by Scott Monk
‘What happened to Noel?’ Kelly asked.
‘He served three months in prison. By the time he came looking for us, we’d moved. The last I heard, he’d gone bankrupt and he’d been charged again for beating up another woman. But you know what? I still blame myself to this day for what happened. At any time I could have stopped it. I knew what was happening. All I had to do was pick up the phone and tell somebody. Unfortunately, it nearly cost Mum her life before I realised that.’
‘So, what are you saying?’
‘That I don’t want the same thing to happen to you.’
‘But how do I know dumping him will be the right answer?’
‘Then think about what the alternative is.’
She did. After a while, she gave a long, shuddering sigh. ‘It’s over. I’m leaving him.’
Popping and squealing bacon cooking in a frying pan woke Matt. The sounds of angry traffic snarled from the street below and mixed with the metallic scraping of an eggflip. Bright light signalled the end of the rain as well as his sleep. It came too early and he tried rolling over to hide from the new day. But as he did so, he found he couldn’t move his arm. It was trapped under an unknown weight. He opened his eyes and saw a gorgeous girl sleeping beside him.
Whoa!
Matt sat bolt upright on the couch, pulling his arm free. The sudden movement stirred Kelly and she slowly blinked awake. Rolling onto her stomach, she warmed at the sight of him and smiled through a yawn. Still wanting to sleep, she dropped her head onto his chest and snuggled against him. The touch of her body against him calmed and excited him at the same time. He sunk back down and cursed the morning. Couldn’t this moment last forever?
‘I was wondering when you two were going to stir.’
Oh no! His mum!
‘Well?’ she said, scraping bacon and eggs onto three plates of hot buttered toast. ‘Aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend, Matthew?’
His face burned hotter than a sun going super-nova. Caught!
‘Er, mum, this is Kelly. She’s a friend of mine.’
‘I can see that.’
‘Hi, Ms Cassidy,’ Kelly giggled beside him.
‘Hello.’ Nice and cold.
‘Um, Kelly needed a place to stay last night,’ he added.
‘Uh-huh.’
‘So I thought she could crash here.’
‘Yes?’
‘I made her some hot milk, then we got talking and we kinda fell asleep on the couch together. I didn’t think you’d mind.’
‘Mmm.’
‘And that’s it. You woke us up.’
His mum put the plates on the kitchen table, not believing a word he said. Matt hated to think what was going through her mind. Kelly was a stranger, half-dressed, lying next to him on the couch and looking absolutely stunning despite the mangled face.
‘Don’t worry, Ms Cassidy. We haven’t started naming our children yet,’ Kelly joked, nudging Matt.
Groaning, Matt smothered his face with a cushion. That was probably the worst joke anyone could make to his mother.
Matt quickly changed the subject. ‘Is that breakfast, mum?’
‘Don’t you sweet-voice me. Yes, it’s breakfast. And yes, there’s enough for three. Though you better eat it fast or you’re going to be late for school.’
He looked at the wall clock. 8:34am! The Dragon Lady would roast him again for sure!
He scrambled from the couch and wolfed down the bacon, eggs and toast. Showering, he changed then emerged from his bedroom, wet but dressed and hopping into a pair of socks. Kelly’s clothes were still strewn across his floor. He hid them behind the door. He didn’t want his mum walking into his room and finding Kelly’s white bra lying on top of his pillow.
‘Do you need me to walk you home, Kel?’ he asked. She was sitting down at the kitchen table with his mother, drinking a glass of orange juice.
‘No, Kelly won’t be going home just yet,’ his mum answered. ‘She’s staying here with me. I’ve got the day off and I need the company.’
The two women looked at each other and Matt realised something had happened between them while he was in the shower. Obviously, it was about Kelly’s bruises, which had blackened overnight. Matt thought it for the best. His mum knew more about that stuff than he did.
He grabbed his bag and bolted for the door before she called him back for her kiss.
‘Mum. Don’t embarrass me.’
‘Sorry, mate, but that’s what mums do.’
