Letters from the Inside (6 page)

I don’t show your letters to anyone.

Well, have a good term. Don’t forget what I said about Steve. If that doesn’t work, try microwaving his condoms (they shrink).

Love,

Tracey

May 12

Dear Trace,

Thanks for your letter. I liked the bit about the car crash. The answer’s simple: the guy on TV, the politician, is a nerd. I don’t think God works that way. I think he creates it all, but after that he just lets it happen. But he gives you things like reflexes and brains, and your conscience, so that the world doesn’t go crazy, and end in anarchy. And I think things like car crashes and people dying young of cancer and all that stuff are pure chance: out of a hundred people, one might the young, in a car accident or something, and it’s pure luck (bad luck) if it happens to be you, or a friend of yours.

I’ve been lucky — the only people who’ve died in my family are one grandfather and one grandmother. My grandfather died when I was too young to remember, but my Nanna died two years ago, and that was awful. I still miss her, and I talk to her quite often — I have little chats to her inside my head and tell her what’s happening and how I feel about things. She got burnt in the shower, but the worst thing was, my Poppa was at bowls and didn’t get back till late, so she was there all day before they found her. She died the next day, in hospital.

We still go and put flowers on her grave. I’d like to go again soon — we haven’t been in a while.

So I’ve got one of each left. Grandma (Dad’s mum) lives in Speakman Bay, which means we don’t see her often, and Poppa’s in a home near here, and we go over about once a fortnight and take him food and stuff. He’s so sweet but the home’s depressing, even though it’s a good one. I guess even the good ones are depressing.

School’s been OK so far. Today was above-average. There’s this weird guy in our class, called Darren Small, and he does disgusting things like sticking pins through his skin and turning his eyelids inside out. He can fart ‘Baa, Baa Black Sheep’, he gives concerts when the teachers are late for class. He can do anything with his body. He is quite funny. Anyway he’s got this big mouth — I mean literally — and he puts things in and takes them out again — like tennis balls, Poppers, stuff like that. He can fit his whole fist in his mouth.

So today, Paul Bazzani gave him this huge apple, the biggest I’ve ever seen, and told him to put that in. And Darren, being a bit of a Richard, did. There was only one problem: he couldn’t get it out again. God, it was funny. We thought he might suffocate, he was going so red in the face, but I guess he could get air through his nose. Then Mr Prideaux arrived, for Geography, and after he grasped the situation (that took about ten minutes, which is fast for him), he went and got a knife and he had to cut bits out of the apple till Darren could get the rest out himself. Fair dinks, I nearly wet myself. Darren sure is one of life’s losers. But it was funny.

Anyway, gotta go. Homework calls — not very loudly, but it does call. Oh by the way, thanks for the advice about the yo-yo and the condoms — they’re the only laughs I got out of the whole holidays. Is there a Plan C though? I don’t think I’ve got the guts to try Plans A or B. . . though it’s tempting.

See you,

     Love,

 
Mandy

May 15

Dear Mandy,

Thanks for your letter. Sorry if mine are getting boring. But don’t stop writing, please. I love your letters. And I admire the way you write. Bet you get good marks in English. You seem so honest. I don’t know how you do that.

Your writing about your grandparents made me think a lot, and remember a lot of things. I had this kind of flashback. I think I must have been staying at my Nanna’s. And she gave me Coco Pops for breakfast, which would have been a big treat for me. Then she must have left the room, because I remember reaching over to get the milk and knocking my whole bowl on the floor. So what I did was to get down on the floor with the milk and my spoon, pour milk over the Coco Pops, and start eating. It must have seemed easier than picking up each Coco Pop. I can’t remember what happened after that.

I would have been about three or four I suppose. We’ve got this English essay we’re meant to be writing: ‘Keep on Goin’ till it all stops Flowin’’. It seemed like a dumb topic at first, then I thought maybe I could write about Nanna. But I dunno. Among the people I don’t trust are teachers and I don’t like to write personal stuff that they can read and show other people. I poured my heart out in Year 7 once, in this journal we had to keep, and the teacher wrote at the bottom: ‘Very good Tracey, keep writing.’ Then they wonder why you don’t bother.

