Just wondering what you guys thought of my piece.
I know i might still need to perfect it and stuff, but my half yearlies are coming up, and id like to get it just right.
Thanks heaps
Please let me know what you think:
TESS
Mum’s got a problem.
So does Dad.
It’s not my problem, though.
At least, this is what I tell myself.
I never got much, as a kid. Like toys and stuff. We couldn’t afford them. Dad couldn’t hold down a job, and mum spent all the cash on alcohol. I thought we were normal, until I started school. All the other kids had posh lunch boxes with matching lids. Inside them they had a banana, a packet of chips, and a brown bread sandwich with Vegemite, or Nutella, or peanut butter. Something different every day, these kids had. Sometimes, they even had lamingtons. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking ‘Lamingtons for school? Bloody rich kids.’
Oh. You weren’t thinking that? Must just be me, then...
Anyways, in my lunchbox – if you could call a mismatching tin container that at all – I had an apple, a little stack of twiggy sticks, and a white bread cheese sandwich. And not even the good stuff, just that plastic crap you get for real cheap that taste like nothing. You know the stuff? So anyways, point is, from first day of school, I could tell I wasn’t like the others. The sad thing was so could they.
School days came and went. At three o’clock I’d be so glad to escape the schoolyard torment of my clothes, my food, my hair – whatever, only to realise that I must enter another realm of humiliation and suffering. Abuse rains down on me like a hail of bullets as I walk in the front door. Mum runs at me with fury in her bloodshot eyes, “I told you not to come home without bread! You,” indicating my father “look at your bloody son! He’s a good-for-nothing, just like you! How can I live in this house anymore?” She raises her arms above her head. I can see her hands are shaking. I look across the small living room to see my father in his pyjamas, unshaven and distant. Knowing he wouldn’t be of much use, I pull a loaf of bread out of my scabby backpack. Mum looks at it, and then at me, then looks me up and down. “We eat white bread, you worthless piece of –"
I try to cut her off. “Ma, I thought we could try something a little different...You know? Spice it up a little.”
She looks at me as if I were the Devil himself. Mum stomps her foot, spins and walks off to the kitchen.
Off to fit in another round of drinks before dinner, I guess.
So yep, that’s my family. My mum’s an alco, dad’s a sloth. And me? I don't know what I am...
I'm not too smart, but I reckon that’s only because I don't have time to study. Mum keeps me busy, running errands and stuff for her, “get some bread, clean the house – blah blah blah.” I just...I just want to be better than the kids at school at something – at ANYTHING, you know what I mean. I'm too scrawny for footy. I don't have really nice clothes, and I'm not invited out to places. I'm not smart. My parents don't get asked to functions and junk. I guess I just don't fit anywhere.
School is hell.
You’re dumb
You’re poor
You don't...
You wont...
You can’t...
I can’t.
If that’s what I’ve been told, maybe it’s true. D‘you hear what I'm saying?
Oh, but there was this one time. Yeah, it was a year back, now. Okay, so I'm in year nine, first day of school. Just sitting in class, minding my beeswax, when in walks this chick.
Wow, she was something, you know? Just, oh. She was something else.
Once I floated back down to my seat, I quickly lowered my head, just in case she got embarrassed when anyone saw a guy like me checking out a girl like her. Next thing I know, there’s a little tap on my shoulder. I turn real slow, fearing the unthinkable, and BOOM, there she is.
Standing right there. Close enough for me to notice she had the most amazing eyes. She thrusts out her hand, a lovely smile sits on her face – the kind of smile that is genuine, the kind that spreads all the way to her eyes. “Hi, I’m Tess. Is this seat taken?”
I
was
gobsmacked.
Out of ALL the other lads, she chose me.
I struggled for words – this had never happened to me before – but I eventually found my voice.
“I- I- I- I...no, uh...well, I don't think...but, I...no, it’s not.”
Wow. Smooth as.
And we clicked. Like I mean really clicked.
Her dad was in the navy and moved around a fair bit, so she didn’t really know how long she would be able to stay in town for. But who cared? I had finally found someone who didn’t care that I didn’t have a great amount of money, who didn’t care that I wasn’t the smartest kid at school, who gave me the opportunity to dream for the first time in my life. Tess could read me like a book. She could tell when things were bad at home and we would sit together at lunch and talk about it. We’d talk about other stuff like, well, anything, really. Conversation flowed like water between us – and the fountain never stopped.
She made me feel worthy.
Worthy of conversation. Worthy of friendship. Worthy of love.
That is, until she had to leave.
“Dad’s being re-stationed,” she said “I- I don't have a choice.”
I cried so hard that day.
But don't tell my mum.
I try.
I try to try.
Tess was my backbone. The one I shared my secrets with. My shadows, she turned to light. And she was the only person who could do that. The only person who will ever do that.
I can’t. You know, I just can’t.
I don't fit anywhere. I'm just back to being the old me. Like I said, Tess happened a year ago.
I'm not so sure if I can ever get to that point again.
Oh well. Let’s try to be optimistic.
That’s what Tess always said, anyways.
