Broken Hill High School was greener than Tristram had expected, given the dry town, and the flat red desert country that they had driven through to get there. The town had houses and fences and roads much like any other town, except that there was no green grass on any of the median strips or nature strips – instead there was red dirt and dry scrubby tufts of plant-life.
At the entrance to the high school was an attractive old-style brick building, cream in colour with a sign that showed that the school was established in 1919. Tall and thin gum trees grew out of the asphalt areas. The school grounds were quiet, as all the students were inside.
The afternoon was baking hot, and yet there was a relaxed joy in the air. The schoolyear was winding down, and all that remained were lazy summer
