by Mark Brandi
‘Thanks.’ Ben pulled the sleeping bag up to his waist. It was thin and rough. ‘Jeez, it’s an old sleeping bag,’ he said.
Fab took a swig of his can. ‘It’s my father’s. He’s got mine.’ He looked up at Johnno, on his hay-bale bed. ‘Why did ya invite him for anyway?’
‘He’s not that bad.’ Ben had a small sip.
‘He’s a dickhead and you know it. And he calls me a wog.’
Johnno did call him that. But only once. Still, Fab never forgot stuff like that.
It was after school when they were playing basketball, just a muckaround game. Johnno thought he was pretty tough, with his new crew cut and earring, and he called Fab a greasy wog for no reason at all. So Fab punched him in the guts and Johnno ran home to his mum.
Ben pushed a stick into the fire. ‘Why do ya get so angry about it?’
‘About what?’
‘Being called a... you know.’
Fab took another drink. ‘I dunno. Just don’t like it. The way they say it.’
‘Who, Pokey and that?’
‘Yeah.’
It was mostly Pokey Stark who called Fab a wog. Pokey was a real shit. He had a rat’s tail with bright blond tips and was always giving Fab grief. Other kids called him a wog behind his back, even some of his friends, but Fab didn’t know about that and Ben definitely couldn’t tell him. He’d be really upset if he found out.
‘You’re not really a wog though. I mean... you’re normal.’ Ben wasn’t sure what else to say about it.
‘Yeah. Well, I don’t like it. And my father says I gotta stick up for myself.’
Ben picked up another stick and poked at the hot coals. ‘Why do ya call him father? Why not dad?’
‘Dunno.’ Fab shifted closer to the flames. ‘Just how it’s always been.’
‘How come your mum isn’t mother, then?’
Fab shrugged. ‘How should I know?’
‘Does your father ever take you camping?’
Ben had imagined, more than once, that Fab’s dad would go off into the forest somewhere alone, hunting animals with his bare hands, a huge hunting knife in his teeth. He was tall, big shouldered, and moved like he was strong. If he was honest, Ben was a bit scared of him, but he’d never tell Fab that.
‘He doesn’t take me. He sometimes goes with Sid.’
‘Who’s Sid?’
‘This old man from the timber mill. Don’t like him much. He stinks. They go somewhere in the Grampians.’
The beer was making Ben feel woozy. ‘Do you reckon girls go too?’
‘With him and Sid?’
‘Nah, just generally. Do you reckon they go camping?’
‘Dunno. Don’t reckon.’ Fab took a big drink. It looked like he was nearly done. ‘Would be good if they did, but.’
Ben nodded. ‘Who do you like then?’
‘Out of the girls?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What’s this? Twenty questions?’ Fab smiled and threw a fistful of straw into the fire. It flared brightly and his face lit up like the devil. ‘Bridie Flynn.’
‘Bridie Flynn? Don’t you reckon she’s a bit fat?’
‘Yeah, but big boobs.’ Fab cupped his hands under his chest, to make sure Ben got the message. ‘What about you? Who do you like?’
A strong gust of wind roared into the shed, flattening the fire and sending dust into their eyes.
‘Jesus,’ Fab said, wincing.
It was only a few seconds later that the rain came.
The fire fizzled and spat under the first heavy drops. They stood up with the sleeping bag and their cans and retreated deep inside the hay shed, the wind chasing them in. They went as far in as they could, right to the back wall, but the wind still whipped the rain in by their feet. Johnno stirred in his sleeping bag just a few metres away, only just out of the rain. It fell heavily on the steel roof in windy sheets and sounded like it might be hail. They couldn’t see much outside, but could hear the trees bend and strain, the whoosh of cold air through wet leaves, and the crackle of small branches.
Ben tucked his jumper into his shorts. ‘Jeez, it’s gotten cold.’
‘Yeah.’ Fab’s voice was a little shaky.
‘Let’s move up behind the hay bales.’
