Tigerfish

by David Metzenthen

  I take Deed out into the paddocks while it’s light. We stay on the main track, and walk around the bike jumps kids have made, the winter sun warm on my face. But in the distance, where the grass is long, where there are holes, rocks, and crumpled car bodies, there’s always something threatening.

  In summer, the hot northerly brings smoke and dust flying. In winter, the westerlies dump the rainy gloom of the world right at your back door, reminding you that nothing’s easy and times are hard.

  ‘Hey, Deed!’ I yell, and she turns, head up. ‘Come here.’

  For a moment, as I watch her running, I think of Boydy, Dale and Griff, and the Bulldogs – and although some people think AFL footy’s only a game, it’s not really, not when you approach it on a certain level. It’s a test of who you are, what you can do and what you can get the team to do. Matty Boyd looks into the greyness of the Western Oval, the greatness of Etihad Stadium, at the future, then runs straight at it.

  I want to be a straight runner like Boydy, only ever sidestepping to keep going forward. It’s not easy, though. You can get hurt and you can lose, no matter how good or strong you are. I think of Slate, a big guy standing out front of the Bonnyview Hotel, ready for anything the world can throw at him. And I wonder how long he can stand there before things come crashing down, because no one’s bulletproof.

  Sidestep, and go forward – that’s what I want Slate to do. Leave the bad guys grabbing nothing but air as you power into goal, or pass to your mates, always working your way forwards on the long rocky road to the flag.

  You’ve got to play tough and you’ve also got to play smart. One’s no good without the other.

  Elmore’s back and it appears he’s gone silent. This isn’t a good thing. Around his eyes he’s got dark smudges, as if he’s copped a few hard smacks. But his mood is twice as worrying as his face.

  ‘Man, what goes on down there in Larkin Land,’ Evan says, as we grab folders from our lockers for Johnny James’s class. ‘It’s like one train wreck after another.’

  I look into my locker, seeing lots of books with lots of answers, but not the type of answers we need round here. I get my stuff and we walk.

  ‘Like, who’s gunna sort it?’ I say. ‘They aren’t.’

  Elmore is dangerous, but so far he’s never actually cut loose with any real violence. In every fight he’s been in, he’s kept some kind of control. Yeah, he’s hurt people, just about scared them to death, but he’s always stopped short of doing any lasting damage. Today, though, there’s a fury about him that surely can’t have anything to do with anyone at school, or I’d know about it.

  Johnny James Dunnolly, winner of Chilled Teacher of the Year Award, tries hard to dismantle this rage, although that doesn’t seem possible. But he keeps at it –maintaining the mental temperature of the class at a pleasant twenty-one degrees. It’s a smile here, and a constructive comment there, as if we’re gifted students with a love of the English language. And we play along, knowing the name of the game is to get out of here without upsetting the human timebomb that is Elmore Larkin.

  The bell goes and everyone breathes a sigh of relief, Dunny letting us go right on time. I hang back with Evan, giving Elmore space. Johnny James watches him go while pretending to gather his stuff. It’s the last period of the day, thank God.

  ‘Adios, gentlemen.’ Johnny James eyes me and Evan. ‘Be careful, guys.’

  ‘Ten-four, señor,’ I say. ‘Over and out.’ We wander off down a corridor that is full of kids milling around like fish out of water. And as we go, it amazes me just how freaking risky things can get.

  I head over to Sky Point and end up in Brew Italia with Ariel. The warmth, the neutral air and the hum of nothingness calms me down. Strange dudes in the paddock and Elmore Larkin going on a rampage loosen their hold like ghost stories in daylight. Perhaps it’s not time to hit the panic button yet, but at some point Ariel does need to know the latest about this night-stalking creep. It seems to me the guy is getting a little closer and crazier each week. And that’s a worry.

  ‘Your family is very nice,’ she says, her chin on her hand. ‘They’re very kind.’

  I look into her eyes, and see tiny panels of golden light, clear and bright. She moves her hands gently, as if she’s thinking about a lot of things, and it’s plain to see she understands things I don’t – except this place, because I’ve grown up here, and I know it’s more dangerous than the country, whether she realises it or not.

