Back in my room, my eyes are heavy and my body feels beaten. Despite the insects, and the heat, and my desire to wait for Jasper, I begin to slip away with Mark Twain spread on my chest. And I don’t protest. I let go easy. Being, as I am, back in the dappled peppermint shade with Eliza Wishart, with all the right words at the tip of my tongue, saying all the things I should have said, doing all the things I should have done.
tell Jeffrey I had a nightmare about The Wizard of Oz.
Though I don’t tell him I was dressed as Dorothy in ruby shoes, or that my mother was the witch, in Jasper’s glade.
“The Wizard of Oz?” he says, screwing up his face. “Really? But there are so many cooler things to have nightmares about. Like sharks. Communist sharks, with razor-sharp fins that can walk on land.”
It’s the lunch break at the Test Match. We drag a wooden crate into the middle of the street to use as makeshift stumps. Jeffrey is batting.
“Mind you,” he says thoughtfully, “it could work. Think about it. Synopsis-wise.”
“Think about what?”
“The Wizard of Oz, dickhead. Okay. Listen. A young girl arrives in a strange place where she discovers she has killed someone. After she loots the body and recruits three friends, she travels to another city, where she commits her second murder and steals again. Then she flees. It’s all about how you tell it, Chuck. Nothing can be trusted.”
“It’s not all singing midgets, is it?” I say.
“Murder, Chuck. Murrrderrrr!”
“Little wonder I can’t sleep at night.”
“Oh!” says Jeffrey, jolting upright, then leaning forward. “What about Eliza’s sister? What’s-er-name, Laura. She’s disappeared. You heard, right? What do you reckon has happened?”
“What? How should I know?” I snap.
He rears back a little.
“Ease up, retard. There is such a thing as speculation. Obviously, I don’t expect you to know. Unless it was you who abducted her. Did you abduct her, Chuck?”
I weld my eyes shut and breathe deep.
“Yes. It was me. You’re an idiot.”
“You’re an idiot. I don’t believe you, anyway. At the very least, you would have abducted Eliza, not Laura. So you could take her back to your dirty lair for some sassytime. Because you love her.”
“Sassytime?”
“Sassytime, Chuck.”
“What does that even mean?”
“Oh, you know.” Jeffrey winks at me with his mouth open. It takes all my mental resolve not to beat him within an inch of his life. I decide to change the subject.
“What happened yesterday in the cricket?”
“Nothing, I didn’t miss anything. It was rained out for the whole day. So I was lucky.”
“You’re lucky you’re not still grounded. How’d you get out of it?”
“Oh, I think my ma just wants me out of her hair.” Jeffrey shrugs and wipes his cheek with his shoulder in a strange way.
“I don’t blame her. I’d make you live outside in a tent.”
“Pffft!” Jeffrey faces up, tapping his bat against his foot. I bowl to him for around half an hour. True to form, he belts me everywhere without even trying.
The street is hot and eerily quiet. It’s so empty. It seems this curious curfew is still in place and most kids are being kept inside. It feels like we’ve been left behind from something.
I send down an offcutter on a fairly good line and length. Jeffrey, brazen now, kneels and sweeps it hard and square. It skips straight into An Lu’s Garden of Certain Death. Buried under a bloom of something white.
“Bang!” Jeffrey exclaims. “You know, Chuck, some batsmen will just block a length ball, play it safe, but not Jeffrey Lu. He’s all class. It’s controlled aggression, Chuck. Measured flair. This kid’s going places.”
“Yeah, like over there to get the ball.”
“Bollocks! It’s your turn.”
“Bollocks nothing. You’re closer. Go get it.”
I can see the bees from here. Waiting for me.
“It’s your turn, dickhead. Go get the ball. You can’t bowl that rubbish to Jeffrey Lu.” The shadowboxing resumes.
“Piss off. If you want me to keep bowling, you go get it.”
“This is an outrage! How is it that I am being penalized for your mediocrity?” Jeffrey throws his hands in the air like he’s appealing to the sky for answers.
