by Beale, Fleur
They didn’t say anything when I got out of the car. Buzz just got in and took off. We watched him send the first five cones flying.
‘What you said — it’s no shit?’ Robbie asked.
‘Try it and see,’ I said. He’d been watching every single thing I did with my head. He’d looked so hard, he’d probably seen when I blinked.
It was nearly time to leave. Buzz and Robbie didn’t get any better, but I could tell I was getting faster. When they nailed it some time in the next day or two, that would be when I’d suggest timing our runs. Nothing like a bit of competition to spice things up.
Chapter Eleven
JOB INTERVIEW
I GOT HOME to find Gramps all hyped up and waiting for me. He didn’t even let me put a foot in the door before he started yapping.
‘There’s a job at the supermarket. You’ve got an appointment at 4.15, so you’ll have to step on it.’
I stopped dead. What? I didn’t want to work in a bloody supermarket.
Gramps stomped forward, grabbed me and towed me into the house. ‘Get a move on, lad! Jump in the shower and make sure you wash your hair. That’s what the shampoo is for.’
Funny. Not. I just stood, gaping at the kitchen. My Christmas jeans lay over the back of one chair, the too small green tee-shirt he’d given me was on another one. He’d ironed them both.
He took a long breath, let it out slowly, then gulped in another one. ‘Look, Jake, you’re either serious about getting a job. Or you’re not. Which is it?’
I went to the pantry. He’d cooked cheese scones. I ate a couple of them without saying a word, but there was plenty going on in my head. I didn’t want a job. I wanted money. Saying I was looking had got everyone off my back.
The supermarket. Hell on wheels.
Gramps looked like he was on the verge of exploding. ‘You’ve got half an hour to get cleaned up and get down there. I’ll take you. Move it.’
I moved it. At least taking a shower would give me time to think.
‘Don’t forget the shampoo!’ he yelled through the door.
I decided several things while the water cascaded over me. The obvious one was that it would be a good idea to act like I was doing my best to impress the supermarket boss. The next was that I hadn’t ever believed I’d have to actually get a job — that I’d have to work. Whatever way I looked at it, I just couldn’t see myself behind the check-out or stacking the shelves.
But I always came back to the tricky part: I needed money.
Gramps banged on the door. ‘Hurry up, Jake. Time’s moving on. And make sure you have a shave.’
Take over my life, why don’t you?
I followed his orders, though, and what I was thinking now was that if I wasn’t careful I’d have to go through the hair and face routine every day.
I came out of the bathroom, towel round me and my hair dripping.
‘I’ve put your clothes in your bedroom,’ he said after taking a hard look at my hair and face.
All right, you old bastard — you can force me into this interview but thank Christ you won’t be coming in with me.
I pulled on the jeans and the tee-shirt. My school shoes were on the floor and polished. They’d probably died of shock.
I towelled off my hair and dragged a comb through it. Lucky there wasn’t time for Gramps to haul me off to a barber for a short back and sides.
I took a look at myself in the mirror. What a wanker. I never wore tee-shirts this tight. Or jeans this skinny, for that matter. The hair was a disaster too — stuck flat to my head.
Gramps, though, was ecstatic. ‘That’s more like it, Jake. You look like a man of the world.’
His world, not mine.
I got in the car, and he drove me — jerkily — to the supermarket.
‘Good luck, son. I always knew you had it in you.’
He told me where to go and who to ask for. I walked in with my mind spinning in 360s.
I’d mess up the interview.
No, I’d do my best.
They wouldn’t want me anyway.
No way could I stand working here.
I needed money, needed this job.
Didn’t want this job.
I was there, and a girl behind a desk was smiling at me. ‘You’ve come for the interview?’
She was a babe — huge dark eyes, shining hair down past her shoulders, and a smile that went straight into my blood. ‘Um, yeah. I mean — yes, thanks. That’s what I’m here for.’ Felt like a total loser.
That smile again. ‘Take a seat. Mrs Pere won’t be long.’
I wanted to keep her talking. ‘So what exactly is the job?’ Then I felt stupid all over again.
