by Scot Gardner
‘Twenty?’
‘Yeah sure,’ he said, and fished through his stash. He gave me fifteen in notes and the rest in coins.
‘That was wicked,’ I said. I stuffed the notes in my pocket and chucked all the coins in his case.
‘Thanks, mate.’
‘What do you call that thing you were playing?’
‘Which one?’
‘The guitary sort of thing.’
He picked it up. ‘It’s an electric dulcimer.’
‘That goes right off. I want one.’
He laughed and I walked down to Burger Boss. I bought three Boss Cocky Burgers and wished I hadn’t. I don’t think they cooked the cockies properly—tasted like shit. A table of teenage girls parked themselves a few stalls down from me and started giggling and whispering to each other. I might have been a bit paranoid but I think they were talking about me. I looked out the window thinking that I might stick my favourite finger up at them as soon as it wasn’t busy stuffing burger into my mouth. I wondered about Kez. We’d never been into town together. We’d never really been anywhere just the two of us. I suddenly realised that I wanted the tattoo bloke’s dream. I wanted to get a ute and one of those swag things—double bed size—and get Kez and the yellow dog and go. Go bush. See the country. Live it. And just keep going and going. That dream was big enough to share.
I ate my last burger on the way to Flinders Street. The Humes were moving in two days. Might take me that long to say goodbye.
Chapter Eleven
DAD WAS HAPPY TO SEE ME. ERNIE FREAKED OUT. HE DIDN’T make any noise but his whole body shook as he darted between my legs and jumped up on me. Dad had cleaned up the van a bit so I’d have somewhere to sleep. It smelt like dunny spray. He asked me how the funeral went and I told him it was good. Good? I dunno. How are funerals supposed to go? It was shit. They burnt my favourite uncle. I hated it. It was spooky. ‘Good’ will do.
It was half past eleven by the time I crawled into my sleeping bag. Ernie couldn’t decide whether to sleep with Dad or me. He eventually chose Dad. Dad turned the light off, but left the radio on. Man after my own heart, that one.
‘It’s good that you could come and stay, Wayne,’ he said.
Good?
‘Thanks for having me, Dad. It was a bit off sleeping in a dead man’s house.’
Dad grunted. ‘Goodnight.’
‘Yep.’
Some time during the night Ernie jumped up on my bed and scared the living marbles out of me. I lay there waiting for my heart to slow down and I could hear Dad popping. He sort of spits air out when he snores like he’s whispering ‘poooor’ and the ‘P’ sound pops. I could hear a domestic going on somewhere on the other side of the park. A bloke and a woman having a shouting match and a little kid crying. It was a long way off but it hurt my ears to hear it so I pulled my head inside the sleeping bag.
Dad woke up before it was light outside. Had to pee and he went all the way to the toilet block. I would have gone on the grass outside the door. Stood on the step of the van and made like a sprinkler at the footy oval. I couldn’t get back to sleep so I got dressed and decided to walk back to the flat. I told Dad that I had to get my uniform and that I’d see him in the afternoon. He croaked goodbye and climbed back into bed. Ernie climbed up with him.
There’s something about that time of day when the stars are going to bed and the sun’s coming up. It’s awesome. Pity you have to get up so early to see it. I saw a woman running under the streetlights on the other side of the road. She looked fit and it made me want to jog so I did. Twenty steps later I got over the feeling and walked the rest of the way. I let myself in the back door with the key from under the pot plant. The joint stunk. Real stale sort of pong so I whipped around and opened all the windows and turned the telly on. Someone selling a diamond necklace for $199.95. At least it was someone. I made some cereal but the milk tasted like yoghurt so I chucked it out the back for the birds. The clock on the microwave was flashing; so was the one on the video. The power must have gone out while we were away. The battery clock in Mum’s room said it was seven o’clock so I rang the time on the phone. ‘. . . It will be six fifty-seven and twenty seconds . . . pip . . . pip . . . pip. At the third stroke it will . . .’ Jeez, two hours to kill until school starts. I made some toast and had the world’s second longest shower. My bike! Still up at the Humes’. Before I’d thought about it, I’d phoned.
