Lina at the Games (4 page)

I
N
the courtyard before school that morning, all anyone wanted to talk about was the Opening Ceremony and a big group of girls gathered around Lina when she arrived. Even though other St Brigid's girls had also attended, and nearly all of them had listened to the broadcast on the radio, Lina and Sarah were the school's ‘official reporters' so everyone wanted to hear about it from them.

‘What did you think of our uniform?'

‘What were the other teams wearing?'

‘Were the American athletes cute?'

‘Did you see Dawn Fraser?

‘Betty Cuthbert?'

‘Murray Rose?'

‘Oh, isn't he just dreamy? I'm going to marry Murray Rose one day!'

Lina answered as many questions as she could, full of pride and enjoying the attention. But when Mary arrived, many of the girls rushed over to her, eager to hear how the ceremony had looked on television.

‘Oh, it was much better than being there!' Mary boasted loudly. ‘Because you got to see close-ups of all the athletes. They weren't just specks in the distance. Why would you bother going all the way into town to watch the Olympic Ceremony with
all
those people when you could watch from the comfort of your own home?'

‘Perhaps for the
atmosphere
?' came a voice. Lina spun round to see Julia Goldbloom from her Home Economics class. ‘Not much of an Olympic spirit in the lounge room, I'm guessing?' she said, with a wry smile. Then she shrugged, pushed her tortoiseshell glasses up her nose and walked off, her springy black curls bobbing.

Lina smiled gratefully. She's right! she thought. Nothing replaces the feeling of being there in
person
.

Lina and Sarah were busier than ever. Each night, Lina stayed up trying to maker her article on Dawn Fraser perfect. Every lunchtime, the girls sifted through piles of stories, poems and drawings to choose the best ones and work out where to place them in the school magazine. Now that they no longer had Mary to help them, Sister Rosemary had become their third editor. One day, as Lina and Sarah sat around Sister Rosemary's desk sorting through all the pages of writing, Lina spied an article on  Anne Frank by Julia Goldbloom. She was surprised to see that Julia knew of Anne Frank's diary. It had only been in the library for a few months.

‘I lent it to her after you,' Sister Rosemary explained. ‘I thought she'd like to read it, too.'

Lina felt a curious twist of jealousy in the pit of her stomach, then she scolded herself for being silly. I know it's Sister Rosemary's job to suggest books to students. It's just that Anne Frank's diary felt like it was written for
me.

Sarah peered over Lina's shoulder. ‘Oh, not another story on World War Two, surely?' She sighed. ‘This magazine is supposed to be
fun
! Besides, Julia is in my history class and she is an annoying swot. She always gets “A”s and she has awful hair. I vote we don't include her.'

‘I don't know if having
awful hair
is a good enough reason to vote someone's story off the magazine,' Sister Rosemary said calmly. ‘Lina?'

Lina skimmed the article and was almost disappointed to find that it was good. Very good. Julia Goldbloom certainly knew how to write. Then Lina remembered the little joke Julia had made the other day. ‘I think we should include it,' she said, looking right into Sarah's eyes. ‘Two against one. It's in.'

Sarah scowled and pulled another piece of paper out of the pile. ‘You'll have to cut it back then,' she said to Lina. ‘In my opinion, we've got way too many boring history articles and dreary poems about the war, and not enough fashion and movies.' She rolled her eyes. ‘This magazine isn't just for librarians and
migrants.
'

Lina felt her cheeks begin to steam, just like they had when she and Sarah were enemies. How dare she!

Fortunately, Sister Rosemary, in her ever-patient tone of voice, jumped in before Lina was able to add fuel to the fire. ‘Sarah, you are right; there should always be room for more fun in our lives, but it's important that all our student demographics are covered. I imagine that Anne Frank's diary was significant to Julia because she is a Polish Jew. Her family may even have been through something similar to Anne, which is why I lent the book to her. I am sure her article will be of interest to other St Brigid's girls, aside from us
librarians
and
migrants
.'

‘Julia is
Polish
?' Lina asked in amazement.

‘A Polish Jew.' Sister Rosemary nodded.

‘But . . . I thought she was
Australian
,' Lina insisted.

‘She is, Lina,' said Sister Rosemary. ‘She was born here. Her parents were refugees from Poland. They came out during the war. As did quite a few other students' parents. In fact, the Australian government encouraged Europeans to move here and start new lives. They're an important part of our country now.'

Lina's mind was fizzing as Sister Rosemary's words began to sink in. ‘But . . . I thought
I
was the only non-Australian girl here.'

