Conrad Cooper's Last Stand ePub (6 page)

Gaz is working the barbie, shovelling sausages left and right across the blackened plate. I hold up the rugby ball for his mate, Mr Watkins, to see. ‘I got it for my birthday.'

‘That so?'

He nods at Mum across the deckchairs laid out on our back lawn. Mum hurries over, carrying paper plates; she looks ghost-like through the smoke rising up off the coals. Smacking my lips, I open up my mouth and suck in the white air, thick and juicy, the kind you can taste just by breathing. Gaz turns another sausage, swats away flies with his sunhat and growls, ‘Jeez, it's hot. Can't believe it's April.'

Mr Watkins nods, ‘Tell me about it.' His head rolls to one side and he blinks at me. ‘Conrad, that rugby ball's not half bad.'

‘Yeah.' I turn it over in my hands, scraping the ridges against my skin. ‘Me and Gaz are gonna have a throw-around soon. There's a team at school, but the coach says I need practice.'

He said a lot of other things which I'm not gonna repeat. You know, Tane, you were there. But I think it's best if we keep it between ourselves.

‘Well,' says Mr Watkins. ‘All Blacks don't happen by accident. I hear it takes a bit of work.'

Gaz says, ‘That's putting it mildly.'

He runs a hand over his head. Gaz's got reddish brown hair and sideburns, but not a beard. He says beards are for hippies, convicts and layabouts, but not policemen. Thing is, Mrs O'Leary's got tons of religious statues with painted-on beards and they're all supposed to be good guys.

What about you, Tane? Are you allowed to grow a beard?

I try to spin my ball with one hand. ‘What's a layabout, Gaz?'

‘You done the dishes?'

‘Yeah.'

‘You put out the rubbish? Taken those cuttings down to the incinerator?'

‘Uh, no, but –'

‘Well, that makes you a layabout. Pretty soon you'll be growing long hair and whiskers, just like a hippy.'

I touch my face, smooth and soft. ‘Don't think so, Gaz.'

He flips another sausage and grins at Mr Watkins. They both crack up laughing. He glances at Mum and she slips out a smile. The only person Gaz doesn't look
at is me, which is kinda normal. It's not like I'm invisible or anything, only sometimes … it's like I'm the thorn bush at the end of our drive. Gaz sees it every day. He's gotta keep an eye out for it, in case he scrapes his car. But if you asked him what colour the flowers are I reckon he'd be stuck.

Maybe that's a bad example, Tane. It's just a bush.

Brushing crumbs off her lap, Mum stands up. ‘Right, I'll get you boys some more drinks. Hang on.'

Dad nods and gives her a smack on the knees, the happy kind. Mum grins, slapping him back. ‘You're in a good mood. Now might be the time to mention a certain cupboard door in the kitchen.'

‘Yeah? What about it?'

Her smile stretches like chewing gum. ‘It's come loose again. You might want to take a look later. How about I bring out some chips as well?'

Gaz catches the bottom of her T-shirt, lightly pulling the fabric between his fingers. ‘The door, eh?'

I pass my ball from hand to hand, clapping my fingers around its edges. Gaz turns to me and says, ‘Well?'

‘Well what?'

‘Anything you want to say?'

He looks at Mum again, and she blinks. Mum blinks a lot. If she had real long eyelashes they could work like wings and I reckon she'd fly away.

‘No,' she says quickly. ‘You misunderstood –'

I shake my head, fast, adding, ‘I never touched it, honest.'

Okay, Tane, that's not exactly the truth. Every day I set the table and take out the plates, which is pretty hard to do without touching the door. But that's it, I swear.

Mum's voice rushes out, like a gasp. ‘He
didn't.
' Next to her Mr Watkins stares into his glass like he's spotted a floating bug, and her voice gets lower. ‘That's not what I meant. It's an old hinge, that's all. Nobody broke anything.'

Gaz lets go of Mum's T-shirt and takes a sip of beer, real slow, like he's enjoying the taste. He comes up for air, wiping white foam off his lips on the back of his hand. ‘Doors don't break themselves, Justine.'

‘Well,' she pulls at her red shorts, the ones Nana says make her look cheap. ‘I might've yanked too hard or something, I suppose …'

‘Oh.'

