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Authors: John Marsden

Dear Miffy

BOOK: Dear Miffy
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John Marsden's website can be visited at
www.johnmarsden.com.au

First published 1997 in Macmillan by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Limited
This Pan edition published 2007 by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Limited
1 Market Street, Sydney

Copyright © John Marsden 1997

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher.

National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication data:

Marsden, John, 1950-.
Dear Miffy.

For secondary school aged children.
ISBN 978-1-74334-622-8 (pbk).

1. Letters - Juvenile fiction. 2. Love - Juvenile fiction. 3. Teenagers - Juvenile fiction. 4. Young adult fiction.
I. Title.

A823.3

Papers used by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd are natural, recyclable products made from wood grown in sustainable forests. The manufacturing processes conform to the environmental regulations of the country of origin.

 

This electronic edition published in 2012 by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd
1 Market Street, Sydney 2000

Copyright © John Marsden 1997

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

All rights reserved. This publication (or any part of it) may not be reproduced or transmitted, copied, stored, distributed or otherwise made available by any person or entity (including Google, Amazon or similar organisations), in any form (electronic, digital, optical, mechanical) or by any means (photocopying, recording, scanning or otherwise) without prior written permission from the publisher.

This ebook may not include illustrations and/or photographs that may have been in the print edition.

Marsden, John.

Dear Miffy.

EPUB format 978-1-74334-622-8

Macmillan Digital Australia
www.macmillandigital.com.au

Visit
www.panmacmillan.com.au
to read more about all our books and to buy both print and ebooks online. You will also find features, author interviews and news of any author events.

For Rob Alexander,
may you have
many happy endings

Many, many thanks to Sarah Bower

 

Dear Miffy,

This is pretty weird—I just suddenly felt like writing to you, don't know why. Suddenly wanted to talk to you, got this strange feeling. It's not like I never think of you. It's the opposite. I think of you every day, every hour. Sometimes more than that even. Things change though, don't they Miff? We both know that. WHAM! Makes me kind of nervous if you really want to know.

I look over my shoulder a lot now. Never used to do that, hey? Remember when I did my balancing act on that concrete wall above the freeway? Good trick, hey? Makes me sweat thinking about it. I can't believe I did that. Give me a million bucks right now and I still wouldn't do it, couldn't anyway, so what's the use?

You know where I am right now, Miffy? I guess you wouldn't. I'm in the back of the TV room. I'm watching the others while they watch the movie. To tell you the truth, that's what gave me the idea of writing to you. The movie—I don't even know its name—that's what set me off thinking about you and me again. See, in the movie, it was just like us. It's crap, but it's just like us. This boy meets this girl at school see, when they're both in trouble with the Principal. They're outside his office waiting to see him. They're there for two different things but—she's got an ‘attitude problem', he's been nicking off from school.

‘Attitude problem.' Doesn't that crack you up? I love it how they call it an ‘attitude problem' just because you don't want to spend the best years of your life sitting in a straight line, talking in a straight line, walking in a straight line. Just because you don't want to do what they want you to do. And then they try to tell you that you're the one who's sick.

I don't think so.

Anyway.

So, back to the movie, there they are sitting outside the office waiting to see the Principal and of course they start talking and little sparkles come out of their mouth and away they go . . . like, love at first sight and all that crap.

OK, I know the last part's not like us, but how about that first bit, hey?

I thought you were such a stuck-up bitch, Miffy. I thought you were bloody good looking, I admit that, but I thought you were that stuck-up I didn't care what you looked like.

You know the first words you said to me? Ever? I asked you once and you couldn't remember. But geez, I remember. It was outside Hammond's office that day, of course. I tried to get in between you and his door, so I could go first, and I was being all polite to you and I said, ‘Hey, do you mind if I go in first cos I've got to see Fishbum after this,' and you said, ‘Hey, do you mind if I shove my docs up your arse?'

Nice! Before I could think of anything to say back, the door opened and Hammond was standing there saying, ‘Well, well, well, all the usual suspects. And Miss Simmons, you've come along to make up the numbers, I suppose.'

Sarcastic bastard.

You gave him a note and he read it and then he said to you: ‘Who was the boy involved?' and you said, ‘Nick Tremayne,' and he said, ‘I should have guessed,' then he said to Mrs McVeigh, ‘Right, get Nick Tremayne from 10W, would you please?' and he went back into his office and shut the door and I said to you, ‘You lagging bitch,' because Nick was a mate of mine in those days, then you picked up the Rock Eisteddfod trophy and hit me across the head with it, as hard as you could.

