Take My Word for It Read online

  Mixing writing and teaching with equal enthusiasm, John Marsden has published forty books in between various educational adventures. For eight years he ran writing camps at his home in the Macedon Ranges, near Hanging Rock, Victoria, but he is now Principal of a school he founded in 2006, Candlebark, on 1100 acres of beautiful natural bush.

  Among John’s best-known books are Tomorrow, When the War Began; So Much to Tell You; Hamlet; Letters from the Inside; Checkers; and Winter.

  Recently he wrote the libretto for a highly successful children’s opera, Lost to the Music, commissioned by the National Boys’ Choir.

  John and his partner Kris live in an old nunnery, where they are raising six boys, aged five to fifteen, in an atmosphere of cheerful chaos.

  Also by John Marsden

  So Much to Tell You

  The Journey

  The Great Gatenby

  Staying Alive in Year 5

  Out of Time

  Letters from the Inside

  Take My Word for It

  Looking for Trouble

  Tomorrow . . . (Ed.)

  Cool School

  Creep Street

  Checkers

  For Weddings and a Funeral (Ed.)

  This I Believe (Ed.)

  Dear Miffy

  Prayer for the 21st Century

  Everything I Know About Writing

  Secret Men’s Business

  The Tomorrow Series 1999 Diary

  The Rabbits

  Norton’s Hut

  Marsden on Marsden

  Winter

  The Head Book

  The Boy You Brought Home

  The Magic Rainforest

  Millie

  A Roomful of Magic

  The Tomorrow Series

  Tomorrow, When the War Began

  The Dead of the Night

  The Third Day, the Frost

  Darkness, Be My Friend

  Burning for Revenge

  The Night is for Hunting

  The Other Side of Dawn

  The Ellie Chronicles

  While I Live

  Incurable

  Circle of Flight

  Pan Macmillan Australia

  John Marsden’s website can be visited at: www.johnmarsden.com.au

  The characters and events in this book are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  First published 1992 in hardback by Pan Macmillan Publishers Australia

  First Pan paperback edition published 1993 by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Limited

  This Pan edition published 2001 by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Limited

  1 Market Street, Sydney

  Copyright © JLM Pty Ltd 1992

  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-.

  Take my word for it.

  ISBN 978-1-74334-618-1

  I. Title.

  A823.3

  This electronic edition published in 2012 by Pan Macmillan Australia Pty Ltd

  1 Market Street, Sydney 2000

  Copyright © John Marsden 1992

  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.

  Take my word for it.

  EPUB format 978-1-74334-618-1

  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.

  To Jeremy Madin, one of my teachers.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Thanks to the following for some of the stories in this book: Will Bowman, Adam Butterworth, Jenni Conner, Claire Coombe, Amy Curnow, Natalie Deans, Jonathan Geddes, Lucinda Gubbins, Sarah Morgan, Kate Mortimer, Angus Rigby, Josh Roydhouse, Nerissa Rutledge, Peta Sherwood, Sarah Tobias, Julia Utz, Tom Watson.

  Special thanks to Emma Lee, Danielle Cooper and Jo Hayman for information and advice on rowing.

  Special thanks to Mrs Margaret Hagger and Anthony White, Robert Paganin, Andrew Lampert, Kate Wignell and Catherine Pierce, for help in preparing the manuscript, and also to Jessica Russell. Lots of thanks to Elizabeth and Andrew Farran for help with typing.

  And special thanks to Bec Joyce.

  This seems an appropriate time to thank also people who, usually unwittingly, contributed stories to So Much to Tell You. They include Erle Cramer, Jenny de Goursât, Brian Morris, Jim Wild, Olivia Plumbridge, Tessa Harmer, Ann Poyser, Fiona Koch, Emma Crombie, Fleur Spriggs, Jodie Foreman, Kate McPhee, Ilka Rowe, Clive Moffat, Sir James Darling, Rebecca Joyce, and the late, much loved David Weeding. And of course John Mazur, Kay Nesbitt, whom I’ve never met, and the original ‘Marina’, whom I met briefly in Sydney around 1969.

