Together, the two of them watched in awe as the lemonade man took down another bottle and untwisted the top with his bony fingers.
Fffffft!
‘What’s his game, dude?’
‘Hard to say, dude.’
‘Who does he think he is? The lemonade inspector?’
‘Who knows. Maybe he is the lemonade inspector.’
‘If he’s the lemonade inspector, shouldn’t he have a badge or something?’
‘He could be working undercover.’
‘I seriously doubt that, dude.’
‘We don’t want to jump to conclusions. That’s all I’m saying.’
Dylan looked at Jared. ‘Should we tell him to stop?’
Jared shook his head.
‘The shelves never lie, dude. Besides, it’s not our area.’
As Jared got older, his hyperactivity slowly returned. At school, he was popular now, but constantly in trouble for disrupting the class. His parents received several letters from the headmaster: Jared shows no concern for others . . .has no interest in the curriculum . . . his childish, self-indulgent behaviour . . . sudden loud outbursts . . . physically threatening . . . constant fidgeting . . . disturbing utterances. There was also a report from the school psychiatrist, recommending that Jared attend group counselling. But the thing that most concerned his parents was Jared’s sleepwalking. Some nights, he would leave the house and walk towards the city, crossing busy roads with his eyes wide open. Once, they found him stomping on the neighbour’s garden. Another time, he tried to suffocate his mother with a pillow.
Ffffft!
‘He’s past his use-by date.’
‘Did you know, dude, there are one-hundred-year-old tai chi masters who can catch a bullet with one hand?’
‘What’s your point?’
‘You can’t judge a book by its cover, dude. That’s my point.’
‘But, dude, wouldn’t the bullet pierce their skin?’
‘Not if they’re wearing metal gloves for protection.’
‘If that’s the case, dude, it sounds like the metal gloves are what stops the bullet.’
‘I’m talking about tai chi masters. Watch and learn, dude. Learn from the master.’
As Jared and Dylan stood reverently watching the old man, a worker came up and introduced himself. His badge said ‘Andy’, but he told them his name was Adam and that today was his first day at work.
‘What are you guys doing?’ he asked.
‘Working,’ said Dylan. ‘What’s it look like?’
Another worker stopped to see what was going on.
‘Andy, this is Andy,’ said Jared, introducing them.
‘I’m Adam.’
‘My name is Abdi.’
Each glanced at the other’s nametag and nodded. Then, together, they all stood and stared at the old man.
Ffffft!
‘Should we tell someone, do you think?’ asked Abdi.
‘Fools rush in, dude,’ said Dylan.
‘Should we get Security?’ said Adam.
‘People in glass houses, dude,’ said Dylan.
‘We can’t just do nothing,’ said Abdi.
They all looked at Jared. But he just smiled and kept watching the old man.
Jared’s first job was as a paperboy. His parents had bought him a 21-speed bike with a multi-function speedometer and an aerodynamic helmet to cut down on wind resistance. Jared had set his alarm for five in the morning and leapt out of bed as soon as the first beep sounded. From the moment he left the house, he was racing against the clock, trying to achieve a new personal best. He modified his delivery route to make it more efficient. He rode with no hands, carrying two newspapers at a time. Jared was doing well, according to his own calculations, but then the newsagency began to receive complaints. People didn’t like being woken by the thud of a rolled-up newspaper slamming against their front door. They were sick of retrieving their paper from the branches of a tree or up on the roof. Finally, one of Jared’s newspapers flew through an open window and broke a priceless vase. The insurance company said they would find a replacement, and so did the newsagent.
Jared was sacked. According to his speedometer, he had ridden a hundred and six kilometres, averaging an incredible 11.3 kph!
Abdi approached the elderly gentleman cautiously.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said. ‘Can I help you?’
The old man shook his head.
‘Do you intend to purchase, sir? Or are you just looking?’
The old man grinned as he took down another bottle.
‘I must inform you, sir, that customers are not allowed to open the produce in the store.’
The old man looked at Abdi and nodded.
‘Please, sir. Give me that bottle.’