Geez, it bloody hurt. I didn't see it coming till too late, so I didn't get my hand up fast enough, otherwise I would have stopped it. The next thing I'm against the wall trying not to fall over and there's blood pouring down my face and when I realise what's happened I try to get across to where you are because I want to kill you, that's all I want to do, but Mrs McVeigh's screaming and Hammond and Fishbum and even Paspaley are all pouring out of their offices, so I've got as much chance as a stray cat at KFC.

Anyway they had to call my aunt and I had to go down to the hospital and get my head X-rayed and I got a day off, so that was cool. You got a week off, suspension, good one, hey? Must have been a big thrill for your parents.

I was waiting for you to get back so I could beat the total crap out of you, but before you did, Nick told me the full story: how you'd all agreed Nick'd take the rap so Sam and Georgie and Dino wouldn't get busted. So that left me up the creek a bit.

I still had a go at you but, in the gym, and I know you remember that. You were coming out as I was going in and I took a look around to make sure no teachers were watching, then I got you up against the wall and said, ‘Listen you moll, touch me again and I'll kick your fucking head in.'

You just looked at me like I was some scum that had overflowed out of the sewerage. Then I heard Ellis' door open so I had to let you go.

They were our first two dates. Pretty good, hey?

Love at first sight? I don't think so.

I'm being hassled to go to bed so I'd better stop. I don't want them to read this, that's the main thing.

See ya,

Tony

Dear Miff,

Hey, it wasn't bad writing that letter to you last night. Never written so much in my life. Pretty weird, hey? But I don't care.

Yeah, so only problem now is I want to do another one but I don't know what to write about.

Oh well, might just keep doing the same as last night, raving on about us and school and all that.

Geez, we carried on like dickheads for a while, hey. Nick called it the ‘hate stare'—the way we'd give each other greasies. I don't know how it happened. How can you hate someone you've only spoken about six words to? I hated you, but. And you sure hated me. Everything you did, I hated. I'd look at you and just think everything about you was totally off. If you didn't wash your hair I'd think it was woggy. If you wore make-up I'd think you were up yourself, and if you didn't I'd think you looked like a corpse. When you wore that black jacket, I'd say you were too good for us, and when you wore your old jeans I'd say you looked like a moll. If you answered a teacher's question I'd say you were sucking up and if you didn't I'd say you were dumb.

Everyone knew we hated each other and it was kind of a joke to them, but not to me it wasn't. Not to you, either.

Then Nick had that party. ‘What do you want to invite her for?' that's what I said to him when I found out you were coming.

‘Oh, you know mate, I owe her one,' he said.

‘What for?'

I'd already forgotten all the stuff about him and Sam and Georgie and Dino, and how they would have got busted if you hadn't worked out that bullshit story for Hammond. But Nick hadn't forgotten.

‘Oh shit, mate, she saved Georgie's ass, she's pretty smart. Georgie thought I was a legend after that, mate. She would have got suspended if I hadn't taken the rap for her. That's how I got my end in, mate.'

I'd heard that last part of the story about fifteen times.

But Miffy, you know what I couldn't work out: why'd you hate me? I mean, I know why I hated you, because I thought you were a snob, a rich bitch—and because you floored me with the Rock Eisteddfod trophy and made me look like an idiot in front of the other kids. You never would tell me why you hated me, but I reckon it was my reputation. I reckon you believed all that shit that people said about me. When I tried to talk to you about it you'd change the subject, but I still reckon you believed it.

So now I'll tell you the truth, Miffy, and one thing's for sure, you can't shut me up in a letter.

OK, when I was twelve my family busted up. Oh yeah, you knew that. My mum, I didn't know where she'd gone. She just pissed off when I was at school one day. Never heard from her no more. Anyway, I didn't care where she went; I didn't care if I never saw her again, still don't. Then all that shit happened with my little brother and about a month after that my father went to Queensland to look for a job, and somewhere for both of us to live. I moved in with my uncle and aunt. But the trouble was, seemed like my dad was taking a long time to find a place where I could come and stay with him. He'd ring up every week or two and I'd be on the phone crying my little eyes out and begging him to let me come up there and he'd get mad and tell me to put my uncle on. Then, after he'd hung up, my uncle and aunt'd get mad at me for upsetting him. So seemed like I just couldn't win.

Then one night my dad rang again and talked to my uncle and this time I wasn't even allowed to talk to him. And when my uncle got off the phone he said my father got a job on a fishing boat and I wouldn't be able to live with him at all. Then that night, when I was in bed, I heard them talking, my uncle and aunt I mean, and they were arguing, and I heard my aunt saying, ‘Well, we don't want him either,' and my uncle said, ‘I don't know what she's got against kids anyway, but we're stuck with him unless Jim comes to his bloody senses,' and my aunt said, ‘Who is she anyway, the same one or another one?' and my uncle said, ‘The same one, of course, he's not that bad,' and my aunt said, ‘Oh, isn't he just. Well, in my book, a man who walks out on his kid as soon as some bit of skirt comes along isn't much good to anyone,' and my uncle said, ‘Well, what about Rosie then?' and my aunt said, ‘She's just as bad—no, worse. I still think it's a woman's job, I don't care what anyone says, and what happened to Owen is all her fault as far as I'm concerned.'

