Read Online Lina at the Games by Sally Rippin - Free Book Online

holding the cool silky material to her cheek. ‘Thank you so much.’ She looked up at her mother, overcome with emotion.
    Her mother looked away, embarrassed. ‘Can you be ready in twenty minutes?’ she said briskly.
    â€˜Of course,’ said Lina, fastening her eyes back onto her beautiful new dress. The moment her mother closed the door, she slipped out of her uniform and slid it over her head. It fit perfectly. Lina spun around in the mirror and the chiffon skirt floated about her like emerald clouds.
    If only those girls at school could see me now, she thought, her heart bursting with pride. She had never felt more beautiful.

    Lina’s family stepped off the tram, picnic chairs and baskets tucked under their arms, and wound their way through the crowds along Bourke Street. Everyone in the city was dressed in their best clothes, and the mood was joyful. People smiled at Lina in her pretty green dress and she even noticed a group of teenage boys look her up and down. Lina felt herself blush and she grasped onto Enzo’s small hand even tighter to pull him along behind her.
    â€˜ Scusi ! Scusi !’ Lina’s nonna called bossily, jostling her way through the mob of people stationed in front of the Myer windows. As the Closing Ceremony hadn’t started yet, most people were still milling about and Nonna was able to clear a small space for their chairs right in front of the glass. Lina’s mother laid out a picnic rug and her brothers sat down with the baskets on their laps. Lina went to sit beside them, but her father pulled out a picnic chair and bowed theatrically. ‘Not in a dress like that,’ he said, smiling.
    Lina grinned and sat on the canvas chair, crossing her ankles daintily. Her father folded his long legs and sat on the rug beside her. ‘A little vino ?’ he whispered, passing her an empty glass. ‘To celebrate?’
    â€˜Papa! I’m only twelve!’ Lina said.
    Her father smiled ‘A little wine mixed with water won’t hurt.’
    â€˜Your father was drinking alcohol in primary school!’ Lina’s mother teased.
    Lina looked at her father, who shrugged. ‘My grandmother would give me a shot of Marsala mixed with coffee and a raw egg yolk each morning before school. She thought it would help me concentrate.’
    Lina grimaced. ‘Ew!’
    â€˜What?’ said Lina’s father, pretending to look insulted. ‘Everyone did it!’
    Lina’s mother rolled her eyes. ‘Your poor teachers!’
    Nonna unpacked the baskets and passed around food. Lina placed a cotton napkin on her lap so she wouldn’t dirty her dress, and helped herself to a chunk of crusty bread and a stick of salted cucumber. Her father rubbed some slices of ripe tomato onto her bread, and Lina ate it with a leaf of basil. Picnics were her favourite meals. Lina remembered the fancy, pretty meals Mary’s mother used to prepare, many of the ingredients from tins and boxes. Their food may be fashionable, but I prefer my family’s Italian cooking any day, she thought.
    â€˜Look!’ Bruno said, pointing to one of the televisions. ‘It’s about to start.’
    Lina brushed the crumbs off her hands and skirt, and stood up to get a better view. Her mother and father crowded in beside her and many others pushed in closer, too. There was lots of loud cheering and clapping as the first little figures appeared on the television screens.
    â€˜My goodness!’ said her father. ‘I’ve never heard of that happening before.’
    â€˜What?’ asked Lina, shading her eyes from the slanting sunlight and peering in through the glass.
    â€˜Look!’ he said pointing to the small black and white screen. Lina looked at what her father was pointing at. At first she didn’t understand. All she saw was a winding train of athletes in their regular clothes, pouring into the stadium, some of them waving at the