by Nova Weetman
‘Well, my dad is about to smash yours,’ he says. We watch Fraser pick out a club and send the ball flying hundreds of metres into the air. ‘Told ya.’
Dad walks back towards me, his face still pink. I try to smile but it’s pointless because I can’t make him feel better. This whole day is just going to be about Dad pretending there’s a reason for his bad playing. I wish he’d just cop it and admit how crap he is and move on. Then at least we could maybe have fun.
‘Nice shot, James,’ says Tone in his drawl.
Dad can’t work out if it’s a joke or not so instead of responding he reaches for his phone like he has urgent business on a Sunday morning. Tone winks at me and I feel a bit sick.
‘I’m up,’ I say, walking over to where Tone’s dad is waiting. We’re playing in fours. I’m about to use my new birthday clubs for the first time. I’m sure they’re expensive because Tone looked impressed when he saw them. Even picked one out and handled it, like he could judge just from the feel.
‘You as good as your dad?’ says Fraser with a straight face.
I’ve only met Tone’s father a couple of times. He’s interstate a lot for work, and so he’s rarely home when I go to Tone’s house after school. All I know is that he’s rich and powerful, and my dad spends half his week wishing he were more like him. But Fraser doesn’t look much like Tone. He’s really tall. Tone’s short. He’s portly. Tone’s as skinny as they come. In fact, they look nothing alike, except for the flash of mean that surfaces in their eyes every now and again. Like it did just then.
I shrug in reply and don’t look at him as I take my club out. The leather feels smooth under my hands. I don’t wear gloves. Not like the others. I like to feel the club, sense what it’s going to do.
I stand on the tee and look down the fairway. It’s all there. Waiting. This is not what I thought my sixteenth birthday would be. Jake and I had plans once for this day. We were going to train-hop, to find skate parks we’d never been to and ride them all until we had a favourite. Golf wasn’t part of the equation. And for a second, I long for something different. But it’s too late for all that now.
I position my lucky green golf ball my uncle bought me last summer. Line it up. And swing.
Thwack.
It’s one of my favourite sounds.
Tone’s dad whistles as the ball flies high, until it is soaring up in line with the spruce trees. And then curves perfectly down, landing right near the final green.
‘Nice shot, kid,’ says Tone’s dad, clapping me on the back. I wait for my dad to say something but he’s still fiddling with his phone. I look at him, but there’s nothing. He doesn’t even smile congratulations. And that hurts more than anything. I have to find my game face. If Dad’s going to play like this, then so am I.
‘Thanks, Mr A,’ I say with my most winning smile.
‘Fraser. Call me Fraser.’
Couldn’t be more clichéd if he tried. But I nod like I’d be honoured and I turn just in time to hear Tone swear loudly as he misses the ball several times before whacking it off course even worse than Dad did.
‘Jesus, Tone, you need some more lessons,’ says his dad as the four of us start our walk down the hill to find our balls. Within a couple of paces, I find myself out in front with Fraser as the other two trail behind on this sunny birthday morning.
jake
I’m waiting like a freak outside Alex’s house. I’ve been here for an hour, sitting on the hot concrete and leaning against the timber fence. While I’ve been waiting, about a hundred SUVs have driven past. Everyone must drive the same car around here. Luckily none of them have belonged to Alex’s mum.
I can’t believe this is where he lives now. This mansion. The front yard would fit my whole block of flats in it. It’s one of those streets that look like it knows where it is. There’s nothing out of place. No bins knocked over. No old cars parked on the kerb. No mailboxes full of catalogues. No cats balancing on fences waiting for someone to let them in. Even the front gardens are neat. I’m surprised nobody has called the police about me lurking here in my blacks with my shaved head.
I see Alex cross the main road at the bottom of the street. He’s in his fancy school uniform and he seems to be alone. I don’t get up. Not yet. I’m going to stay down here for as long as I can. I don’t want to seem too eager. I wait for him to look up, to notice me. But before he can, some other guy runs up behind him and jumps on his back, landing half on his shoulder and laughing. Alex doesn’t laugh but the other kid doesn’t seem to notice. This was a bad idea. There’s no way we can talk in front of his friend.