‘You don’t know?’ She sounded puzzled, but she wasn’t mean about it.
My face was on fire — one way to dry my hair, I guess. I kept falling over my words as I told her about Gramps, but she didn’t seem to mind.
‘Mrs P wants check-out chicks for after school Thursdays and Fridays. Four till eight.’
I slouched back in the chair. ‘That lets me out then.’ I held out a piece of my hair. ‘It might be long, but I’m not a chick.’
She laughed and said, ‘She’s okay with check-out roosters too.’
The door behind her opened, and Harriet Jacobson from school walked out, followed by a woman who said, ‘We’ll let you know tomorrow, Harriet.’ Then she looked at me. ‘Jake Stringer? Come in, please.’
I hauled myself to my feet, smiled at the girl, gave Harriet a grin and walked into the den of doom.
The interview didn’t get off to the best of starts.
‘Can I see your CV please, Jake.’
Ha! Gramps hadn’t thought of that one. ‘Um, I haven’t got one,’ I said.
It didn’t faze her. ‘I see. Just tell me your age, what qualifications you’ve got and what jobs you’ve done before.’
Telling her about the quals didn’t take long. NCEA Level 1 for maths, English and science. I was glad Level 2 results weren’t out yet. I knew they weren’t going to be good. ‘I’m sixteen — nearly seventeen. I haven’t had a job before.’
‘Hmm,’ she said. ‘Why do you want one now?’
I shrugged. ‘I need the money.’
She narrowed her eyes at me and I could see her thinking, Chuck him out now or give him one more chance? She went for the one more chance, damn it. ‘Why do you suddenly need money? Why now? Why not a year ago?’
I told her about the car, about wanting my licence and Mum not having the money to pay for it. I could have added that it was time I pulled my weight, but the image of me standing behind a check-out looking all scrubbed and polished stopped me. I so did not want this job.
She stood up. ‘Thank you, Jake. Let Melanie have your mobile number. We’ll text you tomorrow and let you know.’
‘I don’t have a mobile,’ I said and grinned at her. ‘No money.’
I walked out of the office to find Jason Katene from school waiting for his turn and chatting up Melanie like a pro. I nodded, he nodded back, then when he’d gone I gave Melanie my land line. ‘No mobile?’ she asked.
I shook my head. ‘They cost money.’
‘Well, good luck,’ she said, smiling that killer smile again.
I couldn’t think of anything more to say, so I said, ‘See ya round.’ In my dreams. She was a top girl. She wouldn’t want anything to do with a loser like me.
Gramps leapt out of the car when he saw me coming. ‘Well? How did it go?’
I waited till I got myself sat down. ‘Okay. Should have had a CV, though. She’s going to let me know tomorrow.’ Then I told him about the two other kids from school. ‘Looks like quite a few people are applying.’
‘Don’t worry, Jake. You’re as good as any of them,’ said old cheerful-chops.
Funny really: he was worried I wouldn’t get it and I was worried I would.
Mum was thrilled when Gramps blabbered on about it. ‘You asked what the pay rate is, Jake?’ he s
aid.
I hadn’t even given it a thought, which probably said something about how badly I wanted it.
‘Never mind,’ he said. ‘Jump on the computer. Look at the Department of Labour website. That should give you an idea.’
Anything to shut him up. From what I could work out when I searched the site, I’d get at least $10.20 an hour before tax. Next I went back to the site about getting your licence. To get my full was going to cost roughly $300. I did the maths. At ten bucks an hour (and hell knew how much tax the bloodsuckers would take out of that), it would take me thirty hours to earn enough. Eight hours a week. I stopped to work it out. Three and a half weeks. I hadn’t asked when the start date was. If it was when school started, it could be halfway through February before I had the money to sit my learner’s.
I went to bed that night with my mind back on the spin cycle. Looking at it one way, I wanted that job. Look at it a different way, and all I felt was sick.
IT WAS A relief to get back to the paddock the next day. I told the others about the job, just so they’d know I was trying. I’d had my eye on the fuel gauge. It was heading towards empty fast. We had Frank’s tin of gas, then only enough cash to fill the car up once, if that. The guys needed to know I was serious about the job, even if I didn’t know myself if I was or if I wasn’t.
