Family Togetherness

Chapter 8- Inspiration and Imagination

"I," Victoria declared, "am never having kids."

Through the thin walls, they heard the clattering of children running down the street to their parents' cars and the bus stop; nannies dragging their backpacks and lunches dejectedly along behind them.

"We're going to be late now, never mind tonight!" Luke swept the project, inside its carrier bag, off the table. "I need to see Nurse Clara before I do anything."

Abby snorted. "I bet the nurse didn't expect to swap first aid skills for therapy when she applied for the job. You're going to be fine."

"I don't want to be fine," he protested, "I want to be the best!"

Abby knew that feeling. "People who want to be the best," she said firmly, "need to be confident, hardworking and punctual. Do you tick all three boxes?"

"Does he tick any of the boxes?" Nathan quipped, shoving scuffed exercise books into his brown satchel.

Luke glared at him. "I've worked hard enough!"

"You've been ready for weeks," Victoria soothed. "Months, even. Katie Whatsit probably just got her dad to do the project for her- don't go around believing that she's really gone and built a computer."

But Luke's burning worries couldn't be extinguished by a few reassuring words, no matter how often he repeated them to himself on the winding walk to school.
He watched Katie's brown ponytail swinging lazily in front of his seat in English. She was scribbling down answers across her worksheet; the pencilled sentences scattering across her page like dark feathers. He wasn't sure who else was entering the science fair, but he was determined to keep tabs on them all.

"If you want to get good grades across the board," Mrs Forbes reproached him, looming up from behind, "you're to keep up with writing. Don't let anybody tell you that literature isn't just as important as science and mathematics."

"Mmm," he nodded, suddenly feeling a bit nauseous. "Miss, can I be excused to see the nurse?"

Back at home, Victoria was watching the play-back of her performance in Mrs Grove's studio for the fifth time. It had been embarrassing the first time; and cringe-worthy the second. Now she was beginning to feel mortified.

There was no way- no way- that she was going to walk into the audition room, and warble like a frantic white-faced apparition. Maybe singing wasn't her best talent after all.

She considered herself for a moment, and shrugged. Singing wasn't important anyway- she could cartwheel and dance and talk without pauses like a professional. Sometimes she thought that she was more interested in fame itself than the hard work it took to get her there. But wasn't everyone?

On impulse, she snatched up the phone and started punching in a familiar number. Her fingers danced across the buttons without her having to look down. Dad would be at work, but when he called back, he'd help her nerves. Maybe he would give her some inspiration along with that- it wasn't as if she was going to get any from the Boss at the chippy later on.

"Hello, this is Dave." The ringing stopped and Dad's voicemail message whirred to life. "Sorry I couldn't grab the time to talk- work's been a bit hectic recently. Leave me a buzz and I'll call you right back."

Victoria could hear the recorded voices of Dad's girlfriend and her teenage son arguing about something in the background.

"Um," she started, "Victoria. Um, Dad, I have an, uh, thing on tonight. Can you talk?
Can you call back then? Uh, thanks. Bye."

The receiver went dead in her hand and she slotted it back down. Then she swept up her tasselled bag and set off to work. Anybody watching would think there was nothing wrong.