by Pat Flynn
I have one sister, who’s 11. She’s okay, though she’s the queen of gossip. I’m glad we’re finally at different schools.
Well, Mum’s calling me for lunch so I better go!
Seeya,
Juliette
PS. What happened to your dad’s business?
CHAPTER 12
Sarah and the Secret
Alex made his last trip to the library on Sunday afternoon. He was lucky that this was International Library Week, and the one Sunday all year the library was open. His mum was deliriously happy at the thought of all the research he was doing for his English assignment. Sam eyed him dubiously on his way out. She knew something was up, but she didn’t have the contacts to find out what it was. Or maybe she did. There were a few kids at Beeton whose older brothers and sisters went to St Joey’s. She made a mental note to make a few phone calls and glean some information on one Alex Jackson.
Alex filled out a card to use the Internet and sat down at the computer. He started to pick up the pace. Had Becky written back? Would she say what had happened to her dad’s business? Would he find out if she’d say yes to him? He opened Juliette’s email and his heart beat like a Green Day song. There in the inbox was one new message from BeckyT.
He opened it nervously. Just before he started reading, a pair of hands slipped gently across his eyes. “Guess who?” said a muffled voice. It was a girl, but that’s all Alex could tell. He started to panic big–time. It couldn’t be her, could it?
He turned around. It was Sarah Sceney. Better than Becky, but only just. If Sarah got a glimpse of the screen he’d be dead meat. She was too much of a brain not to ask questions if she saw Becky’s name.
“Whaccha doing?” she asked.
Trying not to make it too obvious, Alex gently shifted his chair so he was blocking Sarah’s view of the screen. “A bit of research,” he said vaguely.
She leant left, casually looking towards the screen. Alex leant right, keeping his body between her and the computer.
“Do you have a crush on Becky Tonella?” Sarah asked suddenly.
Alex was shocked. He hoped Becky’s name coming up was a coincidence. “Why do you ask?” he said, as coolly as his shaky voice would let him. His left foot began tapping on the floor without him even realising it.
“You keep looking at her in class, for one thing. Well, do you?”
Alex wasn’t sure how to answer. “That’s ... none of your beeswax.”
Sarah stared at him, her arms shifting from across her chest to her sides, hands on hips. Her gaze started to harden in what looked to Alex like ... anger. Alex realised he had never seen her mad. She always had that sickening smile on her face. “Do you know how long I’ve liked you, Alex Jackson?” she snapped.
She didn’t look like she was expecting an answer so Alex shrugged.
“Five years. I know your sister’s name is Sam. I know you own a Union Standard skateboard, and now I know you like Becky Tonella, the girl you’ve known for THREE WHOLE WEEKS.”
Four, thought Alex, but who’s counting?
The librarian gave him, Alex, a killer glare. What did I do?
“You’re the most selfish boy I’ve ever met,” said Sarah, building up a full head of steam. “I’ve done so many nice things for you and you don’t even care. I even let you beat me in that science test in Year 6. You’ve led me on for five years, and now you dump me for the first girl who comes along with a decent pair of legs. All my friends tell me I’m too good for you, and now I know why!”
Alex didn’t want a scene, and he still had the email from Becky sitting 30 centimetres behind his back to worry about, but he couldn’t take this any more. He had led her on? What the hell?
“For one thing I can’t DUMP you, ’cause we’re not going out.” The librarian was glaring again. “For five years you have embarrassed me in front of everybody. You said you loved me in front of a full school assembly. You wrote ‘Sarah loves Jack’ on the screen saver of every school computer. In Year 5 you rang me at home every night for a month.”
“Yeah, until your mum told me I wasn’t allowed to ring you anymore.”
That surprised Alex. His mum had never told him that.
Alex sighed. This was useless. “You’re a nice girl, Sarah. You’re real smart, too. I wish I did like you. You’d probably even help me understand algebra.”
She forced a smile.
“It’s not your fault, it’s mine,” Alex continued. “But I can’t help it if I don’t like you the same as you like me. I wish I did, but I don’t.”
