Letters from the Inside (19 page)

Jan 8

Dear Manna,

Geez Manna where’s all the letters? I haven’t heard from you since Christmas Eve. Get your ass out of gear. Hope you’re not sick or anything.

Things are starting to drag here. The workshops finished last week, and there’s not much coming up that I know of. The hacks are so raggy. Roll call this morning was a good one — Mrs Neumann was doing it. When she got to Jenelle Hawthorne, Jenelle just answered ‘Yeah’, instead of ‘Present’. Mrs Neumann snapped. ‘Right, you’re charged: attempting to escape.’ ‘What?’ said Jenelle. ‘Yes,’ said Mrs Neumann, frothing at the mouth. ‘You didn’t answer your name correctly, therefore you’re not here. And if you’re not here, you must be in Med Unit or attempting to escape.’ Can you believe it? I don’t think she’ll charge her though — she’d never get away with it.

I miss the basketball. Don’t know if I told you, but we got chucked out for rough play and swearing and all that stuff. I don’t know what they expected. I think they didn’t like us winning so many matches.

Right now I’m sitting in the exercise yard, writing this. It’s a nice day. There’s a game of netball on — there’s rings at both ends of the yard and a few lines on the ground. I’ll go and play in a sec. There’s not much else to do.

Hope there’s a letter from you tomorrow.

See you,

     love,

Trace

Jan 14

Dear Manna, three weeks since I had a letter from you and I’m getting worried. I suppose I’m scared that when I told you about my father, it might have, sort of, put you off. But you knew I was no angel. And anyhow, I don’t think you’re the kind of person to be put off that easily.

I’m worried about other things too. I’m still having these terrible dreams, horrible ones, full of people attacking each other. I wake up sweating and panting, and I’m scared to go back to sleep. So I don’t sleep much.

I suppose what I’m saying is maybe these dreams make me worry about you, with your brother getting so ugly and all.

Anyhow, it’s probably nothing — you’ve probably got flu or gone on holidays. And there’ll probably be a letter tomorrow.

We had this theatre group came today, did a play called
Diary of Anne Frank.
It was good. I’m going to read the book.

Well, look forward to hearing from you, hopefully tomorrow.

Lots of love,

Tracey

Jan 18

Dear Manna,

Well, the end of the week and still nothing. I’ll have to wait till Monday now.

It’s funny, remember how I stopped writing to you when you got onto me for not being at Prescott High? And you were writing practically every day, trying to bully me into answering? And now the boot’s on the other foot. Maybe I’d better start writing every day. I’ll send you postcards that other people can read. Remember that? They put the mail on the board here and if you’re five minutes late from classes your postcards get read by everyone in the place.

They’re having a game of badminton at the moment. It’s not a bad game, but I’m not in the mood. I’m just sitting in the corner watching now.

Have a good weekend Manna,

                  Love,

                           
Tracey

Jan 21

Dear Manna,

The mail’s been put up, and right now I feel pretty terrible.

Manna, the second worst thing in the world would be if you decided to stop writing to me. But the worst thing would be if anything bad happened to you. I don’t know if I could stand it if you didn’t want to write any more, but I know I couldn’t stand it if you’d had an accident, or something. The most important thing right now is that you’re OK. That’s more important than if you hate me or despise me. What I’m saying is, if you’re well and healthy, but you don’t want to write, at least send me one sentence saying that. And then I guess I’ll have to stop hassling you.

The hardest thing is not knowing. And being in here, I’m totally cut off. There’s no way I can find out if you’re OK. That’s what’s driving me crazy.

Please God, if you’re there, let there be a letter tomorrow. And if there is, I’ll be the best damn Girl Guide in this whole dump. Please write, Manna.

Luv ya,

    
Trace

Jan 22

Nothing. What are you doing to me Manna? Why’d you write in the first place? Why didn’t you leave me alone, like I told you? You’ve really screwed me up now, just when I was starting to get somewhere. I’m so scared Manna. Where are you?

Jan 23

Dear Manna,

Well, now I know that something’s wrong. I got six letters back today, all marked ‘Return to Sender’. And it wasn’t in your writing. They go right back to before Christmas. So all this time I’ve been writing into nothing, writing to myself.

There’s nothing I can do Manna. I don’t think I’m going to hear from you again. I hope that you’re OK, but somehow I don’t think you are. God bless you Manna — I still love you.

Your friend

          
Trace

Feb 11

Dear Mandy,

I thought I’d write to you one last time. It’s a year today since you sat down and answered my ad, on a rainy Sunday when you were bored. I’ve still got every letter you wrote, even though you’re not meant to keep them, but I don’t read them any more.

My last four letters came back too, as this one will if I bother to send it.

Manna, I’m sorry, but I’m not doing so well. I hope you’re not disappointed in me. I’ve been in Med Unit for a while now, two or three weeks maybe. I don’t do much, or say much. I like just sitting under my bed, watching things. But they’re nice to me in here.

I still get the dreams though.

They say I won’t be going back to A Block. I get the shakes when I think about it. I don’t know where they’ll send me. I hope, wherever it is, they’ll be nice to me. I’d like to stay here but I don’t think I’m allowed.

All I want is people to be nice to me.

Bye, Manna. Remember, just keep on goin’ till it all stops flowin’, OK?

Luv ya,

    
Tracey

Other books by John Marsden for older readers

John Marsden
Take My Word For It

You know what Tracey said to me after English today? She said: ‘The reason you’ve got no friends is that you don’t tell anyone your problems’. . . I hate the way they tell everyone every single detail about themselves. . . If you ask me, it’s dangerous. Once you start, you don’t stop.

Strong, cold, private . . .this is Lisa, as seen by Marina in her journal,
So Much to Tell You.

But Lisa too keeps a journal. It’s a record of her friends and family, her frustrations and successes, her thoughts and feelings. As page follows page, the real Lisa begins to emerge. Not always strong, not always private and certainly not cold.

As in the best-selling
So Much to Tell You,
award-winning novelist John Marsden takes us into the world of young people trying to make sense of their lives.

‘John Marsden is a major writer who deserves worldwide acclaim’
ROBERT CORMIER

John Marsden
The Journey

By the author of
So Much To Tell You, The Journey
is a story of young people in a world so different and yet so like our own. It is a world in which young people must undertake a journey of discovery on their way to becoming adults.

Argus sets out on his journey away from his valley and his parents, never knowing what adventure will befall him next. He learns how to survive in the wild until he meets with a travelling fair, which he joins, becoming a friend of Mayon the storyteller, of Lavolta and Parara—twins who share the same body—and many others.

But it is with the sweet and wise Temora that he learns some of the deepest secrets.

All journeys must find an end. Argus leaves the fair and travels on alone, until his last and greatest adventure beckons him home. There he tells, for the approval of his elders, the seven stories which are now his story. But all is not done.

Thre is one more chapter to be lived out in the story of Argus.

‘. . . an extraordinary story. . . I would commend it to everybody. Although ostensibly it’s a children’s book it’s something that any adult can read with great pleasure. It’s one of those books that don’t actually belong to any particular age group . . . like
The Snow Goose’
TERRY LANE, ABC RADIO