But when Abdi held out his hand and tried to take it, the old man turned away.
‘You are spoiling them for everyone else!’ said Abdi.
Ffffft!
After Jared lost his paper round, he tried his hand at cleaning car windscreens. Each morning, during peak hour, he would set up at a busy intersection with a brush and a bucket of soapy water. When the traffic lights turned red, Jared would approach the drivers. Even if their cars were spotless and they clearly didn’t want his services, he cleaned their windows anyway. Jared was fast. He could do ten cars before the lights had changed, and a couple more before the traffic began to move. But when he bent back the windscreen wipers on a Porsche, the driver threatened legal action and said he would break both Jared’s legs if he ever saw him again. Jared decided to re-evaluate his options.
His next venture was a gardening business. Jared paid ten dollars for five hundred business cards which he planned to hand-deliver to the letterboxes in his local area: SPEEDEE MOWING SERVICE. BUDGET RATES. NO JOB TOO LARGE OR SMALL. He had designed the cards on his computer. It was only after he got them back from the printer that Jared discovered the typo: SPEEDEE MOWING SERVICE. BLUDGET RATES. NO JOBTOO LARGE OR SMALL. Instead of getting the cards reprinted, Jared handed them out to his friends. They were a much bigger hit than the gardening business ever would have been.
Jared’s behaviour deteriorated. He was always getting in trouble at school, and at home he refused to speak to his parents, refused to answer their stupid questions, yes, no or maybe. The school psychiatrist re-diagnosed him as having bipolar disorder, and wrote out a prescription for anti-depressants. For years, Jared had got his amphetamines using an ongoing script with the same chemist. After switching to anti-depressants, he simply found another chemist and began selling the amphetamines after school. With the money he made, Jared bought a) speed and b) alcohol which, combined with c) the anti-depressants, made him feel much better. Jared took anti-depressants as if they were lollies. On a bad day, he would pop two or three. Some days, he lost track of how many he had taken, but it didn’t matter. The important thing was, Jared was cured again.
‘I’m going to get the manager,’ said Abdi.
‘I’ll come with you,’ said Adam.
‘You’re making a mistake, dudes,’ said Dylan.
Jared had been silent. But as the two Andys began to walk away, he turned and gave them an intensely meaningful look.
‘It’s a can of worms,’ he said. ‘Once you open the can, that’s it.’
The Andys stopped and looked at him, trying to understand what he meant.
Jared shrugged. ‘Do what you like, dudes. But, sometimes, trying to fix things only makes them worse.’
When the two Andys were gone, Dylan helped himself to a sherbet bomb and offered Jared one. The two of them had started work a year ago on the same day. They had helped each other in the aptitude test and taped over the training videos. Since then, they had always worked the same shift, unloading trucks and stacking boxes out in the store. When Jared came late or snuck off early, Dylan keyed his PIN number and clocked him in or out. When Jared forgot his PIN number, Dylan remembered it. When Jared fell asleep in the toilet, it was Dylan who hammered
on the door and woke him up. When Jared started laughing hysterically, Dylan grabbed his shirt and shook him until he stopped. When Jared said he felt like jumping in front of a train, Dylan laughed and called him a wanker. When Jared got angry and started breaking things, Dylan gave him caramels, spearmint leaves, licorice allsorts, jelly babies, fruit jubes and aniseed rings. In return, Jared sold Dylan amphetamines at fifty per cent off the street price.
Ffffft!
‘What’s the gas they put in lemonade, dude?’
Jared shrugged. ‘Carbon dioxide?’
‘Is carbon dioxide dangerous in large quantities, do you think?’
‘I’m pretty sure carbon monoxide is.’
Dylan popped another sherbet bomb into his mouth.
‘This is boring, dude,’ he said. ‘I’ve had enough.’ Jared barely nodded as his friend limped away. He was still watching the lemonade man when he realised he had forgotten to take his tablet that morning. He felt a flash of panic, but then he relaxed. After all, he didn’t feel bad yet. In fact, he felt almost fine.
