The Exam

You storm out of the building and look back dismissively, jamming a couple of pens in your furry blue bag.

 

How was it? I ask.

Terrible you respond. You can give up on that idea. I think I’m over school anyway. 

I don’t say anything for a while. I smoke a cigarette and we stand in silence. Can I have one?

Okay then. Onwards. We get in the car. I drive across the harbor bridge and you are unusually stony. I know you are a narky these days but this is still unlike you. So, what did they ask?

I don’t know. A bunch of maths questions. Sine and Cosine. A couple of essays. Everyone else there was Indian.

Oh. What kind of essays?

A creative writing piece and a question to the effect of ‘what do you feel strongly about today’. Ha! You look out the window and rip out a chunk of long brown hair.

I see. So what do you feel strongly about today. Or what did you write about at least. You sigh the sigh of the tortured teenager.

Today, I feel strongly about lobsters being thrown into boiling pots of water still alive, in China town specifically. So I wrote about that. The RSPCA has just pushed through legislation which dictates the practice is illegal and they must be pierced through the head with a sharp  object before being thrown into boiling water. I like that they specified sharp object, knowing that if you leave humans to their own devices they will interpret the obligation to kill the poor thing in their own way. So we need to tell them how to do it. Seriously. What is wrong with people?

Is that what you wrote?

Sort of. I refrained from the heavy judgment bit at the end. I don't know, it was in the SMH this morning.

We spend another minute in silence. And the creative piece?

You start laughing. I wrote about the Halliday sisters. I laugh a little to. I am waiting for you to explain. You don’t.

What did you write?

I wrote about how they used to hit me with sticks. I wrote about sweating in a leotard from the Australian sun as it pureed throughout the window in commodious lashings. I wrote about the fragrance of Haymarket, the way we would get changed and the older girls would do our hair, the splash dazzling costumes that got me through the hard times, the way I broke my toes on pointe, the piano player. It was a taste of a taste. I seriously hated that place. But thank you. It was a great story. You are still laughing. I don’t see what is so funny. The Hallidays are highly respected teachers, erstwhile prima donna ballerinas. I know they beat you, I’m not that happy about it, but they were mean to me to. What choice did I have? You were pigeon toed. The doctor said I had to send you to ballet or you would fall down some stairs and die. What’s worth doing is worth doing properly. That’s why I picked the meanest family lawyer in Australia. He turned out to be a good lawyer.

So you think you didn't do so well?

No. I did not do so well. Your laugh is hollow. I wish you were the sweet little person who picked up coconuts in Hawaii as Uncle Alistair cut them and Nicky pulled you away from the crashing waves, You just smiled and jumped and clutched your little legs. Your eyes were hazel, your hair was light gold and whisky and I thought nothing would ever come between us.

Oh well. All tests are a good experience.

Yep. Whatever.

We go for gelato and it is just you and me again, we are close.

A few weeks later they call me and tell me you topped the exam. Would you like to join the school for year 11. I don't know. I'll ask her I say. Do you want to go to their school Chicken Little?

Sure you say. Your smile is twisted, rebellious and not pretty. 

An hour later we are having coffee. Something has shifted. The exam- it's only because every other person there was Indian you say. You  toy with the froth. Sure, I'll go. I wonder where this attitude has come from. Secretly I am so glad. I hated the convent, what it was doing to you. It is the start of a new chapter, your renaissance. You would ditch the heels and glitz and nonsense and be around people you related to. It was the school you were meant to go to all along.