Dare You (3 page)

Why can’t Mum just shut up about Dad? How I’m not coping with his ‘news’.

FYI, Mum—I’m coping fine, I’m just pissed. Not at Dad’s ‘news’, but at the way I found out.

Ever since Dad and Mum broke up a lifetime ago—okay, eight years ago—I’ve spent weekends with Dad. Every second weekend was the best, when it was just me and Dad, and no annoying little sisters. I had my own room at Dad’s place and we did all kinds of cool stuff together, like make sushi, have dinner parties for his friends, eat lunch on bay cruises and go to plays and concerts.

But thanks to Dad, my weekends are now filled with housework and babysitting. That time with Dad used to be so easy and so much fun, but he stuffed it up. I could have handled his news, if he’d just told me himself. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a chance that last weekend we were together.

We talked about everything else over lunch at that seaside café.

I don’t want to think about dinner at the awful café/bar/restaurant/whatever it was. That black-and-steel place where Dad just fiddled with the stem of his wine glass while Lee told me. I waited, the whole trip back to Melbourne, for Dad to explain, to say something, but he didn’t.

Dad’s ‘news’ was bad enough, but then he gave Mum that ‘follow your dreams’ lecture. If he’d stayed quiet she would never have started that real estate course and my life wouldn’t be so bad. Thanks to Dad, I’m Mum’s full-time, live-in nanny, only without the full-time pay.

Every week I cook five dinners out of seven, make the girls’ school lunches and breakfast, and do the washing, ironing and vacuuming. Last night, Mum had the nerve to crack it with me because the noise of the vacuum was making it tough for her to study. Poor baby.

Ha! Typical. I’m in my room—well, the room I have to share with Eliza—having time to myself, and Mum is bellowing down the hall for me to empty the dishwasher and repack it. It’s not even my stupid job!

Is it any wonder I don’t want to ‘communicate’ with Dad? My life is CRAP thanks to him.

A head of me, Khaden and Sas strolled out the school gates.

‘Hey, wait up,’ I yelled, running to catch up with them, backpack slapping my shoulder. ‘Where are you going?’

‘Café,’ said Khaden. ‘I’m starved.’

‘Okay if I tag along?’

Sas laughed. ‘Are you serious, Ruby? You never have to ask.’ She put her arm around my shoulder.

As we walked, we made plans for the summer—trips to the pool, beach, movies.

‘Hey, we could catch the bus to Phillip Island, Rosebud or something,’ I said, stopping at the pedestrian crossing over the road from the burger place.

Sas scoffed. ‘It’s not that easy. I have to babysit the girls.’

Khaden pushed the crossing button.

I looked across the six lanes of traffic to the crowded café. ‘Can we eat outside—in the sun?’

Sas sighed and stepped onto the road. ‘Come on.’

‘But...’ I looked at the ‘Don’t Walk’ symbol.

Sas and Khaden darted across the road through a gap in the traffic. I followed a few seconds later. They made it to the other side, but I was marooned on the median strip, the wind from the cars and trucks whipping my hair. By the time the lights changed, Sas and Khaden were lined up in the café, behind a bloke as broad as Dad but with tats up his neck and throat.

‘Thanks for waiting,’ I said, standing beside them.

Sas pulled a face.

The heat from the fryers and the sun blasting through the glass windows made the restaurant hot and stuffy. I wiped my palms on my school dress. A zit-faced guy took our order—three fries, burger, shake and two diet colas. ‘There’ll be a wait on one of the fries.’

Sas picked up the tray. ‘We’ll meet you at the table, Ruby.’

Khaden dumped napkins and straws onto the tray and shrugged.

‘Outside?’ I asked. My throat felt like it was closing over.

‘Sure,’ said Khaden.

‘There’s a table there.’ Sas nodded to a booth in the back corner of the cafe. Khaden glanced at me, then followed. He slipped his school bag under the table and slid along the bench to sit beside her.

Zit-boy handed over my fries. I grunted thanks and scuttled to Sas and Khaden, carrying on like seagulls over their fries. Khaden’s iPod sat on the table between them. He and Sas had an earbud each.