  Contents

  Also by John Marsden

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Acknowledgements

  February 6

  February 7

  February 8

  February 11

  February 12

  February 18

  February 20

  February 21

  February 22

  February 25

  February 26

  February 27

  February 28

  March 5

  March 6

  March 7

  March 12

  March 14

  March 15

  March 16

  March 19

  March 20

  March 21

  March 22

  April 3

  April 4

  April 5

  April 6

  April 7

  April 10

  April 11

  April 12

  April 13

  April 14

  April 16

  April 17

  April 18

  April 19

  April 20

  April 21

  April 22

  April 24

  April 25

  April 26

  April 27

  April 28

  April 30

  May 1

  May 4

  May 5

  May 6

  May 7

  May 8

  May 9

  May 11

  May 14

  May 15

  May 16

  May 17

  May 20

  May 21

  May 22

  May 25

  May 26

  May 28

  May 29

  May 30

  May 31

  June 1

  June 2

  June 5

  June 7

  June 8

  June 9

  June 11

  June 12

  June 13 br />
  June 15

  June 16

  June 20

  June 21

  June 22

  June 23

  June 26

  June 27

  June 28

  June 29

  June 30

  July 3

  July 4

  July 5

  July 13

  July 14

  July 15

  July 18

  July 19

  July 20

  July 25

  July 26

  July 27

  July 28

  July 29

  August 2

  August 3

  August 4

  August 6

  August 8

  August 9

  August 10

  August 12

  August 14

  August 15

  August 16

  August 17

  FEBRUARY 6

  Hi Journal, Mr Lindell, whoever’s reading this. My name’s Lisa. Not Sad Lisa, like in the song; more like the nursery rhyme:

  What’s become of poor old Lisa

  Why’s she sitting up a tree sir?

  Won’t she wave to you or me sir?

  Can she see what we can’t see sir?

  I used to love that when I was little. There’re not too many poems about Lisa, because it doesn’t rhyme with much. Just ‘mesa’ in Geography, and I don’t even know what that is. A kind of plateau, I think.

  Is this what we’re meant to do with these Journals, Mr Lindell? Rattle away like a train in a tunnel? Seems pretty slack, if you don’t mind my saying so. Shouldn’t we be doing subjects and predicates, like we did with Mr Aspen? Do you remember Tarryn Mortimer, who you taught last year? She used to say she hoped I’d get you for English, but I don’t know if I’ll like your style. At least it should be interesting—I just don’t know if it’ll help us pass exams.

  Think I’d better do my Maths before I get in trouble tomorrow. Goodnight Journal, from me and Alex the Bear.

  FEBRUARY 7

  Dear Journal and Mr Lindell: Mr Lindell, I think it’s a bit of a rip-off when you don’t read these, because how will you see if we’re improving, or using them properly? I didn’t mean to be rude in class but I think it’s all a bit pointless, and I usually say what I think (which is why teachers don’t like me much).

  Alex the Bear would like to say ‘Hello’ but he’s not feeling well. He was chucked out of the dorm window last night by a certain person whose name I won’t mention because I don’t dob, but it starts with ‘C’ and ends with ‘y’ and has five letters. Anyway, this all happened after lights out, and I had to go down and rescue him without getting caught, which is not easy round here. And he was lying in MUD, which he does not like (why should he, poor little bear?). I think he thought it was Vegemite, which he does like so he was a bit confused.

  Anyway he had to have a bath, and he’s still upset.

  I’ll get Cathy back tomorrow—by the time I’m finished with her teddy he’ll be stuffed in more ways than one.

  Cathy’s good value but generally this is not a great dorm. Everyone keeps asking us about the new girl, Marina. ‘What’s she really like?’ How should we know? She doesn’t seem to want to have anything to do with us, although I know it’s not really us (Mrs Graham explained all that). But no-one comes near our dorm—we hardly get any visitors. They all go to Dorm D, where Kerry and Gabrielle are. I know it’s not Marina’s fault, but still.

  I’m looking right at her now, because I’ve pulled my desk around a bit to get near the window. She’s huddled over her books, like a hunchback. She doesn’t seem to see or notice anything, and she never looks in anyone’s eyes. She never even looks at their face. Her hair’s quite long, dark, and she’s got it tied back tonight. Usually it hangs long down either side of her face. The right side of her face is fine but the left half, the side I’m looking at, is a bit of a mess. It’s all crinkly and wrinkly and red. You know how skin’s meant to be soft—well, this part of her face looks hard and plasticy. In fact her face looks like a plastic plate that’s been put on a hot stove. It’s not easy to look at her.

  FEBRUARY 8

  I did all my other Prep first tonight, so now I’ve got a bit of time to write in this. There’s only one problem—I’ve got nothing to say. Nothing happened today. This was a day of nothing. A nothing day that was full of nothing, all day long. Nothing, nutting, nothing.

  Friday night’s the worst for Prep. No-one’s in a mood to do any work, and they always put the strictest teachers and prefects on duty. Mrs Graham, for example, and Marisa Chan. Marisa’s sweet, but you wouldn’t want to be on her wrong side. Tracey didn’t do her job this morning (she’s on Dorm Vac). Marisa went and found her and told her to do it, but Trace just went to breakfast anyway. Melt down! Marisa met her coming out of the Dining Hall, and I swear, it made Krakatoa look like a fart in a bathtub. I’ve never seen Trace move so fast.