Kez answered. ‘Hello, Hume residence. This is Kerry.’
I muffled the mouthpiece with my Windcheater. ‘Give me all your money or the cat dies.’
‘Wayne! Where are you? Are you okay?’
‘You’re supposed to stress out, you dog. I’m not Wayne, I’m one of those . . . what do they call them? Blackmail dudes.’
‘Oh sorry,’ she said, and started squealing. ‘Good God. It’s you! Don’t hurt him, please. I’ll give you anything.’
‘Anything?’
‘Well, almost anything.’
‘Your left breast?’
‘Cor. You’re off. No. I’ll give you the pen with the string that’s tied to the phone table.’
‘Right, it’s a deal. Meet me at the locker bay at oh-nine hundred hours to make the exchange.’
‘What time is that?’
‘I dunno. I just made it up. Ask Den, he’s into all that stuff.’
Muffled silence. ‘He said nine o’clock in the morning.’
‘Yeah. That’s what I meant. Goodbye.’
‘No, wait, Wayne.’
I clicked my tongue and booped like a phone that had been hung up.
‘Bastard. Are you okay? What happened?’
‘I’m okay. He died and they burnt him.’
‘Oh. How sad. Where are you?’
‘Where am I? At the phone,’ I said.
‘Which phone?’
‘The one with all the numbers on the front.’
‘Wayne! It’s too early for this sort of shit,’ she grumbled.
‘Do you still love me?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Did you miss me?’
‘Yeah. Of course.’
‘Good. I’m at the flat. I need my bike to get to school.’
‘Thought you might. It’s in the mower shed,’ she said triumphantly.
‘How did it get there?’
‘I put it there.’
‘You rode my bike?’
‘Yep. Rode it to school then to your place—without smashing into anything or anyone—and walked home from the flat yesterday.’
‘It’s a boys’ bike.’
‘So?’
‘Girls don’t ride boys’ bikes and boys don’t ride girls’ bikes. Didn’t you know that?’
‘Nope. That’s a newie.’
‘Just check you didn’t get boy germs on your bum. You’ll start growing a knob.’
‘You are very sick. I’ve got to go.’
‘Why? I’m not good enough for you?’
‘No. I’ve got to catch the bus. See you at school,’ she said, and hung up. Just like that. I think the knob joke might have taken it a bit far. Damn.
I waited for Kez in the breezeway near my locker. She marched in and dropped her bag so she could hug me. Almost bowled me over. She smelt like incense.
‘Sorry,’ she said into my neck.
‘What for?’
‘Being such a paranoid bitch.’
I pushed her off me and pretended to slap her across the face. ‘Don’t talk about my girlfriend like that or I’ll have to deck you.’
She laughed and hugged me again.
‘I’m the one who should be saying sorry,’ I said into her hair.
‘Yeah, that’s right. So say it.’
‘Sorry,’ I said, and she squeezed.
Den was standing behind her twiddling his thumbs and pretending to whistle.
‘Don’t look now,’ I said, ‘but I think we have visitors.’
She saw it was Den and hugged me harder. ‘Just ignore him. He’
ll go away.’
‘Thanks, slagheap,’ Den said, and kicked a locker door closed. The bell rang for form assembly. Kez kissed me on the cheek and ran off. She darted back to pick up her bag and I opened my locker. She kissed me again and nicked off again. I was glad she did. A note dropped out when I opened the door and my heart rattled. Same sort of envelope as before. Same sort of writing as before. I stashed it in my pencil case while Den ferreted through the mess in his locker looking for his SOSE books.
‘Your uncle died?’ he asked on the way to form assembly.
‘Yeah. He had cancer. He died at home in the same room I was in. Got to see my first dead person.’
‘Cool,’ he said. I thought that would appeal to him.
‘Pity it was my best uncle in the whole world.’
‘Yeah, sorry to hear that, mate.’
He couldn’t sit still in SOSE. Neither could I.
‘It’s my last day in this hole and I’m itching to do something,’ he said.
‘Got any smokes?’ I asked.
‘Yeah. Why?’
‘Why don’t you just light up?’
A smile danced on his lips and he rummaged in his bag. He showed me the pack but didn’t pull it out.