School’s a kind of drag already. What are you guys doing? I’ll tell you our exciting topics. In Maths, quadratic functions; in English
To Kill a Mockingbird;
in History, the Industrial Revolution; in Geography, rainforests; in Chemistry, molecular structures. . .

Exciting isn’t it?

What’s your ambition in life? I heard a song the other day: ‘Live fast, die young and leave a beautiful memory’. Or something like that. That’s the way, isn’t it?

See ya!

    With love and depression,

                       
Tracey

May 18

Dear Trace

Thanks for your letter. I do like getting them. You know, when we started this I never thought it would last as long as it has. I was reading in the paper about these two old grannies who just got in
The Guinness Book of Records.
They’ve been writing to each other for seventy-eight years. I know you want to live fast and the young, but if you change your mind, let’s go for the record, OK?

One of the old ladies is in Australia and the other is in England. They’ve met three times — once in Australia and twice in England. Wonder if, or when, we’ll meet. I often think about it. It’d be strange. The worst thing would be if it was a real flop — like, if we didn’t know what to say to each other. I’d hate that. But I don’t think that would happen.

Which reminds me, you never sent a photo. OK, I know I didn’t send you one either, but I was waiting for you to make the first move. You send me one and I’ll send you one, fair enough?

If you saw me now you’d think I was the Freak Queen herself. I’m sitting here wearing Ug boots, track suit (we had netball this afternoon), two jumpers and a black Russian hat. It’s so cold! I hate the cold weather. There’s been thunder all day — just hanging around growling and scaring the dog. Then as I sat down to write this, a massive storm broke, and bombarded the house. It’s still raining now — the roof’s leaking over Steve’s desk, so he’s working in Katrina’s room. Not that he does any work.

You asked me before if I show your letters to anyone, and I forgot to say. Yeah, I do show them to Cheryl sometimes. She’s cool. She’s just interested in how it all started. And I trust her totally. But if you don’t want me to, I won’t.

She was going to write to you too, but she never does half the things she says she will.

She came over here after netball for a while, with Rebecca. Bloody Rebecca’s being a bitch again. She found out I like this guy in Year 11, George Vlahovic, and she went and told him! Fair dinkum, you’d trust her like you’d trust Jack the Ripper with a chain saw. George is cool about it but it’s embarrassing. We’re going out tomorrow night to a movie or something, but no thanks to Becca.

So, my love life’s looking good for once. But that’s about the only thing that is. We’re doing
Mockingbird,
same as you, and we’ve got this massive assignment on it, due Monday, would you believe? He only gave us a week, and it’s ten questions, 100 words on each. ‘Mini essays’ they have to be. So there goes the weekend.

Well, catch you round, like Rebecca’s stomach. See you.

Love,

 
Mandy

May 22

Dear Mandy,

So your love life’s hotting up huh? You’re a sly operator. Who is this guy? What happened to honest letters? Hope you had a good time Saturday night!

Casey and I went out Saturday too. It was our first anniversary. We went to this really dressy restaurant, then to Blue Velvet. We didn’t quit till 3 a.m. I was just warming-up but Case was starting to drag his feet.

Oh, I’m sick of writing this garbage, but I don’t know what else to write about.

Tammy Wynette was just on TV, and they asked her why country music was so lasting. She said it was because it was simple and it was honest. I thought that was a good answer. Do you like country music? I don’t mind it at all.

You remember that English essay I was telling you about? ‘Keep on Goin’ till it all stops Flowin’’? Well, I wrote it like I said I would, about my Nanna, ’cos that’s what her life was like — she kept fighting away, twenty-four hours a day, never giving up, till she broke her hip. It wrecked me when she died — I miss her so much. I swear to God, if that essay comes back with some dumb mark or comment on it, I’ll turn it into confetti.

I honestly think it’s the best essay I’ve ever written.

You know what my horoscope says today: ‘Your past will cause you new complications but the solutions are in your hands. Expect good news about money, bad news about romance. Take special care when travelling but this is a good time to revisit old friends.’

The money part sounds OK.

Hey listen, what do your parents do? I mean, what jobs? You never said.

Bye. Write soon.

Lots of love,

Trace