I dropped my backpack, crashed into the seat opposite, and shook the sweet-chili sauce sachet. ‘You can share my fries.’

‘Not if you’re putting that on them,’ said Sas, her nose wrinkled.

I squirted sauce over the fries.

Sas took the earbud out and handed it to Khaden. ‘They’re awesome. Who are they?’

‘This band Taj has been mixing for. They have a weekly gig at The Basement.’

Khaden’s brother Taj was the same age as Harrison. I couldn’t imagine Mum or Dad letting Harrison work at The Basement, or even go there.

‘The Basement has the best bands.’

Her change of mood and the corner seat thing had made me uncomfortable. I snorted. ‘Been lately, Sas?’

She folded her arms. ‘I read, Ruby.’

‘Angst Ridden.’

‘What?’ I didn’t mean to snap at Khaden.

‘Angst Ridden is the name of the band,’ he said, reaching for one of my fries. ‘They’re indie rock.’

‘You wouldn’t like them,’ added Sas.

She was right, but it still hurt. Sas and Khaden liked the same sort of music—rock and bands from the 60s and 70s. I remembered one time, when we were in Year Seven, Sas and I went over to Khaden’s place to work on an English project. While I worked, they hung out with Khaden’s dad, and played stuff from his vinyl record collection.

I sipped my diet cola.

At the table in front of us, a guy with flecks of grey
through his hair talked to a woman with straight blonde hair. The woman laughed. The man reached out and stroked her face. Maybe it was the grey flecks in his hair, or the arch of his eyebrows, but something about him reminded me of Dad.

The man caught a strand of the woman’s hair and tucked it behind her ear.

Sas and Khaden’s chatter, the buzz of the ice-cream machine, and drone of voices seemed to stop. My skin felt cold. The air was too thick to breathe.

‘You okay, Ruby?’ asked Sas, her voice muffled, as though my ears were filled with water.

‘Yeah, you look bad,’ said Khaden.

‘Have to get out of here.’ I slid out of the seat and bolted. At the traffic lights, I bent over and gasped for air. My legs were weak and shaky.

‘Ruby! You just about trampled a little kid,’ yelled Sas. ‘What’s wrong?’ She placed a hand on my shoulder. ‘Eww. You’re all sweaty.’

I leant against the traffic light.

‘Hey,’ said Khaden, strolling towards us. He held a drink cup and had my bag slung over his shoulder. ‘What’s up with you two?’

‘Ruby’s sick,’ said Sas.

Khaden shrugged. ‘Figured. Why else would you leave your stuff behind?’ He thrust the paper cup at me. ‘Want your drink?’

‘Thanks,’ I croaked. The icy cola fizzed in my throat. ‘Felt like I was going to be sick.’

Sas wrinkled her nose and stepped back.

‘Public spew? The café toilets were right beside us.’

‘I needed fresh air.’

‘Maybe we should walk you home,’ said Khaden, even though he and Sas lived the other direction from me.

‘I’ll be fine. Honest. It was just stuffy in there.’

Khaden frowned and opened his mouth but Sas cut him off. ‘If you’re sure. See you tomorrow.’

Feet cemented to the pavement, I watched them cross the road and walk away, unreachable through the snarling traffic.

I was lying on my bed reading when I heard Mum pull into the driveway. It was just after seven. I brushed my hair and raced downstairs to the family room, where Archie stood in front of the TV, holding the PlayStation control in both hands. Harrison was hunkered down in the corner of the couch with the other control. Mojo lay between them, head on her paws.

‘Mum’s home.’

Archie and Harrison ignored me.

‘Heelllooo?
’

‘What do you want us to do? Alert the media?’ asked Harrison, not taking his eyes from the game.

Archie giggled.

‘You’re hilarious, Harrison.’

‘What’s your problem, Ruby?’ asked Harrison.

‘You,’ I snapped.

Mum stumbled through the back door, arms laden with pizza boxes, chips wrapped in butcher’s paper and a bottle of soft drink. ‘Sorry I’m late. Had paperwork to finish.’
She placed the food on the bench and took plates and glasses from the cupboard. ‘Takeaway as a peace offering?’