Sister Rosemary's face wrinkled into a broad smile. ‘Lina, you were born here. You are just as Australian as any girl at this school.'

Lina felt herself glow with pride. Sarah just sniffed and picked at her nails.

‘As Australian as me,' Sister Rosemary continued, ‘whose parents came from Ireland. And as Australian as Sarah whose family came from . . .?'

‘We're all Australian,' Sarah corrected.

‘Really?' Sister Rosemary said, her eyes twinkling. ‘You have very pale skin for an Aboriginal.'

‘We're not aboriginal!' Sarah scowled. ‘That's not what I mean. My family's probably from England, originally, or something like that! But we've been in Australia ever since . . . it became Australia!'

‘Oh,' Sister Rosemary said, winking at Lina, ‘so your ancestors were
convicts
, then? I suppose that's much better than being a refugee.'

Sarah stood up and pushed her chair back angrily. ‘No, they weren't! How would you know? You don't know anything about my family, okay? I was just saying . . . oh forget it!'

Sister Rosemary rose and put her hand gently on Sarah's shoulder. ‘How about I make us a pot of tea? I think we could all do with a little break, don't you? We've been working hard. Do you both take cream and sugar?'

Lina nodded and covered a grin with her hand as she watched the old nun hobble off to put the kettle on. Sister Rosemary is the best, she thought admiringly. She's proof that calmness mixed with cleverness wins every time. Lina made a mental note to try being more like Sister Rosemary in future, instead of her usual hot-headed self.

Then her thoughts turned back to Julia Goldbloom. She's
Polish
? I wonder how many other girls' families are immigrants like mine? And she decided at that moment to find out.

‘T
HE
Mother Superior wants an article on an Australian Olympic athlete for the front cover,' Lina told her father one evening. They were sitting together before he went to work, reading Stella Davis's column in the newspaper and chatting about the school magazine. ‘I'm almost finished writing my story on Dawn Fraser but I'm worried Sarah might write about her, too.'

‘Sarah? Who's Sarah?' asked Papa.

Sometimes it amazed Lina how little her family knew about her life. ‘You know, the girl I'm working on the magazine with. We used to be enemies but we're almost friends now. Sort of. Still, sometimes I feel like she wants to take over the magazine when it was really my idea. That's why it
has
to be my story on the cover.'

‘Well, you'll just have to work hard to write the best article then,' her father said, smiling. ‘Look at Stella Davis. She didn't get to have her own column by just sitting around, did she?'

‘I guess not,' said Lina, catching her father's smile. She paused as a thought came to her that she had never dared find words to express. ‘Do you think . . . Do you think I could ever become a journalist like Stella Davis?' Once her dream was out in words, it hung between them like a fragile bubble. Lina didn't breathe for fear it might burst.

Her father pulled her in tight to his chest. ‘Lina, if you work hard, you can be whatever you want to be,' he said into her hair, then kissed the top of her head. ‘That's why we are here. That's why we work so hard. So you kids can have everything we weren't able to.'

Lina hugged her father back. ‘Thank you, Papa,' she said.

Lina's father turned another page of the newspaper and took a sip of his strong black coffee. The Olympic stories filled the first half of the paper, the second half contained anything else that might be going on in the world. ‘What else can you translate for me?'

Lina pointed to a photo of a tank rolling through a narrow street. She read the caption:
Soviet tanks crush Hungarian hopes for revolution.
‘Why are they still fighting? Didn't the war end years ago?'

‘Yes, Lina,' her father said. He took another sip of coffee and the aroma filled Lina's nostrils. ‘For us it is. But the Russians took control of Hungary after the war. You remember how we read that article together a few weeks ago about the university students protesting in the streets of Budapest?'

Lina nodded, vaguely remembering.

‘Well, the Hungarians don't want to be controlled by the Russians anymore. Imagine another country taking over Australia and making us do everything they say. Making up rules that mean we can't do what we want.  You wouldn't like that, would you?'

Lina shook her head. ‘No, of course not!'

‘Well, at first it looked like the Russian government might listen, but then – just days ago – the Russian army sent tanks into Hungary to attack the students. Those poor Hungarians are fighting to get their country back from the Russians, but how can a bunch of students with handmade explosives possibly win against an army of tanks?'

‘That's awful!' Lina said. ‘The Russians should just leave the Hungarians alone. It's not
their
country.'

‘People do cruel things to feel powerful, Lina,' her father sighed. ‘Especially if they know they can't lose. Remember that boy in your primary school who used to hit little children to make himself feel big and strong? He would never fight someone as big as him, would he?'

