by Romy Ash
But the police were there, I say.
Be quiet, he says.
Kangaroos appear out of nowhere, their fur is ghost white in the headlights. They all stop and look at us. They have beautiful long eyelashes. Nev slams on the brakes and I fly forward. I feel my head crack against the glass. At the same time there’s the dull sound of kangaroo flesh hitting metal.
Stop it, stop, stop, stop, stop, says Jordy. You’re a psycho.
It’s going to be okay, Nev says.
Stop the truck, says Jordy.
Nev says, I’m taking you home.
Home? says Jordy. Fuck you.
Just be quiet, he says. But he stops the truck.
Did we hit a roo? I say.
Yeah, says Jordy.
The engine is still running. I touch my head. There’s an egg lump. It’s the size of my palm. Nev cracks his door and gets out. I hear the scrape of the spade as he gets it from the back. The sound makes me shiver. He’s lit red by the truck’s backlights. He’s a tall man.
Jordy opens his door, but I grab his arm.
Don’t, I say. He shakes me off. There is nothing for me to do but slide out as well. I run after him, holding my head egg in my hand.
Is it dead? Jordy says.
Nev is there with the spade in his hand. He looms over the kangaroo and over us. I look up at his red face. It’s splattered with blood.
It is now, he says.
I step closer to Jordy. I can feel the nervous heat of us. I look down at the roo, and apart from a severed head it looks perfect, unharmed. I didn’t think a spade could be so sharp. I touch the pelt. It’s warm and soft. I look up at Jordy.
Check its pouch, Jordy says. I pat its front. I can feel the hard muscle beneath the fur.
I don’t want to, I say.
Come on, he says. He gets down with me and reaches into the skin at the kangaroo’s belly. It’s okay, he says, it’s empty.
I pat the roo. I can see the glow of the campground.
You done? We haven’t got all night, Nev says.
I hate you, Jordy says to him.
I shrink away from them and Nev leans down. Light glints off the spade. He looks like he’s going to backhand Jordy. But he grabs him under his arm and pulls him up to him.
You have ruined everything, says Nev right into Jordy’s face.
What. Ever, says Jordy.
Nev throws him back to the ground. He’s so tall above us, the spade in his hand. We’re down there with the dead roo and the metallic smell of blood.
Get in the truck, he says. Walks away, dragging the spade behind him. I don’t know, but I think he’s crying.
We could run, Jordy? He looks at me and looks away.
Don’t be stupid, he says.
We get in the truck. Nev puts the car into gear and drives forward. The bushes start up their scraping. I look back through the rearview mirror. The camp glow is gone. The truck nudges its nose back onto the road. Nev heads towards the highway. We have done a large loop through the brush.
I’m thirsty, I say. I hear Jordy sigh and no one answers me. I can see Nev’s hands shaking as he changes gears and in between he rests his palm in his lap, a useless thing.
Where are we going? I say.
Button your mouth, Nev says.
I look out at the black. The stars turn on one by one.
Nev pulls back into the roadhouse. When the car stops I can see all the dead bugs splattered on the windscreen. The crack in the windscreen is much larger. Its tail is reaching towards the windscreen edge. Nev pulls up at the petrol pumps. He steps out and stumbles. He steadies himself on the side of the truck and unclicks the handle of the pump. He’s humming. I feel every single muscle in my body tighten, from my little toe right the way to the top of my head. I try to relax them. I hear the petrol click full.
Nev gets back in the truck. I can see the muscles in his arms straining to pull himself up into the seat. He rests his hands on the steering wheel. Turns the ignition over. He doesn’t go back out onto the highway, though, he parks the car out the front of the roadhouse.
Come on, Nev says. Walks around the hood and pushes the glass door of the roadhouse open. He holds it open for me. It’s bright in there. I wait for Jordy. I smell the rot of the gummy on us. There’s the same girl there at the counter. I stand behind Nev in a line. I feel someone standing beside me. I smell watermelon. I look for Loretta’s hand. I grab on tight.