  ‘This guy that’s out behind the houses –’ I get straight to the point. ‘He seems to be hangin’ round more. So if you see anyone acting strange, call the cops.’ I won’t tell her what’s happened out there in the past. ‘He’s probably just trying to perve on people. But keep an eye out.’

  Silence slides between us like a steel grate. I think of Ariel, Kaydie and Jill, and the shit-box locks on the crappy doors of that house. Then I factor in pathetic windows and the busted back fence, and come up with the fact they’re relying on luck to keep them safe, which is not a great system.

  ‘It’ll be fine,’ I add, testing the steel. ‘Still, you know. Be careful. Small guy. Black clothes. In the paddocks.’

  ‘Your brother is so big, Ryan.’ Ariel smiles, filing what I’ve just said with everything else she has to worry about. ‘No wonder he’s a bouncer. He doesn’t look like he’d be scared of anything. And your mum and dad are cool.’

  Cool, they’re not, but now I find myself picturing Jude, Bobby and Slate, and I can see why Ariel’s mentioned them – because anything’s better than thinking about someone evil actually coming into your house and doing harm. But reality is reality. Wishful thinking is not a solution.

  ‘Yeah, he’s a freak, Slate,’ I say. ‘One hundred and one kilos.’ It’s easier to talk about him than my parents. Who wants to talk about them? ‘We don’t like him bein’ a bouncer, though. Too dangerous.’ I think about Ariel saying that Slate’s not scared of anything. Well, he’s never been back to the Murray River, I know that much.

  I can see the seriousness of her life. She’s got no time to think about music, movies, holidays, or clothes. Every cent has been counted, and every minute planned. No wonder she’s simply trying to wish away the danger from the paddock. Maybe this is why I have to step up.

  ‘Kaydie liked your dog.’ She touches my hand, gives me a slow smile. ‘A lot.’

  ‘You do a great job looking after her,’ I say. ‘And helpin’ Jill out.’ This is a new level for me – a level a tad too high, I think, so I stand and dig in my pocket for money. ‘No queue. I’m on my way.’

  ‘My shout.’ Ariel lifts her bag, finds her purse and slides out of the booth. ‘You paid last time.’

  Fair enough, I guess I did. ‘Get a frequent flyer card,’ I tell her. ‘They’re free. Then you get the deals. They look after you here.’

  Ariel brushes past, sweet-smelling. Her complicated song of scents has me thinking about a lot of things, including a future where I see a road, a nice shady road, trees on either side and us two walking right down the middle.

  ‘They’re not the only ones.’ She tosses this back over her shoulder. ‘Are they?’

  Well, I know I’ve done a few things for her and Kaydie, but I haven’t done much. Then again, I’ve done what I can. But as Johnny James says: gentlemen and ladies, you can always do more.

  And I guess you always can.

  We leave Sky Point and walk across the reserve. It’s a blue-sky day, the clouds ripped and ragged, the sun shining without heat as if it’s just killing time before clocking off.

  ‘You really liked livin’ in the country?’ I ask. ‘Didn’t you?’

  To our left is an entire street of no-name houses. They face us like a jury judging what we’re saying and what we’re doing. I see Ariel hasn’t got her gloves on, her fingers long and slim, and in her hair I catch sight of a black velvet headband. She’s different to the girls round here; kind of freed from fashion and what’s happening on TV, but I can see why
she got the job at Kealoah. There’s something natural about her. She’s come up with her own style that suits how she thinks, how she wants to look and what she can afford. And it all fits, like a jigsaw.

  ‘Yeah, I loved it,’ she says. ‘But it’s all I ever knew.’ She shrugs. ‘You could just walk outside. Feed the horses. Look at the mountains. Smell the grass. Throw stones in the freaking creek.’ She takes in the houses, the playground, Knifepoint behind us like a dumped fridge. ‘This is different to that.’

  It certainly is and it always will be. And I’ll probably be here for the rest of my life.

  ‘Somewhat,’ I say, and laugh. ‘So. Would you go back? If you could?’

  Ariel looks at me. We walk on in silence for six, seven, maybe eight steps.

  ‘To live?’ She shrugs. ‘I don’t know. To visit. One day, maybe. I mean, the paddocks are still there.’ She lifts her eyebrows. ‘Want to come? The train goes there. Just about.’

  I’d go anywhere with her, any time.

