Next day after school when we’re sitting at the kitchen table with nachos and Cokes Mum gets a call from the school welfare co-ordinator. Cola’s been to see him and spun him a heap of stuff.
‘So she’s told you she saw her dad die, she’s battling anorexia, had a miscarriage, been raped, abused, bashed, unloved and unwanted, and wants to kill herself?’
‘That was supposed to be confidential,’ yells Cola, banging the tabletop with her fist.
‘Okay, okay, we’re working through it,’ says Mum into the phone. ‘What are you doing at your end? Intensive counselling with rational emotive therapy techniques? Good. We’re mainly doing nachos and Coke at the kitchen table at this end. Bye.’
‘You’re not taking me seriously,’ says Cola, glaring at Mum.
‘On the contrary, I’m taking you very seriously,’ says Mum. ‘Would you like some more nachos?’
‘You don’t know what it’s like to want to kill yourself,’ says Cola.
‘Living in this place you do,’ says Leanne.
‘LEANNE!’
‘Okay, okay. Only joking. Tell us about your mum, Cola.’
‘Why?’
‘Why not?’ Leanne shrugs and grabs another nacho. ‘You know what ours is like. Is she as weird as our mum?’
I glance quickly to see how Mum’s taking this, but she’s lifting a nacho up in the air to see how far the cheese will stretch.
‘Well, she’s … really pretty. And thin.’ Cola looks pointedly at Mum, who smiles back and takes a bite of the nacho. ‘She’s smart and a great cook and good with kids and once she settles with Lennie … well … it’ll be different. You wait and see.’
‘Maybe you can visit her one Saturday or Sunday,’ says Mum. ‘Or better still, meet in a cafe or something.’
Cola looks hopeful. Then her face falls, and she starts to cry.
‘She doesn’t want me,’ she gulps.
‘Oh yes she does,’ says Mum. ‘Deep down she does. It’s just that she’s been feeling confused and scared and under pressure. And if you meet her on neutral ground she’ll enjoy that, she won’t feel torn between you and this Lennie.’
‘You reckon?’
‘I reckon. So cheer up and we’ll get you some new gear and maybe get a rinse in your hair and fatten you up for the occasion. Your mum’ll be impressed. Have another nacho.’
‘No thanks. I’m full up.’
‘I’ll do your nails if you like,’ says Leanne. ‘I’ve got the latest shade, Pumpernickel.’
‘Yeah? Well … okay.’
They go off to Leanne’s room together.
‘And that, Sam, is called kitchen table nacho therapy,’ says Mum with this triumphant glint in her eyes. ‘It’s working and we’ve only just started. And it’ll be successful every time. Just wait and see.’
I sigh. I wonder if it’ll work with Bin? Or Cathy? They seem really mixed up to me. I go to the phone and call Cooja.
‘What’s doin’,’ I ask.
‘Stud, you have the original Mother from Hell, man.’
I feel defensive.
‘She’s not that bad. Cola’s on a good behaviour bond. She’s not allowed to stuff up at all or she’ll get sent down.’
‘Get real.’
‘I mean it. Youth training centre material, man. So stay away from her, okay?’
‘Makes her even more appealing.’
‘Cooja, I’m getting mad. We’re supposed to be mates. I don’t care who you pull the moves on, but not Cola.’
‘Or Bin?’
I think. I sigh.
‘Yeah. Not Bin,’ I go softly.
And I hang up.
LEANNE
This whole scene’s giving me major grief. I’m trying to be nice to Cola but she’s driving me up my bedroom wall. She spends the whole time sucking up to Mum and Steve and Sam and Danny, and the other kids and the teachers. She’s got them all running round in circles. If I try to say anything, then I’m accused of being jealous and bitchy.
Mum’s rapt because she’s doing home-baked psychology round the kitchen table and she thinks it’s working. The school’s doing full-on psychology and thinks it’s working. I think that Cola’s got her act together very well and she’s milking her problems for all they’re worth.
Sam, who’s never done an exciting thing in his boring little life, is now a hero, because he’s been kidnapped and driven over half of Victoria with the cops in pursuit. An innocent victim! Oh, please! You can’t tell me he couldn’t’ve bailed out. Everyone wants to hear his story and no one wants to listen to me.