There was a big stack of bales on one side of the shed, but they didn’t normally like going near it because Fab reckoned it was full of mice. Maybe rats too. Ben put his can on the ground, left Fab with the sleeping bag and climbed to the top, about five bales high. Once there, he moved two bales in front of him, building a small barrier to the wind and rain.
‘C’mon,’ he called down to Fab. ‘It’s better up here.’
* * *
As the wind tore in and rain hammered the roof, they were pleased with their hay-bale fortress.
‘What were we talkin about?’ Fab said.
‘Girls. Bridie Flynn’s boobs.’
‘Wanna sip?’ Fab held out the can toward him.
‘Nah, you have it. I’ll get mine in a sec.’
‘I’ll get it for ya then.’
‘Nah, don’t worry, I—’ But Fab was up before he could finish, climbing over the hay-bale barrier. But he stopped suddenly halfway, straddling the bales, his body frozen.
‘What’s the matter?’
Ben stood up and saw what had made Fab freeze. In the distance, past the boundary fence and up the old highway, dim yellow headlights had appeared over the rise.
‘Must be a farmer,’ Ben said, but there was a shiver in his voice. Fab didn’t answer. The highway bypass meant only locals used the road nowadays.
‘Jeez, he’s going slow.’ Fab scratched his head. ‘Like he’s looking for something.’
He sat back down low and they both watched as the car crawled down the road, ever closer to the block. It was Ben who said it first.
‘Reckon it could be Jimmy Shine?’
‘Nah, how would he know?’
‘Maybe he saw the fire.’
A sudden squall rushed the rain inside and they turned away, crouching lower behind the bales. When they turned back the car had stopped directly opposite, but still faced down the highway.
Then the headlights swung toward the gate.
‘Shit!’ Fab hissed. ‘Quick, let’s hide!’
‘Should we wake Johnno?’
‘Nah, bugger him. Let’s get down behind the bales.’
They scurried down the back of the stack, sliding down the last few bales until their feet smacked on the concrete floor, their bodies sandwiched in the narrow space between the hay bales and the shed wall.
Ben closed his eyes. He was sure he could hear mice scurry against the steel of the shed. Something brushed his foot. He heard raw breaths and the rustle of the hay.
He opened his eyes to Fab inching slowly away from him.
‘Where you goin?’ Ben reached out and grabbed his arm.
Fab shook loose. ‘Gonna have a look!’ He crept to the corner of the stack and peered around the side.
‘What d’ya see?’
Fab turned back and faced the shed wall. ‘Nuthin. It’s too dark.’ His voice broke a little and Ben wondered if he was lying.
Ben squeezed his eyes shut again and wished the car away. He wished that the rain and the wind would stop. He wished they had never gone camping. But more than anything, he wished for home and he wished for his bed, to be safe and warm under his blankets.
Maybe it wasn’t Jimmy Shine. Maybe it was just someone who was lost, or pulled over because of the weather. Maybe it was even his dad, come to pick them up because of all the rain.
Then, from somewhere out in the rain and the wind, he heard the heavy steel clap of a car door.
Ben felt a warm flood of piss run down his leg. He was suddenly conscious of the sound of his breath, more than any other time in his life. He tried to slow it, make it quieter, as though whoever was out there might hear him through the rain and the wind. He kept his body as still as he could, not wanting to rustle the hay
at his back. Maybe if they both kept still enough and quiet enough, the car might just go away. As for Johnno, well—
Then, he heard footsteps.
Fab said, ‘Fuck,’ just once, only softly, like he didn’t want Ben to hear.
They were heavy. Big shoes. Gumboots. Crunching and squelching through grass. But it was so loud with the rain and the wind that he—
Another clap of steel. The car boot. Fuck.
Ben opened his eyes as Fab moved slowly away once more.
‘Where ya goin?’ Hot tears stung Ben’s eyes.
‘Shut up!’ Fab hissed. He moved to the corner of the bales and peered around the side.
‘Oh Jesus,’ he said.
‘What?’
He turned back and grabbed Ben by the arm. ‘It’s goin! The car! It’s goin!’
‘Serious?’
‘Serious!’
