clatter of the engines. But he was an enemy, and even if he had been a German pilot, Fraulein Gelber would have frowned.
chapter eight
Who is better?
The bus rolled and wandered through the puddles, then bumped up onto the bitumen. The splash of mud and water stopped.
‘I’d like to see His Excellency the blinking Mayor drive this blinking road twice a day,’ muttered Mrs Latter to no one in particular. She blew her nose with peculiar vehemence into the big white hanky. ‘Made sure he got the bitumen right up to his place, no worries about that. But as for doing anything for us out here…’
No one said anything. If you answered Mrs Latter you were in for an argument all the way to school.
Mark waited till Mrs Latter had subsided under her hat (it was orange and red today) then tapped Anna on the shoulder. ‘Anna?’
Anna looked up from her book and turned round. ‘Yeah, what?’
‘You know how Hitler went on about the Jews? About some people being better than others?’
‘Yes,’ said Anna.
‘Well, was there anything in it?’
Anna stared. ‘Of course not!’ she said.
‘I don’t mean about the Jews,’ said Mark hurriedly. ‘I mean everyone knows that’s stupid. But what I mean is, are some people better than others…you know what I mean.’
Little Tracey turned round. ‘I’m better at spelling,’ she boasted loudly. ‘Miss Littlefield says I’m the best of all. I can beat anyone in the class. I bet I can beat…’
‘That’s not what I meant,’ interrupted Mark.
Anna frowned. ‘You mean, is any group of people, a whole country or a race or a religion, better than other people?’
‘Yeah, that’s it.’
‘I don’t know,’ admitted Anna. ‘Like Irish jokes. Everyone carries on that the Irish are dumb but everyone knows they aren’t really.’
‘My great-grandpa was Irish,’ said Mark.
‘So was one of mine,’ said Anna.
‘My grandpa came from Yugoslavia,’ said Little Tracey, bouncing up and down in her seat. ‘He says that he…’
Mark spoke over the top of her. ‘Ben’s dad says that Asians are all criminals. But that can’t be right can it? I mean how do we know?’
‘Ben’s father’s a racist little rooster with maggots for brains,’ announced Mrs Latter, circling round a pothole with more swerve than necessary, so they all had to grab the edges of their seats. ‘And you can tell him I said so with my love. No need to tell him anyway. I’ve told him often enough. Last time I saw him down at the pub I said…’
‘Why,’ began Mark, then stopped. No need to get Mrs Latter any more worked up.
‘Why? I’ll tell you why! You just have to look at the statistics, but does anyone bother to do that? No, they just listen to what some twerp has to say on TV and take it like it’s gospel. Never mind if it’s true or not. People just don’t THINK, that’s the trouble. They don’t look at the evidence. Never mind if anyone with half a brain in their heads…get on the right side of the road, you flaming numbskull!!’ Mrs Latter roared at Johnnie Trantor, bumbling past in his old ute.
‘What do the statistics say, Mrs Latter?’ asked Anna soothingly.
‘Asians have a lower crime rate than the rest of the population, that’s what they say,’ said Mrs Latter triumphantly. ‘And if you don’t believe me you look it up yourself. You look at the ten most wanted criminals in Australia! Not a dark skin among the lot. All white and all dumb.’
Mark hesitated. Most times you’d be crazy to actually ask Mrs Latter a question. But she wasn’t going to shut up now, no matter what anyone said or didn’t say and maybe, just maybe, she’d have an interesting answer.
‘Mrs Latter,’ he attempted to interrupt.
‘…and as for that slimy, mean-mouthed bloke on TV, you know what I’d say to him if I ever caught him on my bus…’
Yeah, right, thought Mark. As though you’d get someone important like him on a school bus. ‘Mrs Latter, do you think there’s any group of people who are better or worse than other people?’
‘Sure,’ said Mrs Latter, swinging cheerfully back onto the middle of the road.
‘Really?’ asked Mark in surprise. He’d been sure she’d say, ‘No, everyone is as good as everyone else’, and then go off into one of her yelling matches. ‘Who, Mrs Latter?’
‘Men,’ said Mrs Latter with satisfaction. ‘They’re the worst group of people out there.’
‘But men aren’t a group or a race or…’
‘What are they then? Most crime is committed by men, most car accidents are caused by men.’ Mrs Latter counted off on her fingers, so the bus swung wildly again.
‘Now look what you’ve done,’ Anna muttered to Mark.
‘Men start most of the wars, and fight in them too. Most of the people in prisons are men. You just have to look at the statistics!
‘You know what I think?’ demanded Mrs Latter, then answered herself as no one spoke. ‘I think men should pay higher taxes to pay for all the damage they do. Women are naturally gentler, more cooperative… Move your rear, you great mug!’ yelled Mrs Latter, as the bus slowed down behind old Mr Hannon’s Holden.
Mrs Latter was still holding forth as the bus pulled in to pick up Big Tracey. Mark sighed, and opened his maths homework.
chapter nine
Questions
Mr McDonald was sitting at his table marking homework when Mark looked through the door.
‘Mark, what’s up?’ he asked.
‘Nothing… I just wanted to ask you something.’
Mr McDonald looked a bit nervous, thought Mark. Maybe he’d asked him too many questions lately, the sort that Mum and Dad couldn’t answer like, ‘How fast could God ride a bicycle?’ and ‘How did life begin?’ But he put his book to one side anyway.
‘Sure. Fire away,’ he said.
‘I just wanted to know…’ began Mark slowly. ‘I mean it’s silly but I was thinking. Do kids have to be like their parents?’
Mr McDonald frowned. ‘I’m not sure I get your meaning,’ he said.
‘Well, say someone’s father did something really evil like Hitler, or Pol Pot,’ he added hurriedly. ‘Would their kids be evil too?’
Mr McDonald looked relieved, as though he’d expected the question to be more difficult.
‘That’s a good question, Mark. No, they probably wouldn’t be evil too. I can’t think of anyone really bad in history whose children were as bad as they were. In fact, sometimes the opposite is true. Bad people often have good kids, and good people have bad kids.’
‘But we’re like our parents, aren’t we?’
‘Yes and no,’ said Mr McDonald. ‘Kids often inherit the same sort of temperament as their parents, and maybe the same talents. Like music for instance, or painting. But usually they do something different with it. A painter’s kid might become an architect, for example, if they inherited the same talent. Maybe that’s the best way