Gaz raises his eyebrows and my breathing gets heavy. I dunno why, Tane. It's that asthma again, or maybe Mum's right about the pollens; sometimes I just can't breathe properly.

Mr Watkins clears his throat, still staring into his glass. ‘Doors break, Gaz. You know?'

‘Yeah, especially if someone's swinging on them.' He nods his head in my direction. ‘Or maybe someone's been rough with the handle.' He looks back at Mum.
‘New doors don't grow on trees, Justine.'

Mum folds her fingers together like she's saying a prayer. ‘I know that, Gaz. It … it must've been me. I'm sorry.'

‘You –'

Mr Watkins coughs and Gaz glances at him. He licks his bottom lip and nods to himself, like he's worked something out, and then he shrugs. ‘Well, you've just gotta be more careful, Justine, that's all, right?'

Mum blinks.

Gaz says, ‘How about that drink, eh?'

Mum smiles, fast. ‘Back in a tick.'

She disappears into the house, quick smart.

Mr Watkins stops staring into his drink. Maybe a breeze came over and moved away the pollen 'cause it's heaps easier to breathe and the air tastes good in my throat. I swallow oxygen like it's fizzy drink.

Led Zeppelin pumps out of the kitchen radio, filling the yard, and behind it I hear the metallic scrape of cicadas, buzzing like chainsaws. The only ones not making any noise are Dad and Mr Watkins. Dad just hands him a sausage and they sit in the plastic deckchairs, sipping their beers and taking in what's left of the sun. I hang out behind their chairs, out of sight, and roll the ball along my arm. Maybe I'd be better at soccer?

After a bit, Gaz says, ‘I'm just tired, Dave? You know?'

Mr Watkins nods. ‘Hmm.'

‘All that fuss at work today? Waste of time. I could've filled in a hundred reports.'

‘Still.' Mr Watkins turns his glass around, examining it from both sides. ‘Someone's got to do it, keeping the peace and all that.'

‘Peace? If those fellas were any more peaceful they'd fall asleep. They need to get off that hill and back to work. That'd make a difference.'

I'm dying to ask what they're talking about, but I'm not allowed to interrupt grownups. So I pretend to bounce the ball on my knee and listen. Lucky for me, Mr Watkins keeps talking. ‘It's not that simple, Gaz. These Maoris have a point, legally speaking it's got to be theirs …' Dad rolls his eyes, but Mr Watkins glances over his shoulder at me. ‘Are they talking about it much at school?'

‘About what?'

‘You know, the Maoris protesting up on Bastion Point.'

I think it over. If he means the teachers, well, they don't talk about it, not ever. But the kids like to guess what's really going on. Jasper swears he looked out one night and saw the side of the hill open up like a massive trapdoor and a fighter jet flew out. Trouble is, it sounds a lot like an episode of
Thunderbirds
. Personally, I doubt the Maoris have a secret military base, but I hope they do. It's a cool idea.

I open my mouth to answer, only Gaz gets in first.

‘Dave, he's just a kid. Don't go worrying him about it.'

I don't feel worried or anything, so I say, ‘But Gaz –'

‘But nothing. End of conversation, you hear me?' He sighs. ‘Last thing I want to do is come home and start talking about work.'

He must be right, 'cause everyone's conversation ends, right there. We all wait in silence for Mum, listening to the crickets and hanging out for chips. The stereo changes, blasting Hello Sailor, but she still hasn't come back. Bet she's whipping up a dip for the chips.

Finally, Mr Watkins winks at me. ‘Right, let's get a good look at this.' He stuffs half a sausage in his mouth and picks up my rugby ball, turning it over in his hands. ‘Looks a bit clean, if you ask me.'

‘Haven't used it yet.'

‘That's what I thought. What d'ya say, Gaz?'

Mr Watkins looks at Dad. Gaz takes a swig of Lion Red and grins, then swings his feet over the side of his deckchair.

He yawns. ‘You and me, Conrad, one of these days we're going to kick that rugby ball around. Right now, I'd better get inside and sort out that kitchen door.'

‘Okay, Gaz.'

Mr Watkins watches him go, frowning. He looks down at the ball and says, ‘Well, let's have a throw while your dad's busy.'

I wait until Gaz's inside before I set Mr Watkins
straight. ‘You know, I'm allowed to call him Gaz, if I want. That's 'cause I've got two dads, instead of one.'

