Whispered the words to myself over and over since I was a kid.Longreach. Two hundred and eighteen kilometres.
Route seventy nine. For years, the thought of another town existing has given me hope.
One day, I keep telling myself.
One day I’ll go there.
One day, when I’m old enough to walk two weeks or more in the scorching heat.
One day, when my mother is ready to save us both from the bruises.
One day, when pigs fly.
And after all these years, one day finally means now.
I’ve tried this once before.
Made it all the way to the cattle stop before someone found me.
They frog marched me home.
And I paid for it.
Dad made sure I couldn’t walk properly for several days after that.
This is why I have to make my escape in the dark.
Best not to be seen.
People around here talk.
They know things.
Word spreads quickly in a place like this.
People in the middle of nowhere seem to have nothing better to do.
But that’s where I’ll go.
Longreach is the nearestrealtown, or so a kid at school once told me.
When I was little, it existed in my mind like a fairytale.
The way some kids might imagine a theme park or a carnival.
A real town with concrete footpaths and more than one phone box.
A real town with a hair salon, a high school, and bus stops.
Somewhere you can walk more than four blocks in each direction.
I wonder what it feels like to talk to someone who doesn't know your name.
And more importantly, someone who doesn’t know your dad's name.
The only people I’ve ever seen like that around here are just passing through.
Strangers safely hidden behind the steering wheel of their truck or campervan.
