Saving Francesca by Melina Marchetta

Author:Melina Marchetta
Language: eng
Format: epub, pdf
Tags: Fiction
ISBN: 9780307433718
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2007-12-17T16:00:00+00:00

chapter 17

ON THE WAY to the bus stop from school, we walk past this young homeless guy sitting outside a major department store with a cardboard sign saying, I’m Hungry. Please Feed Me. Brian Turner from legal studies yells out, “Get a job,” and Siobhan laughs and Tara goes on about it all the way to the bus stop.

By the time we sit in the back row of the bus, she and Siobhan have had an argument about it, and the four of us sit in silence. Thomas Mackee is with us as well, because there’s nowhere else for him to sit.

The girl in front of us, who hasn’t shut up the whole time, stands up and waves to her friends as she gets off the bus.

“I love youse.”

We exchange glances.

“What a loser,” Siobhan snickers.

“Why is it that someone like Turner who calls out to a beggar on a street isn’t a loser, but someone who says ‘youse’ is?” Tara Finke asks, starting up again.

“Because I think that people should learn how to speak the English language.”

“But it’s okay for them to be immoral,” I say.

“Who’s immoral?” Siobhan argues.

“Brian Turner,” Tara Finke interrupts. “But it’s okay to laugh at his feeble attention seeking, but not to be touched by some nice person who says youse.”

“How do we know she’s nice? Because she expressed her love to her friends?”

“You’re judging her by her literacy,” Tara says. “You’re a literacist.”

“You’ve made that up.”

Thomas Mackee packs up his stuff and stands up. “You chicks give me the shits,” he says.

“You, on the other hand, brighten up our day,” I tell him. “We all regard you as a god.”

“You know what we call you? Bitch Spice, Butch Spice, Slut Spice, and Stupid Spice.”

He walks away, and we go back to saying nothing for a moment until Justine Kalinsky looks at me and holds out her arms. “My brother reckons that my arms are like Polish salami,” she tells me. “Do you think I’m Butch Spice?”

I look at her arms and shake my head.

“Well, I’m a size eight, so I can’t possibly be,” Siobhan tells us.

“And you’re a slut,” Tara Finke says matter-of-factly, “so it’s quite clear which one you are.”

We can’t let it go. We get off at Justine Kalinsky’s stop just to debate it all the way home.

“I think I could be Butch Spice,” Tara tells us. “I’ve got short hair and that’s how those morons think.”

“But I’ve got the stocky build,” Justine says. “It’s an Eastern European peasant thing.”

“No, it’s Tara,” Siobhan says. “I’m sure of it.”

“So between you and me,” I tell Justine on the phone that night, “we’re either bitchy or stupid.”

“Oh God,” she moans. “Everyone thinks I’m an idiot.”

“Thanks!”

“There is some possible overlap here,” Tara explains the next day as we sit in homeroom. “I think Francesca could be Bitch Spice, but some people do think she’s stupid as well.”

“I kissed two guys one night in Year Nine, so I could be Slut Spice too,” I tell them.

“No. Not possible.

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