I hear the short guy saying something about some girl call Lucy, and then, before he can answer, Alex sees me. And the first thing he does is look at his friend, like he’s worried we’ll be seen together, and somehow that’s shameful. I hate him for that. ‘Whatcha doing here?’ he says, stopping about a metre away.
The other guy looks from me to Alex and a broad smile works its way across his face. ‘You crashed that party,’ he says to me in a voice that’s slow and measured. Now I remember him. He was the smug one.
‘Tone, go inside and see if you can find something to eat. I’ll just be a minute,’ says Alex, holding out a bunch of keys, but keeping his eyes on me like I’m going to do something stupid, like he needs to watch me all the time just in case.
‘You trying to get rid of me, Alex?’ Tone laughs.
Alex doesn’t answer and it’s pretty clear he is. And eventually Tone snatches the keys and walks down the path towards the house.
Alex steps closer, his eyes locked on mine. But I’m not scared of him. ‘We need to talk.’
He drops his bag on the ground, as if he’s preparing to fight me. I wonder how it came to this.
‘I’m going to the police,’ I say quietly, just in case his friend can hear.
He looks down. Maybe he’s avoiding me.
‘I just can’t feel like this anymore,’ I say.
He nods then and looks up from under his fringe. I see the brown of his eyes, but the warmth’s gone. I wonder if it reappears when I’m not around.
‘You planning on telling them about me too?’
‘I don’t know … maybe …’
He clenches a fist and I imagine him wishing he could smash me senseless so I’d forget everything.
‘Why?’
‘I just can’t let it be. We killed someone,’ I say, fighting back tears.
‘Yeah, I know. Every time I try and forget it, you’re right there to remind me.’ His voice is colder than I’ve ever heard it.
‘But how can you forget it, Alex?’
He shrugs. ‘Why do you need to hand yourself in? It’s not going to make any difference. He’s dead. But if you go to jail, your life will be over too. Just like your dad’s.’
I feel like he’s hit me right in the gut. Swung a punch that will hurt far longer than if he’d slammed his fist into my skin. ‘I’m nothing like my dad.’
‘Maybe you’re more alike than you think.’
I don’t know what to say. He’s never used my secrets against me before. ‘You’ve really changed, Alex.’
‘I’m just trying to look forward. Like you can.’
‘Yeah? And make something of myself?’ I say as sarcastically as I can.
Alex shuffles, leaning back against the fence like he needs the timber to keep him up. ‘Didn’t mean it like that …’
‘Yeah, you did. You sound just like your dad. He must be so proud.’
‘Fuck off, Jake.’
‘You can’t escape what we did.’
‘You aren’t my conscience. Go to the police if you want, but leave me out of it. Understand?’
No. I shake my head. I don’t understand. Not at all.
‘This isn’t just on me,’ I say, hating that he’s happy for me to take all the blame.
Behind us the front door to Alex’s house opens and Tone appears holding two packets of chips. ‘Zander? Barbecue or salt and vi
negar?’ he yells down the path.
‘Barbecue,’ calls Alex.
‘There anything to drink?’
Alex closes his eyes for a second like he’s frustrated at dealing with this bullshit on top of everything else. ‘Bottom cupboard under the sink. Should be some cans of Coke or something.’
‘Righto,’ says Tone, going back inside.
‘Zander?’ I say with a grin, remembering how we used to laugh about that name.
Alex looks at me with an expression I can’t read. I realise he is Zander now. He’s not Alex anymore.
‘Oh, right. Zander. Sorry,’ I say.
He nods. ‘Yeah. Me too.’
I scuff my feet, not wanting him to go but not knowing what to say either.
‘I met her, you know … his daughter …’ says Alex.
I look at him but he’s looking down, his body tense.
‘I haven’t forgotten, Jake. Just because I’m not like you doesn’t mean it doesn’t haunt me. Okay? I think about it every day.’
