The Invisible Hero (13 page)

I can't remember the rest word-for-word, but I managed to put in a thanks to the Council and the National Parks as well. Then I shook everyone's hands like I see Dad do at functions and I reckon the journalist and photographer looked suitably impressed. Then they and the Shire President asked the Principal to see the rest of the school and I strolled off.

When I told Dad about all this at dinner tonight, he said we should make sure I attach the photo and the newspaper article to my CV. I asked him what a CV was and he burst out, ‘A Curriculum Vitae, son!'

And when I said ‘A what?' Dad almost burst a foofoo valve.

‘You know, a resume ... a summary of your education and life achievements to present at a job interview or to get into a tertiary course. Doesn't that woman, Canmore, teach you these basic career skills?'

Now I vaguely remembered Witch Canmore rabbiting on about this practical stuff being planned for towards the end of term. Meanwhile, she's been wasting my life with lots of grammar, reading, debating and creative writing. ‘She hasn't done anything like that,' I said, ‘Just a whole year of poetry and story writing, mostly.'

It pleased me no end to hear Dad go off his head about my education not being sufficiently geared to a future career and that a curriculum should be ‘hell bent' on getting students the highest possible score in Year 12. He finished by saying, ‘I'm going to have a word in the Principal's ear about that useless English teacher.'

All in all, despite an insulting start to the morning, I'd have to say it's been a great day.

I've been googling all over the place trying to find my dark-haired hero who publicly called Hitler evil, but no luck at all. I mean, I could have chosen one of those brave officers in the bomb plot. If you're looking in the right places, there's quite a lot about them. But I've been interested in this gentle guy who wasn't in a soldier's uniform.

Then yesterday Imogen said that one of her Facebook friends, some guy called Hendrik, is a student in Germany. Last night I added him to my Facebook page and asked him if he was interested in helping me with my project.

‘It would be an honour to help you with your studies,' he wrote back. How old is this so-called student?
Honour?
What sort of young guy speaks like that? Anyway, Hendrik must be really interested. Within an hour he sent me some info.

My hero was called Hans-Bernd von Haeften. He'd studied at Oxford University in England as an exchange student. After that, he chose the diplomatic service for a career. Besides Germany, he worked in Denmark, Austria and Hungary. And the bit that really interests me: he refused to join the Nazi Party. I mean, if you had any important position in German society back then, surely you would have stuck out like a sore thumb if you wouldn't get all rah-rah about the Nazis? That's brave.

I printed out the bit about von Haeften from Hendrik's letter and today I put it in Ruth's locker with a note from me. I wrote about how it was good to know there are always going to be people like her who stand up to bullies.

She was rapt. She's asked me to get a photo of von Haeften so she can pin it up next to her photo of Wangari Maathai in her bedroom because, ‘It's not just a role-model; I want to think someone's going to keep his memory alive.'

‘Well, there's two of us now,' I said.

‘Tell me more about him,' said Ruth.

‘Don't worry,' I said. ‘I'm going to find out.'

Ruth asked me if I was the one who gave her the chocolate medal two weeks ago, but I told her I wasn't. Then Ruth explained that a few other kids in the class were beginning to get these little presents and messages. Genelle was one of them. She hadn't made a big scene – in fact, the opposite. But Ruth had seen her find it, so she couldn't hide the fact from Ruth.

‘What did she say?' I asked.

‘Can't remember exactly, but I got the feeling she thinks it's Macca. She's so stuck on him and she's always hoping that he feels the same way.'

‘And he doesn't?'

‘He uses her. Big time.'

I actually feel a bit sorry for Genelle. She's tough as bricks, but you can see she spends her life trying to get Macca's attention. Sometimes it's by layering on more and more makeup and wearing lower and lower tops. Other times, she stays in his favour by being a fellow thug like helping with fining kids for these ridiculous things.

This fining is getting beyond a joke. Ruth was fined today by Genelle for arriving a couple of minutes late to Science from watering Little Red (our baby tree). At least, Genelle made Ruth
mighty uncomfortable, but the Science teacher reminded Genelle about a failed test and asked whether she should pay a fine for that. That shut Genelle up for the moment.

I wonder who Genelle has chosen for her hero? We're going to see some interesting choices. Later in the day when we were lining up for English, Mustafa was standing next to me. I asked him who he had chosen for a Hero or Villain.

