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Back The Year the Maps Changed Save as PDF
Chapters (75)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Dedication
  4. Epigraph
  5. Map
  6. Prologue
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. 6
  13. 7
  14. 8
  15. 9
  16. 10
  17. 11
  18. 12
  19. 13
  20. 14
  21. 15
  22. 16
  23. 17
  24. 18
  25. 19
  26. 20
  27. 21
  28. 22
  29. 23
  30. 24
  31. 25
  32. 26
  33. 27
  34. 28
  35. 29
  36. 30
  37. 31
  38. 32
  39. 33
  40. 34
  41. 35
  42. 36
  43. 37
  44. 38
  45. 39
  46. 40
  47. 41
  48. 42
  49. 43
  50. 44
  51. 45
  52. 46
  53. 47
  54. 48
  55. 49
  56. 50
  57. 51
  58. 52
  59. 53
  60. 54
  61. 55
  62. 56
  63. 57
  64. 58
  65. 59
  66. 60
  67. 61
  68. 62
  69. 63
  70. 64
  71. 65
  72. 66
  73. Acknowledgments
  74. About the Author
  75. About the Publisher

“Luca said . . .” Sam started again, but I shook my head at him and his mouth snapped shut.

“Luca said the toilets and bathrooms there are really old,” I began instead. “They’re not shoving clothes or anything else down the toilet—it’s just that the plumbing’s all rusted and hasn’t been used in ages, and now suddenly hundreds of people are going to the loo every day and it’s all backing up.”

“Ew, that’s disgusting—I’m eating!” Keira whined, and she delicately put her salami sandwich back inside her lunch box.

“Luca would know better than your dad does,” Jed said to Aidan, and I looked over at him with grateful eyes. “Luca’s the one who’s been volunteering there nearly every day.”

Aidan shrugged. “Whatever. I’m just telling you what my dad heard.”

Jed shrugged too. “Sam and Fred are telling you what their dad saw.”

Sam and I looked at each other then, and I didn’t know if it was Jed calling Luca our dad, or appreciation that he’d stuck up for us. But for a second, Sam and I shared a private smile, just between us. And it made me feel light, and maybe even happy.

But then chasing that thought away was the memory of what Luca had said before: that some people in town wouldn’t like the refugees coming here. That seemed true enough now.

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21

Say Hello

The war officially ended in June, around the time we first saw some of the refugees in town.

Our government was giving the refugees an allowance—Luca said it was like pocket money. Twenty dollars a week for adults and five for children, to buy things like clothes, toiletries, travel fares, and extra food. The officials in charge at the safe haven had started arranging a private bus service so the refugees could come into town and have a look around—and spend the money they were given.

A whole bunch of shops on Ocean Beach Road did things to celebrate and make them feel welcome. The Athenaeum Cinema’s sign said: “Refugees Welcome: Monthly Free Movie.” The local bakery made Anzac biscuits especially, and offered them free to anyone from the safe haven who popped in. Mac’s Cycles bike shop even started a bike share: refugees could pay five dollars to borrow a bicycle for a week, so they could get to Sorrento and back to the Quarantine Station, about forty minutes’ ride away. Aidan’s parents’ café—the Pram Stop—was just about the only shop on Ocean Beach Road that hadn’t put out a welcome sign.

But we didn’t see any refugees in town in those first few weeks.

Luca said it was partly because they were scared. The government had told them that if they left the safety of the haven, it couldn’t guarantee protection and support, and so the refugees stayed right there, afraid to leave.