Gabrielle: I thought there might have been a certain, I don’t know, etiquette about handing out party invitations. I thought what happened on that first day of kindergarten was kind of inappropriate.
Smile, Ziggy, smile!”
Ziggy finally smiled at the exact same moment that Jane’s father yawned. Jane clicked the shutter and then checked the photo on the screen of her digital camera. Ziggy and her mum were both smiling beautifully, while her dad was captured mid-yawn: mouth agape, eyes scrunched. He was tired because he’d had to get up so early to make it all the way to the peninsula from Granville to see his grandson on his first day of school. Jane’s parents had always gone to bed late and gotten up late, and these days anything that required them leaving the house before nine a.m. was a tremendous effort. Her father had taken early retirement from his job in the public service last year, and since then, he and Jane’s mother had been staying up late doing their puzzles until three or four in the morning. “Our parents are turning into vampires,” Jane’s brother had said to her. “Jigsaw-playing vampires.”
“Would you like my husband to take a photo of all of you together?” said a woman standing nearby. “I’d offer to take it myself, but technology and I are not friends.”
Jane looked up. The woman wore a full-length paisley skirt with a black singlet. Her wrists seemed to be adorned with twine, and she wore her hair in one long single plait. There was a tattoo of a Chinese symbol on her shoulder. She looked a bit out of place next to all the other parents in their casual beachwear, gym gear or business clothes. Her husband seemed a good deal older than her and was wearing a T-shirt and shorts: standard middle-aged-dad gear. He was holding the hand of a tiny, mouse-like little girl with long scraggly hair, whose uniform looked like it was three sizes too big for her.
I bet you’re Bonnie, thought Jane suddenly, remembering how Madeline had described her ex-husband’s wife, at the same time as the woman said, “I’m Bonnie, and this is my husband, Nathan, and my little girl, Skye.”
“Thanks so much,” said Jane, handing over the camera to Madeline’s ex-husband. She went to stand with her parents and Ziggy.
“Say cheese and biscuits!” Nathan held up the camera.
“Huh?” said Ziggy.
“Coffee,” yawned Jane’s mother.
Nathan took the photo. “There you go!”
He handed back the camera, just as another little curly-haired girl marched straight up to his daughter. Jane felt sick. She recognized her immediately. It was the girl who had accused Ziggy of trying to choke her. Amabella. Jane looked around. Where was the angry mother?
“What is your name?” said Amabella importantly to Skye. She was carrying a large pile of pale pink envelopes.
“Skye,” whispered the little girl. She was so painfully shy, it hurt to watch her try to squeeze the words out.
Amabella flipped through her envelopes. “Skye, Skye, Skye.”
“Goodness, can you read all those names already?” asked Jane’s mother.
“I’ve actually been reading since I was three,” said Amabella politely. She continued to flip. “Skye!” She handed over a pink envelope. “This is an invitation to my fifth birthday. It’s an A party, because my name starts with A.”
“Already reading before they start school!” said Jane’s dad chummily to Nathan. “Top of the class already! Must have had tutoring, do you reckon?”
“Well, not to blow our own trumpet or anything, but Skye here is already reading quite well too,” said Nathan. “And we don’t believe in tutoring, do we, Bon?”
“We prefer to let Skye’s growth happen organically,” said Bonnie.
“Organic, eh?” said Jane’s dad. He furrowed his brow. “Like fruit?”
Amabella turned to Ziggy. “What’s your—” She froze. An expression of pure panic crossed her face. She clutched the pink envelopes tight to her chest as if to prevent Ziggy from stealing one and, without saying a word, she turned on her heel and ran off.
“Goodness. What was that all about?” said Jane’s mother.
“Oh, that was the kid who said I hurt her,” said Ziggy matter-of-factly. “But I never did, Grandma.”
Jane looked around the playground. Everywhere she looked she could see children in brand-new, too-big school uniforms.
Every single one was holding a pale pink envelope.
Harper: Look, nobody in that school knew Renata better than me. We were very close. I can tell you for a fact, she was not trying to make a point that day.
Samantha: Oh my God, of course she was making a point.