Mustafa says, ‘At the moment, my choice is Lord Bloody Wog Rollo.'

‘You mean
Lord
like some English aristocrat?' I asked. ‘And
wog
as in dark-skinned foreigner?
That
sort?'

‘Yes,' said Mustafa. ‘Speaking as a wog, myself, I was over the top to find Australia has its very own wog hero.'

‘Are you for real?' asked Oliver Johnston who was standing on the other side of Mustafa.

And, yes, he is for real. Lord Rollo was an activist here in Australia who stood up for some very unusual beliefs. He's definitely not on Mr Quayle's official list of Heroes.

I've just experienced the greatest injustice of my life. De Grekh and Cheung agree. Here we are, waiting for today when the local newspaper comes out.

My father has been talking about not much else since he heard about the photo shoot and the interview. Mrs Wilgard, the librarian, always brings the newspapers to school. Us three – me,
de Grekh and Cheung – are waiting at the Library before school starts. ‘Ah, you'll be looking for this,' she guesses correctly and shoves the paper at us.

There on the front page is a huge photo, not of me and the key players of Tree Day, but that dumb little River Red Gum and some of the kids who water the tree – Imogen Webb, Waterworks, Raph and Dill bloody Dugan – crouching down as if they're doing their mulching and watering. And the caption just blew me away:

TREE-MENDOUS MYSTERY AT TAUNTON HIGH.

And then: ‘Everyone at Taunton State School are trying to guess who the mystery Greenie is in their midst. Although, Norton council has generously donated 200 indigenous trees to re-green the school, one young student is believed to have inspired the school...' etc etc. Not a mention of me, just the SRC decision to contact the council. No quotes from me. No photo of me and the big-wigs.

De Grekh and Cheung did their best to cheer me up, but this was as low as I can remember being. I could hardly talk. My mates knew that. I just remember saying, ‘That bloody little tree has done me in.' And I remember de Grekh saying something like, ‘We'll fix things for you.' And I said, ‘I'm lost for ideas at the moment.' And then de Grekh says, ‘I'm not.' As he and Cheung walked off, I just scrunched up the front page of that stupid newspaper and chucked it in the bin.

Every so often, life just gets to me. You can have something going so well, yet there'll always be lousy things happening at the same time. Maybe it's not like that for everyone, but it sure is for our class at the moment. It's like two forces – the good and the bad – pulling against each other.

THE GOOD:

Little Red and some of us guys getting in the paper. Also there's this kindness movement sweeping the class. Every single kid – that's twenty-two of us – have now had at least one kind message or a little gift – or both. Imogen Webb has pinned this statement on the noticeboard –
Practise Random Acts of Kindness.
I get the feeling that it's no longer just one person behind this – just about everyone's in on it.

You can feel it in the atmosphere. Kids are mixing more. Groups aren't as closed.

One of Genelle's gang, Karen Brown, joined Little Red's tree watering group, and from that she has started eating lunch with Ruth, Imogen and me.

Karen is really nice. She was new last year and Karen says Genelle just latched onto her. She was too scared to move away from the gang in case Genelle started to make life tough for her. She's not at all like Genelle. She's into a lot of out-of-school activities like jazz ballet and cello lessons. She's not the sort to bad-mouth someone, but she's glad to have made the break from Genelle.

THE BAD:

Today, Philip Dugan had his Journal stolen. He was cut up about it. He said he had all sorts of ideas for his talk in it, too. I know he was writing regularly in it, but Mr Quayle gave him hell about being disorganised and unmotivated. Right there, in the middle of our lesson, Phil was threatened with having to repeat Year 9. It's hard to see his eyes behind those blue tinted glasses, but I thought I saw tears when Mr Quayle was going at him.

My suspicions rested with Macca and Co. They looked like they knew something – and they were really enjoying seeing Phil cop it. Then last thing in the day we had a library lesson (free reading with Mrs Canmore). I was drifting around the reference shelves looking for a book of quotations to help with my speech when what did I see but Phil's journal shoved between two huge old dictionaries – the sort of place that might not have been touched for weeks. ‘Well look at that!' said Sam de Grekh when I called out to Mrs Canmore that I'd found Phil's book.