Ben didn’t believe him, but then Fab proved it by going right out into full view and waving his arms around like a dick.
Ben wiped his cheeks and moved slowly out from behind the bales. The rain had begun to ease, but the wind still ripped across the paddock, creaking the trees. They both watched as the car drove out the gate, back up the highway and disappeared over the rise.
And Johnno kept snoring right through it all.
Ben and Fab sat beside what was left of the fire. It fizzled and smoked. They didn’t drink any more of the beer and they didn’t talk at all about who it might have been.
But they both agreed to stay awake til the sun came up. Just in case Jimmy Shine, or whoever it was, decided to come back.
Four
In the last week of school holidays, all the back-to-school ads were on telly – school shoes, pens, pencils and all that shit. Ben hated those ads because they reminded him of what was coming and gave him a sick feeling in his guts. This year he got it worse, mostly because Fab told him they would have Mr Burke again.
Ben hated Burke. He hated his fat guts, black beard and bald head, and the way his face would go all red when he talked. Ben could tell Mr Burke didn’t like him either, by the way his lip curled when he said his name, like it was something disgusting. And he gave him bad marks on his stories, even though he’d always gotten good marks before.
He wagged a lot more than normal, pretending that he was sick so he could stay at home. Fab reckoned a headache was the best excuse, because no one could really tell if you had one or not. At first, when Ben tried it, his mum got the thermometer out and he thought he was done for. But she said he was a ‘bit high’ and never checked again after that.
Last year, Burke got him up the front of the class to explain why he missed so many days. After, when he was sent back to his desk, Fab passed him a note that said ‘BURKE IS A CUNT’.
Ben wasn’t sure what that meant, not exactly, but he agreed just the same.
* * *
In that last week of holidays, Ben wanted to stay close to home. He wanted to make every hour stretch out for as long as he could. He wanted to forget about the camping trip, the beers, and Jimmy Shine. He just wanted to play with Sunny. Ride his bike down Big Hill as fast as he could. Go down to the railway line and flatten some coins. Practise bike stunts at the block over the back and dig a hole as deep as he could. Have lunch every day at home with his mum – Strass sandwiches or alphabet soup.
The first time Ben saw the neighbour was in that last week. He wasn’t spying on him or anything, just walking Sunny to the block over the back. He decided to take a shortcut down the lane between the witch’s house and Daisy’s old place. Fab reckoned that if you went too close to the witch’s house she’d cast a spell, so Ben stuck close to the fence. The witch was a witch because she lived in a witch’s house, with its peeling weatherboard, dark curtains and rusty iron roof.
He could see the top bit of the clothesline over the back fence of Daisy’s old place. It was grey and ugly, spinning slowly in the wind with one brown towel strung from its lines. He remembered what Fab said about gob jobs and he thought, for no real reason at all, that it might be true.
‘G’day mate.’ Ben heard the man’s voice before he saw him. It was low but cheery. A head popped up above the fence. He had dark skin and shiny black hair, but his eyes were weird looking.
‘G’day.’ Ben’s voice sounded weak and girly and he hated it.
‘I’m Ronnie.’ The man dangled a long brown arm over the fence.
Ben reached up and shook his hand.
‘Where you off to?’ he said. Ben looked down and watched Sunny take a piss against the fence.
‘Just goin to the block over the back.’ Ben pulled at the lead and Sunny shot him a look.
‘Fair enough. What’s ya name, mate?’
‘Ben.’
‘Righto, Ben. Tell your dad I said g’day. All right?’
‘Yep.’ Ben yanked at Sunny and kept walking, with one eye still on the witch’s house.
* * *
The block was behind Daisy’s and the Pickerings’ house. It was about three houses wide and, from it, Ben could see the shiny tin roof of his own house. Further beyond the block was the dirt road that led to the weedy paddock, and the railway line after that. The railway went all the way to Melbourne in one direction and to Adelaide in the other. The Overland train would sometimes come through, and him and Fab would wave at the passengers from the side of the tracks. Some of them would wave back, but most just slept right through.
