Fiction: Group 4
call home cannot be fixed with a mushy nickname. ‘What?’ I spat. ‘What else is there? I’m adopted? You
have cancer? My real dad is a Persian emperor?’ What bigger bombshell can she drop than that we’re
leaving?
‘Sash! Where the heck are you?’ I tear my stinging eyes away from the skyline. I don’t want to talk,
especially not to him. ‘Sash? Hey!’ My little brother scrambles up the rock. ‘Mum’s scared witless, Dad
thinks you’ve been kidnapped by an axe murderer and I’ve been looking for you for about twenty minutes!
What the hell, Sasha!’
‘An axe murderer wouldn’t kidnap me, he’d just slice off my various body parts.’ My brother stares at me.
‘I’m just saying, I have a much better chance of being kidnapped by a kidnapper,’ I state. He tackles me into
a surprisingly strong bear hug, and something breaks inside me. Besides most of my internal organs. ‘We’re
just moving, sis. It’s not the end of the world,’ I look at him. I can’t even process this. ‘I know it’s not, but
it’s the end of
my
world.’
We hung in the air in silence. Mum looked at me like I’d slapped her. The hush slipped from my fingers
and broke. ‘Mum, I…’ Her head whipped around like a python’s. ‘Umm, never mind.’ I plugged my
headphones in and blast music into my ears so loud I’m sure she can hear it. What I was about to say was
this: I’m sorry that I was harsh, but I don’t think you understand. You moved around a lot as a kid, I know,
so this probably isn’t a big deal to you, but this city is the biggest constant in my life. This means a lot to me.
I really, really don’t want to leave. Please don’t make me.
Suspended thousands of feet above the ground, I still felt the pull of the sea, my roots keeping me in place.
Rivers are not the same.
He has pulled me back to the house. I have not kicked or screamed, but my leaden silence weighs on him,
and I know it. I know I hurt him, and I hate myself for it. They explode as soon as they see me. ‘Where
were you?’ ‘Why didn’t you tell us where you were?’ ‘What have you been doing?’ ‘How could you do this
to us?’ ‘Who do you think you are?’
The last question tore any thoughts of apology out of reach. I stand staring at the floor. I will not say one
word to them. I will not.
‘Sasha?’ It was my brother. My kind, wonderful brother who hunted down the wasp that stung me, who
told me I was stunning when I got my ears pierced, my lovely little brother who sang in his sleep and called
me the best sister ever. ‘Yeah?’ my voice was little more than a croak. ‘I… I love you.’
My face cracks into a small smile. ‘Love you too, little brother.’ It was like my parents weren’t even there.
He may be years younger than me, but he has always been my hero.
We landed without speaking. My mother gripped the armrests of the chairs as the wheels brushed the
ground with a rumble, knuckles turning white. My brother watched the camera fixed to the underside of
the plane, pointing out the sparks. My father held my hand gently. I don’t get scared anymore, just a slight
adrenaline kick at the descent when my stomach seems higher up than it should and there’s that magical
moment when anything feels possible.
Leaving the plane, immigration, getting into the car our hotel ordered – it blurred, one event spilling into
another. All I could think of was that this is not my home. ‘Hey, Sash, let’s go see the river. You like the
water, right?’
I looked at my dad like he’d sprouted wings. Sarcasm boiled in my mouth but for once I kept it shut. I like
the sea, Dad, not some mucky river famous for pollution and mutant fish. Not that I don’t appreciate the
thought. But I don’t – can’t – say that. Instead: ‘ Yeah, sure.’