They gave me a hard time. ‘You’ll have to wear a hello-my-name-is-Jake badge,’ Robbie said.
‘Great uniform,’ Buzz said. ‘It’ll match your eyes.’ The uniform was red.
Time to distract them. ‘How about we do timed slaloms?’
Buzz shook his head. ‘Not yet. Robbie and me need more practice first.’
Robbie said, ‘I found that article you read.’ He said to Buzz, ‘He’s not kidding us. You do have to look ahead.’
So they slowed down and practised, but I practised too and I was speeding up. I was going to make mince on toast out of them or bust a gut trying.
The sun was belting down, and we changed the course so that we could sit under the tree when we weren’t driving.
It was getting on in the afternoon by the time they decided they were expert enough to make a competition of it. Fine by me. Buzz had got the hang of it pretty quickly and I was busting to see if I could beat him. They made me go first. I took off, not going hard out. I wanted something to pull out if they got too close. It was a good run, nice and tidy, and all the cones still standing.
‘Thirty-nine seconds,’ Buzz said, checking the stopwatch on his phone.
He handed it over and slid into the car, his face all concentration. He had me worried — snaked through the first four cones like he was chasing the end of the world. Then it all turned to custard.
Robbie yelled, ‘Way to go!’
I yelled, ‘Good one!’
Buzz finished with the last four cones scattered over the paddock. He leaned out the window, picking them up and repositioning them on the way back.
‘Time?’ he asked.
‘A hundred years,’ I said. I held out the phone: 38.7.
‘I guess it doesn’t count if you knock over the cones,’ he said.
‘I guess it doesn’t,’ Robbie said, getting into the car.
He didn’t hit one cone and came back. ‘How did I do? I reckon I would have knocked a second off your time, Jake.’
Buzz held out the phone. We didn’t say anything, just watched Robbie’s face.
‘Fifty-five point one! You’re kidding me!’
‘Sorry old man,’ I said.
‘Can’t argue with the technology,’ Buzz said.
We got in a few more runs before Buzz’s alarm told him it was time to hit the road. His best time was 40.8 and Robbie got down to 51.2. My best time was an even 37. Go, Jake!
We got on our non-motorised transport and rode home.
I’d forgotten all about the job, which was weird because I hadn’t forgotten about Melanie. Her face kept popping up at odd times during the day. But it was Gramps’s mile-long face that greeted me when I got home, not hers.
‘Bad news, Jake,’ he said. ‘They rang about the job. No go, I’m afraid.’
‘Oh.’ That was all I could think of to say. It wouldn’t have been tactical to tell him I was one very relieved guy. No supermarket job for me. But no pay either. Back in the same old bind.
Chapter Twelve
THE NO-DRIVE DAYS
THE NEXT DAY when Buzz met us at the intersection, he looked like somebody’d stolen his toys.
‘What’s up?’ Robbie asked before I could.
Buzz didn’t answer, just swerved into Paddock Road and rode up it like his bike suddenly had an engine.
We looked at each other, then took off behind him.
‘I hope this isn’t the end of using the paddock,’ Robbie yelled over his shoulder.
‘Keep your eyes on the road,’ I yelled back.
Buzz was in the car and blatting up the paddock by the time we got there, so we had to wait till he’d done three handbrakeys and a couple of 360s before he’d cooled down enough to come back and tell us the news.
‘It’s gotta be bad,’ I said.
‘Haven’t seen him this mad before,’ Robbie said. ‘Not even when Bella’s bugged the hell out of him.’
Buzz did another handbrakey, right in front of us, but we didn’t scatter this time. ‘Bloody parents,’ he said, swinging himself out of the car. ‘They’re making me go to some bloody wedding in Auckland. It’s some cousin I’ve seen twice in my life.’
‘When?’ I asked.
‘Tomorrow, would you believe.’
‘You didn’t know about this?’ Robbie asked. ‘Man, that stinks.’
Buzz kicked a tyre. ‘Yeah, I knew. Said I wasn’t going to go, but they’re coming down heavy.’