And Danny. I thought it would be great when he showed up, but all he does is spend time with Steve working on the dumb van. You’d think he was going with Steve, not me. They’re talking about getting him an apprenticeship, panelbeating or motor mechanics, even though he’s eighteen now, which is a bit old to start. The trouble with revheads is all they think about is cars, cars, cars. If I was a Ford Falcon Danny’d have his hands all over me, but I’m lucky if I cop a quick kiss!
Even worse, I think Fern’s got the hots for Danny. She comes over after school and joins our nacho psychology group, and all she can talk about’s Danny this and Danny that. I’m fed up with the lot of them.
‘I think Fern’s tryin’a pull some moves on Danny,’ says Cola, when we’re tucked in our warm little beds.
‘Yeah? What gives you that idea?’
‘The way she keeps talkin’ about him. The way she keeps hangin’ round when he’s here.’
‘Maybe. Maybe not.’
‘Well, aren’t ya gonna do somethin’?’
‘Why?’ I go. ‘If Danny really likes me, he’s not gonna dump me for Fern, is he?’
‘It’s like this,’ says Cola. ‘You’re blonde with blue eyes. Fern’s dark-skinned, with dark eyes.’
‘So?’
‘She looks more like a Koori than you do.’
‘So?’
‘Aborigines want to marry their own kind. At least Fern could pass for a Koori. You couldn’t. Less you dye your hair black, brown your skin with fake tan, and wear brown contacts.’
Bitch!
‘Yeah, right,’ I go. ‘And who says I want to marry Danny or anyone else? I’m only fifteen, remember?’
‘Nearly sixteen. My mum had my brother when she was sixteen and got married at seventeen.’
And just look at your dumb mother, I think. A real role model, not. But I don’t say it.
‘He’s a look, isn’t he?’ she goes. ‘Those gorgeous dark eyes, and some build, huh.’
‘Who?’
‘Danny.’
‘’spose.’
I’m fuming. Don’t say she’s going to try and spade my boyfriend. That would be it.
‘I’m going to sleep now,’ I mutter, doing a fake yawn. ‘I’ve got a big day tomorrow.’
‘Me too. A big day.’
Now what does that mean?
‘You comin’ or not?’ I say to Cola when she finally shows at the lockers after school. She’s got Darren hanging off one arm and Lynton off the other. Fern stares but doesn’t seem too fazed. Maybe she really is madly in love with Danny!
‘Nah. Your mum said I could go down town after school. See ya.’
And she swans off with the guys.
Funny, I can’t remember Mum saying she could hang round town after school. Darren and Lynton have got this basketball match, so they can’t be planning to hang with her. Weird.
‘Forget her,’ says Fern. ‘Let’s go to your place. I’m hanging for your mum’s nachos.’
‘And Danny?’ I blurt before I can stop myself. To my horror Fern goes bright red.
‘What do you mean?’
‘This,’ I say, touching one of her burning cheeks.
‘I—I—’
‘I don’t think you’d better come to my place, Fern. I’m not even sure if we’re friends any more.’
I turn my back on her and march off, leaving her standing there. She doesn’t even try
to come after me, which means she’s really guilty. I get on the bus and there’re no seats, except next to Drenton Faberge who stood me up on a hot date last year. I fall into the seat beside him and the bus takes off.
‘What’s new?’ he goes.
‘Nothin’. What’s new with you?’
He’s doing some course at the TAFE because he failed three Year 12 subjects. Too much dope smoking and stuffing round instead of studying. He spins me this heap about how good he is and I try not to yawn. What did I ever see in him? Compared to Danny he’s a donut head with a hole for brains.
‘You doin’ anything Saturday?’ he goes.
‘Yeah. I’ve got a regular boyfriend.’
I think I still have!
‘Oh.’
He loses interest and stares out the window. We reach my stop.
‘See ya.’
‘Yeah. See ya round, Leanne.’
Home. I go into my room and dump my bag on the bed. I reef off the school gear and drag on jeans, a T-shirt and windcheater and shove my feet into my Dippy Dog slippers. I take my Pumpernickel polish off my nails because Miss Brooks has told me I’ll get detention if I wear it to school again. Then I head to the kitchen.
