‘I like your Nana,’ Pilar says. ‘I’d stay with her.’ We’ve eaten lunch and are sitting on the tennis court behind the gym, sharing a bag of liquorice laces. It’s drizzling. No one else is about.
‘Nana’s so strict all the time.’
‘But why was your mum in America anyway?’ Pilar asks.
‘She’s an actress,’ I say. I puff with pride.
‘Couldn’t she come back for holidays?’
‘She was always busy.’
‘My uncle lives in California and he said that in America you don’t get any holidays. I mean, he gets Christmas Day off, but there’s not even any such thing as Boxing Day. He works on Saturdays too.’
‘I don’t know how much she worked,’ I admit.
Pilar’s phone vibrates, and she checks it.
‘Who’s that?’ I ask.
‘No one.’
Is she trying to keep secrets from me? I poke her. ‘What do you mean “no one”?’
‘It’s Donna. She said she wants to tell me something when we get to history later.’
‘Hold on. You two are actually friends now?’ I ask.
Pilar pulls another liquorice lace from the packet. She twists it around her index finger until the tip turns purple. ‘I think so. She’s nice. Not one bit snobby like you thought.’
‘I never said she was snobby.’
Pilar bites the purple tip of her finger. ‘Have you seen E.T.?’
‘No,’ I say sharply. Talking about films isn’t going to help me make a decision about where to live. And I’m annoyed she’s suddenly chummy with Donna Taylor but I’m not.
‘Well, E.T. is this creature who comes from another planet,’ Pilar says.
‘Yeah, I know that.’
‘All right, all right. Anyway, E.T. comes down and meets this boy called Elliott who’s lonely and stuff, and he really loves Elliott and they have fun together and everything but then, at the end – spoiler alert – he goes back to space because that’s where he’s meant to be. It isn’t safe on Earth.’ Pilar raises her eyebrows.
Is the story supposed to mean something? I shake my head. She throws up her arms, exasperated.
‘Oh, come on. Your mum is obviously like E.T. She really loved America and everything, but there’s no place like home, is there?’
‘That’s the wrong film you’re thinking of. It’s Dorothy from The Wizard of Oz who says “there’s no place like home”.’
‘But you get my point,’ Pilar says.
The bell rings for the end of lunch. Pilar jumps up. I stay where I am.
Pilar takes off towards 200 Block and double French. ‘Come on!’ she shouts.
Puddles are forming in the dips in the playground. The rain is more than a drizzle now.
I imagine I am wearing ruby wellingtons. If I were, and I could bump them together and find myself in either Nana’s house or Mum’s, where would I go? What would I wish for?
‘There’s no place like home,’ I say aloud. I think of Nana, her mouth bent into an angry grimace.
‘There’s no place like home,’ I say again. I think of Mum’s beautiful American smile.
‘There’s no place like home,’ I say one last time. I close my eyes. I bump my heels together. When I open my eyes, I’m still at school.
And I’m no closer to knowing where home is.
‘Hurry up, Apple! Nous sommes going to be trop tard,’ Pilar shouts.
I stuff the liquorice laces into my blazer pocket and follow Pilar to class.