The Boy from the Mish

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The Boy from the Mish Page 3

by Gary Lonesborough


  ‘His mum’s on the way,’ I say to her. She spots Jude and Ryan, both shielding half their bodies behind my legs. ‘These are Bobby’s big brothers, Jude and Ryan. They wanted to come check on him.’

  The nurse beckons Jude and Ryan to Bobby’s bedside and helps them up so they can sit beside him. They both look like they’re about to cry as they stare at Bobby, and I feel my heart breaking. I almost wish Aunty Pam would kill me, so I won’t have to live with this feeling. I sit down on the chair and watch over them. Bobby’s chest is rising and falling but it’s slow.

  ‘He’s just sleeping. He’ll feel a little sick from the bite, but he’ll be okay,’ the nurse tells Jude and Ryan. They stay quiet. The nurse leaves us, telling me to call her if we need anything.

  How about a plane ticket to Fiji or something? Away from where I wait in failure.

  I go back to the waiting room. I’ve barely got my arse on the seat when Mum and Aunty Pam burst through the doors. They glance at us but go straight to the reception. They’ve both got paint on their arms. The first nurse comes out and takes Aunty Pam off to the emergency room, and Mum comes to sit beside me and Kalyn.

  ‘You all right?’ she asks.

  I just nod. I feel the tension releasing now that she’s here.

  ‘Good Christmas present for your Aunty,’ she teases, nudging me with her elbow.

  I try not to smile, but one finds its way to my face.

  Mum heads into the corridor leading to the emergency room just as two people walk out of it. It’s Jasper, the tall lanky gay kid from school. He’s with his mum, I think.

  Jasper was Jarny’s Biology partner last year, so we’d always tease Jarny about spending so much time with the gay kid and ask him when he was having his coming-out party. Jarny hated it. Jasper has his fingernails painted black, and I think he’s wearing some eyeliner.

  ‘Hey boys,’ he says as he passes by.

  ‘Bit sick?’ Kalyn asks.

  ‘Just a bit of food poisoning.’

  He offers us a smile, but my body takes over and forces me to avoid making eye contact with him.

  ‘Food poisoning?’ Kalyn whispers to me as Jasper and his mum leave the centre. ‘Probably got his shampoo bottle stuck in his arse.’

  I force a chuckle. ‘Maybe,’ I say.

  Mum comes back from the emergency room. ‘Kalyn, why don’t you give us a lift home? Pam’s gonna stay with Bobby and his brothers, but he’ll be fine.’

  The rest of us pile into the ute again and head back to the Mish. I feel exhausted, like the snake injected its venom into me too. We pull up out the front of my house just as the sun sets.

  ‘Still wanna come to the camping ground?’ Kalyn asks.

  ‘Why don’t you stay at Kal’s place tonight, give yourself a break from the kids?’ Mum interrupts.

  I just nod, and she and the kids get out of the ute. Henry waves as we drive away. I wonder how I would have reacted if it was Henry who was bitten, and the thought scares me. I stay in the thought until we get to Kalyn’s house down the road, when I realise I left my shirt at the medical centre with Bobby.

  Kalyn offers me one of his shirts, as well as a beer. I down a quarter of it in one go. Never before have I wanted a beer so badly.

  We sit in the backyard at an outdoor table and chairs setting. Kalyn’s parents and little sisters are inside watching Shrek. We can hear it from the backyard.

  ‘I texted Jarny,’ Kalyn says. ‘He’s gonna come round after dinner.’

  I realise my phone’s in my pocket and I haven’t looked at it since we went to the river. I pull it out and there are four messages from Tesha.

  What you up to?

  Ur mum said your at the river, when you getting back?

  Come over.

  We need to talk . . .

  I get stuck feeling annoyed at her use of your instead of you’re in her second message. But then I reread them, and a worry grows in my stomach. It’s hollow in there, and there’s a sense of doom growing itself. I turn my phone off and finish my beer.

  We play Xbox in the lounge room after Kalyn’s family goes to bed, keeping the volume down. Jarny taps at the window and scares the shit out of us. He lets himself in through the front door and sits with us on the couch.

  ‘I was down there earlier,’ Jarny says, ‘at the camping ground. There are a few new kids, and Troy and Jasmine are back again. Troy said he’s having a few drinks tonight and is inviting the other kids. I said we’d come.’

