Wattle Girl

• Bri Ryan, Grade 8
• Short Story
• 2011

She was beautiful.
As I looked through the blue framed window at the end of my wooden bed, I peered through the gum leaves and strong branches at the back of the place where we were staying. I saw a flicker of light. My eyes wandered a bit more and I saw a group of people around a campfire. One girl really stood out. She was laughing and wore a crown of golden wattle on her head. I guessed maybe it was her birthday day because everybody was happy and cheerful; everybody had smiles on their faces. She seemed to catch my eye so I gave a little wave. She paused momentarily to stare in my direction then, sparkling in her own way, kept dancing in the blue moonlight. Did she see me?
Then Dad yelled with his deep voice, “I’m home son!” I rushed down the stairs to the table. When Dad’s home, tea is ready!
The next morning I asked Mum if I could go over there, Mum said, “No, she is a black. Black people are bad.” I did not believe mum. She looked nice to me. There was something really special about her.
The next day I pretended to head off to the milkbar. I yelled, “I’ll get the milk Mum!” and in a flash I was gone.
Out the door I sprinted to where they were. This time they were all crying. One particular chubby woman in a dirty orange dress was sobbing hysterically others were screaming with pain. I couldn’t see any of the kids, not even her!
Suddenly I felt a tremendous pain. My heart pounded even though I did not know what had happened.
I wondered if I should approach them. Mum had said that they were bad. They didn’t look bad to me. I wanted to know more and find out if I could help.
As I approached them, cautious of every step, a big man with a grey curly beard saw me. His eyes were red. His face had been painted but now it was ruined and the paint dripped off his face in the tears he shed. I asked him “Where are all the kids?”
He replied, “They are gone. The coppers got them.”
“And where is the girl?” I questioned.
“She has gone too!” he struggled to speak.
I looked at the pale green grass and saw the tyre tracks of one of the big cars. “I will find her!” I cried.