Back to my project. Since my last entry, I've found out more on Google about Hans-Bernd von Haeften. It's led me on the most awesome adventure. It didn't make sense that the Nazis would want to kill Hans, but it turns out he wasn't just a pacifist. He was a member of a non-violent resistance group. In the Nazis' eyes, Von Haeften and his group were still traitors. When they were being led off for execution, one of their leaders, a man called Moltke, called out, ‘We are being hanged for thinking together.'

The group was called the Kreisau Circle. It kept the allies (the Brits and so on) informed about how Germans were feeling
about the war and Hitler and all that. The group used to meet in this beautiful, huge country house. It was a real mix of types – aristocrats, two Jesuit priests, two Lutheran pastors, some socialists, union leaders and diplomats (that's where Hans comes in). What they mostly did was discuss how they would run a new, ethical Germany when the war was over and Hitler had gone.

Poor Hans. He died because he thought differently to the way the government said he should think. So if you're going to get killed for even thinking, what's the use? Where does this passive resistance get you? And then Hans' words to the court returned. He dared to call Hitler evil. Who knows what other people in that court were silently agreeing or even beginning to doubt what they had to officially believe?

Well Hans, my dark-haired hero, has made me want to see who else might have been standing up to Hitler and his bully mates. I've been diving off into other highlighted sites to do with German groups that were resisting Hitler. There was a group called the Solf Circle (they got arrested when they were having afternoon tea together) and another group called the Una Sancta Brotherhood (it was a group from across all the different Christian churches). I was about to read a bit more about them when I saw ‘The White Rose'. I love the name. It sounds sort of medieval – knights, dragons and fair maidens. That sort of thing. I had to find out what this group was about.

I was completely, totally stunned when I read about The White Rose. I wrote to Hendrik, ‘Why on earth didn't you tell me about them before?'

Poor Hendrik wrote back, ‘Sorry! I thought you just wanted to know about Hans von Haeften.'

‘Hendrik, I've been so rude. I'm expecting you to read my mind. It's just that it's so amazing to know there were young Germans who were also doing their bit to stand up to Hitler.'

‘The White Rose' is so well known in Germany, especially Sophie Scholl and her brother.'

‘They weren't much older than me,' I said.

‘She was my age, twenty-one, when she became active in her resistance,' Hendrik wrote back. ‘Do you wish for me to send you anything about her?'

‘You're twenty-one? You sound old.'

‘I suppose it is my English. I would like it to be better.'

‘No, Hendrik. Your English is awesome. I can't speak any languages. I started learning Indonesian, but gave up after two years. You've been so kind and patient. And you've been part of opening my eyes to some incredible heroes.'

‘Thank you. You sound like a mature, intelligent girl. I respect you for what you are trying to research. Can I help more?'

‘I'll start with what I can get on the internet. But maybe you could fill in some gaps, if I need that.'

Hendrik wrote, ‘I'd be delighted.'

So there's Hendrik. Not an old man at all. Only six years older than me. I didn't even ask Hendrik what he's studying. I'll ask next time. And I have some new, young heroes to learn about.

I don't lik the lok of Litl Red. It's abowt two weeks sinc hes ben ther and although us kids are wartring him hes levs lok drewpy and sik. The uthers think that to so we aded sum fertliser. Nan has the newspaper foto of me and the uthers with Litl Red on her frig. Shes that prowd.

Al owr soop frens herd abowt it from Nan or form reding abowt it themselfs. At tee-tim they crowdd into the kichn. Mr Rajndra Sing and his wife Sangeta and ther sun Pardeep brort apl cida and a plata of topcal frut, Esan and Roshn Wadi and their lif wir dorters, Gulshan an Leza brort hom-mad nan and a lam casrol, Towka Ko brort a rice and prawn salad, Ago Cejvan brort a pastree filt with apl and walnuts that he mad hiself. It was a party. Rajendra mad a spech abowt me. ‘One of owr grat gooroos sed,
A thousan and hunred thousan feats of intlect shal not compny man in the her aftar,
but this yung man, Philip, has wot is nesry – a love for al livng things.' Then evrywun tostd me with apl cida.

For me ther are thre things that mak me very hapy. Ferst: my Nan and the luvly peple who visit lik famly. Secund: Litl Red. Therd: Ive got a grup of skol frens.