‘Cool,’ said Archie, jumping off the couch and running to the kitchen. He grabbed the chips and bolted back to the family room.

I grabbed the pizzas and bottle of drink.

Mum followed with the plates. ‘How was your day, Ruby?’

‘Good.’

‘So why are you so grumpy?’ asked Archie.

‘Yeah, hate to see if you had a bad day,’ said Harrison.

Archie sniggered.

I ignored them and placed the food on the coffee table. ‘Where’s Dad?’

‘Golf committee meeting.’

Since when did the golf committee meet during the week? I swallowed the scoff in my throat.

‘Can we watch TV while we eat?’ asked Archie, tossing the game control on the sofa.

‘Sure.’ Mum pushed Mojo aside and sat between Archie and Harrison.

I grabbed a handful of chips and sat in the armchair.

While we ate, Archie and Harrison cracked up at
The Simpsons.
Even Mum giggled.

A yellow man crashing a golf buggy set off a chain reaction. I thought of Dad, which made me think of the café, which made me feel sick again.

I snatched up the plates and empty pizza boxes and carried them to the kitchen.

‘Suck. What do you want?’ asked Harrison.

I scrunched up the chip paper and scowled at him. ‘Nothing from you.’

Mum sighed. ‘Please, you two. I’ve had a huge day at work.’

I stacked the dishwasher and took the boxes and chip paper to the recycling bin. There was something soothing about being busy, but once I was done, a sensation bobbed beneath my skin.

‘I’m going to bed,’ I said.

‘It’s only eight o’clock, Ruby.’ Mum twisted around to look over the sofa at me. ‘Are you all right?’

‘Just a bit sick.’

‘You don’t look sick,’ said Harrison.

‘Yeah, you stuffed into those chips, fatty,’ said Archie, grinning at Harrison.

‘Shut your—’

‘No fighting,’ said Mum, managing to sweep a filthy look from me to the boys.

‘Yeah, but—’

She cut me off with a raised hand.

‘Come on, Mojo,’ I growled. Mojo lifted her head, then snuggled back against Harrison’s thigh. I stormed up the stairs.

‘And there goes my happy sister,’ said Archie.

Their laughter made me stomp harder.

Khaden glanced at his brother and father, who concentrated on their meals as they sawed through the tough steak. His knife scraped on the plate, breaking the silence that filled the kitchen.

Mike was the first to speak. ‘Got any homework, Khaden?’

Taj scoffed.

‘What?’ asked Mike, his eyes harsh.

‘Mate, there’s only a few weeks of school left—as if he has homework,’ said Taj, shaking his head.

‘I’m not your
mate
,’ said Mike. ‘And since when has a
drop out
been a school expert?’

‘Lasted a year longer than you.’

Khaden’s spine stiffened. He had to distract them. ‘I’ll clean up.’ Even though he hadn’t finished eating, he picked up his plate and reached for Mike’s.

Mike ignored him. ‘I left school because I had an
apprenticeship with Ford, not some piss-weak job with a band.’

Khaden knew this was heading the same way it always did since Taj left school. Actually, not the same. At first, Mike and Taj had talked, but that had developed into yelling. And now it was something more, something Khaden had to stop.

He placed the plates beside the sink. ‘Who’s up for ice-cream?’

‘The mighty Ford apprenticeship.’ Taj folded his arms. ‘Tell me again how you worked your way up to the big legend you are—’

Mike slapped the table. Chairs screeched on the vinyl. Mike and Taj stood, glaring, mirror-images of each other—stocky bodies, thick necks and scruffy hair the colour of the dirt in the backyard.

The world held its breath—or maybe it was just Khaden.

Mike’s fingers, splayed on the table, twitched. He lurched forward, but Taj side-stepped him, colliding with Khaden. The momentum sent Khaden sprawling backwards, his back crashing into the kitchen cupboards.

Taj, face no longer filled with fury, rushed towards him ‘Khaden, are you—’

Mike grabbed Taj by the T-shirt and thrust him against the wall. The house shuddered.

Taj’s eyes filled with fear.

Khaden leapt to his feet. ‘Dad, leave it. I’m fine.’

