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I’m way too slow to register his reason.
Footsteps click, the library door swinging open, and Luke Lawson joins us.
“Ah,” he says. “Here you both are.” He tilts his head, gaze dropping to the book I hold between us. “Getting a head start on that translating, Hayden?” I’m not sure why that’s funny. Or maybe Luke only smiles due to what he tells Rae. “You definitely made an impression on the students. They’re pleased you’re coming camping with us.” He holds the door open.
There’s no arguing with that. Nor with what else he aims at me as Rae exits the library.
“Hayden, I haven’t forgotten about finding a mentor for you. I’ll ask someone to join you. You won’t be alone when you start your nature sessions.”
Once Rae has gone, Luke definitely smiles.
“And Hayden, I’m no expert at reading Polish, but…” He makes a circling gesture with a finger. “I’m almost certain that diary will be easier to translate if you turn it up the right way.”
10
RAE
One day, I’ll learn to stop causing my own problems. This camping trip is a good example of what Sol used to call me getting in my own way. I can almost hear him reminding me that if I’d asked more questions or listened harder, I’d already know Luke takes these kids camping for days, not for a single night like I expected. That’s longer than I have to spare while my new deadline clock is ticking, and I still don’t know exactly where to start this second try at scoring a book deal.
What I need is a launching point of inspiration. A spark. A single image that makes readers want to turn to the next page.
I’m no closer to deciding on what needs to be a banger of an opener by the time the sun sets, so I fish out my phone and send an SOS to my mentor.
Rae:How did you decide on your first image? Your opener?
Then I rush to catch up with Luke, and I get a glimpse of why he makes this hike a first experience for his new students. “It’s a chance for the old hands to step up,” he says, and that’s what I watch happen while Luke gives me a potted history of this cohort of sixteen- and seventeen-year-old kids. I learn more about theirbackgrounds and crises that would have put them into prison if they’d been adults, and I blurt a question that Luke frowns at.
“For supplying drugs?”
“Not this time.” That frown deepens. “But you know how pervasive they are. Each student that we can help see they have different options makes a difference. Watch Teo,” Luke suggests. “He’s a good example of what a year or so of having more options can lead to.”
“Like?”
“Like him choosing to stay with us for an extra year. Not because he needs to retake exams. He already scored a place on a college course. He’s pressed pause on following that path.” He eyes me. “That’s brave, right? Deciding to change direction?” He eyes Teo next, watching him move from new student to student, checking in with them, and this quiet progress? That steadying hand Teo lands on new kids’ shoulders? It’s a Hayden reminder.
Teo could be re-enacting that night when we all worked together. The only difference is that he starts a game of footy the moment those tents are pitched, which Luke comments on.
“If anyone touched Teo’s football when he first got here, he’d fight them. But there’s no fun playing alone, is there? He still fought off friendship. Kept running away and refused to trust us. All he had head space for was?—”
“Surviving?”
“I was going to say worrying about his family, but yes. That too.”
I look away then, Mia instantly on my mind, and Luke’s tone gentles.
“Get to know him, and he’ll probably tell you why. That isn’t my story to share, but Icanshare this: Asking anyone to trust again after being let down is a tall order. A huge ask. So, Teo wanting to stay here for longer? That trust is a gift.” He eyes me again. “Like you trusting that Glynn Harber would be a goodplace to stay longer, Rae. You pressing pause here too means a lot.”
He joins the kids before I can say that my situation is different. I haven’t pressed pause for me. I’ve scrambled for extra time, that’s all. What I really need is more of that inspiration that only Hayden can translate for me.
Liar, I hear at the base of a tor, although I’m pretty sure that whisper is internal, not an echo. So is this one.You could easily find another way to translate that diary. You just want to see more of him.
I march away from that truth and follow this band of kids who are blank-faced until we reach the top of a high tor together where, like them, I’m blown away by the view.
The sea and sky are endless up here, fields clinging to the distant coastline in a patchwork of harvest yellows. A tractor armed with a forklift works in one of them, collecting huge, round bales of straw, and tidying them into a neat line.
I use my phone to zoom in on that tractor’s driver.
Is that him?
