Every year there is an Elsie Locke writing competition for year 7 and 8's all around New Zealand. Thousand enter every year. This year the topic was to write a narrative about people and protest and taking a stand on something. Here is my entry:
Droplets of rain began to fall onto my etiolated cheeks. I sat shivering as the frigid cold air sunk into my skin. The only warmth I possessed was my father's strong arms cradling me tightly.The polished grey concrete hardly supported my aching back, while the thin cotton blanket flew off our bare legs with a powerful gust of wind. A faint fluorescent street light glowed above us. Life has lost its meaning. Salty tears met the sides of my lips as I gazed at the Sky tower in the distance of central Auckland and at the millions of lights scattered underneath it.
A glimmer of anger welled up inside of me as I saw people walk past without a hint of interest in us. They were probably going home. Home.“Andrew” Dad whispered to me silently “I got a job today. It isn't much but it is enough. I can't look after you in the day anymore so I need someone else to look after you. I've enrolled you at school”.
The thick iron gates closed behind me as I walked across the silent courtyard. On the corner of my eye I saw a maroon station wagon drive past just as I entered.I knew my best clothes hardly passed these people's standards. They are all better than me. It will be an achievement if I can survive the first day. As I walked into Room 4 for the first time, 32 prying eyes peered at me, taking in my ripped clothes and scarred face with one judgmental gaze. They all quickly looked away.
The day dragged on slowly, each minute getting slower than the next. My interest had long gone. As the bell went for the end of the day, My teacher Mrs. Mathews caught me just as I was exiting out the door.“ Andrew, you haven't been listening to a word I have said all day. Is everything alright?” I nodded slowly and kept on walking. I scuffed my feet along the pavement, as the rocks crushed loudly underfoot. Cars sped past quickly and old smiling faces met the kids in my class. No one was waiting for me.
Turning a corner onto an unfamiliar street, I heard a maroon station wagon slowing down just behind me and then immediately speeding up again. I've seen that car before. That was weird. I quickly forgot about it and brought my thoughts back to spending another night on unforgiving concrete.
The school looked even more dreary than I remembered the day before as I wandered into my empty classroom. I heard light footsteps behind me just as I was sitting at my desk. The fan at the back of the room sent a cool breeze up my back. Someone approached me as some petite, bony fingers touched my shoulder soothingly. “Andrew, I know something’s wrong. I’ve seen you walk along the street but never going into a house. It is fine if you don’t want to tell me but it might help” My teachers familiar voice was a smooth as silk. I told her everything. “I only have my dad as family. The people with enough money can buy a house. We can’t.” Mrs Mathews looked at me gravely. Here pale brown eyes were filled with sympathy. “What if you could have a house?”
I ran towards the crimson sun as it fell behind the peak of Mt Eden. It reminded me of tomorrow. Tomorrow where I might have a home. A life. Life hasn’t lost its meaning.