  ‘I dunno,’ I say. ‘I don’t really feel like talking to white people right now.’

  ‘We can just wait till they go to sleep and go for an esky-raid?’ Kalyn suggests.

  ‘Yeah, okay,’ I say.

  ‘Fine then,’ Jarny says, disappointed. ‘I’ll text Troy to let him know we ain’t coming.’

  Good old Troy. He’s always thought he’s very cool. We all hang out when his family comes to camp here – but he always comes at you with that bogan accent. And he uses the word mate way too much. I remember last year he said he wanted to be a cop, and it didn’t surprise me at all. I could picture him in a blue uniform, pulling me over for no reason one night, then putting me against the side of the car for a good old strip search.

  Midnight comes and we turn off the Xbox. We leave our shoes at the house and walk barefoot. Jarny lights himself a rolled cigarette as we hit the road.

  ‘What you reckon about Jasmine? Think she’d like a walk on the dark side?’ Jarny asks, his voice cutting through the quiet of the Mish.

  ‘She don’t date blackfellas,’ I tease.

  ‘Who said anything about dating?’

  ‘You’re too short and your nose is too big,’ Kalyn says. ‘She’d want a tall, dark, handsome lad, like me.’

  Jarny gives Kalyn a gentle punch on the shoulder and they push each other round a bit. I just continue on down the hill, into the darkness.

  Through the bushes, I can see the camp fires. I start down a pathway through the bush. It’s so hard to see, but we’ve walked this path a thousand times. We weave around the trees and over the dried leaves and twigs, stopping in the bush a few metres from the campsite’s edge. All the campervans are dark. The pitched tents are spread through the clearing. Someone is playing music quietly, but there’s no one out. Everyone is asleep and all the fires are dying.

  I spot Troy’s camp. His father always likes to put up solar-powered fairy lights, which he hangs as a fence round their camp. There’s their esky, under a table beside the campervan. I know his parents are asleep in there, and that Troy’s in the tent a few metres from it. I step out first but direct Jarny to the esky, because he’s the skinniest and sneaks the lightest. He opens the lid and pulls out two beers.

  We move on to another campsite, where we almost walk over the top of an esky just sitting there in the open, like it’s begging to be robbed. It’s filled with vodka cruisers, so I take one of those. We follow the pathway to the lake, picking up speed and disappearing into the bush.

  At the lake we have to breathe our laughter away. I love the adrenalin rush – it makes me feel so alive. I could laugh and scream and run as fast as my legs can handle. And it soothes the heavy feeling of regret about Bobby getting bitten today.

  We walk along the edge of the lake and sit behind a rock. The lake is so wide and dark, and the moonlight skims across its surface. Jarny hands one of his beers to Kalyn, and I drink the vodka cruiser. We just sit there. The sky has opened right up. There are no clouds at all, just the stars clustering across the black sky.

  ‘I heard on TV that some of the stars are dead,’ Kalyn says.

  ‘What?’ me and Jarny ask at the same time.

  ‘Yeah, like when they get old and explode . . . it was something about the light taking so long to get to earth, or some shit like that.’

  ‘So, if some stars are dead, that means some are alive, right?’ Jarny asks. ‘Like, living things?’

  ‘Hmm. Nah, that sounds stupid. Forget it,’ Kalyn says.
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br />   We finish our drinks and follow the lake around to where it connects with the beach, then head along the sand towards the rocks at the end. It would be a much longer walk if we weren’t tipsy, but it’s nice, just feeling the warmth still trapped in the sand beneath my bare feet as I sink into it with every step.

  At the rocks, we find the wooden staircase in the darkness. I climb first, up to the clifftop. Jarny and Kalyn follow, and we stare for a moment at the sea, rolling in its waves of black, cut by the white foam when it’s caught in the moonlight. I could fall down there, feel the wind through my whole body, hit the water with a bang and swim all the way down.

  We head along the pathway through the bush. It’s dark but we know the way, following the path past the rusty tap. We reach the end of the bush and come to the Mish, just above where the road turns downhill towards the camping ground, right next to the bush path that leads right up to the top of the mountain.

  ‘You stayin’ the night?’ Kalyn asks, as Jarny leaves us for his house.

