to the fridge door. \'You should send Jack a photo,\'he says. \'This one\'s got excellent composition.\' It\'s a shot Dad took with his GoPro. He\'s pretty good at photography. I\'m cutting across a massive wave at Curly. I usually hate having my photo taken, but this one\'s okay. So I put it in the envelope with my letter. Dad looks at the forecast on his phone. The report\'s the same: no waves anywhere. We both sigh. \'Feel like a swim?\'he says. \'Nah.\' \'Go on-make you feel better. Always does.\' We walk down to the water. Dad takes off his t-shirt and makes a run for it. \'First one in\'s a legend!\' he shouts. I sprint past him and dive into the flat sea. The cold water takes my breath away and clears my head. Dad\'s right. Sometimes it\'s good to get wet. As I float on my back I wonder if Jack will send another letter, and whether I\'ll still be writing to him when I\'m as old as Dad. **Jack** In class,Miss Waites is teaching us about threats to the ocean, like global warming,too much fishing and stinky pollution. She shows us photos of garbage patches strangling turtles and dolphins. \'Soon,the ocean might only be fit for jellyfish,\' she says. \'Nah! We can\'t let that happen, Miss!\' I say. I want to spend time at the beach before it gets totally wrecked. We get into groups to figure out how we can save the seas. I sit in a circle on the floor with Ryan and Tiana. Normally, I muck around in groups, let everyone else do the work. But today, I hold the pen, write down our ideas on the butcher\'s paper. \'First,we have to stop using plastic straws,\' says Ryan. \'Yeah!\'I say,writing fast. \'We have to clean up the rubbish on the beach, says Tiana. \"That\'s easy-I don\'t even like fish! Tastes yuk!\' says Ryan and we all laugh. \'Do you think you\'ll be going to the beach?\' I ask him. He\'s my mate at cricket, a good all rounder, and it would be fun to go together. \'Yeah,\'course. I\'ve been to the beach before. It\'s huuuuge.\' He holds out his arms as wide as they can go. I cross my fingers behind my back, and hope that I\'ll be seeing it soon, too. We get takeaway for dinner. Bread and chips, with lots of sauce. Chip sandwiches! Yes! Alby isn\'t here for a change, so it\'s just us. I\'m telling Mum about the garbage patches floating in the sea and her eyes go wide, like mine did. \'We gotta stop using straws, okay?\' I say. Mum and I laugh. She can be so cute, sometimes. \'Are you? When? And who\'s taking you?\' \'But-\' The doorbell rings. Mum gets up, grabs her bag. I kick the table leg, cross my arms and sulk. \'You\'re always going out.\' But she\'s gone, I don\'t know where, out the door in a flash. Leaving Alby sitting on our lounge, scoffing the leftover chips. I run to my room, slam the door as hard as I can. Which doesn\'t make me feel any better. In class, Noah\'s sitting with Harley. He looks at me when I walk past and flashes a smile that disappears fast. I\'ve written a letter to my pen pal. I hope she\'s got time to write back. I drop it in the box on Mr M\'s desk. Might be easier to be friends with someone far away. I sit down to read *The Big Book* of *Bugs.* It\'s interesting that when termite soldiers sense a threat, they tap warning signals to their colonies by banging their heads against the walls. But I\'ve got a runny nose, a cough,and I feel hot SO I can\'t focus on the words. Mr M sends me to the nurse and she takes my temperature. \'38.7, that\'s a little warm, I\'m sending you home.\' She calls Dad, but he doesn\'t pick up. She leaves a stern message, saying please call the nurse\'s station back immediately. I wait and watch the day go by. Claire\'s got a twisted ankle from dodgeball: r.i.c.e.(rest,ice,compression,elevation), Trang threw up chunks of Crunch&Sip all over the music room carpet: his mum came right away, Jason got a tiny piece of bark The nurse gives me a look I\'ve seen before. She feels sorry for me. She checks my file. \'Do you have another emergency contact? Who is Skye Deluca?\' \'My auntie.\' She calls Skye, but gets voicemail too. So she calls Dad twice more. Finally he answers. I\'m relieved. I was starting to think everyone in my family had forgotten me. We walk home along the beach. Dad buys me an ice-cream, because my throat\'s sore, and a lamb kebab with the lot for him. We eat together, listening to a busker play guitar. He\'s pretty good and Dad gives him some gold coins. \'Are you okay?\' Dad says. \'Yeah,just a cold.\' \'Let\'s get you home to rest.\' Skye arrives in a fluster. \'Hello! Are you okay,Lottie? The school nurse left a message on my phone, said it was urgent.\' \'She\'s got a cold,\' says Dad. Dad makes us all a cup of tea the way I like it, milky and sweet with honey. I sip on it and try not to think about how when I was sick before, Mum would stroke my hair and give me lemonade and Vegemite toast. \'Matt,you\'re okay here? Panadol if her temp goes up, and plenty of fluids.\' Dad nods, and puts his palm on my forehead. \'We\'re fine. Go back to work.\' Dad nods, and looks at me sadly. \'I\'m trying.\' Skye puts her hand on Dad\'s shoulder. \'You know it\'s okay to ask for help.\' When I go to my room, Dad has left a glass of lemonade by my bed. **Jack** Miss Waites puts a letter on my desk. I\'m busting to rip it open. I can\'t believe how exciting this is, considering it\'s just paper. She hands out letters to everyone in class. Even she has one. Who wants to write to a teacher? I sniff the envelope, but it doesn\'t smell like the ocean. When I open it, will grains of sand fall out? My pen pal Noah loves Twisties and pancakes-SAME! We both hate homework and cleaning our rooms. Here\'s the rest of his letter: I\'m in 5M at St *Teresa\'s.* *I live in Manly* *and* I *want to be a pro surfer. I surf* every *day - sometimes twice. I like skateboarding too.* *I\'ve got a scar on my elbow because once I went* *too fast down the hill. Got the death wobbles.* PPS*:* Have *you ever swum in the ocean?* PPPS*:* *I can teach you to surf.* \'Would anyone like to read their letter to the class?\'Miss Waites says.\'Jack?\' I shake my head. This letter\'s just for me. Noah sent a photo,too. He isn\'t any bigger than me, but he\'s riding a huge wave, the sea is the colour of green glass. \'I\'ll read mine,\' she says. Dear *Miss* Waites, *From* Lottie Miss Waites puts her letter back in the envelope and looks pleased. I take out fresh paper and tell Noah I don\'t know how to ride a skateboard but I once got stitches in my left eyebrow playing cricket without a helmet. Stupid! I don\'t do that anymore. I tell him Alby pushes me around all the time. But I\'m still his mate. I have to be.See, we\'re cousins. I\'ve never swum in the ocean, except in my dreams. If he teaches me to ride a wave, we could go surfing together every day, like brothers.