Her head dropped and she was quiet for a few seconds, but to Alex it seemed like minutes. “You just want me to stop bugging you,” she said.
Alex saw the tears in the corners of her eyes, and he didn’t feel like hurting her anymore. “To tell you the truth, I kind of like you bugging me. Why do you think I haven’t yelled at you the last five years? It’s just that ...”
“I gotta get a life?”
“You gotta find someone who likes you as much as you like him. Not a loser skateboarder about to get beaten up by Billy Johnstone.”
“You’re no loser, Alex Jackson,” she said as she walked away.
“Are you all right, Sarah?” the librarian called to her on her way out.
Alex should have known Sarah Sceney would be on a first name basis with the librarian. He risked a glance at the tall lady with small, wire–rimmed glasses sitting on her nose, and she was squinting right at him. If looks could kill, her icy glare would have sent him six feet under.
In case anyone else he knew suddenly appeared, Alex printed out the email. But by the time he collected it from the tray and stuffed it into his pocket. He felt like a married man in a singles’ bar. Becky was complaining about men being twofaced liars and he was proving her right. If Sarah Sceney knew what he was doing, she would have taken her last comment back. He was a loser.
On his way home Alex stopped outside the train station to pull a few grinds along the metal benches, and afterwards took out the bulge of paper that was sitting in his pocket. He sat on a bench and thought about things for a long time — his fight with Sarah, the skateboarding demonstration, Becky’s email. Alex was about to throw the unread letter in the bin when his fingers began unfolding the pages like they had a will of their own. He read the two pages quickly, then wondered if he could give himself amnesia or somehow unread the letter by turning the pages upside down and reading it backwards. What Becky wrote in that email was meant for a girl named Juliette, and not him. It was none of his beeswax.
CHAPTER 13
Staying Alive
Alex sat at the stained, laminex breakfast table playing with his Vita Brits. It was Monday morning and he had things on his mind. He looked over at his dad digging into a plate of bacon and eggs. “Chief ...” Alex said, waiting for him to look up, “how do you fight a big bloke?”
“Tall ...?”
“And wide,” said Alex, putting his hands out in front of him, twice the width of his own shoulders.
“In a ring or a streetfight?” asked Chief.
“Streetfight.”
“What’s this about fighting at breakfast?” his mum asked from behind the boiling jug. “Are you in trouble at school or something, love? I heard something about you having to see George Letcher, the Year 8 coordinator?”
Alex gave his dad a glare, but Chief shrugged back innocently.
“No trouble, Mum. I’m just speaking hyperactively.”
“Hypothetically,” his mum corrected. “If you are in trouble I want you to tell us, Alex. We’re here to help you and Sam, you know that.”
“I don’t need help,” piped up Sam, her mouth full of toast and vegemite. “Alex is the one who’s gonna get punched up by Billy Johnstone.”
“Sam!” Alex said angrily. He didn’t know how she did it, the nosey parker.
“What’s this all about?” his mum inquired, starting to sound concerned. “If you don’t tell me, Alex, I’ll call George
Letcher and have him sort it out.”
“Don’t Mum!” Alex protested. “It’s nothing. Just a small ... disagreement. I’ll figure it out. Forget about it.”
But he knew she wouldn’t.
Alex left the table. As he walked past Chief grabbed him, putting his huge right hand around his shoulder. “Under no circumstance should you get into a streetfight,” Chief said, loudly enough for Sharon to hear. Then he drew Alex closer. “But if you have to fight a big guy, duck under the first punch,” he whispered. “Skip in close and hammer him with jabs and uppercuts, and before he crushes you in a bear hug get away. Big guys aren’t used to taking punishment. If you hurt him early, he’ll go down like a sack of potatoes.”
“Thanks, Chief,” Alex said gratefully, even though he knew it’d take a miracle to get a lug like Billy Johnstone to fall to the ground.
“Hey Alex,” yelled Sam a few minutes later as he headed out the door on his way to the train station. “Stay alive.”
Was it a hint of worry he saw on Sam’s face? “Staying Alive, Staying Alive, ah, ah, ah, ah, Staying Aliiiiiiiiiive, ahh, ahh, oohh,” he sang in his best Bee Gees impersonation.
