Chapter 10

At dinner, Dad said he was going to cut out my interview with Bird-watchers Weekly and put it in a frame in the living room. Alice, Molly and I each have a spot above the mantlepiece for our certificates and achievements.

‘It’ll mean taking down the Shellsville Primary’s Second-Neatest Handwriting Award,’ he said.

I said we could replace Molly’s Very Young Bird-watcher of the Year certificate instead (we didn’t want too much bird stuff up there) but Molly kicked up a stink at the very idea. So the handwriting certificate came down but I didn’t mind. It had been on there for four long years, and perhaps wasn’t as legitimate as some others; it was probably time to replace it.

Dad had also ordered copies for Great-Grandma Best, J-Ma and Papa who were on holidays in New Zealand, Aunt Penny, Uncle Luke and Aunt Louisa. He was even getting one for Great Uncle Darren who we don’t even like.

I said it was lucky he was organised — Mrs Pemberton thought it was going to be a very popular issue. She hadn’t said this specifically, but it was my overarching impression. ‘It might even sell out.’ I reached across Alice for the gravy boat. We were having roast beef, and it was as dry as anything. I poured the gravy everywhere. ‘Pretty much everyone I know is getting a copy.’

It wasn’t just Dad and Mrs Zeigler: Mrs Timms said she’d ordered one for each of my teammates, Mrs Swanston was getting extra copies to sell in the general store and Alan from next door told me he couldn’t wait to get his. Others who had mentioned it included Ms Lui, the Lolicatos and Anika’s family. Even the cashier lady from the tuckshop at school was getting one for each of her kids. She was going to bring them in so I could sign them.

‘Mrs Zeigler also asked if I could help with the excursion,’ I said. ‘She wants me to talk to the class about birding. She keeps saying she can’t believe I saw a purple-bellied parrot.’

‘But you don’t know anything about birding,’ said Molly. ‘All you did was go and pee.’

I tried not to react. She’d been like this all week — prickly and quick to get annoyed. I was making an effort to be patient because I knew she was still upset that I saw the bird and she didn’t. It was a surprise to both of us that I, of all people, would be a naturally skilled bird-watcher. It was luck, really. I just happened to be born with an excess of intuition, bird affinity (some things can’t be learned) and superior eyesight.

I wondered aloud if I had eagle eyes. Previously I’d thought that was just a saying. Some people need glasses to see better, but maybe I needed them to see worse. I saw too clearly, like a psychic could see the future.

‘You don’t have eagle eyes,’ snapped Molly.

‘Molly,’ said Mum.

‘What?’ said Molly. ‘I don’t even think Alma saw that stupid bird.’ She shoved a forkful of roast beef in her mouth without any gravy.

‘Stupid bird?’ I watched Molly chew (and chew) and tried to work up to a level of horror I didn’t completely feel. ‘Birds aren’t stupid Molly, they’re a highly evolved species. If anything, you’re stupid for thinking that.’

‘No, you’re stupid for —’

Mum said, ‘That’s enough you two. Change the subject.’

Fortunately, I had another topic at the ready: my upcoming basketball tournament. I reminded Mum that she still had to sign my form. Knowing how much my sisters enjoyed the motel breakfast we’d had together, I told them how fancy the hotel was going to be and about the buffet Hannah had described.

‘Apparently there’s a chef and all he does is make pancakes. He does them however you want. With strawberries, ice cream, maple syrup, sprinkles. Oh, and apparently there’s a chocolate fountain.’

‘Sounds expensive,’ said Dad.

Before I could finish saying, ‘Lucky I won a scholar—,’ Alice said, ‘You didn’t win a scholarship! You got it by default!’

This is a point of some contention. The reason I go to Holy Grace and not Point Elizabeth High, like Alice, is because at the end of primary school I was awarded the inaugural Local Regional Scholarship. It wasn’t hugely contested (I was the only applicant), but still. I probably would have got in even if other people did apply.

It felt like Molly had passed the grumbling baton to Alice and now she had a firm hold of it. ‘I don’t know why that tournament’s for private schools only.’ Alice played basketball for the local team, the Shellsville Birds, and they hadn’t been invited.

Part of me wanted to say that maybe it was because people at private schools had better manners. Like maybe Point Elizabeth High students were overly argumentative? But I didn’t.

The truth was, I knew it could be hard when one sister was on a run of good things. But that was not the only truth. Another, equally valid truth was that the sister on a run of good things was hardly ever me. Alice has sports and Molly has birds, and I historically have had . . . neat handwriting? National Middle Child Day? So what if I was enjoying being in the limelight?