‘Where’s Cola?’ asks Mum.
‘Dunno.’
‘What do you mean, “dunno”?’
‘She said you said she could go to town.’
Mum swings round from the bench where she’s working on the nachos. She’s wearing red tracksuit bottoms that make her look like a giant tomato. I haven’t got the heart to tell her this. The way I’m feeling I haven’t much heart to tell her anything.
‘I didn’t say she could go to town.’
Whoa. Heavy.
‘Come on,’ says Mum, dropping the cheese and grabbing her car keys.
‘Mum, I don’t know where she is. She won’t be at Bruisers. She’s not that stupid.’
‘We have to look for her.’
‘That’s dumb. She could be watching basketball. She could be window-shopping. She could be playing video games. Trust me. She’ll be back.’
Sam comes in, shirt hanging out, hair standing on end like he’s been in a rugby scrum, and dumps his bag on the floor. He had to get a later bus because he had a brief surf club meeting after school.
‘What’s up?’
‘Cola hasn’t come home.’
Sam rolls his eyes to the ceiling.
‘She’s starting to get up my nose,’ he says. ‘Everything in this house revolves round Cola. And I’m sick of dumb nachos. I feel like Oskars or a Wagon Wheel or some mini pizzas or something.’
‘Same here,’ I go.
Sam looks at me.
‘And I’m sick of Fern hanging here every night, too.’
‘Same here,’ I go.
Mum sighs and reaches up in the cupboard for a packet of Oskars.
‘Okay. What’s with you two?’
‘Just told you,’ says Sam. ‘Don’t you listen to anything I say?’
‘Don’t speak to me in that tone of voice,’ snaps Mum.
‘Now, now. You wouldn’t speak to Cola like that,’ I say. I glance at Sam. We’re united for once, two against one.
‘Mum, Cola’s putting it over you,’ I go.
‘Rubbish. We’re making progress.’
‘Yeah, maybe. But she’s a sneaky little bitch, and …’
‘LEANNE!’
‘She is, Mum,’ says Sam. ‘You just don’t want to see it, that’s all.’
The phone rings. Mum looks at us angrily, then she trolls out to answer it. I grin at Sam and he gives me a wink. We listen.
‘What? Shoplifting? Are you sure? I’ll be right down.’
She storms back into the kitchen.
‘Come on, you two.’
‘Why us? What’s happened now?’
‘Cola’s been caught shoplifting in Myer with two other girls.’
‘So what do you need us for?’ I ask.
Mum’s shoulders sag.
‘Because I’m not sure how to handle this,’ she says. ‘I thought I was getting somewhere with that girl.’
‘You are, Mum,’ I go. ‘It’s just that Cola’s a hard nut to crack. I’ll come with you.’
‘I’ll stay here,’ says Sam.
‘Peel the vegies and set the table,’ goes Mum. ‘We’ll be back!’
We pile into the Falcon and go burning into town. Mum chucks a U-bolt in the main street and zooms into a car park in the main shopping centre. We bail and hurry into Myer.
‘I’m Mrs Studley and I’ve come about Cola,’ says Mum.
I nudge her.
‘Mum, you’re Mrs Ransome.’
‘Oh, er … yes. I mean I’m Mrs Ransome.’
‘You’ve come about who?’ goes the assistant, looking blank.
‘Cola. She’s been accused of shoplifting.’
‘You need Security. First floor.’
We go to Security. Cola’s there with two other girls. I know them by sight. One’s small, dark and skinny, and wears her school tunic hiked up so high you can see her knickers when she walks. The other’s big, blonde and tough. They go to another school and they hang out with the Chromes, a gang of older guys, all school drop-outs, who organise younger babes and guys to shoplift for them. They do chrome-sniffing amongst other things, so that’s why they call themselves the Chromes. They’re real bad news.
She gives Mum this wet look.
‘Wasn’t me, Mrs Ransome.’
‘You had three watches, two pairs of sunglasses, Red Door perfume, and a $100 designer top in your bag,’ says the woman from Security.
‘They put it there,’ she goes, pointing at the other girls. One gives her a drop dead look, the other stares at the ceiling. They’ll get her later.
