New Beginnings

• Rosie Skull, Grade 11
• Short Story
• 2017

The near-broken air conditioning whistled and wheezed like an asthmatic, a fine coat of red dust covered the windows. Only the steady clunk of the windscreen wipers kept me from dozing. The red road rolled swiftly beneath us as we passed sign after sign, the town names getting more obscure and the kilometres stretching out into four digits. The trees were faded green blurs, the sun just a blinding spot high in the sky.

In the front seat, my Dads exchanged frequent glances, possibly wondering whether I had noticed the dilapidated children’s playground, missing both swings, and the devastatingly large mansion we had just passed. It reminded me of a birthday cake, painted a shade of pink similar to toothpaste, a brick chimney poking from the top like a lit candle.

It was so different from the faded image on the real estate booklet - vigorously circled with red pen marking our new house – that I felt the familiar swell of jealousy balloon in my stomach. Familiar because my life was filled with jealousy, craving the ease that other people seemed to take for granted. Wanting to be able to walk down the street with my family without hearing the slurs, wishing that our letterbox would stay up for more than a week before being knocked down.

Fervently, I hoped this town would be different. Different to the small-minded one we had just escaped, full of bigoted, narrow-minded people who had made our lives hell right up to the minute Jack had shut the car boot and checked the straps on our luggage on the roof, and Elijah had floored the gas pedal to get us out of there.

It wasn’t that the people themselves were truly horrible. No, it was the religion that they all lived by, the strict belief that blinded them to people’s personalities or virtues and simply led them to judge regarding family structure or sexuality.
Children who didn’t understand why some words were so deeply rooted in hate; why their families crossed the street to avoid us or refused to take apples from the shelf if me, or one of my Dads, had touched them previously.
“Ellie.” Jack’s voice pulled me from my thoughts, my forehead slipping from the window.

“Mm?” I replied, my voice groggy with sheer exhaustion.

“Have a look out the window.” I could hear the smile in his voice.

Elijah slowed the car as we passed a large sign emblazoned with the name of our new town. I smiled faintly, now really making the connection until I looked more closely. At the bottom of the sign, written in curly, rainbow letters were the words: WE WELCOME EVERYONE. Elijah and Jack clasped hands over the glovebox and smiled at each other, before looking back at me.
“We’re home, Ellie. This is home.”

The bitumen crunched under our wheels as we passed under the sign, the sun high over our head, bouncing iridescent rainbows onto the windscreen. This was it. Our new beginning.