The Betrayal of Bindy Mackenzie (20 page)

DIARY ENTRY
Monday, 7 August

Anthony did a business proposal today. He proposed that Dad give him $10 million so that he and Sam could make a horror movie.

Dad wrote ‘REJECTED' in red pen across the page. He said Anthony was welcome to waste his own time but shouldn't go around wasting others'.

‘Your loss,' said Anthony.

DIARY ENTRY
Saturday, 16 December

Reflections on Existence
Today I was helping Dad sand back the paint on the kitchen cupboards.

As we worked (and the lightest film of dust settled onto our bare arms), I told Dad about Sartre's views on nothingness. I said that starting at Ashbury next year made me feel that I was going from
existence
to
non-existence.
I would be a
nobody
at Ashbury.

Dad said something interesting. ‘Bindy,' he said, ‘that's not the attitude. Hold on to the idea that
you
are number one. Those other kids? Nothing. You? Something else. You tell yourself that while you're sanding there.'

And so I did.

 

DIARY ENTRY
Wednesday, 31 January, 3.45 pm

Reflections on Beauty
—
3.45 pm
Today was my first day at Ashbury!

I was struck, most of all, by the beauty.

Excuse me, I cannot reflect on beauty any further! I would like to get a headstart on my homework.

Bindy's Reflections on Beauty (Part 2)
—
11.00 pm
The beauty of my fellow Year 7 students!

It almost made me weep to be one with them! Nervous eyes, polished shoes, and neatly brushed hair! From all four corners of the Hills District we came—yet we were all the same. For we all wore the Ashbury blue, and carried the regulation Ashbury bag, stamped with the Ashbury crest.

There is an especially beautiful ‘group of four' in my ‘home room'. They obviously come from the same primary school as they are already close friends. They walked into the classroom, a smooth, graceful step, talking and laughing, as if this were just an ordinary day—not the first day of Year 7 at all! Two girls with long dark hair; one skinny boy; one boy with blonde hair past his shoulders. The skinny boy caught me staring, and raised his eyebrows up and down, up and down. I laughed and he turned back to his friends.

Monday, 5 February

To The Principal
Ashbury High

Dear Sir,

Good morning, my name is Bindy Mackenzie and I am in Year 7 at your school.

I would like to congratulate you on the excellence of your school. I know I have been here for only three days, but the academic standards seem rigorous, the lessons begin and end on time, and the teachers seem stern but fair.

I have a small suggestion to make and it is: do we really have to move around so much?

In primary, we used to stay in the same classroom all day. Here, almost every subject is in a different place and Art is right across the oval!! It seems like a waste of time and energy, and I have found myself lost more than once. What if the students stayed in one room and the teachers
came to them!?

Just a thought . . .

Yours sincerely,
Bindy Mackenzie

DIARY ENTRY
Dienstag, Februar 2

Heute hatte ich zum ersten mal deutsch studiert! Und von jetzt werde ich EINFACH auf deutsch schreiben, auf deutsch denken, und auf deutsch leben! Von jetzt bin ich
einfach
deutsch! Ich werde mit meiner Familie auf deutsch sprechen. Ich werde alles auf deutsch machen! Also, gute Nacht! Ich schreibe weiter morgen!

DIARY ENTRY
Wednesday, 14 February

Had to stop speaking and writing only in German. The other teachers didn't appreciate it.

It had seemed to make sense to me, to immerse myself in German, but my parents refused to pass the pepper even though it was
clear
what I was asking for—pepper, in German, is
Pfeffer.

Anthony was the only good sport. He listened to what I said with an intense expression on his face and then he nodded vigorously and replied in his own nonsense German: ‘Munchen, wonchen, gebrunchen! Ganz begobbleston! Schnell! Ja schnell!' He made me laugh, despite myself.

Anyway, it's over now.

I suppose one must make compromises.

MERITAWARD TO
Bindy Mackenzie
For Excellence in
English, Mathematics, History, Science and German

DIARY ENTRY
Thursday, 12 April

Lately, I've been staring at the Group of Four more than usual. I've smiled at the skinny boy a few times, but he hasn't done his bouncing eyebrows thing again. Actually, he doesn't seem to notice.

I hope, one day, to make friends with the Group— perhaps even make it into a Group of Five?

The more I stare the more
strangely familiar
the Four become. As if I had met them somewhere before. Is that just wishful thinking?

Their names do not seem familiar. The prettiest of the two girls is Astrid Bexonville. She wears her hair in a French braid, and I have watched in awe as she reached back to unplait her hair, shake it out—
and then casually rebraid it!
Now, there is talent.

DIARY ENTRY
Sunday, 22 April

Reflections on Choice
Mum and Dad were fighting this morning. Mum was saying she wants to stay in this house for a few more years now. She said she was waiting at traffic lights behind a moving truck today, and the sight of that truck gave her stomach cramps so bad she had to do a U-turn and pull over.

Afterwards, Dad said something interesting to me. He said, ‘Bindy, when you're renovating a house, you're always making choices. The choices aren't that tough—keep the good and chuck out the bad. Keep the original mouldings, rip out the shagpile carpet. You hearing me?'

I nodded to reassure him, and he went on.

‘And I reckon it's the same with your genes,' he said. (I thought he meant
jeans
at first, and explained that I do not wear these.) ‘Now,' he said, ignoring me. ‘You've got a mother with a good head for business, but a tendency towards hysterics. You might have inherited both, but you've gotta make the choice which you keep and which you chuck. My advice, keep that business head but toss aside the hysterics. Okay, kid? It's your choice.'

I told Dad a little about the Danish philosopher, Søren Aabye Kierkegaard, and what he has to say about choice.