The weedy paddock had a small dam, but there were no yabbies and it would dry up when it got really hot. That was where Joe, Daisy’s brother, had built his cubbyhouse out of some old tin and two rotten timber pallets. He built it right next to the dam. When they found it, Ben and Fab smashed it to bits and threw the pieces of tin and timber in the water.
It was a really crap dam. They just didn’t want Joe to think he could own it. It was mostly Fab’s idea to smash it, though.
He felt bad in his guts when he thought about what happened to Daisy and how Joe must have felt, and how the wrecked cubbyhouse probably made it worse. He knew that when the dam eventually dried up, they’d have to come and hide the tin and timber in the bushes, so no one would know.
He walked through the block, over the dirt road, and into the weedy paddock to check the dam. He picked up a stick on the way. Dad always said to carry a stick around there because there were snakes. The dam was about half full, enough to cover the cubbyhouse for a while yet. He would report that back to Fab, when he saw him at school. He would tell Mum too when he got home, but not about the cubbyhouse.
Ben walked back over the road to the block, thrusting the stick like a sword as he went. There were some old bricks stacked in one corner that had been there for years. At the start of the holidays, he’d decided to use them to build a jump for his BMX, but never got round to it. He’d seen a jump on BMX Bandits and he’d told Fab he’d make one just like it, so they could practise.
He let Sunny loose and carried some of the bricks to the middle of the block. He figured he would need some timber to make the ramp itself, but the brick structure would do for now. He was hungry, it was hot, and he could always finish it next weekend, especially if Fab helped him.
On the way back home he looked at the clothesline and wondered again if the man knew about what had happened there. None of the adults ever talked about it, or at least not that he’d heard. It was like they were pretending it never really happened. But he reckoned his dad might tell the man about it. Round the front he saw the man in the driveway with his blue car. He was cleaning the windows with a thick, wet sponge and Ben could see he was tall in his white singlet, his skin like chocolate in the hot sun. He wiped the rear window carefully with slow, wide strokes. As Ben passed he stopped mid stroke, as though he sensed someone there.
He turned and waved at Ben with a smile, and Ben remembered that his name was Ronnie.
Five
Ben could hear a steady beat outside. Clapping.
He was at the urinal taking a piss
, but he could hear it getting louder, faster. Like it was building up to something.
The school toilets were in a big tin shed at the edge of the oval. They used to be in a different spot, up by the back fence behind the classrooms, but some kid got fiddled by a perve a few years back, so they shifted them further inside the school.
Ben finished his piss before he was done properly, and he felt his undies go wet. Just a bit though, not enough to show through his shorts he didn’t reckon.
It was clapping. Louder still. He rushed out of the toilet shed, without washing his hands, to find out what was happening.
The sun shone brightly and he squinted, shielding his eyes. Down on the basketball court a circle had gathered. Grade six boys and a few grade fives. A fight maybe? He could see Johnno was there. And Pokey Stark. He could tell it was Pokey because of the rat’s tail.
It was only when he got close that he realised Fab was in the middle of the circle. Ben put his hand on Johnno’s shoulder.
‘What’s goin on?’
Johnno turned with his big, stupid smile. ‘It’s Fab.’
‘Yeah, I can see that.’
The clapping got faster, louder again. Fab slowly balanced himself on one foot, lifted the other off the ground, then raised both arms in the air. Ben recognised the pose right away.
The Crane.
Karate Kid.
Final scene.
‘Get on with it, ya wog!’ Pokey broke the circle and gave Fab a shove, sending him off balance.
The clapping stopped.
Ben pushed his way into the circle and shoved Pokey hard in the back. ‘Leave him alone!’
Pokey turned to face him, eyes ablaze. ‘The wog lover!’
‘Get stuffed!’
Fab smiled at Ben and raised one foot off the ground.
Ben grabbed hold of his arm. ‘What are you doin?’
Fab looked at him blankly.
‘The wog reckons he’s been doin karate over the holidays,’ Pokey said. ‘Says he’s a black belt! He was just gonna show us his jump-kick, like Ralph Macho.’