Hey there, little fella, she says. I look up and it’s not Loretta. It’s a girl with sleepy eyes and messy hair. What’s up? she says and swings our hands together, smiling at me. I pull my hand away, blushing bright red. I try not to look at her. I hear her stifle a laugh. I look around for Jordy and he’s gone too. I try to calm down and look around the room. He’s with Nev sitting at a table. They have a two-litre bottle of water between them. Jordy is lifting it to his mouth with both hands. I go over to them. Feel the heat still in my face. I sit in the plastic chair next to Jordy. It scrapes along the ground. I can hear the girl laughing still.
May I have a sip? Gran’s politeness slipping out of me. Jordy raises an eyebrow at me and gives me the bottle. Nev has one of the salt shakers in his hand. He’s shaking it up and down with his hand over the top so that no salt escapes. I can see little grains of rice in there. My hand on the water bottle is black with dirt. The label on the bottle has a crystal clear waterfall on it. The bottle’s cold, beading clean water. I take a long sip and the cleanness of it makes me taste my mouth, which is horrible. The water goes down the wrong way. I cough but force it down. My eyes go red and teary. Jordy reaches to take the bottle from me, but I hold it and pull away. Take another sip.
The bus comes through here in the morning, Nev says.
What do you mean? says Jordy. Nev looks at us and crosses his arms. Jordy says, You can’t leave us.
The girl comes over, jolting her hip to the side. The burgers? she says. Nev motions towards us. She leans over and plonks the plates in front of us. Chips spill off the side. Jordy takes a chip and shoves it in his mouth. Chewing loudly. I don’t feel hungry at all, but take a bite of my burger. Sauce drips onto my hands.
This tastes disgusting, I say. Nev gives me a disbelieving laugh and shakes his head. I can see tears in his eyes. As I chew I can taste the gummy. I look at my burger and the grey of the meat looks grey as the gummy’s skin. I put it back on the plate, pick sesame seeds off the top of the bun. Nev is gripping the edge of the table like it’s the only thing holding him up. The air is too cold.
This is all I got, he says. Pulls money from a wallet that’s stained by sweat. He tucks the money under my plate. He doesn’t look at Jordy.
It should be enough, he says.
You can’t do this, says Jordy.
I’m sorry, he says.
He scrapes his chair back and pushes himself up. He walks out of there. I twist in my chair to watch him. He doesn’t look back. He gets in the truck, turns north, away from the camp, up the highway.
I feel sick, I say.
Jordy cups his head in his hands over his burger.
The waitress comes over. You kids alright for everything?
We’re fine, says Jordy from under his fringe. Thank you. Eat your burger, he says to me.
We sit there until I am done.
I push open the door and walk out towards the pumps. I can hear Jordy behind me shaking twenty-cent pieces in his hand. I walk to the edge of the fluoro light. Out the back of the roadhouse I can see a car doing doughnuts. The headlights making long beams of dust. I can taste the dust. The squeal and rock-pop bangs of fireworks. The sky bursts into colour. It breaks into beautiful pieces. The pieces fade and fall. The car is still there, going round and round in circles. Jordy pulls my arm.
Come on, he says. I grab onto him and he lets me. His skin feels hot. We walk to the phone booth, stuck there in the middle of nothing. He pushes on the glass and the door folds in on itself. The two of us squeeze in.
You do it, says Jord
y. He feeds the twenty-cent pieces into the slot. I hear them drop, They like you more, ‘cos you’re littler, he says. He holds the phone out to me. It’s heavy in my hand. He types in the numbers, takes forever. The telephone hums in my ear and clicks loudly with each number. It rings.
Hello, Janice speaking.
Gran? I say.
Love, she says, is that you?
I stare out through the glass blurred by dust. The highway stretches black and liquid into the sky.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you Caro Cooper, editor at Text Publishing, for doing such a wonderful job. Anna Krien, Benjamin Law, Lorelei Vashti and Kelly Chandler, thank you.