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A secret I’d wanted to tell him but always felt like it would upset him more than offer comfort.
The day after sixteen-year-old Aslan walked on his fractured ankle and begged us for asylum, Jedda had pitched up at our front door while Aslan was in the shower, fumbling with his cast, washing away his grief from losing his family.
I’d stood on the front doorstep with Mum’s arms wrapped around me as Jedda shifted on the spot and said...
“The shipwrecked boy...the one you found. He ran from the wards in the night before he could be interviewed by border officials.”
Dad had tensed and closed the front door, hustling Jedda toward her small silver Suzuki. “Lovely to see you, Jedda, as always. Tell Coen that we’ve been meaning to pop by for another night of stories and great food, but now is not the time—”
“He’s here. Isn’t he?”
Mum gasped, and Dad froze by the gate. “We have no idea where he is—”
“You put your names down as the boy’s next of kin. You wouldn’t do that if you didn’t feel responsible for him.”
“We saved his life.” Dad puffed up his chest, his eyes flicking to me. “Neri saved his life. The least we can do is—”
“Harbour a refugee?” Jedda crossed her arms, flicking a wary glance down the street as if the neighbours would hear. “You know the trouble you could get into, Jack. This is dangerous. I admit that he’s special. He said he didn’t have an eidetic memory, but I have my doubts. The way he remembered the concussion test. How quickly he added up sums. He’s unique, and I get why you’d be willing to help—”
“If you understand, then why are you here?” Mum let me go, crossing her arms.
“I’m here because I know how easily he could be caught and how much trouble—”
“You were the one who helped with my water birth, Jedda. You were there when I delivered Neri and have been there every day since. You said she was special. And you just admitted you thought Aslan was special. Don’t both deserve a life of safety? Isn’t it our obligation to help those in need?”
“Of course, but—”
“He told me he’ll be killed if he’s sent back home,” Dad whispered. “I don’t know how or why or who would do such a thing, but...I trust him.”
“So he did come here?” Jedda narrowed her eyes. “He’s here...right now?”
“The less you know, the better.” Dad glowered.
“I already know too much,” Jedda muttered. Her hand vanished into her slouchy handbag. She paused for a moment with her fingers inside. “Have you thought this through? Truly? Do you honestly know what you’re getting yourselves into?”
Mum shrugged. “We can’t let him be deported. And you know they would take one look at him and toss him into a refugee camp or fly him straight back home.”
I looked between all three adults, short with my twelve-year-old height and my heart fit to bursting with fear over the boy currently in our shower. With bravery borne from wanting to protect him, I placed my hand on Jedda’s arm, remembering all the nights around the bonfire with her people. All the incredible tales of animals that roamed this land before humans existed and all the stories of family, compassion, and connection. Her husband had even tried to teach me the digeridoo last time we’d spent an evening at their place. Apart from the sea, their house was my most favourite place on earth with its open-air living rooms, thatched ceilings, and willingness to share their home with lizards, cockatoos, and the occasional kangaroo.
I wanted to be her when I grew up.
In-tune with the world and driven by destiny to help others in any way I could.
“Please, Auntie Jedda,” I murmured. “I found him for a reason. He has to stay for a reason. Please don’t tell anyone. Okay? No one else knows we found him. Just you.”
Jedda glanced at my parents before reluctantly pulling her hand out of her handbag. Her fingers clutched a file. She shoved it into Dad’s hold. “That’s the only paperwork on him. Dr Tarn and Dr Cotton will most likely have already forgotten about the teenager with the fractured ankle and wrist. I was the last one to see him, and if they ask, I’ll say I saw him hitchhiking out of town.” Pointing at the file, she added, “Burn that so no one knows his name.”
Mum smiled softly. “You’re a good person, Jedda. A wonderful person.”
“Not as good as you, it turns out.” Jedda shrugged. “I’m not the one adopting a refugee.”
“He might only be here a short while to get on his feet, but...if he ever needs medical attention...” Dad said quietly. “Could you help him? He can’t go to the hospital after this.”
Jedda flinched. “I can’t be a part of this, Jack. Unless it’s life or death, my answer is no. I can’t risk my position.”