“Because you’re an idiot.”
“This is discrimination!”
“I can’t help that, Jeffrey. I’m a bigot.”
“Okay. I’ll get the ball. I’ll brave the insects.” Jeffrey stomps over there histrionically, amusing himself. “Will our intrepid hero make it back? Or will he be defeated by hordes of dangerous ladybirds?”
“Shut up, retard. It went to your left.”
“What’s that, Chucktin Bucktin? Chuck Buck-buck-buck-buck-baaaarrktin!”
“You’re nowhere near it. And you’re crushing those pink flowers. Your dad is going to go mental.”
At this moment, I freeze upon hearing the distant drone of two spotter planes. I look up. The cold brick. They’re coming for me.
“Sweet! Look at that!” says Jeffrey, bounding toward me with the ball in his hand. “They must be here for the search. I wish we could go see them land.”
I watch them. Silently. Two black dragonflies in the sky.
“I’m going to go in,” I say.
Jeffrey taps his enormous black wristwatch.
“Actually, fair call. The second session should be just starting.”
“Nah. Look. I’m just … I’m going to go back to my house,” I say distantly, still looking up. I’m rattled. I feel a desperate need to get under cover.
“What? But the Test is on!”
“Yeah, look. I’ll see you in a bit. I’ve just got to …” I tail off, walking away, head tilted.
“Okay, loser,” Jeffrey chirps. I hear him behind me, dragging the crate back from the road. Hurrying in case he misses a single delivery.
I want to ask my dad about the planes. I want to know how useful they are. How far they can see. But he’s not home. The library door is ajar. He must be out, helping with the search. I wish I’d asked to go with him. I’m an idiot. Tomorrow I will, though I don’t like my chances.
My mother asks if I want lunch. I politely decline.
“You see the planes?” she calls out.
“Yes,” I reply, and softly close my bedroom door.
***
A few hours later, there is a frenzied rapping on my louvres. I almost burst. Jasper Jones has finally come. I leap onto my bed and pull the lever like it’s a carnival machine.
My window opens and reveals an animated Jeffrey Lu. I frown. He has never come to my back window before.
“Chuck! Chuck! Chuck! Chuck!” He is grinning madly.
“What?” I can’t conceal my disappointment.
“Doug Walters!”
“What?”
“Doug fucking Walters! He just made a century! A Test century! One hundred runs, on debut!”
I don’t say anything.
“I told you!” His delight is a little infectious. “I told you, Chuck! He’s a champion! He’s better than Bradman.”
“Jeffrey, it’s his first innings.”
“He’s already got a better average!”
“You’re an idiot.”
“Can I come in? Stay for a bit?” he asks, hopping and skipping.
I open the back door for him.
“Who is that?” my mother snaps loudly from the other end of the house.
“It’s just Jeffrey,” I call back.
“Well, in this house we come through the front door, thank you! Remember that for next time, please.”
I shake my head and roll my eyes at Jeffrey.
In my room, he takes up a book from my nightstand.
“Tropic of Cancer,” he says. “What’s this one? Any good?”
“Lots of sassytime,” I
say.
“Really?”
“Really.”
He looks distracted. Agitated. He does that thing again where he scratches his cheek with his shoulder.
“Why do you have all that dirt in your backyard?” he asks, looking out. “Is that where you buried Laura Wishart?”
I close my eyes. Breathe in. And out.
“Yes. Idiot.”
“No, really. What is it for?”
“My mum made me dig an enormous hole, and when it was done, I had to fill it back in. With my hands.”
“What? Why?” Jeffrey scrunches his face.
“Well, you’re not the only one who got busted for swearing at their mother. Except mine was a little more directed.”
“What? Really?” Jeffrey bites his fist. “How are you not dead?”
“Because that would have been easy. She wanted me to suffer. She wanted me to experience all the pain of death without actually going all the way. Thus, the hole was dugged.”
“Chuck, that is hilarious. She is an evil genius.”
