Initially, the boy was thrown by the lack of ‘school dinners’.
Rather, he brought from home a lunch box (containing a frozen water bottle) from which he dined outdoors on long metal benches.
There he was blinded by the glare of the harsh sun reflecting from asphalt and unnerved by the general surplus of blonde hair.
A short, skinny, pale-skinned fish out of water, the boy sensed the duelling aromas of sunscreen and sweat.
Confronting me were bronzed Weetbix kids with grubby hands clutching footy cards, meat pies and Sunny Boys.
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