‘Nah, the walk will help me with my nerves.’

‘You know, sometimes I still get nervous before I give a lecture,’ he said.

‘Really?’ I was surprised. I’d seen him talk to audiences pretty much all of my life, in lecture theatres, at political rallies, at meetings, on television.

‘Yeah, I do. Especially when I’m teaching about Aboriginal things and I have all of these new students in front of me and I think they’re judging me, judging our people, sitting there with preconceived ideas about us, all the worst ideas about our people.’

I knew exactly what he meant, especially thinking about what all of my classmates must think about me after my recent outburst. ‘What do you do to help?’

He sat on my bed and said, ‘I take confidence in knowing our ancestors are with me, that there’s nothing more important than telling the truth, and that people can change. I know that to be true. I’ve seen people change for better or worse my whole life.’

‘Do you think Mum can change?’ I asked, packing the last of my things into my bag.

Dad looked down at his bare feet, pausing a moment. ‘You know I want her to get better, I want the best for her and you, but I really don’t know.’ And then he stood up and followed me to the front door. ‘Anyway, you should only focus on yourself right now. It’s your time to shine.’

He gave me a big warm hug at the door and said, ‘I love you, bub,’ and then I made my anxious walk to school.

I thought about anxiety as I walked, like I did in the meeting. I recognised the anxiety in my body now, I felt it. I wondered if it had built up from all of the stuff from Mum’s drinking, and Mum and Dad’s fighting, and the stress of going to a new school, making new friends, what Trent did and how Matilda treated me. I started to think that just as it had built up, I could get rid of it.

I don’t know if it was the principal’s doing after our meeting with her or not, but in morning circle we sung Midnight Oil’s ‘Beds are Burning’, an Australian political protest song about giving land back to Aboriginal people. I shot a sneaky glance at Matilda to see if she was sour-faced, but she was reading the words from the sheet and singing along enthusiastically. I thought maybe there’s been some change in her, and I felt some good energy through my body.

As I walked to class thinking about Patty Mills and his determination in the dying seconds of a game, where he’d fight against odds to shoot the winning points, I felt pumped.

I could hardly keep my notes together because my hands were shaking so much as I loaded up my PowerPoint presentation.