  ‘Nah. I’ll just go home.’

  ‘I’ll see ya in the morning for the races,’ he says. ‘Make sure you dress all right.’

  ‘Always do,’ I say.

  I watch as he disappears inside his house, then I continue up the main street of the Mish. Home’s only a few houses away, but I dawdle. And for some reason, I keep thinking of what Kalyn said about Jasper when he left the medical centre – about getting a shampoo bottle stuck in his arse. It’s not the worst thing I’ve heard him say, and hell, I’ve said worse myself, but I guess I’m feeling a little bothered by it. Maybe I’m just a bit sensitive right now because of the snake incident. Maybe.

  I arrive home. The kids are all asleep, and there’s Bobby next to Henry. I wonder if he hates me.

  I head up the staircase and it creaks louder than ever. I’m a bit wobbly, but I make it to my room. Tomas is snoring, so I sneak past his mattress and fall onto my bed. He’s sweaty tonight. It’s not horrible body odour, but I am definitely smelling sweat. I’m drowsy, but I see him clearly in the moonlight coming through my window.

  As annoyed as I am at him being here, I kind of feel sorry for him. He must have had a family of his own once, and now he’s a million miles away from anywhere, with a bunch of strangers, sharing a room with someone and sleeping on a floor. I wonder if he’s dangerous, if he has dark thoughts. I wonder what he did to end up in juvie.

  4

  Boxing Day is cooler. All the kids have woken me up again, and Tomas is not on his mattress. His blanket is just rolled to the side like a discarded piece of meat; he could have at least made an effort and folded it or something. Or how about a thank you for letting me take up all your space?

  Downstairs, the kids fill the lounge room, planted in front of the television eating cereal, spilling milk all over their chins. I sit with them and eat some Coco Pops. Mum informs me that Tomas has gone for a walk, though I don’t care to know.

  I hit the shower. My feet are dirty as hell. I watch the dirt wash away, wrap myself in my towel, and lay my nice white buttoned shirt and black pants out on my bed. I rustle through my old worn shoes to find the nice black ones and plug my phone into its charger. The screen lights up with another message from Tesha.

  Jackson. We need to talk.

  I ignore it and get dressed. The shirt feels tighter on my stomach. It must have been the Christmas luncheon – or perhaps it’s the alcohol I’ve been consuming since deciding I’ll quit school.

  I drop my phone and wallet into my pockets and head back downstairs. A nerf-gun bullet whacks me in the neck and it stings like hell. Henry’s in the kitchen doorway and I lunge for him but he’s too fast.

  Bobby’s at the kitchen table with Aunty Pam. He’s colouring in some picture of a cow, but he’s colouring the body black and the spots yellow and red.

  ‘He’s a future activist,’ I tease. ‘How you doin’, Bobby? You all right?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he says. I remember that I’m actually terrible at making conversation with kids. I never figured out how to talk to them and make it sound like I care, even though I usually do care. Usually.

  ‘Why don’t you go find Tomas?’ Aunty Pam says. ‘He went to the beach, I think. Go keep him company.’

  ‘I can’t, sorry Aunt. I’ve gotta run.’

  I can’t get out the front door quick enough. I head for Kalyn’s house, but he and Jarny are already walking my way. They’re dressed up too. Kalyn is wearing his blue button-up shirt and blue jeans, sunglasses tucked into his collar. Jarny’s wearing a white shirt and yellow pants, with his hair gelled. He’s smoking a rolled cigarette.

  ‘Lookin’ good, boys,’ I say. Jarny offers me a cigarette, but I decline. ‘Let’s go the back way, yeah?’

  We turn around and head down the hill.

  ‘Owen and that said they’ll meet us there,’ Kalyn says.

  ‘Owen’s back?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah, he got out on Christmas Eve,’ Kalyn says.

  ‘You know if Tesha’s coming?’

  ‘She’s your woman – you should know,’ Jarny laughs.

  I pull out my phone and open her last message. I stare at it for a moment, then text a reply.

  I’ll come over after the races.

  She replies right away.

  Good.

  I have an uneasy feeling in my stomach. More than just uneasy. I could throw up if it was any stronger. I focus on my steps as we start along the dirt track that leads around the mountain and through the bush.

