A man with a whole pile of purple pieces came up. He shuffled through them and handed my brother one, smiling. Like a teacher does when he knows you’re going to get the answer wrong.
“Behave acceptably in public.” it said.
“But it’s hot! This is acceptable!” Jim said. He knew what he was supposed to have done wrong.
“Put your shirt on, son. None of us want to witness your naked body,” the man said. It was Mr Thompson from down the road. His two teenagers are in the Stream, and he has a Screamer back and his wife is quiet and ugly. I could imagine his chest; worse than Dad’s, not even any muscles and probably covered with pimples. He has them on his face and neck; why would they stop there? I stared at this ugly man who was trying to cover up my beautiful brother.
“It’s rude to stare,” he said, and after my brother had put his shirt on, Mr Thompson left.
****
I found Jim lying in the back yard, amongst the grass he had just mown.
“I don’t get it about daydreaming,” he said. “I was just trying to see if I could daydream at all, and I can’t. I’ve got nothing to think about.”
“What about when you were a kid?” I said. I always daydream nice memories, from when I was five or six.
“I can’t remember my childhood,” he said. That sounded terrible.
“What about what you want to be? Or who you’ll meet?”
“I’m supposed to be a gardener and I’ve already been introduced to June,” he said. I moved closer and, the smell of cut grass filling my throat like sugar, I whispered, “But what do you want to be?”
He looked at me and there was a little smile on his mouth. “Nothing. I want to be nothing. I want to assume my duties as a citizen.”
The sky-writer had smoked that into the blue sky earlier.
“Yes,” he said. He went indoors and made good Friends with Dad. Dad gave him alcohol.
At least it isn’t hard for him to assume his duties. He is told exactly what his duties are. At least he doesn’t have to figure it out for himself.
****
Jim often went to the pictures with his Friends. In the morning I would ask him, “What was the movie like?”
“What movie?” he would say. He wouldn’t remember. He smelt before he had his shower. He smelt like nothing I’ve ever smelt before.
****
“Is there a Stroking Party today, Jim?” I asked. I felt really cool, calling it what the Screamers did.
“What do you reckon?” he said, in a nasty voice. “Has there been a Thursday since I’ve been back when there hasn’t been one?”
I hate it when he talks to me like that. I don’t know what’s wrong with him today. Something’s up. Something’s upset him. He won’t even look at Mum and Dad, let alone get close enough for them to boss him around. Dad hasn’t noticed, but Mum has. She keeps looking at me. Not as if I know what’s going on, but in a thoughtful way, like she’s trying to figure something out, something about me. It’s confusing with the whole family gone weird.
****
I got into my spot behind the couch, but there were no lollies coming over. Five Screamers, my grouchy brother included, sat there saying nothing.
“Who’d like to start?” Beryl said. She must have thought it was her big chance.
“Mark’s not here yet,” June said. “Didn’t you notice?”
“I thought he wasn’t coming,” Beryl said, “I thought he might be sick.”
“He’s not sick, he’s in hospital,” Jim said. There was this big noise, yelling and shouting and that. I couldn’t tell who was who.
My dad slammed the door open and came into the room.
“Why was this door closed?” he shouted. “What’s all this teenage rubbish?” That was a bad insult. He’d never called Jim a teenager before.
“We’re just worried about Mark,” Jim said. He is getting smarter and smarter.
“Mark will be released in the morning, Jim, you know that. He’s learning his lesson early, he’s lucky.” There was quiet. My father left, without shutting the door.
“Arsehole,” my brother said. I couldn’t believe it. I didn’t think he even knew a word like that. The others laughed, nervous but excited, it sounded.
“I can’t think of anything nice to say,” Beryl said, and that was the party finished with.
I never got to go to parties when I was growing. No one had them, no one had a big brother or sister to tell us what parties were like.
There was no one but our parents and teachers to tell us anything. Things like, when I wanted to go out late one night, to stay over at the twins’ and sit up all night, my mum said NO, and I couldn’t say but Jim is allowed. He wasn’t there for me to say it about. I had to learn it all myself.
He won’t come out of his room, only to do his chores and eat then back to his room. Dad gave him a bottle of whisky and I heard him in the night, crying in the voice I remember before he went away.
When it was party time again, I took my own lollies and ducked behind the couch.
But I had to peek my head around when Mark came in.
He didn’t look very good. He was all yellow around his eyes and his arm was in a sling.
“I bit my nails,” he said.
“But I thought we only had to avoid the mannerisms,” June said. “I didn’t think you could get hurt for them.”
“Arseholes,” my brother said. I think it’s the only swear word he knows. I hid back behind the couch in case he told me to get. I heard a paper, then his voice, his nasty voice:
“Mannerisms to avoid.
