Free Letters to Leonardo by Dee White Page A

tongue as if he’s catching flies. Thinks it’s cool or something.
    Bits of food and paper bags fly around in all directions. Mrs D yells, “That’s enough!”
    Nobody pays attention. The missiles keep coming. I duck and just miss copping an orange in the head.
    Troy has a Vegemite sandwich in his hand, ready to take aim, when the bus screeches to a halt. He’s thrown against the seat in front – right into the back of Tina Armstrong. The sandwich ends up in her hair. She picks it out and tosses it back at Troy. “What do you think you’re doing, bird brain? Leave me alone, will you?”
    The bus driver, a man with axe handle shoulders, storms up the aisle. Everyone stops, sits back down and hides their missiles behind their backs.
    “I’ve had enough of you lot,” he bellows. “Any more of this, I’ll throw you all off the bus and you can walk back to school!”
    It’s pretty quiet for the rest of the trip.
    First stop’s the museum, where the most exciting exhibit is Phar Lap, the famous racehorse who died in America. Hard to believe he’s dead. Looks so real.
    “Isn’t he awesome?” I ask Troy.
    “I dunno, he looks stuffed to me.”
    Tina Armstrong gives Troy another one of her scathing looks. Later, when Troy’s at the toilets, she asks me, “Why do you hang around with that loser? You’re not like him at all.”
    “You don’t know him. He’s cool, really. We’ve been best mates since we started school.”
    “Pity he hasn’t grown up since then.” Tina moves away as Troy comes back.
    “Were you two talking about me?” he asks.
    I shrug and Troy punches me on the shoulder. “She’s got the hots for me, hasn’t she? Yes! I knew she wouldn’t be able to resist me.”
    I roll my eyes. “Don’t get carried away, mate.”
    “Hey, look, she’s heading off that way.” Troy points towards the prehistoric exhibition. “Let’s follow her.”
    But before he can pester Tina again, Mrs D calls the class together and herds us back on the bus. I can’t wait to get to the gallery.
    Once we arrive we’re not allowed off the bus until the driver has bellowed another warning. “Back here in two hours or I go without you.”
    We pile off the bus, up the gallery steps and through the glass doors. “Australian exhibits, this way.” Mrs D guides us to a large room full of works by contemporary Australian artists.
    Each picture has a brass plate engraved with the name of the painting and its creator. Troy stops at an abstract painting by an artist who looks like he used to be a pasta chef. There are noodles of colour splashed together on the canvas; it doesn’t look like anything real.
    “Dunno what people see in this stuff,” Troy says. “Reckon my little sister could do better.”
    I walk to the back of the room to look at one of the Archibald Prize finalists – a portrait of a famous comedian. It’s pretty cool.
    After I’ve finished, I turn to look at the painting on the opposite wall. It’s a picture of Katherine Gorge. I recognise the colours. And the style.
    I let out a whoop. Mrs D turns around. Troy rushes over.
    “Hey, check this out,” I say.
    It’s an amazing painting. Massive cliffs either side reaching down to this trickle of water that seems insignificant. The colours are so real and so deep you can picture yourself there. There’s a small brass plate next to the painting.
Deepest Fears
by Zorina.
    Zora – short for Zorina? I’m sure it’s her. Why isn’t her last name on the plaque? Why is she making it so hard for me?
    Troy stares at the painting. “Your mum?” he asks.
    I nod.
    “She must be good to get put up in a place like this.” Troy looks around the room. “We should drag Tina over here. Do you reckon she’d be impressed?”
    “No,” I say. I don’t want anyone to know that my mum did this.
    “But it’s so cool,” Troy argues. “I thought you’d be proud.”
    “I am.”
    But at the same time, I’m thinking, what if she is crazy? What if everyone