The lemonade man took down another bottle. He turned and grinned at Jared, and Jared grinned back. There was a flash of recognition between them. How many bottles had he opened? No one was counting. Why was he doing it? Who cared? Holding his neck in his hands, Jared rotated his head, untwisting it like a bottle-top, releasing the pressure, letting it all come to the surface. He looked at the rows of lolly dispensers, the bags of sweets hanging on their hooks, the chocolate bars in their colourful wrappers, and suddenly he felt wide awake. It was as if he’d been viewing his life through a window and now someone had taken the glass away. Everything was so sharp, so bright and so real! It was intense. There was so much to choose from, and Jared wanted all of it.
TEAROOM
‘So what’s he like?’ asked Chloe.
‘Who?’ said Louisa.
Chloe rolled her eyes. ‘The new guy. Andy.’
‘We saw you,’ said Emma.
‘His name is Adam,’ said Louisa.
‘What were you talking about?’ asked Chloe.
‘Not much,’ said Louisa.
‘It didn’t look like that,’ said Emma.
‘He looked pretty keen,’ said Chloe.
‘He was just being friendly,’ said Louisa.
‘I’m sure,’ said Emma.
‘He seems like a nice guy,’ said Louisa.
‘Not Chloe’s type, then,’ said Emma.
‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Chloe demanded.
‘He was just doing his job,’ said Louisa.
AISLE
five
TEA & COFFEE/CEREALS/HEALTH FOOD
Tessa could imagine her own funeral: a lonely little church on a long-forgotten hill; a cloudy, weepy sky; the wind softly moaning through the branches of dying trees; her family in the front row, dressed in black; her sisters crying. After the gloomy organ music, four faceless pallbearers would come and carry her coffin down the aisle, to the tumbledown graveyard outside. It would be like a wedding, Tessa decided, except the opposite.
‘How are you today, sir?’
The boy in the queue looked up at Tessa and scowled.
‘Don’t call me that,’ he mumbled.
Tessa smiled, because that was what you were supposed to do. She looked at the boy, with his shaved head and pierced lip. She looked at his long black coat and wondered if he was shoplifting.
‘Sorry, sir,’ she said.
The boy stared at her blankly. There was no way of knowing what he was thinking. Tessa continued scanning his items, trying to ignore the rude way he was staring: herbal teabags, tofu, multigrain muesli, organic soy milk. There was no doubt about it. The guy was obviously a psycho.
‘And no plastic bags,’ he added.
Tessa watched the boy put the groceries into his hemp shoulderbag. She smiled stiffly as he nodded and left. Her next customer was a lady with a shaved poodle in her trolley. After her, there was a man who insisted on paying in ten-cent coins, then a woman with dried soap in her ears.
Why did the weirdos always end up in her queue?
When at last there were no more customers, Tessa picked up a pen and began drawing a barcode on her palm, out of boredom. She swiped her barcoded hand across the scanner, but there was no reading.
What would it say? she wondered. Girl, 50% Off.
The register girls were in the tearoom, discussing Adam, the new worker. Tessa made herself a cup of coffee and sat down. She never knew what to say in girl conversations. She always felt clumsy and stupid, like an ugly stepsister trying to squeeze her big foot into a tiny glass slipper. While the others talked, Tessa flipped through the newspaper, pretending to read. She looked at the names in the death notices. There was an obituary about a nun who had lived in a convent all her life. Sister Lillian had been married to God, it said. She had never wanted children of her own. There was a photograph of Sister Lillian as a young woman. She looked happy enough, Tessa thought, but painfully shy.
Outside in the corridor, Jared and Dylan thundered past on their trolley. The other girls did their best to ignore them, but Tessa couldn’t help smiling as she heard them take the corner too fast and thump into the wall.
Why did boys have all the fun?
By the time Tessa had finished her shift, the smaller shops were closing and the cleaners were clearing tables in the food court. The weirdo in the long black coat was sitting alone by the window, staring straight at her. Tessa looked away, then casually glanced back again, just to be sure. The strange boy nodded. It gave her a creepy feeling.