  ‘Bet ya I’ll get a kiss from a white girl today,’ Kalyn says as he flicks on his sunglasses.

  Jarny bursts into laughter. ‘A kiss? I’ll be in the bathroom having an orgy before you get a kiss from a white girl,’ he says.

  ‘Who would you bet on, Jackson?’ Kalyn asks.

  ‘You’re both fucking idiots,’ I giggle.

  We pass the camping ground, come to the bottom of the mountain, then follow the dirt track past the farms and paddocks. The smell of cow shit is strong in the air. Clouds shield us from the sun and threaten a rainstorm, but a trail of sweat still grows along my spine. We cross the wooden bridge over the river, follow the bank till we reach the carpark we were at on Christmas Day, and follow the road from there into town. Maybe an hour has passed, but Jarny’s terrible jokes and Kalyn’s unprecedented confidence have helped the time breeze by.

  The town is packed with tourists, talking so loudly that I could probably hear every one of their conversations if I stopped and listened. They line the main street all the way from the footy fields down to the beach at the end of the road. I dread even seeing the beach, all of them swimming and sunbathing so closely together.

  We pass the pub, head away from the main street and see the line for the races. Rodney and Perry are the security guards, two men from the Mish. They let us pass with a nod and a handshake.

  We jostle through the crowd, who line up for drinks at the various outdoor bars that have been set up, and to play the gambling machines that stand in the spaces between the bars. Everyone is dressed up, and the air is a mixture of deodorant, perfume, sweat and alcohol. Everyone I see is white. Some of them are tourists, but most of them are locals. I recognise a few people from school who graduated this year.

  I spot my cousin Owen, who’s just had a short stint in prison. I haven’t seen him in a few months. He’s put on more weight, I think. He’s sitting with the mob from the Mish on a grassy hill. Abby and her girls sit on the plastic chairs, but Tesha’s not there. Me, Jarny and Kalyn join them, sitting on the grass.

  ‘How’s it goin’, brother?’ Owen asks as I shake his hand. I bounce against his big belly when he pulls me in for a hug. He’s drunk already. ‘You right, cuz?’

  I just nod.

  ‘Good to see ya again.’

  Kalyn takes my and Jarny’s money and heads back into the crowd with his brother’s ID in hand. Jarny rolls a cigarette, and we watch the people on the racecourse leading their horses around the track. A warm
-up, I guess.

  Kalyn returns with our cups of beer held in a plastic tray, and he has Troy following behind him. Just as I expected, Troy’s arms have grown in muscle since I saw him last year. His face looks bigger, somehow. His head is shaved, and I can’t help but notice the blisters on his palm when he shakes my hand.

  ‘Who are these faggots?’ he asks, his eyes narrowed and his head cocked to the side. There’s that bogan voice of his. Like always, it sounds like he’s forcing the accent, exaggerating it, on purpose.

  ‘No faggots here,’ Jarny says, jumping into his boxing stance. Troy does the same, and I really hope no one is watching as they play-wrestle on the grass for one second too long.

  ‘How’s it goin’, boys?’ Troy asks me and Jarny once they’re done.

  ‘All right,’ we say at the same time.

  ‘Yeah, I’m just here with me old man. How come youse haven’t come seen us yet?’

  ‘We were gonna yesterday but, you know, had Christmas stuff on,’ Jarny says.

  ‘Youse should come tonight. I’m getting some of the other campers round for a drink. Lots of newbies this year. They’d love youse,’ he says.

  ‘Yeah, we’ll head down later,’ I say, mostly just to get rid of him and his bogan-voice.

  ‘Sweet, mate, just follow the music.’ He disappears into the crowd.

  A gunshot sounds, and the horses begin to race around the track. Kalyn edges forward, his betting slip in his hand. Everyone in the crowd howls and shouts, their cries echoing into the sky. Most people have jumped up, their own betting slips in their hands. The drama is thick in the air. It’s exhilarating.

  The horses race around the bend directly in front of us, jockeys firmly planted on their backs. There are at least ten horses racing, all a blur. Their hooves beat down on the dirt, their breaths are heavy as they puff and struggle for air. They race towards the finish line to a chorus of people cheering and swearing like animals. They pass the line and the winner is called over the speaker.

  ‘Goddammit. Fourth,’ Kalyn shouts beside me.

 

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