by Ailsa Wild
‘What is going on?’ Jessie asks, as soon as the tram doors close.
‘Nothing,’ Vee and I chorus.
‘Don’t lie,’ Jessie says.
‘It’s nothing,’ Vee insists.
‘We just got up together for leftovers last night,’ I say, sounding innocent and nice, but really I’m rubbing it in. There’s something fun about having Vee on my side for once.
‘What, and now you’re suddenly best buddies and you want to clean the car together? You might as well pretend you got a job as an astronaut. I’m so onto you.’ Jessie yanks her book out of her bag and sticks her nose in it.
I try to grin at Vee, but she looks worried. Jessie’s lower lip is trembling and I don’t think she’s really reading. She doesn’t turn a page the whole way to school.
I’m in the year below, so I don’t see my stepsisters all morning. At lunchtime, Vee pulls away from the older kids. She comes over to me and hisses, ‘We just have to let Jessie help with the car.’
‘Fine,’ I snap, ‘but you have to make sure your spying twin doesn’t discover our secret.’
‘Fine,’ Vee says.
My friends look at me admiringly for talking so sharp. Until Dad and Alice got together, Jessie and Vee were just big kids at school who I never would have talked to. Now Vee and I are sharing a secret.
I’m halfway down the corridor with the vacuum cleaner when I remember we need the extension cord. Vee runs back to get it and then Jessie-the-spy says we should get a bucket and a cloth.
‘Vee!’ I yell. ‘Get a bucket!’
Vee holds the door open with her foot and shouts back, ‘Did you get a bin bag already?’
‘No! Can you grab one?’
Next to us, the door opens. ‘Will you kids shut the heck up?’ Mr Hinkenbushel shouts.
He’s so close it gives me a fright and I drop the vacuum cleaner. He stands and glares at us as I grab the handle and we drag our cleaning things to the lift. The extension cord gets caught in the door and I can’t see properly because my curls are in my face. I look up and Mr Hinkenbushel smiles meanly.
The lift starts to go down and Jessie says, ‘I hate him.’
I nod. ‘Me too.’
We all stand there, hating Mr Hinkenbushel.
Once we start, cleaning the car is actually kind of fun and I forget Jessie is there to spy on us. Vee finds four dollars and promises to share. I find my old ninja sticker book from before Dad moved in with Alice. Jessie puts the little end on the vacuum cleaner and gets into all the corners. While she’s got her head down, I do a quick run to the storeroom with the sandwich for John.
Tappety-tap-tap-tap.
As soon as he opens the door, I shove the sandwich into his hand. ‘Can’t stay,’ I say. ‘See you at midnight.’
When the lift door opens at our floor, it’s chaos. Mr Hinkenbushel is shouting at Alice and Alice is clutching Baby and shouting right back. Which is weird because Alice never shouts. Baby is screaming and Dad is trying to get everybody to calm down, hopping from one foot to the other like a broken frog.
‘It’s just plain rude!’ Mr Hinkenbushel yells. ‘What they need is boundaries, and you are clearly useless at providing –’
It turns out Mr Hinkenbushel likes yelling at everyone, including adults.
Alice is pale with fury. ‘How dare you judge my family –’
‘Now, Alice,’ says Dad. ‘Now, Mr Hinkenbushel …’ (hop, hop, hop)
They all stop like naughty children when they see us. Except Baby, who is still crying.
Alice coughs, trying not to look too crazy in front of us. Her voice turns cold and hard. ‘Thank you for letting us know, Mr Hinkenbushel. Tom and I will have a respectful conversation with the children.’ She turns on her heel and bounces Baby into the kitchen.
Vee leans into me as we drag the vacuum cleaner inside, whispering, ‘But we were being good. We were cleaning the car.’
‘That’s it,’ Alice announces, throwing herself down on the couch. ‘I’m not cooking! If everyone thinks I’m a bad mum, I’ll just be a bad mum!’
Dad gives her a shoulder squeeze and whispers something in her ear. She laughs, gets a big fat tear in each eye, and then gives her head a shake. ‘Someone call the Curry Vault,’ she says.