Defeated, he pecked her on the forehead and listened to Kelly laugh as he ran down the hallway.
‘Where’s mine?’ she yelled after him.
He stopped and grinned secretly to himself. He’d dreamed about that all night.
‘You’re lying!’
‘Nup.’
‘It really happened?’
‘Yep.’
‘You better not be joking, man, or I’ll never speak to you again,’ Chris said, ignoring the chip packets and Coke can at his feet.
‘On our friendship then,’ Matt said, offering a handshake. The Sundance Kid took it then half howled, half reeled in shock.
‘And she said, “Where’s mine”?’
Matt nodded.
‘Oh mate! You can’t get any more obvious than that!’
The teacher on playground duty scowled at them and they started picking up rubbish again.
‘So when are you going to make a move on her?’
‘When she’s sorted out everything with Blackwell, I guess.’
‘By the sounds of it, she might make the move on you first.’
‘I hope so.’
The day couldn’t end quick enough for Matt. He rode home as fast as he could then ditched his repaired bike to run up the steps. Throwing open the door, he looked for Kelly but she wasn’t there.
‘She just left,’ his mum said. ‘She said she was going home to talk to her parents about last night.’
He grabbed his bike again and whirled frantically. He had to see her again, talk to her, hold her … Anything to be with her. She’d been his only thought all day. He couldn’t get the smell of her hair or her twilight-blue eyes or her smooth brown skin out of his mind. He was mad about her and desperate to share the love he felt. Pumping the pedals, he didn’t know what he’d say when he saw her, but that added to the heart-pounding thrill.
He didn’t have to ride far. She was stopped on the train station side of the plaza. As was Aaron Blackwell.
Stone-faced, Kelly crossed her arms as Aaron stroked her cheek and smiled coyly. She turned away but he wasn’t giving in. He was sweet-talking her something chronic. It was a total masquerade of course but Blackwell could charm anyone when he worked at it. Matt willed Kelly to resist, but watching her, he knew her resistance was cracking. The kiss sealed it.
Turning his bike around, he pedalled away.
Leaping to his feet, Matt screamed Hazem’s name as The Rocket ran the left side of the field with the ball in his arms. One of the Yagoona High players had fumbled a return kick, allowing the Mongrels another shot at the line. Two backs ran after Hazem and tackled him round the waist, but they were too late. His momentum dragged all three of them over for a try. The siren sounded and the Mongrels had won again.
Matt howled. They were into the grand final!
Running across the field from the sideline, he jumped on top of the team huddle. They’d won! They’d won! They’d won!
Hazem finally broke away from the pack and Matt grabbed him in a hug. ‘You are an absolute legend!’
‘I know!’
‘It’s a great feeling, isn’t it?’
‘Absolutely. You should’ve been on the paddock with us, Matty. We needed you today.’
‘Forget about it. You got us into the grand final, didn’t you?’
They roared and started singing the team song.
‘I don’t believe it!’
Furious, Matt’s dad pushed himself away from the meeting table and stood up. ‘H
ow could ya let someone do this to you?’
Matt dropped his eyes in shame just as the guard known as Lewis warned, ‘Sit down, Ryan.’
Biting down hard on his lip, his dad glared at Lewis then took his seat. Leaning back, he laughed disdainfully at the ceiling. ‘Busted for drugs.’
‘We still made the grand final,’ Matt offered.
‘Who cares! You’ve blown your only chance of playing grade football.’
‘It’s not my fault. A guy framed me.’
‘Great excuse that is. Tell that to the talent scouts.’
His dad shook his head and Matt felt worse. He’d hoped his old man wouldn’t find out about this.
‘You’ve let me down, ya know that? I’ve been telling all the boys in here how great a footy player you are. I said ya might even play for Australia one day. What am I gonna to tell them now, eh? That Leith Ryan’s son is a loser? The best they’ll do to me is laugh. You shouldn’t lead guys on like that. I hope ya weren’t leading me on, mate. I don’t like liars.’