She smiled. “I hope you fight better than you sing.”
CHAPTER 14
The Fight
By the time Alex arrived at school the word was out. Billy had challenged him to a fight behind the trees in the corner of the school at lunchtime. The whole of Year 8 knew about it, and everybody was going to watch. I’m a celebrity, thought Alex glumly.
Peter Callaghan was running a bet on how many seconds Alex would last from the time the first punch was thrown till the time he lay motionless on the ground. You could bet he’d last for over or under ten seconds. Adrian Dorry said Billy Johnstone put $10 on under 10 seconds. Jimmy showed his support and bet on over 10 seconds — all of 50 cents. But only because that was all the money he had on him, he told Alex.
“The son of the great Chief Jackson? You’ll kick his butt, mate,” Jimmy assured Alex, his tone of voice betraying the fact that he didn’t give him a hope in hell. “Unless you want to save embarrassing him and have me anonymously tip off the fight to the teacher on lunch duty ...?”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, mate. Remember whose mouth it was that got me into this mess.”
“And now my mouth can get you out of it, anonymously of course.”
“Nah. I gotta face this bully boy sometime. It might as well be today. I just wanna get it over with.”
During Religion in period 2, Mr Scott told them how the Romans persecuted the early Christians by throwing them to the lions. Alex knew how they felt.
During Technology Studies in period 4 Billy stopped by Alex’s desk on his way to the bin. He put his arm around Alex’s shoulder and leant in close, his mouth next to Alex’s ear. Anyone who didn’t know better — which was no one, except perhaps Miss Pinzon — would have thought they were mates having a friendly chat.
“Remember our little meeting, grommet,” he said in a low voice. “And don’t even think about not showing up ’cause I’ll find you.”
Alex remembered what Chief told his fighters about showing no fear in front of an opponent. He gave Billy his toughest look. “If we’re having a meeting,” said Alex coolly, “then who’s gonna take the minutes of me kicking your arse?”
Billy squeezed Alex’s shoulder — or more accurately, the place where the neck turns into the shoulder and the muscles and nerves are at their most sensitive — like he was trying to extract the last dollop out of a tube of toothpaste. Though Alex could feel the pain all the way down to his tingling fingers, he didn’t flinch.
“A regular little tough guy,” Billy said. “I’m looking forward to kicking your arse.”
The bell rang and by the time Jimmy and Alex put their books in their bags, most of the Year 8s were already heading down in anticipation of the fight. They all wanted to get the best vantage points, as there wasn’t much room between the trees and the fence that signalled the perimeter of the school, and they also wanted the fight to start quickly before the teachers on lunch duty noticed anything suspicious going on.
Alex began the long walk down to the corner of the school. He and Jimmy made their way through the covered area and were passing the library when someone stepped out in front of them. It was Becky.
“Hey Alex.”
Alex realised she had never said his name before. Normally he would have been ecstatic, but he didn’t feel that good about life at the moment.
“I want to show you something.” She gestured inside the library.
He looked doubtful. “I’m kinda busy at the moment. I gotta mountain waiting to kill me.”
“Aahh, this’ll only take a minute. Besides, your eyes might be too swollen to see after.”
Another true believer.
Alex looked at Jimmy and shrugged. “Let ’em know the entertainment isn’t far away.”
They walked into the library and Alex followed Becky over to one of the long tables near the audiovisual rooms. Spread out on the table was a poster. In big writing across the top it said:
St Joseph’s College Skateboarding
Exhibition
Be There or be a Square
Underneath the writing there was a magnificent drawing of a skateboarder pulling a grind down the 13 steps that were out the front of the library. It was incredible in its accuracy and detail: the black stains on the concrete steps, rust forming on the metal rails, the blue and white school crest hanging on by its last thread on the outside wall of the library. It must have taken Becky hours to draw. Alex was stunned. Not only because this was the best skateboarding drawing he had ever seen, but because the boarder in the picture was him.
Becky gave a shy grin. “I mixed the school magazine, a skateboarding poster and an old photo of you I got off Sarah Sceney and ... Voilà!”
