The four of them left soon after. I heard a voice going ‘What a dump … losers’ as they passed behind us. I didn’t care. As I’d sat down, Melody had gone ‘You all right, Callum?’ and touched my hand. Oh man, I could have dived back in and rescued another ten idiots!

I thought about all that while I wandered along the riverbed. Back at our house, Dad and Mum and the others would be making up their minds. Maybe they had already. Maybe in a few months I’d be living somewhere in town?

That could be OK. I’d still see Melody at school. My parents would come out a lot to visit friends and the marae, and I’d make sure I came with them. Anyway, it was less than an hour on my bike — if there wasn’t a head wind.

Yet in some ways, I’ve got most of the things I want right here in Waimoana. Plus I can text my mates to see about meeting up, although reception is a bit shaky sometimes. Not just cellphone reception: the satellite feed for our TV went on the blink just before the last Rugby World Cup final. Imagine if we hadn’t been able to watch? Imagine if we’re still here, and it happens during the next World Cup final! I want to see us win three times in a row.

Melody and Kahu and their nana all came over to watch the last game. She’s a rugby fan. Aunt Maggie used to have a poster of the first-ever Black Ferns, the New Zealand women’s rugby team, and after she was killed, Dad gave the poster to Melody.

Yeah, I know. Melody, Melody, Melody … But I can’t talk to my mates about her; guys don’t do that sort of stuff. So I’m talking to the paper. And to you.

She and some of the other girls on the bus sometimes sing in Maori on the way to school. Sing and giggle and whisper to one another, like girls do. It sounds quite cool — the singing part, that is.

I can speak a bit of Maori. Like I said, we all got taught some at primary school. I should try to learn more; maybe I could ask for some lessons from … Mustn’t use that word.

You hear quite a few languages in town and even around Waimoana now. Vietnamese, of course; Chinese; people from countries like Serbia. Some Muslim refugee families have come; there’s three girls at high school who wear head scarves with their uniforms. They look quite cute. Some kids called them Towel-Heads and A-rabs and crap like that, until the teachers jumped on them. There’s always idiots around. I’ve heard Marama and Pania talk about the sneers that Maori people still get sometimes. Sometimes you hear stuff that makes you wonder if it’ll ever stop.