His words make me feel lighter. It’s like he’s taking some of it off me. I breathe in and my body starts to relax and before I can think about what I’m saying, I’m saying it. ‘Let’s hang out one afternoon. Go to the skate park.’
He whips around and stares straight at me. ‘See, that’s what I don’t get, Jake. You go on like you give a shit. Like you’re all tortured and stuff. But you’re just using this to get to me. This is not about that man. This is about us.’
He picks up his bag and starts to walk away. I panic. He can’t go. We need to be in this together.
‘Alex, we killed someone. What would your friend think of that?’ I say, too loudly for the street, and it makes him wheel around with this face of anger and storm towards me and grab my shirt, get in so close I can smell his rage.
‘You’re my best friend,’ I say quietly, hating that I’ve come to this.
He lets go of me then and smiles a big radiant Alex smile I haven’t seen for months. I grin back as he slides his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in close.
‘Best friends don’t threaten each other, Jake. They look out for each other. Help each other.’
‘I’m not threatening you.’
‘Yeah you are.’
Am I?
‘Jake, we can’t hang out together if we end up in jail. It’s just the end of everything. That would suck. I don’t want that to happen. It would kill your mum. My folks wouldn’t care much. But your mum would. Especially because of your dad. Imagine how she’d feel. She’d blame herself.’
‘I know, but …’
‘We can’t change anything. We can’t bring him back. And it would just hurt more people.’
‘Yeah. I guess,’ I say.
Alex’s arm feels super heavy on my shoulders.
‘I think we just need to hang out more,’ he says.
‘Yeah? Really?’
‘Yeah. I miss you.’
‘Me too,’ I say, the emotion flooding through me.
‘Good. What about this weekend? You busy?’
‘What about now?’
He laughs and the sound is awesome.
‘Can’t. Got to go deal with him,’ he says, nodding towards the house.
‘Oh yeah. Right,’ I say, liking how he doesn’t seem to care about his new friend. ‘The weekend, then? Yeah, it’s your birthday. Let’s hang out on your birthday. Just you and me,’ I say, turning to see his face, the shadows under his eyes, the dark glaze that was never there before.
He smiles and nods and I wish we were back at school messing around in one of our classes and hanging out for the skate park after dark.
‘Not sure I can on my birthday,’ he says quietly.
And the anger rushes through me like I’m being electrocuted.
‘You have to,’ I say with steel in my voice.
He looks surprised and then nods. ‘Okay.’
‘Promise?’ I need to lock him in. I need to know we’re in this together.
‘Promise. I’ll call you, Jake,’ he says, releasing my shoulder and stepping away. ‘I’d better go. We good?’
‘Yeah.’
He waves at me as he walks down the path to his house. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Alex wave before. It’s the strangest sight. I’m not sure what it means either, but it seems very final, like he’s dismissing me, happy now we’ve sorted everything out. I want to believe that he misses me. I want to believe that we can go back to what we were. Because back then I didn’t feel like this. Back then I felt hopeful and in control. But Alex isn’t right about me. I’m not like my dad. My dad would never have considered handing himself in.
alex
I’ve heard she’s here. Of all the places for her to be she’s at this party that I didn’t even want to come to, but was dragged to by Tone and Murphy. I was going to leave, but now I want to see her, I want to meet her. Properly, not like at the debate. I don’t really remember what she looks like. Other than her long, red hair. And there are so many people here. There must be at least a hundred, maybe more. And apparently there are no adults. Just teenagers. Half my year is here and the rest are from other private schools around. I keep seeing familiar faces but I don’t know many people so I can sneak through the crowd looking for her.
It’s a big house with a huge backyard, so there are bodies everywhere. Music is blaring somewhere inside, but outside it’s just shadows and tiny corners of light. There are trees lining the fence to stop anyone looking in, and down the back there’s a tennis court that kids are mucking around on. There’s a lot of yelling and laughing, and a circle of girls are dancing barefoot on the grass.