‘I’m sorry.’
‘Sorry? That doesn’t cut it when some other kid’s going to be wearing your jersey. And drugs. Huh! Ya might as well give up playing footy. Your career’s over.’
And that was the truth. Matt hadn’t told the fellas yet, but the grand final would be his final game. That’s if the Dragon Lady ever let him play.
‘Those Blackwells did you over, didn’t they?’ his dad harped. ‘You were our family’s best hope of making a name for ourselves. A good one, at least.’
‘I’ll make it up to you. I promise.’
‘How?’
‘I don’t know. We’ll win the grand final next week.’
‘A school grand final, eh? Doesn’t sound as exciting as being picked to play with the Doggies, now does it?’
Matt felt broken. He wished he could dazzle another team’s selectors but the allegations would frighten them away—true or not.
Unable to look at him, his dad stroked his goatee, still too angry to talk. He wanted to blast his son but the guards were watching.
His dad hadn’t given up on him completely, though. He leaned forward across the table and glanced at the guards. ‘There is one thing you can do for me.’
‘Anything,’ Matt answered eagerly.
‘I need you to deliver a package.’
‘To who?’
‘An old friend of mine. She’s having a baby soon and I thought I’d surprise her.’
‘What’s in the package?’
His old man snorted. ‘Baby clothes, toys, rattles. You know. Kid’s stuff.’
‘Do you have the package here?’
‘C’mon. Does this look like a baby store to you?’
‘No,’ Matt said stupidly.
‘The package is at, er, your uncle’s place.’
‘I have an uncle?’
‘Yeah. A couple, in fact. I need ya—’
‘Does that mean I have cousins as well?’
‘Three or four. Now—’
‘How old are they?’
‘About your age. Stop interrupting. I’ll tell you about them another time. What I need you to do now is to go to your uncle Jack’s business, ask for my package then deliver it to an address he’ll give you. Just drop it on the front doorstop then leave. Don’t wait for anyone. Don’t talk to anyone. Get out of there, right?’
‘Why?’
‘Because it’s part of the surprise. We used to drop off presents to each other anonymously when we were kids. Can ya do that for me?’
He nodded.
‘Good. And make sure you win the grand final for me as well.’
His uncle’s place was a run-down cafe in Marrickville, in Sydney’s inner west. The cafe offered coffee, cappuccinos, cake, gelati and lukewarm service. Two ladies sat at a wobbly table, smoking heavily and flexing toes freed from their high heels. An old man with grey stubble read the racing section while listening to a portable radio. A bored young woman in purple leaned across the counter, staring at a women’s magazine. Apparently there were twelve ways to snare a millionaire. If that didn’t work, there was a free make-up kit as compensation.
‘Can I help you?’ she asked, after he’d been standing in front of her for two minutes.
‘Is Jack here?’
‘He might be. Who wants him?’
‘His nephew.’
She looked him up and down then snorted, ‘His nephew?’
‘Yeah. I’ve come to pick up my dad’s package.’
‘Ah, that kind of nephew. Give me a sec. I’ll see if he’s free.’
The woman disappeared into the kitchen. She was only gone for about ninety seconds before she returned and waved him through. ‘He’s through that red door. Don’t touch anything and don’t tell anybody about what you see, got it?’
Nodding, he walked into the kitchen, watched by the old man with the radio. When Matt opened the red door, he understood why. Fogged in by cigarette and cigar smoke, tables of poker players threw around fifty dollar notes and one-liners as they gambled and drank. Bottles of Jack Daniels rested next to half-consumed short blacks, lattes and overflowing ashtrays. A large red light hovered above the door frame, no doubt connected to a panic switch in the front of the cafe.
‘Hey, you. Over here,’ a middle-aged man said, clicking Matt over. He had a full head of silver hair, and was smartly dressed in a black suit and an expensive white silk shirt, no tie.
‘Uncle Jack?’
The nearby table of poker players laughed.
‘Yeah, whatever. You’re Leith’s boy, are you? You’re just as ugly as him. He told you what to do, didn’t he?’
