Huia Short Stories 11 Read Free Page A

rid of the smell of sweat.
    Some of the kids made comments, though she tried to ignore them. ‘Can’t you afford soap in your house Aarrooohaaa?’ ‘Go and jump in the river and have a wash Aarrooohaaa.’ And in class, the whisper, ‘I don’t want to sit with you. You stink.’
    The words hurt as much as the beating.
    â€˜Would you like some sugar in your Milo?’ the teacher asked, and Aroha nodded. ‘What about a muffin? I made some yesterday and there’s one or two in the fridge. Go and get them and eat them up. They’ll only go stale if you don’t.’
    Aroha sat, ate muffins and drank hot Milo. Cupping the warm drink in her hands, she swung her legs, forgetting for a moment the bruises that covered them from ankle to knee.
    â€˜What’s that on your legs?’ Pene asked, leaning forward.
    Aroha quickly pulled the uniform down as far as it would go. ‘I fell over the other day. Down some steps,’ she added quickly. ‘It’s okay. It doesn’t hurt and they’ll be gone by tomorrow. I’m always bumping into things and falling over. I’m just clumsy.’
    She turned away and, picking up the plate and cup, washed and dried them and got ready to go. She felt safe here and wished she could stay in this warm place for ever. Instead, she was going home that afternoon to face Uncle and her mother like always. Aroha didn’t think Mrs Walker would hit her kids or make them wear stinky clothes.
    The teacher put her arm around Aroha’s shoulders. The girl flinched, not meaning to, but the touch was painful. ‘Is everything all right at home? You could tell me, you know.’
    Aroha said nothing, just shook her head. Her eyes stung and she swallowed hard, but waited until she was outside before she cried and her tears mingled with the cold morning rain.
    Pene had met Aroha’s ‘uncle’ once, and the memory of that meeting still left a bad taste in her mouth. A celebrity chef had made a visit to Whakatāne, and the class were invited to experience a cook school. It was a wonderful opportunity, and the only charge was five dollars for the bus. All the children paid except Aroha, and one afternoon on her way home, Pene called in to see if there was a reason why she wasn’t allowed to go.
    An old car sat in the driveway and the house was in need of a paint. There were no curtains and one of the windows was cracked, while another had boards nailed over it. She wished she hadn’t come, but it was too late now. She knocked on the door and heard heavy footsteps. I feel like one of the Billy Goats Gruff, and here’s the Troll that lives under the bridge , she thought.
    The door opened and a man with a black bushy beard stood glaring at her. His belly pouched over his belt, a dirty shirt was open to the waist and a smell of sweat, alcohol and bad breath gathered around him in a cloud.
    Where’s your Chanel No 5 when you need it? Pene thought, taking a step back.
    â€˜What d’ya want?’ he asked, his eyes roaming up and down her body but never reaching her face.
    She explained about the trip and needing the money for the bus, but she already knew as she spoke it was a waste of time. The money in this house went on other things – certainly not school trips or, God help her, toothpaste and deodorant!
    â€˜Waste of fucking time taking kids to something like that. Bloody girl can’t cook anyway. Always burning stuff. Go and ask some other arsehole for money. You won’t get any here.’ And he shut the door in her face.
    No, she didn’t like Aroha’s ‘uncle’ at all, and in the end she had paid for the girl to go on the trip without anyone knowing.
    When Pene saw the bruises on those thin legs, a voice spoke in her head and she knew the how and why of their cause. Although only a suspicion, she knew she was right. Her own children, two little boys, were boisterous, plump as