  ‘Just give me the word.’

  Ariel smiles, not exactly at me, as if we haven’t quite got to the starting line on a trip like that.

  ‘In a while, perhaps.’ She looks ahead at Tempy Primary. ‘We’ll see. I’d better go.’

  We split up, me heading for home across the reserve, turning once to look at her. But I’ve left it too late. She’s gone.

  Before dark, I take Deed over the road to run behind Sky Point. As usual, I throw her ball by hand. Those plastic ball throwers are for old people. My arms are pretty strong with the boxing and weights, even if I do say so myself, although I’ve slacked off other sport a bit lately.

  I used to play basketball and footy, but when Evan quit because of his limp, I kind of went out in sympathy. Slate and me still go one-on-one in the backyard shooting baskets, but basically I just punch the bags, shoot the bow and take Dee Dee out. One day, though, I was thinking I might try baseball, since I can throw. There’s a local team that’s pretty crap, so that might suit!

  Meanwhile Dee Dee brings back the ball, which I hurl, a girl crossing my vision, heavy-built and blonde, bulky in a dark-green Tempy Secondary bomber jacket. It’s Eden Larkin, and although perhaps I wouldn’t mind hanging a U-turn, I don’t. That would be too soft for words.

  We stop a couple of metres short of each other. Eden’s a couple of years younger than me with a history of fighting and wagging. But sometimes you just have to forget what you’ve heard, and go with what you see. After all, she’s only a kid.

  ‘Hey,’ I say. ‘How’s it goin’?’ Deed drops the ball at my feet, so I heave it again, and she takes off, shoulders pumping like black pistons. ‘What’s happenin’?’

  Eden stands there, fists in pockets, a kid with powerful rounded shoulders and arms. Her hair’s flat and white, parted to one side, and she has the same sort of blue eyes as Elmore, kind of wolf-like. I see mud spattered on her school shoes and white socks, and up her pale legs.

  ‘Nuffin’.’ She watches Deed come back with the ball. ‘What sorta dog’s that?’

  I can tell Eden thinks she should go, but wants to stay, just for a moment. Deed does that to people – they don’t know why they’re interested in her, but they are, even if they’re a little scared.

  ‘A Doberman.’ I throw, and Deed covers forty metres in three seconds. ‘They’re German. War dogs. But she’s a wuss.’

  Eden nods. ‘Orright. Big.’ Then she’s walking away, as if she’s folded up this piece of information and put it into her skirt pocket.

  Me, I just leave things where they are, on neutral, muddy ground. But I do call out.

  ‘Hey, Eden. Take it easy, eh?’

  Six words. Not much. Still, better than nothing, I guess.

  A step.

  In the right direction.

  Next morning I meet Evan, Ariel and Kaydie for the walk to school. Honestly, this ten minutes is as bad as it is good. I get an ache in my chest whenever I look at Ariel. She’s a girl I never expected to come along and I know she might leave at any moment, and that flattens my mood.

  We wait in the rain as Jill says goodbye to Kaydie by the side fence that somehow manages to be wet, rotten, broken, falling down and burnt, which is an achievement even for Templeton. As Jill goes back in through the front door, Ariel laughs, not happily.

  ‘How are we doing here?’ She steers Kaydie out onto the wet, windy footpath. ‘Really? Tell me. Please. Someone. Anyone.’

  It’s obvious that neither Contestant Kaydie nor Contestant Evan will hit their buzzers, which leaves it up to contestant number three, the one and only Ryan Lanyon, to provide an answer to this million-dollar question.

  ‘We’re hangin’ in there.’ I give my answer to her face, her hair scattering every which way in the wind. ‘Lock it in, thanks, Eddie.’

  ‘Really?’ Ariel appears to need more information. ‘Truly?’

  Instead of thinking music, I hear the sound of trouble coming my way. In fact, it seems that rumbling sound is a whole civilisation about to collapse, and all that will be left is a flattened village, broken pots and pans, and perhaps the cat on the mat that turned into stone when the volcano blew its freakin’ top.

  ‘Swallows,’ says Kaydie.

  Swallows?

  Oh, swallows!

  Over on the reserve, a few centimetres above the grass, tiny birds swoop on blue-black wings shaped like hooks. Kaydie stands next to Evan, watching them, one small white finger of one small white hand pointing, tracking the birds as they fly. It seems the world has stopped for this free-of-charge air show.

