~ 6 ~
drought - 1980Cassie pulls the dress over her head, the cotton still new and stiff. The dress is pink with red strawberries the size of fingernails splattered like sores over it. She tugs on its side seams and stomps flat-footed into the lounge room.
‘Do I have to wear this?’
Her mother doesn’t look up from combing Alex’s hair. ‘Yes.’
‘The pink makes me want to vomit.’
‘It’s just pink.’
‘It makes me feel sick.’
‘Not another word. Go brush your teeth then come and I’ll plait your hair for you.’
‘Next time you make me a dress, I don’t want a pink one.’ She thumps down the hall, her feet not making as much noise on the floor as she would like. ‘I’m too old for pink,’ she shouts behind her.
‘You’re only eleven … she’s only eleven, isn’t she, Mum?’ Alex shouts back.
Cassie pokes