‘It’s not so bad,’ I said. ‘Auckland’s not far. Up and back in a day.’
He slumped back against the car. ‘Four useless days. We’re going to have a holiday, according to them.’
We said nothing for a few seconds, then Robbie said, ‘Cruel, bro.’
I said, ‘We won’t drive till you get back.’ I hoped Buzz’d say, No, go for it.
But old Robbie chipped in with, ‘That’s right. If you can’t drive, then we don’t either.’
Buzz cheered up a fraction. ‘Thanks, guys.’ He did some deep breathing. ‘Let’s get driving now then. Thirty-seven seconds is the time to beat.’
We gave it everything. Four days without driving — I hoped I wouldn’t forget the stuff I’d learnt.
Buzz got his time down to 39.4 seconds. Robbie was still hovering around 50. I shaved mine down to 36.2. I so could have used those four days.
Just before we finished up, I tried a handbrakey. Nailed it on the second attempt.
We were stacking up the cones when Buzz said, ‘By the way — did you get the job?’
‘Nah. Too much competition. I saw Harriet and Jason there for starters.’
‘Tough,’ Robbie said.
‘Better luck next time,’ Buzz said. I could see him thinking about telling me to milk cows again, but he didn’t.
‘See ya Tuesday,’ I said when we got to the intersection. ‘Same place, same time.’
‘See ya.’ He rode off looking gloomy.
‘Four days hanging out with Bella,’ Robbie said. ‘He’s going to go mental.’
‘He’ll have to scrub up for the wedding too,’ I said. ‘You reckon they’ll make him wear a suit?’
‘Man, that would be harsh,’ Robbie said.
We rode home, glad we weren’t in Buzz’s shoes. We stopped at the intersection where Robbie went one
way and I went the other way. ‘Hit the beach tomorrow, bro?’ he asked.
‘Good idea. Meet you here at eleven?’ I could do with a sleep-in.
‘Now you’re thinking,’ he said.
I went home, wondering if Gramps would be waiting to ambush me again. Nope. Must be bowling his heart out. He’d been cooking, though. I cleaned up the kitchen and ate
about a quarter of the cake he’d made. Chocolate.
No driving tomorrow — that was going to feel weird. I plonked down at the computer and searched for more info about driving. Read up about how to do a 360, which made me want to try it right then and there. I’d just have to wait.
IN THE MORNING, the two of us hit the beach. It felt wrong going without Buzz. We got there without diversions, even though Robbie had to lead the way. The old dreamy useless Robbie had gone — hard to get the head around.
We ran over the hot sand, jandals in our hands. ‘More fun here than at a wedding,’ Robbie said. He took the next step straight onto a shell and yelped, hopping about and rubbing his foot.
‘Heaps more fun,’ I said. ‘Swim between the flags or live dangerously?’
He stopped running, digging his feet into the sand in search of a cool layer. ‘That lifeguard looks like she could be worth checking out. We swim between the flags.’
I checked out the girl as we got closer. She was different from Melanie. This girl had short hair — shorter than mine. She was tall too, taller than Robbie but not as tall as me, I guessed. She was okay but she didn’t light my fire.
We did the sunblock thing, then stretched out on our towels. I liked getting really hot before I hit the waves. About ten minutes was all it took. I stood up. ‘You coming in, bro?’
He shook his head. ‘Not yet.’
‘Suit yourself.’ I ran down the sand, and through the shallows, making sure I splashed a couple of girls inching their way in. Their squeals followed me as I dived through a wave. Getting in slowly was for wimps.
I swam out till I was tired, flipped over and lay on my back for a bit, enjoying riding the swell of the waves. I swam back more slowly. The sea and the car — what a brilliant life.
Robbie was still on the beach and still dry when I jogged back to base. He wasn’t lounging about in the sun, though — he was very busy chatting up the lifeguard. He didn’t notice me until I picked up my towel and flicked the sand off it. Some of it just might have hit him. He jumped — his mind had been totally focused on the girl. I got a grin though — he was all lit up like a Christmas tree. ‘Jayna this is Jake.’