  Marisa’ll be a good House Captain I think. At least you know where you are with her, and she’s not corrupt like last year’s prefects. They all smoked and drank, but they busted other people for doing the same things. And they made us buy stuff for them at the tuckshop all the time, out of our own money. To tell you the truth, I’d love to be House Captain, even though I know I haven’t got much chance. I won’t be campaigning for it—there’s no point. I’ve made too many enemies.

  We vote every year for prefects but I don’t know how much notice Mrs Graham takes of it. She says she does, but I doubt it. Marisa would have won the students’ vote, but I don’t think Sally Becker should have been Vice Captain, and I’m sure hardly anyone would have voted for Skye Bayliss last year. I know I didn’t.

  FEBRUARY 11

  Hi Journal, how are you today? Hope you had a good weekend. I didn’t open you once. But I admit I thought about you. A few times things happened and I thought, ‘I might write about that in my Journal.’ I can see how there’s a danger of getting hooked on you.

  I’ve never kept a Diary before. What’s the difference between a Journal and a Diary, Mr Lindell? Must ask you in class.

  I got in a few fights at the weekend. First weekend back—great start. I just don’t like this dorm much. I was in a good one for the second half of last year, with my best friends, Issy Eastwood and Kizzy Tan. Issy, Kizzy and Lizzy, that’s us. Now they’re both in Dorm C and I’m on my own in B. The way they pick the dorms is really off. You write down two people you want to be with and two people you don’t, but it’s a bit like voting for prefects. I reckon Mrs Graham shoves the papers through the shredder. She seems to set out to break up every friendship she can. Term one last year she filled the dorm next to her flat with all the quiet, well-behaved kids. It was so obvious. We called it Square Dorm. This year there’s one that’s got nearly all Asian kids, and Kate calls that Chinatown. Kate’s one person I put that I didn’t want to be with, but here she is, in the very next bed. I remember when she started at Warrington, halfway through last year. So funny. She came storming in with about six suitcases, dropped them all in a heap on the floor, kicked one of them across the room and said: ‘Geez I hate this place.’ From the look of the cases you’d have thought she was a real splendo, but she didn’t talk like one. I knew her sister a bit—she was kind to me when I first arrived (she was a prefect)—but she was even louder than Kate, and her parties were legendary.

  Anyway, Kate wasn’t too bad to share with for two terms but I don’t know how I’ll put up with a second year.

  I thought Sophie Smith would be a pain in the butt too, but she’s been OK so far.

  The one who really drives me to the North Pole is Ann Maltin. She makes me so mad! I want to pick her up and shake some life into her. Basically, she’s a suck. ‘Oh Mrs Graham, you haven’t signed our Prep Diaries.’ ‘Mr Bostock, you forgot to set any Prep.’ ‘Miss Curzon, do you want me to do Marina’s job for her?’ I’m the one who does Marina’s job nearly every morning, but Ann gets all the cr
edit. I hate people like that.

  That brings me to Marina. Now honestly Mr Lindell, do you think the school should take students like Marina? I mean, I’ve got nothing against her, but I reckon it’s cruel sending her to boarding school. She should be in a hospital or something. And it’s hard on us, not just because of jobs and stuff, but because she depresses everyone. People go quiet when she comes in. And the way she keeps to the walls. And her face—I couldn’t look at her at first. I guess we’ll get used to her eventually, but I hope she doesn’t get worse, being with us. I wouldn’t be surprised. We’re not a very good influence on anyone.

  Do you think she used to be pretty, Mr Lindell? I think she might have been. The first time I saw her, her back was to me, and because she’s got a good figure I was expecting her to be good-looking, you know how you do. But when she turned round I just gasped—I couldn’t help it. I’ve felt mega-guilty about that ever since. I hope she didn’t notice. Her face is so . . . I don’t know . . . raw looking. And around her eyes—I suppose she’s had plastic surgery—have you noticed those little ridges and lines? It makes my eyes water to look at them.

  The thing is, she’s got beautiful eyes, but you don’t notice them till you force yourself to look at her properly. Now I love her eyes—they’re so dark and deep and soft.

  I reckon they should have done to her father what he did to her. They should have boiled him in it.

  FEBRUARY 12

  I’m so depressed tonight. This place grinds me down sometimes. It’s not really the school this time though; it’s a story that Emma wrote, that she gave me to read. It’s called ‘Over The Edge’ and it’s about a kid who gets dumped on once too often by his parents and he ends up O.D’ing. It just had a bad effect on me, reading it.

  FEBRUARY 18

  Yikes, you take a few nights off, and suddenly you’ve missed a week of this thing. It’s definitely Mr Lindell’s fault. If he checked them properly I’d do it properly. Oh well. I’ll try to write a bit tonight, but I’m so stuffed after tennis all afternoon, then we had to do two chapters of Science and a Maths worksheet. Plus there’s a French test tomorrow . . . irregular verbs. All of them seem irregular to me.