Harrow schoolchildren were invited by the Mayor, Councillor Keith Toms, to write about living in a multi-cultural community for the Tyneholme Award.

Last week we published the winning essay, by Nisha Morgan of Welldon Park Middle School in South Harrow. Here is one of the runners-up. by HANNAH MARTIN, 10, of Glebe School, Kenton

Liz looked at her parents in shock.

"I'm not moving, for anybody," she insisted. Then she added: "Not anywhere."

Her parents looked at each other with what Liz could tell were disappointed faces. Her stepmum said: "Think about it, Liz. You don't want to stay here, do you? Boring old Littleborough. Aren't you pleased your Dad's found a job at last?"

Liz frowned.

"I don't want to move," she said firmly, but she knew she had lost the battle.

As Liz sat in the moving van she thought about what her stepmum had said. "Aren't you glad your Dad's found a job at last?" she said out loud.

One of the moving men cocked his head. "You what?" he said in a Scottish accent.

"Nothing," Liz said solemnly.

Liz was an 11-year-old girl with black hair and dark skin. She had lived in a black community all her life. When she was five, her mother had died. Two years ago her father remarried, to Fiona, her stepmum.

Now Liz was moving to a black and white living. Liz knew she would hate every white person she met. Liz wasn't even prepared to try and find a friend.

The ride to Liz's new home was dull and quiet. Liz sat on the back seat and listened to her Walkman as Fiona talked and talked about how wonderful it was going to be. Liz suddenly felt sick of her stepmum talking and groaned. Immediately her Dad stopped the car.

"Right, we're going to stop right here until you tell us what's going on. You've been a grump all day."

Liz couldn't exactly talk about her black-white problem in front of Fiona. Fiona was white. and she couldn't exactly talk to her Dad about it: her Dad loved Fiona. Liz thought quickly.

"I just feel upset about leaving Mum's house," she said quickly. Fiona looked uncomfortable. "Maybe if I sit quietly I'll get over it. Liz smiled weakly and re-plugged her earphones.

"Class, this is Liz. She'll be joining our class. Be kind to her. Jennifer, will you look after Liz? You know, show her where the cloakroom and the toilets and the medical room are."

Mrs Brooks smiled at Liz. "How about you sit, mmm, here."

Mrs Brooks, Liz's new teacher, pointed at a seat all by itself at the back of the class. Liz sat down and arranged her things around her.

Liz's day was bad. Very bad. She had got a very easy sum wrong in the maths test and she had played with no-one in the playground. Liz threw herself on her bed and cried and cried. She didn't care who saw. Liz didn't say anything to Fiona or her Dad though. They had both had perfect days.

The next day Mrs Brooks was off. They had the strangest teacher. He was white, but Liz couldn't help looking up to him.

He had a pierced eyebrow and told the class about how much trouble he had had to get his degree. He told the class that the headteachers never wanted to hire him because of the way he looked. It proved to Liz that, maybe, white people could be nice.

The next day, a new girl was introduced to the class. Her name was Luce and she had brown eyes and brown hair. Her pale white skin was very pale. Liz realised that she was probably very nervous. At playtime Liz remembered to ask the new girl if she wanted to hang around with her. Luce accepted and they talked and talked, Liz realised she had found herself a best friend.

A few years later, Luce and Liz were the most popular girls in the class. There was a new girl in the class by then. She was stuck up and refused to hang around with any black people. She was white. Liz thought that that was probably how she had looked years ago.

Luce and Liz laughed and laughed. They were best friends.

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000.Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.