So I knew it all then, or I thought I did. Anyway I knew my father didn't want me because he'd found a girlfriend. And you can bet I was pretty upset. But I didn't show my feelings to anyone: I think that's when I first started covering stuff up; I just decided it was better that way. They try and teach you here that it's not, that it's better to talk about stuff, but I'm still getting an
F
in that.

Oh well, life went on, for about three months. Then one day I was down the markets helping this friend of mine, Salvatore, you don't know him, he goes to St Bernard's, and his father's got a stall at the markets.

And I seen my father.

At first I thought, ‘Oh good, he's back from Queensland at last and he's looking for me, about bloody time,' and I was going to go racing over there, but something, I don't know what, made me pause for a sec. And then I realised he was with someone, this tall chick with red hair and kind of leopard-skin pants like that lady on TV, and what's more he didn't look like he was in a hurry to find no-one, and neither did she. And then I thought, ‘How would he know I was here, anyway?' because not even my uncle and aunt knew: they were still in bed when I left and I just said I was going to a mate's, could have been anyone. They didn't even know Salvatore. So I was standing there spinning out, thinking about all this, and next thing they're right at the stall and they still haven't seen me. And me dad and this chick are all lovey-dovey holding hands and shit and he asks something about the apples and Sal's dad says, ‘Did you like those Rome Beauties I got you
last week
?' Last fucking week! And at that minute me dad looks up and sees me and I say, ‘You've been back from Queensland a week!' and he looks guilty as hell and suddenly I realise and I say, ‘You never even went to fucking Queensland!' and before I know what I'm doing I've picked up a knife off the fruit stall and rammed it right into the chick. I would have stuck it into me dad only she was closer. It was weird, but Miff, it went in so easy, I didn't mean it to go in that far, I swear, I just meant to, you know, nick her a bit, scare everyone. And suddenly this bitch is screaming her fucking head off and she's fallen down on the ground and there's blood just leaking out of her and it won't stop and my dad goes down to help her but he just falls over. I didn't work out for a long time that he'd fainted, a lot of use to everyone. But other people, Sal's mum especially, she's there and she done a good job. Then suddenly there's people everywhere. No-one notices me for a bit, I've dropped the knife and I'm standing there thinking, Oh shit, what have I done? What did I do that for? Then this bloke from the next stall grabs me like I'm a dangerous criminal or something. It's funny, I didn't feel dangerous. Anyway, I just stand there and let him hold me till the cops come, even though Sal's dad keeps saying, ‘It's all right, you don't have to hold him, he's a good boy,' though I don't know how he'd worked that out, cos he hardly knew me.

I was spinning out, man; really spinning out.

So the ambulance comes and the cops come and it's like something out of TV only it's real.

Weird, Miff; really weird.

Well, anyway, that's what happened.

Hey, that party of Nick's, it was pretty funny when you think about it, although it didn't seem that way at the time.

Geez, we went for it, didn't we? I've never had such a full-on fight with a girl before. You were pretty crazy doing that with me, considering my reputation. You had guts, Miff, got to give you credit. I don't know how pissed you were, but. I know I was pissed out of my brain. I still beat you pretty easy though, hey? Sorry about the scar. But I've still got the scar on the back of my neck. I thought it would have gone by now, but hey, maybe it's a permanent one, reminder of you.

Shit, look how much I've written. I must be crazy. Stuff this for a joke, I'm going to bed.

See ya around,

Tony

Dear Miff,

I don't know how I got so fucking violent, Miff. Do you know? You probably do, you're so fucking smart. But you were pretty violent yourself. At first, anyway. I just can't seem to help myself, Miff. I wish you were here so I could talk to you about stuff. These letters, they're crazy, hey, but I'm still writing them.

Every time we met, for about two or three months, there was hatred in the air. No love in the air for us, hey. Remember when I pulled that chair out from under you and you nearly broke your back? I did get scared that time. See I was on probation from the court and probation from the school and on a contract with my uncle and aunt and I thought I'd blown the whole lot in one hit. I was more scared about that than about making you a paraplegic for life, if you want to know the truth. That's the kind of selfish bastard I was. And maybe still am. I don't know. Sometimes I think I've changed and I'm better; sometimes I think I'm worse.

But even that day, standing there watching you on the floor with everyone thinking you'd wrecked your back and me thinking I was going to be put in care for the next five years, I still didn't give a flicker. Not a flicker. Tough guy, big man, that's me.