“I didn’t know you could draw,” Alex said, still shocked.
“You don’t know lots of things about me. No one here does. It’s my fault, though ...”
Tell her, thought Alex. Tell her about Juliette and what an idiot you’ve been.
“Becky,” Alex said, “I gotta tell you something.”
Tell her!
She waited expectantly.
“I gotta tell you that ... I have a crush on you bigger than Uluru. Will you go out with me?”
What are you doing? I said tell her, not ask her!
She looked him in the eye. “I will go out with you, Alex Jackson.”
Alex didn’t know what to say next, so he did the manly thing and bolted. “I gotta go beat up a mountain,” he said. “I’ll talk to ya later.”
“Alex, WAIT!” she called out. He was already halfway across the library. “Don’t fight Billy. You don’t need to. You’re better than that.”
“You don’t know me very well, Becky.” He put on a smile and tried to make it sound like a joke, but it came out too hard, like he meant it.
By the time Alex arrived everyone was getting impatient. Peter Callaghan and Adrian Dorry were having a muck–around wrestling match, some boys from 8 Yellow were trying to dack each other, and a few of the girls were pulling off some impressive handstands and cartwheels. Billy Johnstone was leaning on the perimeter fence with his left arm hanging loosely around Claire Carney’s waist.
“The grommet’s finally shown up,” he said loudly, stepping away from the fence.
Immediately all the action around them ceased. A semicircle, some ten rows deep, surrounded them.
There must be a hundred of ’em here.
There was an awkward moment as they faced each other. How are these prearranged fights supposed to start? Billy thought he’d get the ball rolling with a few insults.
“Alex Jackson. Skateboarder, grommet, retard.” The onlookers laughed. “You think you’re tough, don’t you grommet? Let’s see how tough you are now.”
Alex took up his boxing pose. Hands high, elbows in. He’d heard Chief yell that phrase th
ousands of times, reminding his fighters to protect their head and stomach at the same time. He wondered if Chief had ever fought 20 kilograms out of his weight division.
Billy walked in casually and took the first swing. It was a half–hearted effort, its purpose only being to get the fight started. Alex took Chief’s advice and ducked under it easily, then quickly skipped in close and landed a combination, boom, boom, boom, right into the middle of Billy’s perfect, smooth–skinned face. Before Billy could think to grab hold of him Alex skipped away.
There was an excited murmur from the spectators. Billy’s nose was bleeding! Or was it his lip? Was it both? Billy himself was shocked, but only for a few seconds. He’d underestimated the kid, but he wouldn’t make the same mistake again. He moved in, slower and more warily this time.
“YEAR 8s!” cried the biggest voice Alex had ever heard in his life.
“It’s Letch!” yelled Adrian Dorry. “Run!”
Afraid of being summoned as witnesses and forced to spill their guts, the Year 8s scattered like ants before rain. Letch, however, didn’t bother stopping anyone and asking for information. He seemed to know exactly who he was looking for.
“JOHNSTONE AND JACKSON, UP TO MY OFFICE IMMEDIATELY!”
CHAPTER 15
Can Life Get Any Better? Yes!
Billy was glaring across at Alex as they sat waiting for Letch to get off the phone. Alex knew just what Billy was thinking. First I’m late for the fight, and then Letch shows up outta nowhere. He’s gonna think I’ve tipped him off.
He glanced at Billy who was holding a handkerchief over his still bloody nose. Those punches must have really connected. As Chief always said, nothing gets a big guy’s attention quicker than a look at his own blood. For a moment Alex let himself feel pride. He had made the school bully bleed. He was going out with Becky Tonella, the hottest girl in Year 8. He was a skateboarder, a fighter and a stud!
But another part of him was ashamed. He didn’t have to fight Billy. The only two people in the school he really cared about, Jimmy and Becky, didn’t even want him to fight. Why did he feel like it was so important to prove a point to all those kids who had probably put money on Billy Johnstone to knock him out in under ten seconds? And what about what he’d done to Becky . he didn’t even want to think about that. But wouldn’t any thirteen–year–old boy with half a chance have done the same thing?