We shoot the breeze a while longer. I sit on my desk, he perches on my bed. I notice Jeffrey looking down a lot. Every so often, something washes over his face like a glaze. I wonder if he is ill.
And then he just says it. Simply. Like any other sentence.
“Some of my family got killed.”
Jeffrey kicks his legs on the edge of the bed. There is a long pause. I don’t know what to say.
“Jeffrey, that’s horrible. When? Who? What happened? Jeffrey, that’s horrible.”
“It happened yesterday. It was my ma’s brother and his wife. My aunt and uncle. They won’t tell me much more than that. It happened in the village that she grew up in. I don’t know. I think it was a bomb.”
“A bomb?”
“Yeah.”
“Jeffrey, I don’t … This is really horrible. Are you okay?”
Jeffrey doesn’t look at all rattled. His legs keep up their rhythm.
“Yeah. I’m okay, Chuck. I didn’t know them or anything. I never met them. But it’s sad. It’s worst for my ma, obviously. Mostly I just feel really bad for her. She’s not in a very good way. She hasn’t stopped crying and, you know, wailing.”
“Yeah.”
I nod slowly and look at my feet.
Silence spreads in my room like a thick, discomfiting fog.
“Did they have any children?” I ask after some time.
“Yes. Yep. Two. A boy and a girl. One, the boy, is my age, and the girl is four, I think.”
“Are they okay?”
“Did they get bombed, d’you mean?”
“Well, yeah.”
“No. They’re still alive. And I don’t think they were hurt or anything. My parents are trying to get them over here to stay with us, but I think it’s hard to do that sort of thing.”
“Really? But why? They’re orphans! They should be able to come here straightaway!”
Jeffrey shrugs.
“So what will happen to them?” I press. My chest is winding ever tighter.
“Well, I guess they’ll stay with our other relatives in the village. But it’s a big strain, I think. So I think my dad is going to send them a bunch of money.” Jeffrey rubs his nose with his palm.
“Are they going to go over there, your parents? For, you know, the funeral and things?”
Jeffrey cocks his head. “Well, I heard my ma talking about it last night when she was really upset. She wanted to go back straightaway. She started packing her bags and everything. But my dad stopped her.”
“How come?”
Jeffrey looks momentarily startled. “Well, because there are bombs, Chuck. It’s a war. It’s pretty dangerous. Even for me.”
“But they should be able to do something,” I say.
We slip into silence again. Jeffrey bobs side to side on my bed. I wonder what he’s thinking. I wonder if he came especially to talk about it, or to escape it. I really don’t know what to say, or whether to say anything at all. I never have the right words. I guess it is customary to offer condolences. That’s what they do in books and films.
“I’m really sorry, Jeffrey.”
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“You know what I mean. Dickhead,” I say with a small smile. I bow my head. “I feel really bad for your ma. She must be really heartbroken.”
“Yeah.” Jeffrey nods. “She’s really angry too. Screaming and things. She even started yelling ‘fuck’ last night. ‘Fuck’ this. ‘Fuck’ that.”
“Really?”
“Yeah, really.” And Jeffrey grins.
“I can’t imagine that.”
“I know. It’s weird. You should have seen my dad. He was shocked. He looked straight at me, like it was my fault.”
We both giggle. Out of relief. And then it gets infectious and we laugh long and hard. Can’t help it.
Then we get to talking about Doug Walters again. Jeffrey assures me that he hasn’t finished yet, that he is sure to go on with it tomorrow. I don’t have the heart to disagree. We discuss the merits of nipples on men, and decide that there is no earthly purpose for them. We ponder how it is they get stripes into toothpaste.
Then I ask Jeffrey if he thinks animals other than humans know they’re going to die one day, or if it just comes as a surprise to them.
“Of course they don’t,” he says. “They’re idiots. Except monkeys. And oliphaunts, they might know. It’s about communication, probably. Per exemplarrrr, if you were the unwanted baby of a pirate and they left you marooned on an uninhabited island and you had no contact with another human ever, I don’t think you’d know about dying and stuff.”