‘You have one and I’ll have one,’ he said.
‘Get stuffed. It’s your last day here, not mine.’
‘Would be if you lit up with me. Ha ha.’
I stuck my hand up.
‘What?’ Den whispered.
Mrs Jenkins asked me what I wanted.
‘May I go to the toilet please, Miss?’
She sighed. ‘You’ve been here six minutes, Wayne. You got a homebrand bladder or a thick skull? Go on. Hurry up. Remember that I can see you all the way to the toilets.’
I grabbed my pencil case and headed for the door.
‘Can I go too, Miss?’ Den asked.
‘Yes. When Wayne comes back,’ she said. ‘Wayne, you don’t need to take your pencil case to the toilet do you?’
‘Umm. Yeah. I do. Dennis is going a bit spaz and I don’t trust him with my stuff.’
‘Put it up here. I’ll look after it. Get going.’
I unzipped my case and stuck the note up my sleeve. I thought I’d been really secretive but Mrs Jenkins had tilted her head back and looked down her nose at me.
Dear Wayne,
Would you kiss me now you know who I am?
Yes No
If yes, how would you kiss?
Peck on the cheek
On the lips
Full on with tongue
Angie
Far out. The toilets at school are not the best place to get half a hard-on but it was happening. I remember David Longmore, or whatever his name was, in year eight. We went swimming at the leisure centre in Fairleigh and someone caught him playing with himself in the toilets. Mate, he never lived that down. We called him David Long Dick, which I thought was a bit of a compliment but I don’t think he saw the funny side of it. He shifted to Chisholm Catholic after that. Poor bastard. The stupid part about it is that we all played with ourselves, just that he was unlucky enough to get caught. I zipped my pants up a bit uncomfortably and put the note in my pocket. Far out.
Dennis forgot that he needed to go to the toilet. We spent the rest of that period discussing periods. Den argued that Mrs Jenkins wouldn’t question it if a girl took her pencil case to the toilet. She reckoned she would. Jenny Findlay volunteered to try it out.
‘Miss, may I please go to the toilet?’
‘Sit down, Jen.’
‘Nah, I’m serious, Miss. I need to go.’
‘Yes, you may go but leave your pencil case there.’
‘Oh. Okay,’ she said, and put her pencil case down. She grabbed her bag.
‘Jenny. Put your bag down please.’
‘But Miss,’ she whispered so we could all hear. ‘It’s got my tampons in it and I don’t want anyone to see them.’
Den and the girls groaned. Hendo laughed.
‘Put your bag down Jen, please, and take a seat.’
‘Nah. I have to go,’ she said, and dived into her bag. She pulled out a flowery box and went red. She was laughing and shaking it like a maraca as she walked out the door.
‘See,’ Den said. ‘What if that had smokes in it?’
Whitney Robertson laughed. ‘It has! Never failed yet!’
‘Oh. Ripped off,’ Den said, and rocked back on his chair.
‘Put your chair down, Dennis,’ Mrs Jenkins said. ‘I’ll tell you what, if Jenny comes back and there is anything other than—you know—what’s supposed to be in there, I’ll give her a detention at lunchtime.’
Jenny came back. Jenny got a detention. Den lit up a smoke in class. Mrs Jenkins went off. Sent him up to see Richo. Way to go, bloke. Man, I love the last day of term.
I found Angie at recess. I had it all worked out in my head before I saw her. I’d just tell her that I was really sorry but I’ve got a girlfriend and that would be it. I saw her and my intestines tingled. Caroline and the other girl who was with them took off.
I sat on the bench next to her and we looked in opposite directions for about a minute.
‘I got your note,’ I said. My voice squeaked.
‘Yeah, which one?’
‘The latest one. The “would you kiss me” one.’
‘Oh yeah. That one,’ she said, and looked at me. Her face had drained of blood except for her bright red cheeks. She looked like one of Santa’s helpers. Not from the kids’ book—from the grown-ups’ book. Christmas ’87 edition of Penthouse in Don’s shed.
‘I was going to send it back to you but I wouldn’t have a bloody clue where your locker is so I thought I’d just reply in person.’
