LINA woke early, her head full of ideas. Creeping out of bed, she opened the curtain a crack so as not to wake her grandmother but just enough for a shaft of light to spill over her bedclothes like lamplight. Then she pulled her notebook out from under her pillow and found a pencil in her bedside drawer. Sunday mornings were a good time to write because everyone slept in and there was no rush to go anywhere except for church, which didn’t start until ten. If she woke up early enough she could often get in a good two hours of writing sitting up in bed, before Nonna began to rumble and stir.

Lina wrote down the whole story about meeting John, and their talks on the bus, and the letter he had written, and how he had changed the whole future of the Olympic Games. It took her most of the morning, including copying it out neatly in pen. I wish I had a typewriter, she thought, holding the pages out in front of her to assess the neatness of her handwriting, but she was still pleased with the end result. She folded it in half and tucked it into her school bag.

The next morning, Lina caught the early bus and arrived when the school grounds were still empty, her favourite time of day. The main building gleamed white in the soft morning light and the only sounds came from the warble of the magpies swooping from the gum trees and the crunch of her shoes on the long pebbled driveway.

Sister Rosemary’s face broke into a warm crinkly smile as Lina stepped through the doorway of the library.

‘Lina! It’s been a while. I thought you might have forgotten your old friend, now that you’ve become a celebrity!’

Lina grinned and leaned on the desk, across from the old nun. There was a small pile of school magazines beside her. ‘It looks great, doesn’t it?’ She brushed her fingers across the glossy cover. ‘We couldn’t have done it without your help, though.’

‘Oh, I don’t know,’ Sister Rosemary shrugged. ‘You and Sarah seemed to be working together pretty well, considering the amount of stress you were both under. Hopefully next year you will have more time to put it together. And you can get a bigger team of helpers, perhaps?’

Lina flicked through the magazine while she thought about what to say next. ‘I don’t know,’ she said quietly. ‘I’m not sure if I want to do it again next year. Sarah and I  . . . don’t really get along that well anymore.’ She looked up at Sister Rosemary, waiting for the frown or the look of disappointment. But instead, she was surprised to see a twist of a smile appear on her face.

‘Oh, that is a shame,’ Sister Rosemary said with an exaggerated sigh, ‘to lose both of you at once! Sarah has already come in to say she doesn’t want to work on the magazine next year. And the Mother Superior was very keen to retain at least one of its original editors.’ She smiled and winked at Lina. ‘I suggested I might be able to persuade you to stay on if you were able to choose your own editorial team. I have heard Julia Goldbloom is quite a fine writer  . . .’

Lina giggled. ‘How is it that you know everything about everyone when you never even seem to leave the library, Sister Rosemary?’

‘I am the eyes and ears of this school, my dear,’ the sister said, tapping her nose. ‘The eyes and ears of this school.’ She stood up stiffly and began to shuffle over to the desk behind her. ‘I don’t suppose you’ve made me a Christmas present yet?’ she called out over her shoulder. ‘I’m rather partial to gingerbread. If you need a recipe, do let me know.’

Lina laughed. ‘A recipe would be great, thanks. And thank you for mentioning me to the Mother Superior. I’d love to work on the magazine with Julia. I’ll ask her today!’ She watched curiously as the nun leaned over to open a drawer in the wooden desk and pull out a package wrapped in Christmas paper.

‘That’s good news. I look forward to working with you both next year. In the meantime, I have something for you.’ Sister Rosemary shuffled back and placed the package in Lina’s hands.

Lina stared down at the gift. Really? Sister Rosemary has bought me a present? she thought in disbelief. Then as soon as she began to pull away the paper she knew what it was. A brand new copy of The Diary of A Young Girl by Anne Frank. Tears pricked the corners of Lina’s eyes and before she could stop herself, she rushed around the side of the counter and threw her arms around Sister Rosemary’s soft, thick waist. ‘Thank you,’ she whispered. ‘I will treasure it.’

‘Don’t go telling anyone, though,’ the nun said gruffly. ‘I can’t go around buying every girl at St Brigid’s their own book, all right?’

Lina drew back and smiled.

‘Tea?’ Sister Rosemary said and Lina nodded.

The two of them squeezed into the back office to drink tea from Sister Rosemary’s good floral teapot among the piles of books still to be covered then sorted and shelved. As she sipped her tea, Lina thought about how incredible it was that each and every one of those books, stacked neatly into towering piles, had a story nestled between the covers just waiting to connect with a reader, the way that Anne Frank’s story had connected with her. Could I write something one day that would change someone’s world the way that Anne Frank’s words changed mine? she wondered, caressing the cover of her new book. Without this book I may never have met Julia, or become friends with Sister Rosemary, or believed that a young person’s words could possibly make a difference.

And as she gazed out the small office window towards the rose gardens blushing with multi-coloured blooms, nestled in the vast well-kept grounds of St Brigid’s, Lina felt so very thankful. Whenever I think my life is hard, she promised herself, I will think of Anne Frank, who never even had the chance to go to high school.

‘Oh,’ Lina said, suddenly remembering. ‘I wrote another story. I was hoping you might read it for me?’

‘Of course!’ Sister Rosemary said.

Lina pulled the sheets of folded paper out of her bag and handed them over. ‘It’s only my first draft . . .’ she said, feeling suddenly shy, but Sister Rosemary was already skimming over the words at lightning speed.

‘My goodness!’ Sister Rosemary said. ‘This is excellent! What a story. Do you really know this young man? The Mysterious Chinese Boy, as all the papers are calling him?’

Lina nodded.

‘What a story!’ Sister Rosemary said again. ‘And beautifully written. I love this part where you write about what a difference a letter can make. Oh, you’ll have to type this up and send it into the Age, my dear. They will most definitely want to publish it.’

‘Really?’ Lina said, feeling her heart jump about. ‘You think so? Do you think it’s a problem that I don’t say his name? He asked me not to tell anyone.’

‘Of course not! It’s an excellent story, just as it is. And a lot more interesting than all the other stories the Age has been running on this boy because it’s told from the perspective of a friend. As you’ve written here, his father says: It’s not important to know who it was that made a difference, only that a difference was made. That’s a great quote! Come back at lunchtime to type it up and I’ll prepare an envelope for you to send it off. Oh, there’s no doubt about it. You’re a true writer, my dear.’

Lina felt her chest fill with pride. A true writer! she thought happily. Sister Rosemary thinks I’m a true writer. ‘Thank you, Sister!’ Lina said, jumping up as the school bell rang. She tucked the story back into her bag and ran out of the library to tell Julia.