“Reasonable assertion.” I nod. “Still, it’s a curious gift. You can’t not feel sad, knowing that you and everyone you know will die. So what would you rather? Would you rather not know and have it surprise you at the end, or know it your whole life and dread it coming?”
Jeffrey looks thoughtful.
“I reckon most people wouldn’t want to know. I reckon they’d rather not have to think about it. But I think I’d choose to know. Yarrr. Otherwise you’d just be fat and lazy and you’d just put everything off until some other century. If someone told you that you were going to die next week, you’d probably try to fit in as much as possible, go skydiving or whatever.”
“Right.” I nod.
“But you can’t not know it. Which is probably why they made up all that rubbish about heaven, to make people feel better about the whole thing. When Cheeses started saying, ‘Oh, you know, don’t worry. It’s not all over. After this stuff, you get to sit on a cloud and learn the harp and play volleyball in the nude, as long as you’re good,’ everyone just nodded and smiled and worried about behaving themselves instead.”
“I think Cheeses hates your tone.”
“Of course he does, Chuck. I am the speaker of the troooth. I should start a cult.”
The sky is a bright orange now. I can hear birds calling out in the cool. And the whirring squeal of the kids next door, swinging on their clothesline over a sprinkler. Jeffrey kicks to his feet.
“Righto. I got to get back, Chuck.”
“Yeah, okay.”
His head snaps back and he slaps his forehead.
“I forgot. My dad is cooking dinner tonight because my stupid ma won’t come out of their bedroom. Cheeses Christ, it’s going to be a nightmare. Everything he cooks feels like phlegm and tastes like pus that’s been soaked in brine. Salted pus, Chuck. It’s like my mouth is trying to turn itself inside out. He thinks he’s the greatest chef in the world, but he is lousy.”
“Sounds like my dad too.”
“They should be banned. There should be laws against it.” Jeffrey says as he walks out.
“Motion approved, sir.”
I see him out the back door. I know I should say something appropriate and comforting, but I can’t think of what. Words fail me. Like they always fail me when I need them. I just crimp my lips and look hopeless
.
Jeffrey salutes me.
“Chuck, I bid you a Jew.”
“And I owe your revoir,” I say, and watch him leave. He scuttles off, his shoulders rounded slightly in a way I’ve not seen before.
***
I sit and watch the news bulletin with my dad. Our ceiling fan rocks and spins above our heads, and we both nurse a glass of lime and bitters with ice chips. I’m expectant, hoping to hear something about Jeffrey’s relatives. Some kind of outrage. Marching and chanting in the streets, like I’ve seen before. But there is nothing about Vietnam at all. No report. No mention.
Instead, I’m shocked to see the Miners’ Hall on-screen, and people milling around Corrigan’s town center. Right there, inside the television. At first I don’t recognize it. My father sits forward in his chair, almost spilling his cradled drink. He calls my mother, who bustles in from making dinner, drying her hands with a thin plaid towel. A frown of concern pushes her face down. She stands with her hands on her hips.
And there’s Laura’s photograph. Black-and-white. It’s a forced smile, like someone had to prompt it. There’s something missing in her eyes.
The news broadcaster is saying that it’s most likely she ran away, and he’s urging people in the city to look out for her. To call the police if they know anything, if they’ve seen her. The brick groans in my belly. And there are Mr. and Mrs. Wishart. Side by side in front of their house. Pete Wishart stands stoic. An awkward, resolute calm. Mrs. Wishart is a little less composed. Her face hangs, haggard. Her eyes are puffy. She doesn’t speak. She just nods with her mouth set tight as her husband cordially asks that people assist in any way they can. It is horrible to watch. At least Eliza isn’t there.
The news skips to another story. My father turns to me.
“I didn’t know about this at all. The report.”
“So what does this mean?” I ask.
“Well, it certainly means she hasn’t turned up yet, mate. Perhaps she made it to the city. It’s worrisome. I’ll admit that, Charlie. I really had a feeling she would turn up today. Maybe she got further than we thought.”
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