Huia Short Stories 11 Read Free Page B

puppies and full of fun. They weren’t like this child, thin, with dark circles under her eyes and an air like she was walking on eggshells. Maybe if she got a chance later today, she would have a word with Peter Hemi, the headmaster, and see what he thought.
    But in the end, the day was a busy one; she got caught up with other problems and forgot. It wasn’t until later that evening, getting ready for bed, she remembered. ‘I’ll go and see Peter first thing tomorrow,’ she said to herself, but the feeling of guilt didn’t go away and she slept poorly that night.
    Aroha dragged her feet going home. Somehow the rain seemed colder, the puddles deeper and the day darker than it should have been mid-afternoon. She didn’t want to go inside, but there was nowhere else. She walked up the pathway, opened the door and was swallowed by the darkness.
    That night, Uncle came to her room. He’d done it before, but in the past had only stood in the doorway, yelling, swearing and threatening. This time it was different.
    Aroha was asleep, but came awake when he sat on the edge of the bed and the mattress sagged under his weight. She smelled him, a combination of beer, cigarettes and something else that was probably pot. He put his hand on her head and began to stroke it. ‘Lovely hair, just like your mother’s,’ he whispered. He ran his hand over her face and Aroha lay frozen, hardly breathing.
    His hand went lower, to her neck then her shoulders. Aroha jolted up. ‘Mum,’ she called, her voice loud in the small room, but all she heard was the sound of the television in the lounge.
    She called again, ‘Mum!’ and the name caught in her throat, she was so unfamiliar with it. How long since she last called the woman who lived in this house anything?
    The man clamped his hand over her mouth. ‘Shut up you little bitch. There’s just you and me.’ He pulled back the covers and started to get into the bed. Aroha’s heart thumped so hard in her chest, she thought it would burst. He was breathing heavily and had taken off his trousers and underpants. Panic flared, but instead of immobilising her, everything was magnified a thousand times. She hated him, this man who filled her with so much terror that sometimes when he beat her, she wet herself. She pushed him. An action so unexpected that he fell to the floor.
    Aroha leapt from the bed and ran for the front door. She gave no thought to the fact that all she had on were pyjamas. Somewhere behind her, she heard noises and her uncle’s voice calling her to come back. ‘I’ll come looking for you bitch. You can’t hide from me. You got nowhere to go.’
    A door slammed, but Aroha didn’t look round to see if he was following or had gone back inside.
    She kept running, gasping for breath, stumbling over gravel and loose stones, wincing and crying out as unseen things sliced her naked feet. No streetlights shone. No cars swished along the wet road. Aroha felt she was the only person left alive in the entire world, and it was a dark place.
    Pene Walker drove down the hill, towards the school. The car had only backfired twice, blowing out minimal smoke, which was a good omen. She decided today she would teach the kids how to make scones, maybe cheese scones if the budget ran to it.
    As she came up to the school, something caught her eye. She braked hard and the car backfired in retaliation, smoke billowing out and spreading across the car park in a black cloud. Pene got out and walked over to one of the giant oak trees, squinting, unable to quite make out what she could see.
    Then she did.
    â€˜Oh Aroha,’ she whispered. ‘What have they done to you?’
    And the teacher with the bright red hair that could have lit up a room, knelt down and gathered up the girl huddled beneath the sheltering branches of the giant oak tree and held her in her arms.

Hands of Time
Ann French
Chapter One
    The