The sun went down behind a factory wall as Tessa headed for the bus stop. She wasn’t comfortable in her work clothes. The fabric felt itchy against her skin and her shoes were pinching. Then she saw him again, following her. Fear rose inside Tessa. Instinct told her to run, even though she was taller than he was and there were still plenty of people around.
Instead, she walked to the busy street corner and stopped. If the boy went one way, she would go the other. And if he started to hassle her, she could get help from someone or wave down a passing car. To hide her trepidation, Tessa turned to confront him as he came towards her.
‘What is your problem?’ she demanded, when he had stopped right in front of her.
The boy reached into his coat pocket and for a moment Tessa thought he might pull out a knife. But then he gave her a pink piece of paper.
‘We’re having a party,’ he said softly. ‘Would you like to come?’
The invitation showed a picture of a circus fat lady.
Tessa was disgusted.
‘Who the hell are you?’ she blurted. ‘Do you think you’re God’s gift to women?’
Instead of looking offended, the stranger’s face softened.
When he laughed, it was gentle and unexpected.
‘But I am a woman,’ she said.
When Tessa told her sisters she was going to a party, they teased her about what she would wear. Tessa never went to parties. She didn’t own any make-up and she never did anything with her hair. While her sisters were playing with their dolls, Tessa was running around with the boys in the street. But at school, the same boys never let her join in with them, and because she was tall for her age, Tessa felt awkward amongst the girls. When the teacher asked the class what they wanted to be when they grew up, Tessa said ‘A fireman’, and everyone laughed.
‘I’m sure,’ said the teacher, ‘that Tessa would make a very good fire-person.’
‘At least she won’t need a ladder,’ someone sniggered.
Ruby had said the party was very casual and that she should wear whatever she liked. So, despite her sisters’ teasing, Tessa decided on jeans and a T-shirt. It wasn’t very imaginative, but at least she would feel comfortable.
Instead of asking her dad for a lift, Tessa phoned a taxi and told the driver the address on the invitation. At first she thought there must have been a mistake. The house was a big, dark, derelict place in a street full o
f factories. It looked as though no one had lived there for years.
Tessa stepped over the broken gate. The front door was open and a candle flickered in the hall. She saw dark shapes of people in the candlelit rooms on either side: stretched out on the floor; playing African drums; demonstrating kung fu; wrestling a spray-painted dog. Tessa moved past the doorways like a shadow, through a crowded kitchen and up a creaking staircase.
Upstairs, there were closed doors and one big room with windows overlooking the street. People were leaning against the walls and a girl in a beanbag was having her hair plaited. In the middle of the room was a table with dead candles, empty plates and bowls of cherry pips. Tessa went out on the balcony and looked down at the street below. A police car drove past slowly. She wondered how many people lived in the house and whether they paid rent. She wondered if any of them had jobs.
A guy with matted hair wanted a cigarette, but Tessa didn’t have one.
‘Have you seen Ruby?’ she asked.
The guy shook his head. ‘Does she live here?’
‘I think so.’
The guy drifted away, leaving Tessa alone on the balcony. She was trying so hard not to be noticed that it took a while before she realised Ruby was standing beside her.
‘Hey! You made it!’
In long earrings, Ruby looked much more like a girl.
‘I didn’t know what to wear,’ said Tessa. ‘I feel like such a dag.’
‘Daggy’s OK,’ said Ruby.
‘I think I’d better go. I’m no good at parties.’
Ruby smiled. ‘If you were good at parties, I wouldn’t have invited you to mine. But if you want to borrow any of my clothes, you’re welcome.’
‘I should go.’
‘Come on,’ said Ruby, taking her hand.
She led Tessa down the hall to her candle lit bedroom. There were cobwebs on the ceiling, a piece of silk pinned across the window and a crack in the wall as wide as your thumb. There was a single mattress on the floor, a teacup and a pile of books without a bookshelf. From a small rack of clothes against the wall, Ruby picked out a black velvet dress.
Shelf Life Page 4