The badge on her chest told the story of her journey that morning. It would be from that bus stop on the country road amongst the sticks to the centre of the small town close to the beach. Approximately three quarters of an hour on a good day. It gave the young girl plenty of time to think at the beginning of her day and plenty of time to reminisce of an afternoon. The badge was stitched to the inferior green fabric to her class mates and it was a little faded compared to the others as well due to the fact it was being and had been reused before. As it was reflected in the bus window, the symbol looked like any other, the words we shall walk, learn and strive as one rapped around the college crest. The girl sat in the middle, not too far towards the back of the bus where she subjected to taunts from the older kids and not to far up the front where she had to listen to the year 7 kids talk absolute garbage for 45 mins. The middle was perfect and she could be alone there.
Looking out beyond all, the land looked cool, with frost melting from the blades of grass. The trees flew past without notice as it just became an insignificant feature of the trip into town. The girl had travelled along this road countless times; bend here, rock there, Mr Miller’s cow grazing right about now. The thing that surprised her that morning was the bookcase on the side of the road full of books. That didn’t belong there. It was odd, different, someone should clear it from the side of the road and place it back inside she thought. She couldn’t clear it from her mind though, not so much the bookcase but the way she reacted. What made her so suddenly exclude the idea of a bookcase on the side of the road? What made it not belong?
She belonged at her college, did she not? She looked down upon herself, she had the green shirt and the dark blue skirt which made her dress like all the other children that she attended school with, the badge labelled her like a brand of chips. It plucked her from her home and placed her among others calling it a community. This principal hauled himself on stage every Thursday without fail and droned on for what felt like hours about community, security, equality and support as if saying them would create them. The girl thought about the endless speeches and how on the out side, she did belong to her college, she certainly couldn’t turn up at the girls catholic school down the road in her uniform. No, she didn’t belong there; she was branded to her college. But then again it certainly didn’t feel like she belonged there at recess and lunch. After 3 years she had worked out that the awkwardness of sitting alone or on an edge of a group who obviously didn’t want to involve you where not worth it. It was easier not just for herself but for all around if she just headed to the library and sat quietly to read a book. Where she sat every lunch, not always reading every word on the page partly because she wasn’t into all the books and partly because she was hoping someone would come along and chat to her about the weekend or what boy they have a crush on. Sadly it never happened and instead she listened to Elizabeth Bennett falling in love with Darcy and she taught herself how lithium turned red in acid and blue in base.
Underlying truth is not so clear though. The bus lurched to a stop collecting more of her ‘community’ they certainly didn’t say good morning though. Did she or did she not belong at her school? The girl gazed back out across the land as the bus pulled out again. Home was different though she thought. She could walk in the front gate of this block of land without being labelled as a trespasser; she could walk up to the front door and know the key was in the pot plant tray 3 from the left. When she opened the door she would be greeted by her beloved Goofy and that down the hall to the right was her bedroom. In this grand home she has embraced her mum and accepted the best hugs, she is greeted by the walls of her room as her favourite posters smile upon her and she never gets an awkward feeling. In this home with her dog and her mum she feels safe and loved. Not only does her dog and mum love her but the house makes her feel loved as well as it represents the time she lost her first tooth, running smack bang into the wall and leaving a dent, and a lot of other memories as well engraved in its structure. But take away the family and take away the memories. Does this house make her feel safe anymore she thought? Will it still greet her? Will the plain walls of a shell make her feel loved? Simple answer. No.
The girl was the last off the bus at school, how, she thought, can an out of place bookcase trigger such a train of thoughts. The bookcase obviously is not in the right place, it would be like turning up at the girl’s catholic college in this uniform, from the outside it wasn’t meant to be there it was defiantly odd. But what was in the bookcase, what connection did it have with the side of the road. The girl put it into context. Maybe it was like her turning up to the girls college in her uniform to go for an interview, she had more friends there than here, they would talk to her and include her while she waits to talk to the principal. It would make the interview less intimidating. She thought, when she gets home she will ask her mum if she could enrol into the girls catholic college, her friends from netball did attend there and already she felt a little bit more confident about herself.
Looking out beyond all, the land looked cool, with frost melting from the blades of grass. The trees flew past without notice as it just became an insignificant feature of the trip into town. The girl had travelled along this road countless times; bend here, rock there, Mr Miller’s cow grazing right about now. The thing that surprised her that morning was the bookcase on the side of the road full of books. That didn’t belong there. It was odd, different, someone should clear it from the side of the road and place it back inside she thought. She couldn’t clear it from her mind though, not so much the bookcase but the way she reacted. What made her so suddenly exclude the idea of a bookcase on the side of the road? What made it not belong?
She belonged at her college, did she not? She looked down upon herself, she had the green shirt and the dark blue skirt which made her dress like all the other children that she attended school with, the badge labelled her like a brand of chips. It plucked her from her home and placed her among others calling it a community. This principal hauled himself on stage every Thursday without fail and droned on for what felt like hours about community, security, equality and support as if saying them would create them. The girl thought about the endless speeches and how on the out side, she did belong to her college, she certainly couldn’t turn up at the girls catholic school down the road in her uniform. No, she didn’t belong there; she was branded to her college. But then again it certainly didn’t feel like she belonged there at recess and lunch. After 3 years she had worked out that the awkwardness of sitting alone or on an edge of a group who obviously didn’t want to involve you where not worth it. It was easier not just for herself but for all around if she just headed to the library and sat quietly to read a book. Where she sat every lunch, not always reading every word on the page partly because she wasn’t into all the books and partly because she was hoping someone would come along and chat to her about the weekend or what boy they have a crush on. Sadly it never happened and instead she listened to Elizabeth Bennett falling in love with Darcy and she taught herself how lithium turned red in acid and blue in base.
Underlying truth is not so clear though. The bus lurched to a stop collecting more of her ‘community’ they certainly didn’t say good morning though. Did she or did she not belong at her school? The girl gazed back out across the land as the bus pulled out again. Home was different though she thought. She could walk in the front gate of this block of land without being labelled as a trespasser; she could walk up to the front door and know the key was in the pot plant tray 3 from the left. When she opened the door she would be greeted by her beloved Goofy and that down the hall to the right was her bedroom. In this grand home she has embraced her mum and accepted the best hugs, she is greeted by the walls of her room as her favourite posters smile upon her and she never gets an awkward feeling. In this home with her dog and her mum she feels safe and loved. Not only does her dog and mum love her but the house makes her feel loved as well as it represents the time she lost her first tooth, running smack bang into the wall and leaving a dent, and a lot of other memories as well engraved in its structure. But take away the family and take away the memories. Does this house make her feel safe anymore she thought? Will it still greet her? Will the plain walls of a shell make her feel loved? Simple answer. No.
The girl was the last off the bus at school, how, she thought, can an out of place bookcase trigger such a train of thoughts. The bookcase obviously is not in the right place, it would be like turning up at the girl’s catholic college in this uniform, from the outside it wasn’t meant to be there it was defiantly odd. But what was in the bookcase, what connection did it have with the side of the road. The girl put it into context. Maybe it was like her turning up to the girls college in her uniform to go for an interview, she had more friends there than here, they would talk to her and include her while she waits to talk to the principal. It would make the interview less intimidating. She thought, when she gets home she will ask her mum if she could enrol into the girls catholic college, her friends from netball did attend there and already she felt a little bit more confident about herself.
