I hated being in another work team but I didn’t miss Lance. That bastard got off lightly for knocking me out – all he had to do was say a few lousy rosaries. He told Sister Agnes that I started it. I didn’t bother trying to explain to her about Kit’s letter and how Lance made fun of it in front of the other boys. I just wanted to forget about it. I missed working with my mates, especially Pete. I’d been dizzy, sore and out of sorts for a few days. Sister Cornelius said I had a concussion.
I also missed the special feast day dinner. Pete told me how Mrs Lucas boiled up the yabbies in a big pot over the kitchen fire. I was sound asleep in sick bay and he wasn’t allowed to wake me up. He said the yabbies tasted like a cross between fish and chicken, only better. If they were better than the chicken soup that I’d had, they must’ve been pretty good.
We had rabbit stew for dinner the night I got out of sick bay. Henry shot and skinned eight more rabbits that he’d spotted around the veggie garden so there was plenty to go around. When I took the first pile of washed dishes into the kitchen to be wiped and put away, Mrs Lucas was icing a cake. ‘Off ya go!’ she said, trying to hide the cake. As I walked backwards out of the kitchen, my mouth was watering. Chocolate cake is my favourite and I couldn’t wait to try it.
As I sat on the bench in between Charlie and Pete, Sister Agnes announced that it was my birthday – 3 September, the third day of spring. When Mrs Lucas walked onto the verandah with the cake and thirteen brand-new flickering candles, everyone started singing ‘Happy Birthday’ to me. Everyone, that is, except Lance.
After I blew out the candles, Mrs Lucas handed me a knife. Before the knife had even touched the plate, she grabbed it from me. I don’t know what she thought I was going to do with it. It’s not like I wanted to stab anyone, except maybe Lance – nothing fatal, just a flesh wound. But all I really wanted was some cake. I waited impatiently for the biggest slice, which always goes to the birthday boy. It was the second-best chocolate cake I’d ever tasted. Mum’s is still the best.
Lying in bed that night after lamps out, I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about Racing the Moon – how I’d go about it, what I’d take, who I’d ask to come with me. I didn’t believe all of Lance’s story, especially the bit about the boy falling off the cliff and dying. I think he made that up just to scare us and put us off going. I’ve always loved a challenge – the riskier the better.
But to race the moon to the top of the mountain and look at it close up – that would be magic!
I decided that in the morning, I’d ask Sister Cornelius when the next full moon would be. She knows all about that kind of thing.