Robyn Bavati - A Weekend with Oscar

The piercing beep of the alarm clock jolts me awake. I force myself to get out of bed, inwardly cursing whoever decided that school would start at 8.30 am.

I tread barefoot and shivering down the hallway to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and glance at the bleary-eyed guy in the mirror. Medium height. A little on the skinny side. Light brown hair.

I dress for school, my uniform stiff and uncomfortable after the two-week winter break, most of which I spent nose-deep in books.

The kitchen is quieter than it used to be. I still notice this daily, even though its been nine months since Dad died. He always listened to the morning news.

I fight the familiar tug of grief. If I gave into it, I might go back to bed and never get up.

Hi, Jamie, says Oscar.

Morning, bro. Morning, Mum.

Good morning, Jamie.

Hey, Oscar, I say, your shirt is on the wrong way around.

It used to be Dad who made sure Oscars hair was brushed and his clothes were on properly. Now its all on Mum.

Take it off and put it on again, says Mum, mashing egg for Oscars sandwich.

Oscar ignores her. Hes crouching by the sink, tying and untying his shoelaces.

I can make his lunch, I say. But I already know shell refuse my help.

No need, Mum says, a stoic expression on her face.

A part of me wishes shed let me help. A bigger part is glad she wont. The mornings are rushed enough as it is. I grab a pile of books from the kitchen table and cram them into my schoolbag.

I can give you a lift after the bus leaves, Mum offers as she wraps Oscars sandwich.

Thats okay, I say, through a mouthful of toast, Id rather walk. Which isnt exactly true, but I dont want to be an added burden on Mum. Besides, who knows how long it will be till Oscar is ready. The bus that will take him to New Haven Special School will wait for him, but my maths teacher, Mrs Malone, will not wait for me.

Bye, bro, I say, holding my hand out to high-five Oscar.

He lets go of the shoelace and reaches up to high-five me back. Twenty days till my birthday, he says.

Mum smiles as she zips up his bag. What would you like to do for your birthday?

A party, says Oscar. A big Bye Jamie, he calls as I head for the door.

I sprint down sleepy streets, past single and double-storey houses with neat front gardens.

The traffic thickens when I hit the main road. Hampton Street shopping strip is on my right, but most of the shops dont open till ten. I head left, towards Milton College, and reach the school with one minute to spare.

The massive bulk of Ethan Chandler is blocking the doorway to the classroom, forcing me to push my way past. He snarls at me and I glare right back, but our mutual hostility is so automatic I almost dont notice it.

I sit down at the same desk I sat at last term. Dan Nguyen, my best mate since we bonded over a mutual but fleeting obsession with spiders on the first day of primary school, slides his short, skinny frame into the seat beside me.

Almost drowned in the holidays, he says, a little breathless.

What! Why?

My marks were below C-level.

I let out a groan.

The class falls silent as Mrs Malone enters. She does a quick tour of the room collecting homework.

Wheres yours? she asks Dan.

I ate it, he says. You said it was a piece of cake.

A few of us chuckle.

Mrs Malone rolls her eyes, unamused. She writes some complex equations on the board and starts to explain them.

Ten minutes into the lesson, theres a knock on the door and a girl comes in. Shes slim and delicate with honey-blonde hair that reaches her shoulders.

She looks around the room and our eyes meet briefly. For the first time since Dad died, something stirs inside me a sense of excitement Id almost forgotten.

Is this Year 10 accelerated? Her voice is soft and tinkling.

Yes, says Mrs Malone, her face brightening at the prospect of another pupil. This is accelerated maths.

In Year 10 accelerated, we do Year 12 maths and two other Year 12 subjects of our choice, as well as two Year 11 subjects and Year 10 English. That way, by the time we reach Year 12, we can take university subjects for extra points.

Are you Zara Bennett? Mrs Malone asks.

The girl nods.

Good. Glad you managed to find the room. Its a bit of a maze, this school. Take a seat, Zara.

Every desk in the room is taken except for the one thats right beside Chandler. As Zara sits down beside him, Chandler looks her up and down, his gaze brazen. I have a strong urge to hurl him out of the window.

In my peripheral vision, I see dark-haired Felicity Taylor with her cynical smile. Shes watching me watching Chandler. Strange to think I once had a fleeting crush on her ...

I turn my attention back to Zara.

She catches me staring. I give her a slight, embarrassed smile, then look away.

Its hard to concentrate on maths. I keep glancing at Zara.

After the lesson, I dawdle outside the classroom door. But its Mrs Malone, not Zara, who comes out first. How are things at home, Jamie? The teachers always speak to me as if theyve been given explicit instructions to be kind. While Im telling Mrs Malone that were managing fine, Zara slips past silently and disappears.

At lunchtime, Dan and I head to the oval, ignoring the cold.

How did your break go?

Torture, says Dan. My mum practically locked me in my room. At least I wasnt actually handcuffed to my desk.

I shake my head, not sure how much hes exaggerating. What did you do in there for all those hours?

Mostly practised my stand-up. Ive been working on a new routine.

Cant wait to see it.

Dans a regular at Platform 15 , a monthly open mic event for under eighteens.

So, did you manage to get any studying done?

Almost none, he says. Luckily, my mum has no idea. As long as Im in my room, she thinks Im studying.

Shes going to realise at some point.

Yeah, dont rub it in. He lets out a sigh. God, I hate the idea of accelerated learning. I mean, whats the rush? What the hell is the point?

I used to think there wasnt one, but that was before Dad died. Now, Im aiming to get into a top university, finish studying and get a well-paying job as soon as possible to help with the familys finances. I know Dad had life insurance and Mum did get some money after he died, but it wont last forever, especially since she decided to use a huge chunk of it on my education.

But while I actually like the accelerated class, Dan has been complaining about it all year.

Why dont you ask to swap classes? I suggest.

You know my mum. Shed never agree.

You cant know that for sure.

Dan ignores this. So, my new routine will focus on my daily life, he says, changing the subject, but also on my ethnicity, because thats mainly what people seem to see. Can I run some of it by you?

Go for it, mate.

Hi, Im Dan. I was born in Melbourne and even people who know that ask where Im from. What they mean is, whats your ancestry? Vietnamese, I tell them. Hide your dogs and cats, I say.

The way Dan delivers this line is heavily accented and over the top. I crack up laughing.