Letters from the Inside Read Free Page B

the Grand Final. Oh well, gotta go to bed. But it’s so exciting, I wanted to tell you.
    Love, Trace

    April 3
    Dear Trace,
    Wow, you star! That’s fantastic! I’m rapt. Congratulations. I’ve never done anything like that in my life. So when’s the big one? Bet you’re revved-up for it. That’s a hot team you’ve got there. Better tell Mrs Strauss to get herself in gear.
    I love basketball — well, watching it I mean. I’ve been to a couple of NBL games and they were great — the atmosphere was huge. And I watch it on TV sometimes. I love those American guys. I wish I was tall and black and cool. Instead I’m short and pinky-brown and not cool enough.
    So have you stopped celebrating yet? Wonder if you’ll be playing Chieftains again in the Grand Final. If you do you should be confident.
    This has been a good couple of days, a good start to the week. Katrina was home for the weekend, and stayed till last night (think she missed a few classes). It’s so good when she’s home — everything’s much better. Plus I scored a heavy 78% in a Maths test, which is good for me, especially as we were doing parabolas, which I hate. I can’t see the use of them.
    You sure turned the tables on me with those questions. They’re good though — they made me think. Some are a bit hard to answer, like, what my friends and I do in our spare time. I mean, we just do all the obvious stuff, like goss, back-stab, shop, go to the movies, check out guys, talk on the phone, play music. We even do homework once in a while. Cheryl Tsang, who wrote you that note, lives round the corner from me, and Rebecca Slater’s three blocks away, and Maria Kagiasis is opposite her. They’re about my best mates.
    We’re into sport a bit too. Maria and Rebecca and I are in the same softball team, called Mum’s Army (’cos Maria’s mum coaches us). But it’s pretty low-key, and we don’t do that well. Maria’s a mean hitter though.
    Well, next question. My room’s a complete mess, now and forever. It has a bed, but not much else that anyone’d recognize. There are clothes everywhere, probably more of Cheryl’s and my sister’s than mine. But if it was ever neat (you have to use a lot of imagination here) you’d see something like this: a bed with a doona cover of sheep playing in a paddock in cute little ways; a desk under the window, covered with books; a set of shelves with more books and ornaments and toys; a dressing-table with more ornaments and family and school photos; and a built-in wardrobe with posters on the doors (mainly of Power Without Glory, needless to say).
    The curtains are old white lace ones that used to be in my grandmother’s house. On the wall are a couple of pictures: one of my grandparents standing next to their first car; then a painting called Science and Charity , by Picasso; and then one of the ocean, by a guy called Christopher Pratt. I was allowed to choose them myself.
    As for my brother, I’ll tell you about him another time, when I’m not in such a good mood. I don’t want to spoil this letter.
    OK, last two questions. Well, for one, my parents aren’t bad. They’re strict on some things, like money, but Katrina softened them up on important issues like parties and curfews — and tidy rooms. They work hard, so they’re not home as much as some parents. They get in late quite often.
    And yes, I believe in God, although not the way the churches talk about Him/Her. I think that there’s something there, some force, some presence. We had this guy who took us for religion last year. He said he was an atheist until one day in Wales, when a friend took him to the top of a mountain, pointed to the view and said, ‘Now tell me there’s no God’. And the guy fell to his knees and was converted. I’m a bit like that I guess. I can’t look at a sunset or the sky at night or my dog or a Pizza Supreme and not believe in God.
    Wow, I’m exhausted by this letter. But why is writing a long letter to you so