‘Deliver the package and don’t stick around.’
‘Good boy.’ Uncle Jack walked over to a cupboard, grabbed a dust cloth to cover his hands then removed a cardboard box the size of a pillow. ‘The address is on the top. If you see anybody hanging around the house, wait until they’re gone then drop it off. But don’t do anything if they can see you.’
‘To add to the surprise?’
‘You got it.’ Uncle Jack pulled out his wallet from his suit pocket. ‘And here. This should cover any bus fares.’
He slapped two fifty dollar notes into Matt’s hand. It might just as well have been a diamond.
‘No, that’s way too much. It’ll cost less than ten bucks to get to … Chatswood.’
The table of poker players laughed again.
‘Yeah, very funny kid. Now take the box and go.’
‘Okay,’ Matt said, grabbing the package. ‘I’ll catch up with you soon, okay?’
Chatswood was a suburb in Sydney’s lower north shore full of shopping centres, fashion boutiques, upper-middle class families and four-wheel drives that only got muddy when they were parked in the street on a rainy day. It didn’t take Matt long to find the woman’s address after a bit of help from a railway inspector. The L-shaped home had orange terracotta tiles, white walls, a small porch with wrought-iron furniture and a jungle of ivy that had got out of hand. It looked like a million other homes in Sydney. There was no car in the driveway and all the lights were off. Crossing the road, he nervously put the package down on the front step, turned around and walked away. Within twenty minutes he was on a train headed for Bankstown Station.
Legend had it that jackals once hunted prey for lions. If that was true, then Tom Bentley was one such jackal. A loner who sniffed around large packs of tough kids but was never accepted by them, he was ignored by most students at Bankstown Central High. This rejection only poisoned him with bitterness and he could be seen in the shadows mumbling about getting even with everyone.
So it came as no surprise to find out his loyalty was easily bought. For fifty bucks, he was asked to break into a locker overnight, plant a bag of ecstasy then squeal to a couple of Year 7s. Tom got greedy and asked for one hundred dollars. He got seventy-five and pulled off the job perfectly. The kid whose locker it was was hauled before the principal, suspended and ostracised by most
of the school. Perfect except for one thing: there was a spy in the lion’s den.
Rhino speared a hand against the library wall to stop Tom escaping. Grover blocked the other exit, while Hazem and Chris took point to make sure no teachers were watching.
‘So, you’re the guy who helped ruin my life,’ Matt said.
‘I haven’t done anything,’ Tom said, trying to look defiant but sounding more weaselly.
‘I’ve been told you were paid seventy-five bucks to put drugs in my locker.’
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘Then you better start remembering or you might find a surprise in your own locker by the end of the week.’
Tom spilled the beans to Matt and his mates first before being dragged in to tell the Dragon Lady. He confessed everything, apart from who had paid him to plant the drugs. Matt knew anyway, but Tom was more scared of Blackwell than he was of the Dragon Lady. The jackal was expelled from school that same afternoon and Matt taken off suspension. The Mongrels instantly reinstated him as captain.
‘This isn’t over, is it?’ the Dragon Lady asked Matt, before he left her office.
He held onto the door handle and looked out her window. ‘I don’t think so.’
‘I can help, you know.’
‘I know, but there are rules about that sort of thing.’
Later, the guys were setting up for footy practice in a local park when a car beeped them from the street. One of them elbowed Matt and said the occupants were looking for him.
‘Mum?’ he asked, walking over to the yellow Nissan. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘Grab your gear. You’re coming with me.’
‘But I’ve got training. The grand final’s next week.’
‘Don’t argue with me. Grab your gear and get in the car.’
Reluctantly, he did so. His mum sat in the front passenger’s seat and a pregnant woman in her thirties occupied the driver’s seat. She had curly strawberry-blonde hair, thousands of freckles, gold earrings and pale white skin. She started the engine then did a U-turn.
‘Matthew, this is Julie Sanderson. Julie, this is my son, Matthew.’