  ‘They’re beautiful, Kaydie,’ Ariel says. ‘They’re very clever. They’re catching insects. Or just enjoying themselves.’ She gives me a sideways look. ‘Birds and dogs. Thank goodness for them.’

  We walk on, the volcano gone quiet, our wonderful little village in one piece. For the time being, anyhow.

  Elmore Larkin stands at the top of the steps with no one else in his sights but Evan and me. I slip my backpack off as my heart rate jumps up. Breathe, I tell myself. Breathe.

  ‘Saw yer with yer little girlfriend this mornin’, Batlow,’ Larkin says loudly. ‘As we were drivin’ by the reserve. Yer weird bastard. How old is she? Ten?’

  In the single second it takes for me to work out what Larkin means – that’s he’s actually talking about Kaydie – the ten or fifteen kids that are around us cease to exist. There are now just three people in this galaxy: me, Evan and Elmore. I look at Evan, who stands silent and still, his hat low, his eyes smoking, looking up.

  ‘You brainless fucker,’ Evan says. ‘You just made the biggest mistake of your whole fuckin’ stupid life.’

  Elmore comes skipping down the steps, smiling, two-fisted. Evan backs off, losing his bag, then it’s on as sudden as a dogfight, me grabbing Larkin from behind and locking on with every ounce of power I’ve got. It’s like grappling with a rodeo bull in the middle of a tornado of flying fists, elbows and knees, my head copping a battering until what seems like a hundred hands are dragging me back as teachers arrive like cavalry. Larkin’s yelling at Evan, who smiles even as he allows himself to be hauled away by no less than the vice principal and the Food Technology lady!

  ‘Relax, will ya?’ I tell Johnny James Dunnolly and some new Phys. Ed guy, who are doing severe damage to my shirt. ‘Don’t shoot. Get Larkin. He’s the fuckin’ idiot that started it.’

  ‘That’s enough, Ryan.’ Johnny James allows me to stand by myself. ‘Shut up. Just leave it.’

  More teachers arrive by the moment, one hundred kids hugging an invisible boundary line, glued to this mini riot. I see Elmore is pinned, red in the face, by four male teachers, swearing like a madman at Evan, who has been released and is calmly wiping blood from his face with his sleeve.

  ‘Now where was I?’ Evan looks around. ‘Oh, yeah. My bag.’ The teachers allow him to go across and pick it up, in awe, it seems to me. ‘C’mon, Ryan,’ he calls out lightly. ‘Can’t be late for mathematics. Education is
the key to success in later life.’ Then he looks at Elmore. ‘Get your fuckin’ head read, you idiot. That’s where the trouble is.’

  I don’t know what Evan really means and I don’t care, but what I do know is that Templeton Secondary College students Evan Batlow and Ryan Lanyon will not be attending first period of the day, despite my friend’s positive statement about the value of education. We are in the express lane to the principal’s office, no doubt about that.

  There are various interviews in various offices and a number of phone calls made. There is a series of uncomfortable silences and two or three official speeches, plus a number of warnings that result in Larkin and Evan getting suspended for the rest of the week, and Ryan the riot policeman getting the next two days off. So where is the bad news? I see this as a truly excellent result!

  I leave school with Jude, who isn’t happy, but I couldn’t care less. It’s great what a clear conscience does for you. As far as I can see, I did nothing wrong at all. Not from my point of view, anyway.

  ‘I tried to stop it,’ I say, although I did hope Evan would land fifty punches while Elmore was towing me around like a dope on a rope. ‘Larkin’s mad as a snake,’ I add, as we pass the playground behind Sky Point. ‘Evan had to defend himself.’ I do not say anything about what Larkin said and never will.

  Jude knows I’m not giving her the full story. She’s also trying to look madder than she is after the principal told her that I was essentially trying to break the altercation up. So she’s chewing relatively happily on that little bone.

  ‘Fights just don’t start out of thin air.’ She steers with both hands on top of the wheel, which drives Bobby nuts. ‘Something must’ve happened between you all.’

  I look at Ariel’s place as we pass. It always seems to be kind of wet and damp, sucking up water from the ground like an old sponge.