‘Right, when I say go, you run to the end of the patio and catch. I'll try and tackle you, but you've got to make it to the clothesline.'

‘My real dad's in Canterbury. He's a butcher in the freezing works, but he used to live in Leicester in a place called England. They think I don't know, but I do.'

‘The two bushes over there, that's the try line. You've gotta get past the clothesline and touch it down.'

‘I don't think –'

‘Conrad?'

‘Yeah?'

‘Catch.'

He tosses the ball my way. I'm not too bad with my hands, just slow, so I do my best to run and catch. Mr Watkins trains a lot and his arms are longer than an octopus. Normally he beats me, but not this time. I'd almost say he let me win, which is weird. Maybe all those sausages weighed him down.

Dear Tane,

Are you awake? Sorry, I know it's late. What hours do you work? Do you even sleep? I mean, it's got to be daylight somewhere in the world so … where was I? Oh yeah.

All that stuff Gaz said about Bastion Point … it's
a Maori protest, right? Seeing as you're Maori and everything, do you want me to protest, too? I dunno what's going on exactly, but just let me know, okay?

Best wishes for the future. Umm … goodbye. It's Conrad, in case you were wondering.

Oh, wait! PS. There's nothing about avoiding protests on my star chart, so it's not like I'm breaking any rules, right? I won't mention it to Gaz, though. I don't want him getting any ideas. My chart's big enough already.

The next day Jasper wears a black sock tied around his arm; he says it's a sign of mourning for the tree and won't take it off. Jasper gets sent to the principal's office and, when he comes back, he's in a bad mood. I start to talk about Tane and he tells me to shut up.

‘Thing is, Jasper, I thought I might go up the hill. You know, join the protest.'

‘Don't be stupid.' His lips twist like he's trying to eat his own mouth. ‘You don't even know why they're protesting. You don't know
anything.
'

‘But –'

‘Leave me alone. Just go away.'

He storms off, but I don't follow him. I figure he needs time to calm down – and anyway, he's right. I dunno why the Maoris are protesting. If I'm going to take this seriously, I'll need to do some research. I can't just walk up to Bastion Point and not know anything. It makes sense to find a Maori person and ask them questions – after all, they're the experts.

Mere Ropata sits two rows behind me, so I go up to her at lunchtime and ask, ‘What's up with this Bastion Point thing? Do you know if someone stole your land?'

She says, ‘Get lost or I'll tell a teacher.'

‘But I just wanted to know …'

Her friend, Fiona Thompson, flicks a blonde plait over her shoulder and says, ‘You wanna thump in the head?'

I do not, so I go off and play bullrush on the field. Mere's not the only Maori kid in school. I figure I'll ask James Poata when the bell goes. He's pretty smart at maths and knows more than anyone – including the teachers, seeing as none of them could recite Pythagoras's theorem
and
name every actor in
Star Wars
including the walk-on parts.

We're lined up by the water fountain, same as the other boys, when I ask James, ‘Hey, have you been to Bastion Point? What's happening up there?'

He just stares at me.

Maybe he didn't hear, so I repeat myself and he shrugs. ‘How should I know?'

‘'Cause you're Maori, right?'

He shakes his head and walks away fast like he's late for class, not even waiting to wash his feet.

Now I'm stuck. I don't know anyone else in my year to ask. There used to be Mr Kelly, the Room 14 teacher. He's Maori, but he left ages ago. So … maybe I'll ask James again after school.

When the home bell rings I try to catch up with him, but Miss Cody stops me in the cloakroom. Everyone else packs their bags, but not me. I've gotta stand by the art trays until she's finished saying goodbye to the other kids. Then she walks over, her heels snapping at the floor, and says, ‘Conrad, I've heard what you said to Mere and James.'

Man, she must have amazing hearing. I thought she was in the staffroom, but … Oh, wait. She means someone
told
her. But you can't dob in a person if they haven't done anything wrong, can you?

So why is Miss Cody folding her arms and glaring?

She leans down, looking straight into my eyes. ‘Listen, this whole Bastion Point thing … well, we all know it's ridiculous. But what's happening there's got nothing to do with James or Mere. You understand me?'

Not really, but I nod my head. Her eyes stretch like balls of Silly Putty, and I know that look. She doesn't want to hear ‘no', even if it's the truth.

