Just Remember: Just Series, #2

By Donna Blaber

Em Rogers' life changes forever when she gets her first detention. If she'd known Dad would die in a traumatic accident on the way to pick her up, and Mum would have a nervous breakdown, she wouldn't have talked in class that day. It was all her fault.

After losing friends, confidence, and hope, Em moves north to Matapouri to live with her nan and finds a future with the help of new friends, a mermaid, and a magic rock.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Donna Blaber
• Release date: Aug 9, 2022
• ISBN: 9781927229736

Book preview

Prologue

Police name victims of Dunedin car crash

Two cars collided in Dunedin yesterday, and three people including two adults and one youth, died at the scene.

Police have today named the deceased as fifty-three year old Neil Harrison, thirteen year old Tahlia Harrison, and forty-one year old Mark Rogers.

The sole survivor, a pregnant woman in her thirties, suffered a twin miscarriage, despite being admitted to Dunedin Hospital’s Intensive Care Unit. She is recovering in Dunedin Hospital.

Senior Constable Duncan Blair, of the police Serious Crash Unit, said the collision occurred around 5.30 p.m., when the Harrison's vehicle crossed the centreline two kilometres west of Bellwood School. Texting while driving may have been a contributing factor.

New Zealand Transport Authority's road safety director Bev Mildredge said more people died in car crashes caused by mobile phone distraction this year, than any since the law banning the use of handheld devices came into force.

It has prompted calls for harsher penalties for drivers illegally using a phone.

Mildredge said the message to the public regarding texting while driving is simple. Don't do it.

1

Wrong Uniform

Em slammed her bag onto the kitchen table. It rocked on its long leg, the one Nan said she’d fix but hadn’t done yet. Em grabbed a glass from the cupboard above the microwave, filled it with water, leaned against the table, and gulped it back. The table rocked again, splattering water down her blouse, the only part of her new school uniform that matched everyone else’s.

What was Mum thinking, leaving Nan the job of sorting out her uniform? Surely she would have known that Nan wouldn’t know what to do? Guilt prickled; Nan did her best. Besides, at seventy-one Nan was practically ancient. She had no idea what it was like to be thirteen and not fit in.

At least Em skipped school when she’d first arrived. Time to heal, Nan said. While Em read books from the local library, Nan’s fingers flew back and forth, the clackety-clack of knitting needles blending with the soothing tick-tock of the old grandfather clock, a walnut hand-me-down from Em’s great grandfather.

Knit one, purl one. Em’s new school jumper grew daily. Back, front, arms all held up and measured against Em’s body before being sewn together. Em tried the jumper on while Nan watched, a satisfied expression on her face.

Surprisingly it fitted her well. Em liked it, until her first day at school. That’s when she found out that everyone wore factory made jumpers. Even worse, hers was the wrong shade of green. The wool was thick too.

If it was only the jumper, it wouldn’t be so bad. But her skirt was different, too. All the girls’ skirts had three pleats; hers had none. Em wanted to complain but Nan had made it too, hauling out her trusty sewing machine from the cupboard in the hall, and setting it up on the kitchen table.

No wonder all the kids stared so much. Damage control was required. The skirt, she could do nothing about. But as for the jumper, she wouldn’t wear it. Even in the winter. No matter how cold it got. At least her blouse matched everyone else’s. Nan couldn’t sew collars. They were too fiddly. Thank goodness for that.

Em’s shoes were a different story. It was the single thing Nan asked Mum to do. Shop online and have them delivered to Nan’s little wooden cottage in Matapouri.

The shoes arrived on time. They came packaged in a big brown box, with a white label and courier stickers on top. Inside, there was a card from Mum, but it didn’t say much. At least not what Em had hoped for. Be good for Nan, it said. I’ll see you soon.

That was two months ago. Since then there’d been no sign Mum was on her way. The shoes hurt most of all. If Mum bothered to look, she would have seen on the school website that the proper ones were nothing like the ones she’d sent.

A thin voice sounded through a window at the back of the house interrupting Em’s thoughts. Hello dear! The back door creaked, and through it came her nan, Marjorie, one arm loaded with freshly picked silverbeet, her fingers disappearing into the bushy heads of four earthy carrots. She dumped everything on the kitchen bench, and turned and beamed at Em. How was your day?

2

Rāhui

Em rolled over staring at her alarm clock. Why hadn’t it sounded? She’d miss the bus. Then she sighed in relief, and stretched her limbs. Of course, it was the weekend. Some free time at last and a day where she wouldn’t have to put up with other kids, mainly girls, staring at her.

She glanced around the room. It wasn’t like her old bedroom at home but nevertheless it was comforting in its own way. There was enough room for a wooden bedside table with a dark blue lampshade sitting on top, and a desk positioned hard up against the far wall.

Em rolled up the blind, revealing her shell collection, snaking along the length of the windowsill. Beyond, the sun crept into the garden, finding its way past the clothes line, and onto the veggie garden.

From the kitchen came a clatter of plates. Nan was up and making breakfast. Em sniffed. Pikelets, her favourite. She slid out of bed and pulled on shorts and a t-shirt, then wandered through to the kitchen.

Morning love, said Nan, wiping her hands on a multi-coloured apron.

Em reached over and gave her a hug, whispering morning, into Nan’s long grey hair, not yet swept up into its usual loose bun.

What are you planning to do today? asked Nan, turning back to the stove and flipping a pikelet onto a plate, before passing it to her.

I thought I’d walk to Whale Bay, said Em. What are you doing?

Pulling weeds in the front garden. The pūhā has gone wild, said Nan, her eyes glazing over as she stared out the window.

The horseshoe curve of Matapouri’s broad ribbon of white sand was nearly empty, except for one dog and its owner walking towards the estuary at the southern end. The breeze whispered through the bushy headlands, softly echoing the gentle roll of the surf, as Em made her way down the steps and onto the beach. A man wearing a grubby white t-shirt, grunted hello as he shuffled past dragging a spade and a large soil-stained canvas bag.

The tide was on its way out as Em crossed the stream, and wandered past the island that wasn’t truly an island because it was half-beached, thanks to an abundance of super-white sand. The lookout point at the top beckoned, but she pressed on, leaving the beach and hiking across the reserve to Pebbly Beach and on over the cliffs, joining the track to Whale Bay. It wound down through shady stands of giant pūriri and nikau palm groves, before arriving beneath a tangle of pōhutukawa trees.

A small group gathered in the middle of the bay. Em recognised Jessie and Mia, two girls from her new school. Avoiding contact, she ducked under the pōhutukawa trunks, weaving her way along to the northern end of the beach, before walking out onto the rocky shore. A huge red crab startled and shuffled into a crack. In the rock pools periwinkles pottered beyond the dancing tentacles of olive-green anemones.

Em sat on a dry rock and dipped her feet into a sun-warmed pool, teasing the