‘You piece of...’ Mike shook Taj as though he was fine and wiry like Khaden. Taj’s chin quivered.

‘Dad.’ Khaden placed his hand on his father’s shoulder.

Mike shrugged him off. ‘Not such a big man now, are you? Eh?’

There were things a younger brother learnt the hard way, so when Khaden saw the shift in Taj’s eyes, he stepped back.

Taj grunted and shoved Mike, who stumbled into the table. The salt and pepper shakers crashed to the floor.

‘Don’t ever touch me again.’ Taj turned to the door.

‘Don’t you walk away from me!’ bellowed Mike, his face the colour of an eggplant. He pushed Taj’s shoulder.

‘Gonna hit me now, hero?’

Khaden’s stomach lurched.

Mike’s hand curled into a fist. As he threw a punch, Taj ducked. Mike’s fist smashed into the wall.

‘You’re psycho!’ yelled Taj, backing out of the room. The backdoor slammed.

Khaden’s ears buzzed and his legs were like set concrete.

Mike rubbed his fist and stared at the gaping hole left in the plaster. ‘Go to your room,’ he snarled at Khaden.

Sas, Khaden and I were stretched out in the sun in our place near the library. This spot was protected from wind most of the time, and, best of all, no one else hung out here.

‘So I was thinking,’ said Khaden, sitting up and hugging his knees to his chest, ‘are we going to do anything on the last day of school?’

‘What, like a prank or something?’ I asked.

‘Yeah.’

Sas sat up and grinned. ‘If we start planning now, it’ll be awesome.’

‘We could chuck water bombs.’

Khaden laughed.

Sas rolled her eyes.

‘Ruby, seriously? Water bombs?’

‘What?’ I squeaked looking from one to other.

‘Water bombs are...’

‘...pathetic,’ said Sas, finishing Khaden’s sentence. ‘Nah, this has to be good.’

Lyndal Reicher, Penny Lam, Chris Holbrook and Dom Plizga sauntered across the grass and weaved between Sas and Khaden. Lyndal stumbled and just about stood on Sas’s hand.

‘Watch it,’ hissed Sas.

Lyndal’s smile was fake. ‘Sorry.’

Lyndal and the others sprawled on the grass—our grass. She giggled and fluttered her eyelashes at Chris. Her laugh made the hairs on the back of my arms and neck prickle.

‘Why can’t they sit somewhere else?’ I muttered.

Sas glared at them. ‘She’s pissed with me.’

‘What did you do this time?’ asked Khaden, sounding tired.

Sas shrugged. ‘Just pointed out that bike riders don’t shave their legs for aerodynamics, but so it’s easier to clean up any injuries. That, and so it’s easier to take off any strapping or bandages.’ Sas watched Lyndal as she spoke. Her voice became loud. ‘And so, I won the PE trivia challenge.’

Lyndal’s head snapped around. ‘What’s your problem,
Sarah?
’

‘No problem, Lyndal,’ said Sas, her eyes wide and voice sweet. ‘Just telling Khaden and Ruby about my epic win today.’

Lyndal’s face became as red as her hair tie.

‘There’s a first for everything,’ sneered Penny.

‘How’d you know that stuff about bike riders, Sas?’ asked Chris, leaning towards us.

Sas shrugged and gave him her best smile. ‘Saw it on TV.’

‘Cool,’ said Dom, nodding.

‘Let’s go for a walk.’ Lyndal, stood and brushed down the back of her dress.

‘I thought you wanted to sit here,’ said Dom.

Lyndal stalked off without answering. Penny scurried after her and the boys followed with a shrug.

‘She’s such a psycho,’ said Sas, her eyes narrowed. ‘Chris is too good for her.’

‘Why do girls think Chris is hot?’ asked Khaden.

‘Beats me,’ I said. ‘His neck is too thick.’

Khaden’s head snapped in my direction. ‘Are you serious? You loved him last week.’

‘Have you seen his hands?’ I shuddered. ‘He bites his nails, right back.’

‘And that put you off him?’

I shrugged.

‘Hey,’ said Sas, a smile crawling across her face. ‘I have an idea for our prank.’