Mum does some fast talking and Cola’s allowed to leave with a warning.
‘Why?’ says Mum as we walk to the car.
‘Why what?’
‘Why did you feel the need to do this? You were supposed to come straight home with Leanne.’
‘You said I could go to town.’
‘I did not.’
‘You did, I asked you this morning when you were doing the washing, and you said “yes”.’
Good call. The rumble of the machine makes it hard for Mum to hear, and she maybe thought Cola was asking for shampoo or more muesli or something.
Mum drops that line of questioning.
‘Why did you get tangled up with those two girls?’
‘They asked me to have a Coke with them. Then one of them asked me to help choose a present for her mum who’s in hospital dying of cancer.’
Oh, please!
‘I didn’t know they were gonna nick stuff and plant it in my bag,’ goes Cola, turning on the tears.
I think I’m going to spew!
We get home and Steve and Danny are in the kitchen.
‘Sam’s told me,’ says Steve, looking at Cola.
‘I was a victim,’ says Cola.
‘Yeah, yeah,’ I go, disgusted. Can’t even take the rap for her own stuff. I decide to watch TV, and Danny comes with me.
‘I’m fed up with her,’ I say, after I’ve told him the story.
‘She’s full of anger, Leanne.’
‘So am I.’
‘What are you angry about?’
‘You. You’ve never got any time for me.’
‘That’s crazy. What do you expect me to do, try to jump on you under your parents’ roof? You’re at school all day, and I’m tryin’a fix Steve’s car before he goes back on duty next week. And at night it’s like a bloody zoo round here.’
‘If you don’t like it then leave,’ I snap.
‘I am. Next week. I’m movin’ to Dazza’s place.’
‘What?’
I can’t believe what I’m hearing. This Koori guy Dazza lives right over the other side of town. I feel like bawling my eyes out.
‘Look,’ says Danny, putting his arm round me. ‘I really like you, Leanne.�
��
‘I thought you loved me.’
‘I think I do, but I’m not even sure what love is. Maybe what I feel is—I dunno. You’ve got no idea how hard it is with you sleeping in the next room, and—’
He puts his head in his hands. Then he looks at me.
‘I want to wait. I know this sounds dumb. Guys are supposed to roar round getting their rocks off, but you’re special to me. I want this to last. I want—I’m not sure what I want, but I know I’ve gotta get out of here or I’ll—we’ll do something we’ll be sorry for, and it’ll wreck everything.’
‘Is this the Koori way?’
‘Dunno. Don’t think so. But it’s MY way. I’ve gotta get a job, make some money, get a life, so if we do end up together it’s got a chance to work.’
‘Are we still goin’ together then or what?’
‘Course.’
‘It isn’t like this in Dolly or Cleo, man,’ I go.
‘Yeah. Well … aw, come here.’
He gives me this tongue kiss that sends my head spinning and other bits aching.
‘Now. Do you see what I mean? I’ve gotta give you time to grow up. If it all comes together I want us to get engaged when you’re eighteen, so hang onto that, Leanne. Okay?’
Engaged? In two years’ time? That means he’ll be twenty-two. But two years? Can I wait that long? I guess there’s no choice if I really love him, is there?
‘Here,’ he goes. He shoves this silver ring on my third finger, left hand. It’s been handcrafted because the hearts are a bit larger and lumpier on one side. It’s a tight fit but it doesn’t matter. I gaze at my new friendship ring in awe.
‘Got it up north,’ he says.
It’s the most romantic moment of my life.
‘Danny,’ I go, ‘This …’
‘Dinner’s ready,’ bellows Sam from the doorway.
We’re all sitting at the table, Danny next to me, Sam, Cola, Mum and Steve. Mum plonks down the plates of chops and vegies. I flash my finger around but no one notices my new ring. That’d be right.
‘So you’re moving to Dazza’s place?’ says Mum, looking at Danny.
‘He’s got a spare room, and it’s near the TAFE if I get my apprenticeship at Dino’s Panels,’ says Danny. ‘Don’t think I’m ungrateful to you for putting me up, but … well, I’ve gotta move on.’
Pulling the Moves Page 10