1. Biting nails — you already discovered that one, Mark.
2. Sniffling
3. Playing with hair
4. Putting pencils in mouth
5. Drumming with fingers
6. Wiggling a leg back and forth
7. Twitching mouth
8. Twisting nose or ear
9. Moistening finger to turn page
10. Eating noisily
11. Playing with jewellery
And there I was, making little plaits in my hair!
“I think it’s a bit much,” June said, “but I think Mark is showing remarkable strength of character.”
“Thank you,” Mark said. “I think Barry was very brave for volunteering to take the food tins we collected to the city.”
“Thank you,” Barry said. I couldn’t hear the rest. I blocked my ears and cried into my tucked up knees.
****
We had dinner with the Thompsons tonight. It was really boring. I was the only young one there, plus the parents, plus Jim and the Thompson’s Screamer Laura. I was sitting there and I wanted to tell everyone about school, because I got best in maths, I got everything right and the teacher made me go to the other classes and read out my answers. It was really embarrassing.
I was telling everyone about it, thinking they’d be interested because they’re all so boring, when I noticed how uncomfortable everyone looked so I shut up.
“Don’t talk about yourself all the time,” Laura said, in that voice the Screamers use when they’ve learnt something off the purple pieces.
“Don’t talk about operations or dental experiences,” Jim said.
“I haven’t had any,” I said. I was really annoyed.
“Don’t talk about controversial subjects, unpleasant happenings, or death,” Laura said.
“I thought death was an unpleasant happening,” I said. My mother, I’m sure, winked at me.
“What should we discuss?” Mr Thompson said. He already knew the answer.
“News items and the interests of others,” Jim said. It was the most boring night of my life, and we had to eat chops.
Jim and Dad were drunk in the kitchen. Jim tried to tell Dad about some music he likes that Dad doesn’t like. Jim said, “But it gets you, you’re into it, it lifts you away.”
“Sounds dangerous,” Dad said, “Sounds like daydreaming. Where did you hear this stuff? Some ba
ckyard?”
“It was on the radio. They said music for all ages. You just don’t understand,” Jim said. He was lying. They don’t play music like that on the radio.
“No, you’re the one who’s supposed to understand. You have to put yourself in my place and understand my point of view.”
Dad pointed at the purple piece he had carefully stuck on the fridge.
“But it doesn’t make sense,” Jim said, and I got nervous. He was saying stuff like that now. “It’s easier for you to understand me cos you’ve been my age. I’ve never been your age.”
“Never mind, you will,” Dad said. Jim said nothing, which made me even more nervous.
****
“I love you, Dad,” Laura Thompson said. I was at their place, watching Mrs Thompson make a cake. I looked at Mr Thompson and wondered how anyone could love him, even if they were told to. Especially if they’ve been gone seven years and come back a Screamer.
****
I looked puberty up in the dictionary. No other rude words were there. It said, “From the Latin ‘pubertas’ meaning ‘age of madness’ “That seemed weird, but it was a brand new dictionary.
****
We went to a movie with June and her mother. I was depressed because the twins had gone into the Blue Stream, they were my last friends. Luckily, Jim didn’t mind taking me. It wasn’t really a movie, it was more like a lecture. It was about this really dumb woman who kept getting into trouble. There was one bit where she had a mental at her children, threw things at them.
Jim said, “My mother has such a good temper, you really have to try to make her angry.”
June and her mother smiled at him. I was amazed. Didn’t he hear her yelling at me this afternoon? Just because I was late home from saying goodbye to the twins? She won’t leave me alone; she wants me there all the time.
Running along the bottom of the screen through the whole “bad mother” screen were the words, “Show Pride in your Parents in Front of your Friends”
At the end, a man stood up and said, “Isn’t it nice to know exactly how to behave, even in the most embarrassing of situations? This hasn’t always been the way. At one stage of the Human Struggle, people ignored the rules. It was a terrible time.” All the adults and lots of the Screamers clapped, but the kids, old enough like me to be there, and the rest of the Screamers, just watched the titles. If they were thinking the same as me, none of them showed it.
I was thinking, So you can break the rules. People have done it before. Funny to think of that.
There was trouble after the movie was over. The adults gathered in the foyer, leaving kids and Screamers in the cinema. Then they let the Screamers out one by one, and us kids had to wait for hours.
Jim said that the adults were angry at the Screamers who hadn’t clapped after the man’s speech. They said, “We know who you are. We know each and every face.”
They pointed at the ones who had clapped and cheered. Those Screamers were allowed to go. They were given a prize. Money, Jim said, but he couldn’t quite see.
We were sent home then. We filed past the bad Screamers, who were standing facing the wall. Some of them were crying, and the adults said, “Don’t cry like a baby. A Mature Person does not Indulge in Childish Emotions.”
The Screamers tried to stop, but that just makes crying worse. Jim told me they had to watch the movie five times. He got home at breakfast time, his eyes red and tired.
“Enjoy the movie?” Dad asked.