When it arrives, the roti is nothing like Mum’s, but I don’t complain. Dad winks at me over the dhal and I try to smile back. I even manage to shove some of the roti down my shirt for John Smith. Alice and Dad don’t talk to us about Mr Hinkenbushel, but they’re both very quiet. It’s weird. Even Baby just sits there, smearing raita on a patch of table. Usually at dinner, someone is talking – even if the twins are both mad at me.
Vee does her homework without being asked, for the first time ever. I go and lean over her shoulder. ‘I think only one of us should go down tonight. It’d suck to get caught.’
Vee bites her pen and nods.
I say, ‘I’ll go tonight because I found him. You can go tomorrow night.’
She turns around to argue with me, but I widen my eyes warningly. ‘We can’t argue now!’ I whisper. I know I’m being dramatic. But I’m kind of right, too. Alice and Dad are still all weird and tense and if we argue, they’ll want to know why.
I grab the iPad before Jessie can, to skype Mum from bed.
Mum’s working in her office and she looks busy, but she smiles at me anyway. ‘Hi, Squishy.’
‘Hi, Mum.’
‘How was your dinner?’
‘We had Curry Vault, with special cardboard roti.’
She laughs because ‘cardboard roti’ is her phrase.
‘It was because Mr Hinkenbushel yelled at Alice,’ I add.
Mum frowns. ‘Your cranky next-door neighbour? Well, I don’t imagine Alice took that lying down.’
I grin. ‘She didn’t. She yelled right back.’
Mum does her funny sideways smile. ‘Well, I’ll say this for Tom, he’s got good taste.’ She’s complimenting herself and Alice, more than Dad. Mum thinks Dad is pretty annoying, so annoying that she had to break up with him back when I was little. But she was happy when he found Alice, a girlfriend who was smart and strong. Mum likes Alice, especially now they’re on opposite sides of the world.
Then I think about the tears in Alice’s eyes tonight. I stop smiling.
‘She said she was a bad mum,’ I say.
‘Well, that’s a stupid thing to say.’ It’s the same tone Mum uses when I tell her I can’t do something. Half-irritated, half-supportive.
There’s a pause.
I ask, ‘If I wanted to, could I come to Geneva?’
Mum shifts her arms and leans in towards the screen. ‘Sweetheart. Of course you can, if that’s what you want … But we did talk about it a lot.’
We did. I wanted to stay at my school. And Mum will be home in seven months and one week.
After goodnight kisses, I lie in my bunk in the dark, thinking about how cranky Mr Hinkenbushel was and how horrible it is when he shouts.
‘We should get him back,’ I say. I don’t need to tell Jessie and Vee who I’m talking about.
‘I can’t believe he shouted because we washed the car,’ Vee says.
I know that’s not really why he shouted. But anyway, it’s not fair.
‘Did you see Mum’s face?’ Jessie asks.
The bunk creaks and I can tell they are both rolling over, thinking about his mean shouty voice and her tears.
‘We should do something to make him wish he didn’t shout,’ I say.
‘Make him wish he’d never been born,’ Vee agrees.
‘Vengeance on our enemies,’ Jessie says. She likes big words.
‘The Hinkenbushel Revenge Club,’ I say.
Vee does a Rolling-Spin-Drop down to my bunk. ‘Come on.’ She drops again to Jessie. I follow down the ladder. I want to try Vee’s bunk-bed move, but not in the dark when we’re trying to be quiet.
We are all together on Jessie’s bunk.
‘Let’s swear
an oath,’ Vee says. (I think she’s inspired by swearing to protect John Smith.)
‘Hands on,’ Jessie says, and we knock shoulders and elbows as we shuffle our hands out onto the pillow.
‘What should we swear?’ I ask.
‘To get back at Mr Hinkenbushel for yelling at us and Mum, and to keep the club a secret forever and ever.’
‘I swear,’ I say.
‘I swear,’ says Vee.
‘I swear,’ says Jessie. Then she does a funny little hand wriggle. ‘Boom! We are: the Hinkenbushel Revenge Club,’ she says in a TV-announcer voice.
We all burst out laughing. It’s funny how her announcer voice actually makes us feel like a team.
‘Kids!’ Alice calls from the lounge room. ‘It’s way past bedtime.’