I know i might still need to perfect it and stuff, but my half yearlies are coming up, and id like to get it just right.
Thanks heaps
Please let me know what you think:TESS
Mum’s got a problem.
So does Dad.
It’s not my problem, though.
At least, this is what I tell myself.
I never got much, as a kid. Like toys and stuff. We couldn’t afford them. Dad couldn’t hold down a job, and mum spent all the cash on alcohol. I thought we were normal, until I started school. All the other kids had posh lunch boxes with matching lids. Inside them they had a banana, a packet of chips, and a brown bread sandwich with Vegemite, or Nutella, or peanut butter. Something different every day, these kids had. Sometimes, they even had lamingtons. Yeah, I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking ‘Lamingtons for school? Bloody rich kids.’
Oh. You weren’t thinking that? Must just be me, then...
Anyways, in my lunchbox – if you could call a mismatching tin container that at all – I had an apple, a little stack of twiggy sticks, and a white bread cheese sandwich. And not even the good stuff, just that plastic crap you get for real cheap that taste like nothing. You know the stuff? So anyways, point is, from first day of school, I could tell I wasn’t like the others. The sad thing was so could they.
School days came and went. At three o’clock I’d be so glad to escape the schoolyard torment of my clothes, my food, my hair – whatever, only to realise that I must enter another realm of humiliation and suffering. Abuse rains down on me like a hail of bullets as I walk in the front door. Mum runs at me with fury in her bloodshot eyes, “I told you not to come home without bread! You,” indicating my father “look at your bloody son! He’s a good-for-nothing, just like you! How can I live in this house anymore?” She raises her arms above her head. I can see her hands are shaking. I look across the small living room to see my father in his pyjamas, unshaven and distant. Knowing he wouldn’t be of much use, I pull a loaf of bread out of my scabby backpack. Mum looks at it, and then at me, then looks me up and down. “We eat white bread, you worthless piece of –"
I try to cut her off. “Ma, I thought we could try something a little different...You know? Spice it up a little.”
She looks at me as if I were the Devil himself. Mum stomps her foot, spins and walks off to the kitchen.
Off to fit in another round of drinks before dinner, I guess.
So yep, that’s my family. My mum’s an alco, dad’s a sloth. And me? I don't know what I am...
I'm not too smart, but I reckon that’s only because I don't have time to study. Mum keeps me busy, running errands and stuff for her, “get some bread, clean the house – blah blah blah.” I just...I just want to be better than the kids at school at something – at ANYTHING, you know what I mean. I'm too scrawny for footy. I don't have really nice clothes, and I'm not invited out to places. I'm not smart. My parents don't get asked to functions and junk. I guess I just don't fit anywhere.
School is hell.
You’re dumb
You’re poor
You don't...
You wont...
You can’t...
I can’t.
If that’s what I’ve been told, maybe it’s true. D‘you hear what I'm saying?
Oh, but there was this one time. Yeah, it was a year back, now. Okay, so I'm in year nine, first day of school. Just sitting in class, minding my beeswax, when in walks this chick.
Wow, she was something, you know? Just, oh. She was something else.
Once I floated back down to my seat, I quickly lowered my head, just in case she got embarrassed when anyone saw a guy like me checking out a girl like her. Next thing I know, there’s a little tap on my shoulder. I turn real slow, fearing the unthinkable, and BOOM, there she is.
Standing right there. Close enough for me to notice she had the most amazing eyes. She thrusts out her hand, a lovely smile sits on her face – the kind of smile that is genuine, the kind that spreads all the way to her eyes. “Hi, I’m Tess. Is this seat taken?”
I
was
gobsmacked.
Out of ALL the other lads, she chose me.
I struggled for words – this had never happened to me before – but I eventually found my voice.
“I- I- I- I...no, uh...well, I don't think...but, I...no, it’s not.”
Wow. Smooth as.
And we clicked. Like I mean really clicked.
Her dad was in the navy and moved around a fair bit, so she didn’t really know how long she would be able to stay in town for. But who cared? I had finally found someone who didn’t care that I didn’t have a great amount of money, who didn’t care that I wasn’t the smartest kid at school, who gave me the opportunity to dream for the first time in my life. Tess could read me like a book. She could tell when things were bad at home and we would sit together at lunch and talk about it. We’d talk about other stuff like, well, anything, really. Conversation flowed like water between us – and the fountain never stopped.
She made me feel worthy.
Worthy of conversation. Worthy of friendship. Worthy of love.
That is, until she had to leave.
“Dad’s being re-stationed,” she said “I- I don't have a choice.”
I cried so hard that day.
But don't tell my mum.
I try.
I try to try.
Tess was my backbone. The one I shared my secrets with. My shadows, she turned to light. And she was the only person who could do that. The only person who will ever do that.
I can’t. You know, I just can’t.
I don't fit anywhere. I'm just back to being the old me. Like I said, Tess happened a year ago.
I'm not so sure if I can ever get to that point again.
Oh well. Let’s try to be optimistic.
That’s what Tess always said, anyways.