Come to think of it, you were pretty tough yourself—I was kind of shocked that you didn't cry. Impressed, but I hated you for it as well. I think I wanted to make you cry or something. It's not like I had this conscious thought that I wanted to do it, but when I looked at you I just seemed to want to make you cry. I can't explain it any better than that.

Geez, I said some terrible things to you for a few months there. In Maths that day when you said something and I said, ‘Hey, if I'd wanted to hear from an arsehole I would have farted.'

Pretty good line, hey? Not original though. Wish it was. Wish I had thought of it myself.

I never could figure you out, Miff, not for a long time. Maybe never at all when I think about it. It was just with you being so rich and all. No, more than that. Other kids at school were rich. But they were rich without much class. You were rich and you had class. Like, the way you said stuff. You never said ‘youse' or ‘shut up' or ‘g'day' or stuff like that. I couldn't work out what you were doing in our school. You didn't seem to belong. The clothes you had, even your jewellery, it was just different to what I was used to. We're all moccas and tats and shit, you know what I mean, but I had the feeling you wouldn't have any fluffy dice in your car. Then Georgie told me how you'd been chucked out from some big richo private school. I got pretty interested then. But no-one could tell me why you got chucked out. I was trying everything to find the reason. Then Dino said, ‘How come you keep asking about her—do you like her or something?' and I said, ‘No way, mate,' so I didn't ask any more then, cos you know what they're like—they get their teeth into an idea like that and they're worse than vampires with virgins, they never let go. So I shut up fast.

But I'll tell you what I did. I never told you this before. I followed you home. I was like a stalker! I felt pretty weird about it, but I just had to know more about your life. I followed you to the station and waited till you'd gone down to one end of the platform, then I went up to the other end. And when you got off at Kramer I mixed in with the crowd and kept about a hundred metres behind as you went down Ferris Avenue. You went left at St Peter's Street—well, I don't need to tell you cos I guess you know the way to your own house—and it got tricky then cos it's such a quiet street. I had to stay way, way back. I was worried you'd go into some house and I wouldn't even be able to see which one. Then you crossed the road to Moriah Place. As soon as you'd gone I ran over there. Must have looked bloody suss to anyone who was watching. Luckily, I don't think anyone was. I was just in time to see you going into this mansion. I thought, ‘Geez, unbelievable.' I mean, fair dinks, Miff: I'd only seen places like yours on TV. I thought it must have been about a hundred years old, your house, all that ivy and stuff. All white and big and them green shutters, and the garden out the front with them roses and all that other shit. And the tennis court. I mean, fuck.

I couldn't get that close because I was scared you'd see me, but I got a good-enough view. I watched for about ten minutes, then this lady came along with her dog and she looked at me like I was a used condom and the dog growled at me like I was a kilo of steak, so I thought I'd better rack off.

But I hated you even worse after that. Just, I don't know, not exactly because you were rich. Because you seemed like you had everything, I guess. I felt like I had nothing and you had it all. I tried to imagine what it'd be like living in a place like that and I couldn't even start. It's like you're trying to tune a radio and you can't even find a station. I felt sick every time I thought about you inside that big house.

That's when we had that fight at PE. You remember? We were doing netball and I got this bib saying
WA
and you said, ‘What's that stand for: wanker?' and you had one with a C. I said, ‘What's that stand for: cunt?' and you chucked the ball at me and then tried to rip my face off. I won that fight, too—or at least I was winning it until Ellis broke it up.

That was the first time we got sent to Hammond together, like for the same offence. We sat there in the corridor, steam coming out of our ears. Hammond made us shake hands! Can you believe it? What a dickhead. Then that big speech about my being on probation and shit. I don't reckon he had a right to say so much in front of you. It was none of your business.

Then, when we got outside, you said, ‘What are you on probation for?' and I said, ‘None of your fucking business.' I just couldn't believe what was happening, that Hammond had opened up my life to you like that. Like, you'd tried to rip my face off and failed, and then he comes along and kind of rips it off anyway. You know what I mean? All the stuff he said about me, a lot of that was real private. I'm getting mad all over again thinking about it now. ‘I know your mother leaving so suddenly like that, and then what happened with your brother, these things have been difficult for you to deal with.' He was saying stuff like that. Fuck him. I couldn't believe I was hearing it. If I hadn't been in so much trouble already I would have gone him, I reckon. But what hope have you got? You can't beat those blokes.

Another thing that really got me, I couldn't figure how anyone living in your kind of house could have any idea about my life. I thought I must have been a Martian to you. It never crossed my mind that you'd care about someone like me. So that's why I told you to fuck off.

Sorry.

Anyway, fuck this letter, too. I've had enough of this writing shit. Might give it the ass I think.

Nightie-night, Miff.

Tony

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