‘Nope.’ Slate is giving nothing away. ‘Something else. Pretty cool. I think so, anyway.’
I kill the DVD, drop the remote on the coffee table, and get up. ‘Do I bring my mitts and stuff?’
Slate heads down the hall. ‘Can if you want. Probably won’t need your mouthguard, though.’
‘I’m not sparrin’,’ I say. ‘Or only with you.’ Slate’s the only guy out there I fully trust. He teaches me stuff. The other guys go way too hard, even when they’re not trying.
He reappears, with a Nike bag, grinning. ‘You’ll be right, sunshine. Get a rattle on.’
We drive out to Essendon airport. It’s kind of cool and old, like nineteen-sixties old; the hangars are big and round, the buildings low and square, and the runways are pretty much surrounded by suburbs, shops and roads. Planes still fly from here, but mostly they’re freight, or odd-looking things that go to weird places. There are some private jets, though, four or five parked on the tarmac, as sleek as a Ferrari, their windscreens like wraparound sunglasses. Nice!
We drive on, past a couple of small airline companies, the guys there wearing Ray-Ban Aviators, looking a bit pissed off, because there are hardly any girls around to see how cool they are. Ahead is Slate’s gym. A few Commodores and Falcons are parked out the front, and one old hot-rod Fairlane. But Slate doesn’t turn into the car park; he keeps on going.
‘And here,’ he says, pulling up next to a high wire fence, ‘we are. Let’s get out.’
Behind the fence I can see a police helicopter, dark blue and white, as shiny as though it’s just been waxed and polished. It sits on a helipad like a sumo wrestler on a stool, a lot bigger and heavier-looking than it appears in the air. Its blades droop and its windows are blank, reflecting the fence. And although it’s not as deadly-looking as a Blackhawk or an Apache, it’s a slick thing, powerful and impressive. It reminds me of some sort of space-age muscle car.
I look at Slate, who’s looking at the helicopter, leaning against his car, arms crossed.
‘Are you thinkin’ of joining the police force?’ I ask. ‘To work on that thing?’ The helicopter sits there like something unreachable: a dream thing a world away from where we come from. ‘Really?’
Slate doesn’t answer. He points to another helicopter over the other side of the compound. It’s red and white, not a beast like this one, but way cool all the same – a thing that can actually fly and hover, rip through the air as fast as any V8.
‘Nah,’ Slate says. ‘I’d have to think I’m too big and dumb. But they also have crew and medics and stuff like that.’
I can see the Ambulance sign on the red-and-white chopper. Well, this is a turn-up for the books, as Bobby-boy would say.
‘You could quit the bouncin’.’ I move away from the car because it’s heating up fast. ‘And the factory. This’d be a million times better than that.’
‘Yeah.’ Slate nods, as if he’s considering things along those lines. ‘But getting into this kind of thing wouldn’t be easy. Probably impossible. But you never know.’
‘You could do it, Slate,’ I say, even though the heat and the smoking hot wind coming across the tarmac are doing their best to kill any sort of a plan. ‘You’re smart enough. Call it a challenge.’ I pull that ace from my sleeve.
He smiles, looking cool and clean in a light-blue shirt. ‘I could. Yeah, maybe I’m not cut out for a life of violence.’ Then he laughs, like Slate from the old days. ‘C’mon. Let’s go. It’s too hot.’
‘To the gym?’
He opens the car door. ‘Nah. How about Maccas? And in a day or two I think I’ll take a drive up to the Murray, if you’re not doin’ anything. Because that’s got to be done, too.’
I thought Slate might have forgotten about the river, but that’d be wrong. He would never forget something like that.
‘I’m up for it,’ I say.
He nods. ‘Me too, sport. I hope.’
The new year kicks off and too soon Evan and me roll on in through the front gates of school. As usual, the place is running riot, everyone in clean shirts and new shoes, the girls hugging each other like they’re Hollywood superstars. As we go into the hall for assembly, the place is early-morning cool and smells of holiday dust. Evan gives me a nudge.
‘The Great White Pommy shark.’
Elmore struts across the wooden floor, sleeves rolled to show off his arms. Seeing us, he heads over, slowing but not stopping. ‘See you two,’ he says, ‘straight fuckin’ after this.’
Evan laughs, tilts his hat back, leprechaun-style. ‘Lookin’ forward to it.’
Jesus hell, I’m not. ‘Whatever,’ I say, and sit down, wondering if this might be my worst start to a new year in history.
‘Expelled on the first day.’ Evan puts his hands in his pockets, not at all concerned. ‘A school record.’
Well, I am a bit freaking worried, to say the least, but when I look at the teachers out the front, I totally forget about fighting Elmore. ‘Evan,’ I say, ‘d’you see anyone special sittin’ up there near Johnny James?’
Evan looks, breaking out a smile borrowed direct from the devil. ‘I do not believe it.’ He blinks, then blinks again. ‘Linda the freaking leader.’
Unbelievably, it is.
Do this now, I decide, fear rising, as I head straight for Elmore after assembly.
‘Round three.’ Evan folds his sleeves as we cross the basketball court. ‘Let’s get ready to rumble.’
Elmore watches as Evan and me separate, hands down but ready to rock. Do what it takes, I tell myself. Whatever it takes.
Elmore is in front of us, reminding me of a polar bear.
‘Two things, fuckers.’ His hair blazes like welding. His eyes are icy-blue. He’s even bigger than I remember. ‘First, you.’ He points at me. ‘Eden found her key. Jamie put it in the little schoolbag round his teddy’s neck. She never left it in no fuckin’ gate. He must ’ave climbed over or somethin’. D’you fuckin’ get that? D’yer understand? It’s important.’
I do get it.
‘She’ll be back at school tomorrow.’ Elmore nods. ‘So you and me are square. Maybe even better than square. Orright?’
‘All good,’ I say, feeling a sense of relief that I don’t show.
Elmore turns to Evan. ‘And you, hat fucker. What I said about you and the kid. It was out of order. Orright?’
I wait and wait as Evan considers what Elmore says. Finally he nods.
‘All right. Done.’
Then we walk away.
‘And while we’re at it,’ Evan looks over his shoulder towards the assembly hall. ‘I’ve got no beef with Linda. How about you?’
A wave of freedom flows along my bones. Things suddenly feel as if they’re going forwards.
‘Me?’ I say. ‘Nah. Not anymore.’
At recess, Evan and I head for the shade. I watch a girl with a brand-new schoolbag come in through the gate. My heart kind of stumbles.
‘Evan,’ I say. ‘That’s Ariel.’
And just like that, the new year begins.
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ISBN: 978-1-742-53654-5
THE BEGINNING
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