Dedication
For Christine Grimm (nee Gregory)
This book is also dedicated to all those people, both Black and White, young and old, who speak up against racism in any form against anyone different. It is a hard stand to take and makes you feel alone and scared when you do so. There are many of you who do exactly that and we acknowledge your courage. It is people like you who will build a beautiful future that we all hope for in this shared country. You know who you are.
Acknowledgement of Country
Oxford University Press acknowledges the Traditional Owners of the many lands on which we create and share our learning resources. We acknowledge the Traditional Owners as the original storytellers, teachers and students of this land we call Australia. We pay our respects to Elders, past and present, for the ways in which they have enabled the teachings of their rich cultures and knowledge systems to be shared for millennia.
Warning to First Nations Australians
Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander peoples are advised that this publication may include images or names of people now deceased.
Dear diary,
I feel so sad. I really hate going to school. I wish I’d gone to the local school like Dakota and Jack. But Mum was so proud of me winning the scholarship to Santa Fe Ladies’ College. How can I tell her what’s happening? I should go now. I can hear Mum coming, write to you tomorrow.
Milly
P.S. I hope tomorrow is better.
chapter 1
Milly’s secret
One evening Mum asked Dakota to call Jack and Milly in for dinner. Dakota found his young brother Jack watching television and, as all big brothers do (even big brothers as nice as Dakota), passed the job of finding Milly, their little sister, down to him.
Jack wandered into their bedrooms calling, “Dinnertime, Milly.” He could not find her in the house and headed to the next likely place— the tree house in the back garden. Milly would probably have her earphones in, and he’d have to climb up for her to hear him.
As Jack crossed the garden he bounced his football, pivoting around as he reached the old
pepper tree, and gently kicked the ball down the yard. “Yes! A goal! Another goal for number 6, Jack Flash!” He punched his arms up in triumph, imagining playing for Western Australia, his teammates slapping him on the back and the cheering crowd. Jack saw Monty, Milly’s Jack Russell terrier and best friend, lying at the bottom of the tree. Monty leapt up and yipped hello. Jack gave him a quick pat and climbed up the tree house ladder. At the top he stopped. He could hear a muffled sobbing.
“What’s wrong?” said Jack, poking his head through the trapdoor in the floor of the cubby.
“Nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” said Milly, wiping tears from her face.
Milly was a small thin girl, who had just started Year Eight in a new school. She was the shy baby of the family, whose nickname was Milly Moo— that is until high school, when she said she was too old for kiddy nicknames.
Jack swung himself from the ladder onto the cubby floor. “Come on, Moo, tell me what’s wrong. Please tell me!” He sat on the floor next to her.
She shook her head but he nudged her side with his elbow until she gave in.
“OK, there’s this girl in my school. Her name is Adriana ...”
“I know about that Adriana girl—her and her friends catch the bus near our school. She’s a real cow,” said Jack.
“She keeps picking on me, and my new friends are too scared to hang around with me because they think they’ll be picked on as well.”
“I’m your friend,” said Jack, and he put his arm around her.
Milly shrugged him aside. “That’s different. You’re my brother.”
SAMPLE
“What’s she been doing?”
“She’s been calling me names …” Milly said quietly. She hesitated, “like … coon.”
“What do you mean, coon? Coon cheese?”
“No silly, it is a mean word. She calls me ‘abo’ too.”
“Should I tell Mum?”
“No way! Mum was so proud of me getting into Santa Fe Ladies’ College. Everyone says it’s one of the best schools in Perth. I don’t want to make her feel bad! Don’t tell anyone, this is our secret,” Milly replied, putting out her little finger for a pinkie promise. A pinkie promise was a promise that could not be refused nor broken. Grudgingly Jack curled his little finger around hers, shaking his head with worry.
SAMPLE
Dear diary,
Adriana hates me. She’s always making mean comments. I don’t know why she’s treating me like this. I’ve never done anything bad to her. I’ve got to get her out of my head. I told Jack about it but I made him promise not to tell anyone. I have to sort this out myself and not be a baby.
Milly SAMPLE
chapter 2 Treaty yeah
“Yeah—it’s not fair! Native Americans have treaties and us mob in Australia have nothing.” Dakota stood up, raising his arms in protest. The other students in the class were gazing at him with admiration. Dakota was a tall slender boy. All the girls thought that he was the cutest boy in Year Ten, not that he was concerned with rubbish like that. He wanted to make the world a better place and was always speaking up. The class voted him in as head boy every year and most kids agreed with whatever he had to say. The teacher, Mr Winters, nodded as Dakota sat down.
“Too right, Dakota,” said Addie. She was one of Dakota’s best friends, and the feistiest girl in the whole school. “We know more about Native Americans like Geronimo, Sitting Bull and Crazy Horse than we know about Indigenous Australian warriors.”
“Yeah,” said Rhys, Dakota’s other best mate, a redhead who was as intense about saving the world as Dakota himself. “It’s only since we’ve been doing Aboriginal Studies that we’ve learnt about warriors like Yagan and Jandamarra. I bet heaps of people don’t know about them at all.”
Mr Winters stood up and said, “You’re probably right. And yes, Dakota, there has never been a treaty between Australian Indigenous people and the European settlers.” He swung around to stare at the class. “So what can we do about it?”
Mr Winters was one of the most popular teachers in the school. All the kids loved his fun way of teaching. When explaining a new thing he always found simple ways to describe it, and he told great stories—even though sometimes he went off track from the subject.
“What is a treaty, Mr Winters?” said one of the kids. The others all groaned and slumped down in their chairs.
Mr Winters often became so involved in his teaching that he would act out the story he was telling. Now, all of a sudden, he went into character as a wise old professor.
“Well!” He straightened up and hooked his thumbs in pretend braces, peering down his nose as he waddled to the centre of the class.
“Well, boys and girls,” he said in a posh professor voice. Some of the class laughed. “A treaty is an international agreement between two parties, which is officially signed and agreed upon and becomes a part of the constitution, which, as you know, girls and boys, is the laws of a country.”
He paused, glaring at them over his glasses, to give everyone time to think before he continued.
“In New Zealand, Canada and the United States the European settlers—or some would say invaders—all made treaties with the Indigenous people of their countries. They started with an acknowledgment of the country’s history,
stating that Indigenous people were the original landowners and also acknowledging past injustices. They established self-government for Indigenous people within the existing legal system, giving Indigenous people many rights— including land rights.”
The class slumped down even further. Some students sighed noisily and someone called out, “Mr Winters, this is toooooo boring.”
Dakota turned to the class, “As an Aboriginal person, I think that something has to be done to recognise the original owners of Australia. People in Australia don’t know enough about our history and culture. It may be boring to some of you but this is important. And I’m going to do something about it!”