I couldn’t believe it when Michael nodded and said, ‘Where in the classroom would you like that place to be, Caroline?’

And then Jamie, the short guy, said, ‘Because Phoebe’s new, I think a couple of us should be her class buddies until she settles in.’ I get that Jamie was trying to be nice, but his suggestion made me feel embarrassed. I mean, it wasn’t like I’d moved here from another country or something. My people were here first.

Eventually, we moved on from boring class rules. We were all seated in a circle when Michael said, ‘We’re going to kick off the year by discussing what we know about Australian history.’

I thought, I’m going to catch his racist arse out, tell Dad and then he’ll get me out of this weird school. Dad was always sharing with Caitlin and me the ignorant things his students said in class or wrote in their essays about Aboriginal people and culture.

Caroline began the discussion with, ‘We never hear about the real history of Australia, only what the people that invaded the country want us to know.’

I was shocked that Caroline had said that, and watched Michael’s face closely to see how he would react.

Jamie chimed in: ‘It’s true, we only ever hear about dead white guys when it comes to history.’ I felt like high-fiving him.

‘And what’s wrong with that?’ Michael asked. ‘Talking about dead white guys?’ I thought, Here we go.

‘Well, it’s not like Aboriginal people haven’t been here for at least sixty thousand years,’ Ashley said with a laugh.

And for some reason, I said without thinking, ‘My family has been in the Flinders Ranges forever!’ Then I realised, crap, I’ve blown my cover.

Everyone stopped talking and stared at me.

‘Can you tell us a bit more about that, Phoebe?’ Michael asked. ‘If you’re happy to.’

I was a bit cautious because in my experience there was always some know-it-all in my class who wanted to tell me all about Aboriginal people when I mentioned my ancestry. I decided to share anyway. ‘My dad’s family are Nukunu and Ngadjuri from the Southern Flinders Ranges and mid north. In short, when whitefellas – I mean, when non-Indigenous people rocked up,’ I corrected myself, ‘they pretended we weren’t there because they didn’t want us to be there. But we’re still here!’ I said, suddenly conscious of how revved up I was. And then, wary, I searched the faces of my classmates to see if anyone was staring me down. They all nodded and smiled.

And then Matilda said, ‘Aborigines wandered here by chance and were too lazy to go anywhere else. It doesn’t mean you have any more right to be here than us. And you’ve obviously got another background besides being Aboriginal!’

Her comments stung. I don’t think anyone had said anything so direct and ignorant to me before. I especially hated her comment about Aboriginal people being lazy, and that we don’t have a right to say what happens in our country when our people have been here for at least sixty-five thousand years. I could see Caroline scowling at Matilda as if to tell her to shut up. And Michael was clearly annoyed with her, too. I knew I was starting to turn red – I could feel a ball of fire building in my guts – and then Michael read aloud an article by Aboriginal man Mick Dodson, an activist and lawyer, about the way Aboriginal people are perceived. It helped to put me at ease a little because the article outlined stereotypes and corrected them, and clearly stated the injustices that had happened to my people, some of which are still happening.