‘Yeah. Okay. All right.’
‘What were the questions again?’
She laughed. ‘I can’t remember.’
‘Oh yeah. Would I kiss you, now that I know who you are?’
‘Oh yeah, that’s right.’
My knee jiggled. I rested my stump on it but it wouldn’t stop. ‘The answer is . . . yes. Definitely. Absolutely.’
She put her hand over her mouth for a second then sat up straight, trying to hide her smile.
‘The second question?’
‘I remember that one,’ she said. ‘How?’
‘Yeah, that’s right. I can’t remember the words exactly but I ticked the bottom box.’
‘The bottom box?’
‘Yep,’ I said.
‘Whooo,’ she said, and rested her arm on the back of the seat.
‘You okay?’ I asked. The colour was coming back to her face now. Fast.
‘Yeah, fine,’ she chirped. ‘Very fine.’
‘Very fine?’
She laughed. ‘You know what I mean.’
I nodded. I had a sudden urge for a cigarette so I excused myself to go to smokers’ corner. I had taken ten steps and I could hear her squealing. Carolyn and her mate were holding Angie’s arms and jumping up and down.
Den said that Richo told him not to burn too many bridges. Whatever that meant. They couldn’t agree on a suitable punishment so Den sucked up big-time and Richo asked whether his mum and dad knew that he smoked. Den just said yes. He wouldn’t get a caning if his mum and dad really knew but he’d get a lecture that would go on for six months. Not sure which I’d prefer.
It didn’t slow him down at all. One of the year eights kicked a soccer ball onto the roof and he volunteered to be hoisted up to get it. He did a little dance over the top of the science rooms and someone growled at him from the quadrangle. He apologised loudly and when he was out of sight from them stuck his middle finger up. A group of year-nine girls came to say goodbye. I didn’t know any of them by name but they all had to hug my skinny little mate. I think I worked out why he doesn’t have a girlfriend. He’s a bit like Uncle Don and instead of narrowing his options down to one girl, he hugs the lot. I guess that’s got a bit going for it.
Angie tracked me down towards
the end of lunch. I offered her a smoke and to my surprise she accepted. She drew back a huge lungful on her first drag and rolled it between her fingers to get the ash off. She’d done that before. The smoke gave her a look of confidence that made me want to sit down.
‘Rod Holloway’s parents are going up to Sydney next week and Rod’s having a party on Thursday.’
Her hand was shaking as she said the words and she nearly dropped her smoke. Was that an invitation? Rod had gone to Fairleigh primary and we’d been in year five together. Ended up going to Chisholm Catholic. His parents are a bit religious. He was an awesome footy player then and he plays for the seniors now.
‘Is Rod still living on Ashburn Street?’ I asked.
She nodded.
‘Cool.’
She felt in her pocket. ‘Have you got a pen?’
I didn’t have one but Hendo handed her one before I had a chance to ask.
‘What’s your phone number?’ she asked, and paused with the pen ready to scrawl on her upturned wrist. I told her and she said it was easy to remember. Her phone number had two different numbers on the end, otherwise it was exactly the same as mine. Freaky. I wrote her number on my stump and she told me to have a nice holiday.
‘Yeah, you too,’ I said, and watched her bum as she walked off. Hendo and Den were watching, too.
Hendo shook his head. ‘Mate, she’s hot.’
I chuckled and looked at her number.
‘What is it with you, Wayne? How do you do it? You always have chicks hanging off you,’ Hendo said, and pushed me in the arm.
‘I dunno,’ I said, and smiled.
‘I might cut my hand off and see if that helps,’ Hendo grumbled.
‘Nothing could help you, sleazebag,’ Den said.
‘Thanks, mate,’ Hendo said, and crossed his arms.
Den was right though; Hendo is a sleazebag. He’ll be talking to a woman—like Jenny that morning—and he won’t look at her face, he’ll just stare at her tits until it’s so obvious she’ll cross her arms or something. Don’t get me wrong, I like eye-lollies too, but Hendo missed out on the politeness gene.
Kerry was waiting out the front for me when school exploded that afternoon and she wanted a dink.
‘Are you crazy?’ I asked.