“It was educational,” Jim said. Then he had a shower and went to work.
****
Jim received a purple piece with his pay cheque. “Take Disappointment Gracefully.” I was very disappointed myself; I thought if I met him on payday he might buy me something on the way home. But he just walked along, watching his feet, ignoring me.
“What’s wrong?” I asked him. He looked up. He wasn’t depressed at all, he was smiling.
“Found another one,” he said.
In red chalk on the footpath, were the words, You are an individual.
“Is that a rule?” I asked.
“Doubt it,” he said. He was really happy. “Yesterday I found one that said, Your parents are far from perfect!”
“Maybe you shouldn’t read them,” I said. “You don’t know who wrote them.”
“It doesn’t matter. The words are there.”
From then on I always walked looking at my feet but I never found as many as Jim did.
****
Three months now until I take the big dip. Sara has been gone for ages, but her mother still goes to school to pick her up every day.
“Sara is in the Blue Stream. When she emerges, you will have a beautiful adult child to share your home,” the Principal has told her.
They don’t say how Sara can be more successful at avoiding accidents than her sister was.
****
Mum caught me the other day; she has no understanding of privacy. Neither does my brother.
“Privacy is far from Godliness,” he said, standing at the door, when he heard me shouting at Mum. Luckily I had put my clothes on by then or I would have died. Mum sat on the bed and we had a talk.
“You feel a bit funny?” she asked. It was vague, but there was no way I could describe it.
“Yes.”
She made me stand in front of the mirror and we looked at each other. Clothes on, thank god.
“You enter the Stream looking like you do. In the next seven years, your breasts will grow, your hips round. Hair will grow, under your arms and there.” She pointed.
“Vagina, Mum,” I said. Once I realised how embarrassed she was, I felt better.
“Yes. Your sex organs will increase in size - your vagina, uterus, clitoris.”
“Is that a clit? The boys at school ask to see it sometimes.”
“Well, don’t show them. You’ll grow in height and weight, perfectly, because you’ll receive the right diet. And there are hormonal changes which are happening already. That’s why the boys want to see parts of you they don’t have themselves. It’s a very difficult time, darling, physically and mentally painful, and if you weren’t in the Stream, you might do things you’ll regret later on.”
“Like what. What did you do to regret?”
“I’m not really supposed to tell you. You’re not supposed to have any ideas when you begin.”
“Please, Mum. “ It was sounding worse and worse, to me. I didn’t want to miss out on the pain, I wanted to regret things.
Mum said, “The changes in you create the unrest. If you float in the Stream till the changes are over, you’ll be perfect. That’s what they say.”
“But is it true?”
“Yes, of course. It’s mostly true...for most people.”
“Do you think it’s true for me, Mum? What do you think?”
“We’ll see,” she said. She said we’ll see. Maybe I’ll stay here, maybe I won’t have to go into the Blue Stream.
****
Something terrible has happened, something scary. A woman was walking along and four kids like me grabbed her, they hurt her, raped her, and they killed her. Kids! Some were eleven, some were twelve. One was ten. And there were girls there, as well as boys. They told us only teenagers committed gang-killings. So what are these kids then? It’s really scary. The newspaper thinks that thirteen is too old now. But they can’t drop us in the Stream earlier than that. There’d be no kids. We’ve been told we aren’t allowed to hang around in big groups, just one or two. Too bad at school where we all used to sit on the oval and just talk about stuff. Too bad about going anywhere you might see someone you know.
****
My mother told my father she was taking me to the dentist, because I couldn’t enter the Stream with cavities.
“I’m proud of you,” he said, his eyes unfocused. He is drunk a lot these days.
“Nother drink, Dad?” my brother said, “nothing drink?” They laughed, the two men. Mother and I went to the st
ation.
“I want to ask some questions about the Blue Stream,” she told the man.
He made us watch a video about teenagers and then the office was closed.
****
Jim still screams when he wakes up. He keeps thinking he’s emerging from the nothingness.
Jim and his Friends had to go to a meeting with the new Screamers and the old. It was for their twenty-first, instead of having a party. Barry couldn’t go, because all the toilets he looks after were flooded, and they needed them for a conference.
When Jim came back he took my hand. He pressed something there. Red chalk. He went to his room. I didn’t see him again.
June told me about the meeting, how all these Screamers from their year got up and said how wonderful the world was, and the new Screamers screamed and stared, and some of the old Screamers cried. She said Jim cried. She said she didn’t cry, because she knew it was reality and that is how it is.
****
There was no scream this morning and I knew. My mother knew too. She left my father snoring in their bed and got in with me. We pulled the covers up and she held my hand and told me a long, long story, each story started another, and I helped. We told stories for three hours until my father woke up. He opened his door, walked into the hall, saw us sitting up in bed. Saw Jim’s closed door. Made me love him by understanding. He closed my door.
Dead Souls Page 31