‘She isn’t on the court.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She plays like her life depends on it.’

Dad laughed. ‘That’s the best way to play.’

We walked past Matilda next, who was standing in the centre of the path between the stalls, holding a tray of sample-sized freshly squeezed juice and handing them out to shoppers. She didn’t see me. I wondered if the juice business was a family business like Hayley’s or if it was just a convenient part-time job.

Dad and I spent a bit more time picking out the fruit and veg we wanted, then he bought me a cinnamon scroll to eat on the way home. ‘Don’t let Cait find out.’

When we got back, Caitlin was ready to go to the rally. She turned to me. ‘Is there anything you need to grab before we take off ?’

‘We’ll likely be out until late in the afternoon so you might want a jacket or something in case it gets cold,’ Dad added. I ran to my room to grab my favourite Brooklyn Nets hoodie.

We drove to the station and then caught a train into town. It was one of those days when the sky was cobalt blue, with not a cloud in it, which made rallying for the environment seem ridiculous.

We walked to the centre of Victoria Square, crossing paths with some of Dad’s Aboriginal, environmentalist and uni friends on the way.

‘How you going, bub?’ an Aunty said to me.

‘Yeah, I’m good,’ I said as she hugged me.

‘You yarning today, Mark?’ she asked Dad, who was staring off towards the gathering groups of people in the square.

‘Just came to support,’ Dad said. There were times when he got up on the steps of Parliament House to speak about deaths in custody, funding cuts to Aboriginal programs or one issue or another.

I thought he was amazing for doing that. I was quite used to rallies and protests by now, which is why I thought him taking me to a climate change rally was just a day like any other.

We made our way over to some people with a stack of protest signs. ‘Need any help?’ Dad offered.

‘Can you carry one of these?’ a guy with ratty bum fluff on his chin replied.

Dad took a sign that read ‘100% renewable energy’ and looked around thoughtfully at the gathering crowd.

A folk singer started strumming a guitar and singing some kind of Bob Dylan tune, but it wasn’t nearly as good as Bob on a really bad day. At least he was amped up to a solar-powered speaker. I thought that was pretty cool.

This climate change rally looked very different to the Aboriginal rights rallies Dad had been taking me to since before I could walk. There wasn’t a sea of people dressed in black, red and gold, but a mix of old and young people in everyday clothing and lots of hippie types in colourful and daggy clothes. It seemed like every second person had dreadlocks or facial piercings.