Miss Cody keeps staring, like she's reading answers on my forehead. ‘It's not their fault, got it?'

‘Mmhmm.' I nod my head like a yo-yo.

Trouble is, the word ‘fault' means somebody did
something
wrong. But what? And why would anyone blame Mere or James?

She pulls on her collar, the fabric wrinkling like two frown lines across her shoulder. ‘Don't let me hear you
talking about Bastion Point again, especially not to them. I never took you for a bully, Conrad. I really didn't.'

‘I never –'

‘I mean it.'

‘But I just wanted to know why –'

She waves one hand, cutting me off. ‘You've always been a good kid, Conrad. I know you're just repeating stuff you've heard from
certain
people. But I won't have talk like that in my classroom. Things are bad enough right now.' Shaking her head, she runs a hand through her hair. ‘If anyone complains I'll have to call your parents and that's the last thing I want.'

Well, that makes two of us, Miss Cody. Just thinking about her calling Gaz makes me feel tired, which is weird. I've had a good night's sleep.

She turns her head to one side. ‘Conrad?'

‘Um … yes, Miss Cody?'

‘Did Jasper Harris put you up to this?'

‘What? No, miss.'

‘Really?' I shake my head again, because it's the truth, and she sighs. ‘Well … all right. But I'd watch that one, if I were you.' She nods, giving me the ‘clear off' look, so I turn around and head for my bag.

Wow, Tane. You learn something new every day. I never knew I was being mean. Sometimes it's tricky working out what's good or bad, but I'm never talking to Mere or James again. I don't want to bully them by accident.

On the way home, I pass kids from my class by the crossing. They're waiting for the bus and Steve McIntyre calls out, ‘Hey, Conrad, what's with all this Bastion Point stuff? You're not Maori, are you?'

I try to keep my head down, focusing on my feet. But it's not easy. I almost walk into a concrete lamppost.

Someone shouts, ‘What are you? White bread or brown bread?'

And then other kids start laughing about sandwich bread, which makes no sense, and Steve gets braver, seeing as others are joining in. He starts shouting, ‘And he's been told off, too! I saw him!'

‘Shut up,' I say, my face burning. I try to walk past, but there's heaps of kids and it's hard to get away from them without pushing.

He laughs. ‘Yeah, you've been picking on kids … Ow, hey!'

Steve's body jerks forwards and he falls on one knee, his long fringe sliding into his eyes. Someone must've pushed him. Swinging around, he snaps, ‘You did that on purpose!'

Jasper stands behind him, hands on hips, his red hair shining like a lit match.

‘No kidding? I must've tripped.' He throws up his hands. ‘Come on, Conrad, let's get out of here before I have another
accident
.'

Glaring, he grabs my arm and drags me out of the crowd. Storming over the kerb and across the zebra crossing, he growls at the painted white stripes. ‘Steve's an idiot.'

I assume he's speaking to me. ‘Uh … I guess so.'

But Jasper doesn't answer, and I remember his talk in the principal's office. He's still giving the evils to the pavement, and I don't want to make him angrier, so we walk in silence. When we reach the top of the road, he sticks his hands in his pockets and kicks loose stones across the footpath.

‘Um, Jasper? Are you okay?'

He shrugs at the ground. ‘It's usually me.'

‘What?'

‘I'm just saying.' He digs his fists deeper into the pockets. ‘It's usually me getting in trouble. Even when other kids join in, I still get the blame.'

I shrug. He's right, but I don't know why.

‘Yeah, it's weird. Miss Cody thought I was picking on Mere and James. She even asked if you had put me up to it.'

‘Typical.'

‘Well, I told her you didn't.'

He looks up. ‘Yeah?'

I check over my shoulder; Steve's too far away to hear. ‘Yeah, but I didn't mean to get in trouble. I didn't even know I was doing anything wrong – it just kind of
happened.'

Jasper blinks and then grins, so hard his freckles fly across his face like shooting stars. ‘Well,' he says, ‘now, I guess I'm not the only one.' And he slaps my shoulder, laughing.

I never thought of that before. Maybe Jasper doesn't have a clue when he's doing something wrong; maybe he's just being Jasper … and it mightn't feel good.

You know what, Tane? I've made up my mind, me and Jasper
are
friends.

I think he might need me.