After

Read After for Free Online Page A

Book: Read After for Free Online
Authors: Sue Lawson
Tags: Juvenile Fiction/General
lecturer. He’s into art history, that sort of stuff.’
    ‘Is he Greek?’ asked Grandpa.
    ‘Nah, Australian.’
    ‘Oh,’ said Grandpa. ‘Christos—it sounds Greek.’
    ‘His mum and dad were born in Greece. They’re both dead now.’
    ‘Did you spend much time with them?’
    ‘His dad died before Mum met Chris. His mum died when I started at St Pats.’ I didn’t tell Grandpa that I used to call Christos’s mum Yaya.
    Grandpa whistled out the window and Jilly sprinted after a ewe that had broken free of the group. ‘All your clothes have that greenie stuff on them?’
    ‘What do you mean?’ I asked.
    ‘You’re a walking billboard,’ said Grandpa.
    ‘Mum buys them. She’d rather spend money on something that gives twice—you know, supports a cause.’ I folded my arms. ‘When I had a job, I bought my own stuff. Without slogans.’
    Grandpa shook his head. ‘Vegetarian. Global warming. Sounds like she’s turned into a hippy. She doesn’t buy organic food and burn incense too, does she?’
    I shifted in my seat.
    Grandpa tutted. ‘A hippy.’ He made it sound like she was a criminal. He didn’t speak again until after the ewes were in the paddock near the house. At the garage, Grandpa stopped the car. ‘You can get out, Callum. I’m going to feed Star and Jilly.’
    I climbed out and went inside.

CHAPTER 8
    By Friday, I’d decided living in the country was like being stuck in a film that Christos and I had watched, about a guy who relived the same day over and over again. The days here weren’t identical, but they were close to it.
    At home, my grandparents walked around each other like a force-field stopped them from coming too close. Grandpa didn’t say much. Nan said less.
    At school, every day was the same as the one before.
    At recess and lunch, the boys sprinted for the oval where they played footy—well, kick-to-kick, because tackling was banned. It was as if the oval and grassed area had been divided into territories and the boundaries were never crossed. The little kids—preps to about Year Two—played near the portables, the other primary guys at the goals near the toilets and the older ones had most of the oval and the goals near the paddock.
    The only boy who didn’t play footy, apart from me, was Luke. He hovered on the edge. Sometimes he wandered off to the pines. From my seat I could see him staring up at the tree-tops, prising open pine cones or gathering feathers. Sometimes he sat under the pines with a notebook and drew. Most of the time, though, he hovered like he was waiting for someone, even a little kid, to ask him to play.
    The girls did the same thing in the same place every day. The older girls played netball, the little kids mucked around with stuffed toys on the play equipment, and the middle lot filled the paved area with pop music, stupid dance moves, and bossy squealing that erupted into cat fights. They were nearly annoying enough to make me move from my seat. Nearly.
    The best thing about the Winter Creek kids doing the same thing every day was that they left me alone.
    One guy, Tim, hung around my bench one recess. He asked a heap of questions—not personal stuff or anything, but questions like did I play footy, did I like the NBL and had I seen some new action film. He seemed okay, kind of funny. But my grunted answers did the trick and he didn’t hang around my seat again, though he did say hi to me. So did a round kid called Vinnie.
    Everyone else stepped around me, the same way Grandpa and Nan stepped around each other. And that suited me fine. It was strange how I liked being avoided here, but how it had killed me at St Pat’s.
    I hated it when my best friends Michael and Lochie walked past me without looking at me. Assemblies were horrible. The whole school stared like I had five heads, and no one ever spoke to me. The teachers were weird too. Last term, five of them were talking in the office when I walked in for my weekly ‘meeting’ with

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