by Raewyn Murray, Jack Lasenby Award Winner 2010
IT WASN’T my fault! Well, maybe it was... just a little bit. There we all are, in the
train after school. Me and Eru and Abdi and a few others, minding our own
business more or less, when about six of these great Year Eight oafs start poking
at us and tee-heeing. We have to defend ourselves, don’t we? I’m climbing on a
seat back and I’ve got this King Kong look-alike in a headlock while Eru’s leaning
over in front of him, tickling him in the ribs. King Kong’s squealing and laughing
and thrashing about, and then the train brakes.
‘It’s Pomare,’ someone says.
No! That’s my station! I let go of King Kong. I grab my parka and bag as I
rush off, and I leap onto the platform. Abdi gets out here too. The doors start to
close.
And then I realise. My insides go flip-flop and I feel sick. I think I’ve left
my cell phone on the train.
I rush back and try to get on again, but the doors have closed. The train’s
moving off. ‘Stop!’ I yell, racing along the platform. ‘Stop! I need to get back on.’
But I’m too late...