Lina nodded. ‘That was Peter. I remember him. And when Bruno challenged him that time, he burst into tears and ran away!'

Lina's father patted her hand, happy to see that she understood. ‘And when the school got hold of his parents, you remember what his father was like? A big bully who beat his little boy. Cowards come in all shapes and sizes, Lina, but the worst ones are the bullies.'

‘That was what happened to Bruno, wasn't it?' Lina blurted. ‘He was beaten up by a bully. Wasn't he, Papa?' She desperately wanted to tell her father that she knew all about the Carlton Park Gang, even though Bruno had demanded she keep it a secret.

But her father only frowned at her. ‘Lina,you need to let that drop now, okay? This is your brother's business. If he doesn't want to share that with us you need to respect that. He will have his reasons. Come along now.'

He kissed Lina's forehead and she clasped him around the waist to make him stay a little longer, her mind still buzzing with questions. In the evenings before he left for work, he still smelled like her father, not the factory, and she breathed in his lovely coffee, tobacco and sunshine smell. She wanted to ask him more, but she knew he would only begin to get grumpy and she hated the thought of him going off to work in a bad mood.

All the students were already in class and the school grounds were deathly quiet except for the
snip, snip, snip
of Old Ben's secateurs as he clipped away at the rose bushes nearby. Even though it was still early in the day, the sun already stung Lina's bare arms and made the bitumen shimmer. The sky was bleached the palest blue, and the air was dry and still. Lina pulled the brim of her school hat down over her forehead to give her face more shade as she waited for Sarah and her father to pick her up from in front of the school gates. They were off to see the Olympic swimming that morning – the event that Lina had been waiting for – and Sarah's father had offered to go with them, as Lina's parents were working. Now Lina waited nervously in the sharp morning sun.

Eventually a big grey Mercedes pulled up to the curb where Lina stood and Sarah and her father stepped out of the car. Sarah was wearing a pretty floral dress, a small felt hat and lace gloves. Her father was in a crisp grey suit that matched his steely grey eyes. The same grey eyes as his daughter's, but without the occasional glimmer of friendliness that Lina sometimes saw in Sarah's. Mr Buttersworth nodded at Lina and stuck out his hand. Lina quickly wiped her sweaty palms down the sides of her school uniform. Lina's father took her hand in a firm grip and gave it one brisk shake.

‘Dad, this is Lina,' Sarah said in a stiff voice.

‘Good morning, Mr Buttersworth,' Lina said politely. ‘Thank you for picking me up today.'

Lina's father looked down his long straight nose and raised an eyebrow. ‘You speak good English,' he said, sounding surprised. ‘Not like most of those new Australians. They don't even
try
to learn the language. Your parents must speak good English, too, I imagine?'

Now I understand where Sarah gets her rudeness from! Lina thought. ‘Actually, we only speak Italian at home,' she mumbled.

‘Really?' Sarah's father said, tilting his head back even further. Sarah shifted uncomfortably and picked at a loose thread in her lace gloves. ‘Well, it's not often that St Brigid's allow
migrants
into the school, I must say. It has a very long and . . .' he paused, searching for the right word, ‘
exclusive
history. You should feel honoured.' He grimaced a stiff half smile, but it did nothing to extinguish the fire that had begun to burn in Lina's chest.

I can't believe he can say things like that! she fumed. She took a deep breath and tried to think of how Sister Rosemary might respond. Calm and clever, she told herself. Calm and clever. ‘Actually,' she said to Mr Buttersworth, with only a slight waver in her voice, ‘I did a little survey for our school magazine recently. You might be surprised to know there are, in fact, forty-three students who consider themselves
new Australians
.' She met Mr Buttersworth's eye to see how he would respond. Sarah was still picking at her glove.

‘Well . . . that
is
surprising,' Sarah's father said, his lip curling slightly in distaste. ‘Especially in a school of only six hundred students. I suppose it was bound to happen. It's happening all over Australia, now that our government has this ridiculous open door policy. It's just a little disappointing to discover that St Brigid's isn't more discerning, that's all. Not that I doubt you're a good student, Lina. I'm not talking about
you,
of course. Sarah says you are almost as good a writer as she is!'

Lina looked at Sarah, who hadn't taken her eyes off her glove, and decided it would be better not to respond. Instead she smiled briskly in Mr Buttersworth's direction. ‘Well, I'm glad we're going to be inside today,' she said. ‘It looks like it's going to be a scorcher!'

I can be just like you, Sister Rosemary, Lina thought proudly. Calm and clever. Calm and clever.