LETTER TO MY 13-YEAR-OLD SELF FOR THIS WEEK.

So, you’re back at the motel where you were 10 days ago, when you had to sleep curled up on a fold-out bed because your brother insisted upon sleeping in the regular bed, even though he was smaller than you. Your parents kind of made it up to you by letting you have a hot course for breakfast and you then had a beef and gravy roll for lunch and ended up in Townsville, where you, again, had to sleep in a fold-out bed, which was actually more comfortable. Your bed is near a small radio in the motel room, and you hear Black’s “Wonderful Life,” which you learn, after he died, was actually a piss-taking song, and you can actually relate. The next day, you’re relaxing on the bed while your brother and mother are out, and you hear Johnny Logan’s “Hold Me Now”. The next day, you’re on the beach and a white Labrador comes and sits beside you and wants to shake hands with you. Animals are intuitive. You have an unexpected visit to Cairns, and a few days in Mackay, where you are shaken the night before you go when the TV screen turns yellow and the Queensland Police Badge fills the screen, and there is an appeal for a man to contact them. Your brother is unfazed, and wants to play in the bedroom, but you can’t get this out of your head. You don’t want to be too far away. Anyway, your parents have said that you can have a night on the top bunk, and your brother tries to wangle it that he can have it.

The tinkling of the telephone in the early hours of the morning shatters the silence and then as you drift back to sleep, your father wakes you up to tell you that your grandfather has had a heart attack and is not expected to last the night. He lasts another five years. All too soon, you are back at what is a place of misery for you. School.

Your mother is unimpressed with your report card, but what people don’t want to accept is, you’re not thriving at school because you’re in the wrong environment. You basically had to swap one class of fools who you were with all day to one class of fools in that class to another class of fools in another! You endure people throwing things at you, hitting you, damaging your property, making up lies about you. It is later revealed that reduced school performance is a common side effect of being bullied. If only people had understood this.

Life will improve next year. Some of the fools will leave at the end of the year. With some math tutoring, your marks will improve. You will be more confident and some people will start to mature. You may be the youngest in your classes, but you have a more mature attitude than some of your fellow students.

Love, Peter.