Free Fake ID by Hazel Edwards

cool.
    â€˜Pa loved Gran, and she loved him. That was real.’ That was true. Then I remembered what Mrs Donna had said about Pa’s will. Why then had Gran decided to have those family photos mocked up? It was like having an alternative version. A choose-your-own-ending. The back-up family album. Who had she been going to give them to? Sandor for his past, or me for my assignment and my future?
    â€˜Gran started to explain things to me, but then it stopped.’ I told about Gran’s finalthoughts.com message being lost in cyber-space.
    â€˜Computers! Ah. Even the Internet. So! Magda would always try new things, even when we were young girls together.’ Fortuna smiled and her eyes sparkled. ‘Swimming in the river with no clothes, dressing up, climbing out at night, and then we would follow. And she would ask questions. Even awkward questions that others would not ask. That’s what got her into trouble later when she was a student journalist. And she was brave.’ Fortuna nodded. ‘When things went wrong, she just kept trying. It was not her fault that the war interrupted her life.’
    If some people thought Gran was brave and others thought she wasn’t, who did I believe? Was all family history just stories you were told? Luke’s mum and dad had their stories too.
    Fortuna fingered the tag. ‘Forty dollars…’ she paused. ‘Here, let me buy it for Zaria’s granddaughter.’
    â€˜No, thanks. But I’ve got Gran’s outfit in here.’ I opened the backpack.
    â€˜Then I’ll buy it for myself. And lend it to you to wear with your grandmother’s costume. She loved the rich colours. There’s a changing room in here.’
    â€˜I couldn’t. I didn’t come here to dance.’ How could I dress up in a place like this?
    Fortuna, in her trackie pants, wasn’t dressed up.
    â€˜Be brave, Zoe. Try new challenges. Live in the now.’ Fortuna’s eyes looked straight at me, so I took the challenge.
    In the changing rooms, I took off my school uniform. I undid my school shoes. I pulled on the red harem-pants. Imagine an old lady of seventy wearing these! Then I wound the red scarf-thing around my shoulders. The gold coins clinked on the belt which slipped to my hips as Fortuna clipped it around my waist. Gold coins clinked on the bra, too.
    I felt like someone else. Clink. Hard to walk in bare feet without the coins making a noise. It was no secret when a dancer was around.
    â€˜ “Zoe” means life, you know,’ said Fortuna thoughtfully. ‘The dance of life is what belly dancing is about, anyway. The female dances for herself, it is not for a male audience. In other dances you kick out, but in this dance you fold into yourself and it is a nurturing dance. Like a figure eight. In circles. You look after yourself and renew your body.’ All this was said in Fortuna’s slightly accented voice which I felt was vaguely comforting. Gran had sounded a little like this. Same village. Same accent. That kind of voice made sense when you thought about their backgrounds. I wondered in how many languages Gran’s accent had been heard.
    Weird. I watched my dressed-up self in the wall mirror, like someone else play acting in a colourful costume. The music continued to wail, with a strong beat from the drums. Gran’s veil was wafting around my head.
    â€˜Come, dance,’ Fortuna put out her hand to me. ‘In your grandmother’s costume, in memory of her life. Celebrate life.’
    I shook my head. No way was I going to dance, in this weird place with this old lady watching.
    â€˜Be brave, Zoe.’
    But I wasn’t. I started to undress.
    Looking at my watch for an excuse, I said, ‘I have to go now, to play in a hockey match.’ That was true. ‘The team will be waiting for me. I must go. Goodbye.’
    As I hurried towards the astro turf, I felt as though I was running away.
    *