We scramble to our own bunks and lie in bed, silent for a while. I’m thinking about how much fun Jessie has been tonight. Then I remember John Smith. I wonder if we told Jessie about him, it would be more of an adventure.
Jessie whispers, ‘We could leave things on Mr Hinkenbushel’s doorstep so he trips over them.’
‘We could sneak up behind him and stick “kick me” notes on his back,’ I suggest with a giggle in my throat.
‘We could throw rotten fruit from our balcony to his balcony,’ Vee says and we are all laughing again.
‘Kids!’ Alice shouts and we snort into our pillows.
I’m so happy, lying in the dark, laughing and trying to be quiet. For the first time ever, I think maybe my stepsisters are actually kind of a bonus.
I wait again until everyone is asleep and then tiptoe down to John Smith. As I press the lift button to get down to the basement, I start to wonder for the first time how John Smith got in there. The front door needs a swipe card and the garage roller-door needs a beeper.
The roti bread got a bit smooshed when I was lying on it, talking with Mum. But John looks pretty happy to eat something.
‘How did you get in here?’ I ask. ‘Did you run in behind a car when the door went up?’
‘Show you,’ he grins.
He leads me down to the other end of the car park, where a little grate near the roof looks out at the footpath. He stands on the bonnet of the car in apartment 503’s spot and reaches up to jiggle the grate. It pulls off in his hands. Then he hauls himself up through the hole. It looks a bit hard, but I think I can do it.
I slither up through the hole, out onto the street.
‘This,’ he gestures grandly, ‘is my own personal bathroom.’
The old green public toilet is right opposite the grate.
‘Aren’t your parents worried about you?’ I ask, suddenly worried about him myself. He can’t hide in our basement forever.
‘They don’t care,’ he mutters.
‘They won’t put you in jail,’ I say. ‘Not for borrowing a tram.’
‘It’ll be worse than jail,’ John says.
I don’t know how to answer that, so I just stand there for a bit.
‘Vee and I are bringing you jelly snakes tomorrow,’ I say. ‘It’s Saturday. Pocket-Money Day.’
I’m thinking hard. I bet his parents are worried. And I bet they don’t want him to go to jail either. I need to find a way to talk it over with Vee.
‘Can I come to rock-climbing?’ I ask, dipping toast-fingers into my egg.
Everyone stares at me. I never want to go rock-climbing because Saturday is Dad Day. But talking to Vee feels more important.
‘Are you sure, sweetheart?’ Dad asks.
I nod. It’s perfect. Jessie will be at her violin lesson. I’m sure we can find a moment away from Alice.
Only problem is that the last time Alice suggested I come, Vee scowled. Later I found used teabags in my shoes. I swallow, waiting for her to say no.
‘You’ll need to tie back your hair,’ Vee says.
I grin.
After breakfast Vee tries to help me pull the masses of curls up into a knotty ponytail. My hair springs around everywhere and we both start laughing. No-one knows how to deal with my hair except Mum.
I suddenly realise Jessie is doing snake-eyes at me again. I think she might hate it when I hang out with her twin. It gives me a mini sense of triumph.
We catch the tram together to Rockers, the rock-climbing centre, and Alice signs a piece of paper about me at the front desk.
‘The death form,’ Vee whispers in a fake-scary voice.
Vee helps me into the harness and then Alice checks it’s all OK. The walls are really, really high, with little plastic knobbly bits in different colours going all the way to the top. There are heaps of other people along the wall at different heights, like flies.
I realise this was a fairly drastic plan for a way to talk to Vee.
Vee climbs first, and Alice shows me how to hold the rope to make sure she doesn’t fall. She points out that Vee is using only one colour of knobbly bits. ‘They’re different levels of difficulty.’
I stare up at Vee. She’s barely holding onto the wall with her fingertips! How can someone’s fingers be so strong? She climbs higher and higher – almost to the roof.
By the time it’s my turn I’m feeling jittery. What if I fall?
‘I’ve got you,’ Alice says, tugging the rope so it almost lifts me at the waist. I laugh, but it’s a scared kind of laugh. I wonder if Vee can tell.
I start climbing. It’s easy. My fingertips hold tight to the grips and I just clamber up, up, up. Looking for each new grip is fun and it’s satisfying to feel my arms spread wide across the wall.