‘Zander!’ I hear a slurring voice yell out that stupid nickname and I know it’s Tone. Nobody else calls me that. I spin around trying to find him, just as a knee digs into my back. Tone leaps onto me and tries to drag me down. I manage to shrug him off and let him fall to the ground. He laughs as he crashes onto the grass, then staggers to his feet. His shirt’s half stuffed into his pants at the front and he looks all wrong.
‘Did ya see Bonnie? She’s looking hot,’ he says with a sneer.
‘Maybe you should stop drinking,’ I say, sounding like someone’s dad.
He pulls a face. ‘Maybe you should start.’
A couple of girls bump past us laughing.
‘That’s my cue,’ says Tone, grinning at me as he takes off after them, leaving me alone in the middle of it all.
I have to find the girl. I start scanning for hair colour, realising that almost all the girls here have really long hair. It makes me think about Ellie and the last time I saw her. How definite she was that it was all finished.
I step over someone’s legs, and head to the back of the yard. There are shadows bouncing on the trampoline, and a bunch of people sitting in a circle talking and passing around a bottle of something. I turn to head back inside, and then I see her. She’s leaning against the fence, obscured by a lemon tree. I watch her, waiting to see what she’ll do, but she just seems to be standing there, still. I’d like to say she looks happy, that she’s coping with what happened, but I know nothing about her, so the fact she isn’t crying into a friend’s shoulder doesn’t really mean anything.
I sidle up, not sure what I’m going to say. And just as I reach her, she turns and slams into me, her drink tipping down my t-shirt and all over my arm.
‘Sorry,’ she says, slurring like Tone.
‘No worries. It’s fine,’ I say, shaking my shirt.
She leans against me, and sort of half slides down onto the ground. I crouch down beside her.
‘You okay?’
Her long hair is tangled across her face and she half pushes it away, giggling. ‘I’m drunk.’
‘Yeah.’
‘But I don’t drink.’
She slumps back and her head hits the fence. ‘Ow.’
I sit next to her, leaning back against the fence. ‘Did you come with friends?’
‘Yeah.’
&n
bsp; ‘Do you want me to find them?’
‘Nah.’ And she starts laughing again.
‘You sure?’
‘I don’t know much at all. I don’t even know whose party this is.’
‘Me neither,’ I say, looking for signs of Tone. Every now and then his laugh fires up somewhere in the darkness. I wait for her to recognise me, but she doesn’t seem to.
‘Do we know each other?’ I ask, hoping to jog her memory.
She looks at me and I can see her trying to focus but struggling. Her face isn’t like what I remembered. Maybe it’s make-up but she looks different to when I saw her last.
‘No. Don’t think so,’ she says. ‘Boys Grammar?’
I nod.
‘Girls Grammar,’ she says with a sigh, her head leaning dangerously close to my shoulder. I want to ask her questions, but not ones I can’t predict the answers to. Like, how are you coping without your father?
I wait for her to speak while I look at the legs of the people I go to school with as they stumble past.
‘I hate parties,’ she says. ‘Everyone seems so pleased with themselves. Don’t you think?’
‘I guess. Maybe they’re just drunk.’
‘No. I’m drunk and I’m not like that. It’s something else. It’s all some people talk about. It’s so boring.’
I think of Tone. ‘Yeah.’
‘I wasn’t going to come tonight but Mum made me. She actually rang my friend, if you can believe it.’ She starts laughing like it’s really funny, but there’s an edge to her laugh that wasn’t there before. ‘What a loser.’
I’m not sure if she means her or her friend or her mum. So I say nothing.
‘I don’t feel well,’ she says. And then her head flops down and connects with my shoulder and I feel her hair on my arm and it’s like an electric shock running through me and I want her off. I move, hoping she’ll get the hint but her head moves with me and I think she’s passed out or something.
I poke her arm. ‘You okay?’
There’s a groan but no words. I don’t know what to do.
Before I can even work out a plan, she coughs, leans forward and vomits everywhere on the grass. I jerk my legs away, hoping to avoid the spray. It’s super fast and over really quickly and she laughs as she wipes her mouth.