‘I’m like a ninja!’ I call, looking down.
Really bad move.
Alice and Vee are tiny. It’s a long way to the floor.
What am I doing here? Why did I come? I don’t even care about John or talking with Vee. I just care about not dying.
I’m frozen. My ears are buzzing. I realise that Vee and Alice are calling to me but I block them out. I just grip the wall and don’t let go. My hands hurt. I need to wee.
The next thing I know, Vee is on the wall next to me. ‘Freaking out?’ she grins.
And suddenly the world feels normal again. ‘Not much,’ I say.
‘Let go of the wall,’ she says. ‘Mum can lower you down.’
Letting go feels like a really bad plan, but Alice gives me an encouraging tug on my harness. I grit my teeth and loosen my fingers. I swing into the air, but I don’t fall – I stay right there. The harness feels a bit like a hug.
‘If you hold this rope, you can lower yourself down,’ Vee says. She shows me how to kick out from the wall and drift towards the ground. It’s really fun. For some reason, having control feels safer than letting Alice do it.
‘Can I have another go?’ I ask as my feet hit the floor.
Alice laughs. ‘Have a rest,’ she says.
We watch Vee climb and then it’s my turn.
This time climbing doesn’t feel quite so easy, but I also don’t freeze when I get to the top.
By the time it’s over, my arms hurt and my fingers hurt, but I have a new favourite thing. I also realise that I’ve totally forgotten to talk with Vee about John.
Luckily, Alice makes it easy. She grins at us. ‘How about this for a plan: you two catch your own tram home and I meet you there with lunch.’
‘Really?’ Vee asks.
‘Give me a climb to myself and a cheeky hour in the office. You’ll be fine. You catch the tram to school without me, don’t you?’
This is true. But Jessie is usually with us and she’s the responsible one.
I guess Alice thinks we’re responsible enough without Jessie. And anyway, Jessie isn’t always responsible. I think about her squeaky, snorting laugh into her pillow after we’d been told to be quiet.
Finally, the tram door closes and I’ve got Vee to myself.
‘Do you reckon we should tell Jessie about John?’ I ask.
I press B for ‘basement’ on the lift button, which means we aren’t going to the park, and Jessie notice
s straight away.
‘Where are we going?’ she asks.
‘We’ll show you,’ Vee grins. It’s after lunch. We’re taking Baby for his nap in the pram. He likes walking-naps and he’s already asleep by the time we get to the lift, so this is going to be easy.
‘What are we doing? Is it the HRC?’ Jessie asks.
‘What?’ Vee doesn’t get it.
‘She means the Hinkenbushel Revenge Club,’ I say to Vee. Then to Jessie, I add, ‘No, it’s not that. It’s something just as important.’
We already checked with John on our way in and he said we could tell Jessie.
When we reach the car park, Vee is about to head straight for John’s storeroom, but the scowly man from the tram stop is here. I grip Vee’s arm. ‘Hang on,’ I say.
We watch as the man gets in the car from apartment 503 – the car under the secret exit. That would be why he looked familiar at the tram stop. I must have seen him in the lift. As he pulls out, I glimpse a dirty footprint on his bonnet. It makes me smile. The roller-door beeps down.
‘All clear,’ I say.
Vee pulls Jessie and I push Baby over to John Smith’s storeroom door. I knock my special tappety-tap-tap-tap.
When John opens it, Jessie stares at him. He suddenly seems shorter when face to face with Jessie (which is weird because she’s the same height as Vee). He looks a bit frightened.
‘Who are you?’ Jessie asks.
‘His name’s John Smith and he stole a tram and now he’s in hiding from the police,’ I say quickly.
‘We’re protecting him with our lives,’ Vee explains.
The lift dings, announcing that someone else is arriving in the car park. We tumble into the storeroom before anyone sees us. Vee donks the pram on the doorframe, but Baby stays asleep.
‘Your name’s not John Smith,’ Jessie pronounces.
The boy goes even whiter. ‘How did you know?’ he stutters.
‘I know now,’ Jessie says smugly.
We all stare at her. I realise she tricked him by pretending to know.
‘Why did you choose John Smith anyway?’ Jessie asks. ‘It’s the most obvious fake name in history.’