Friday Brown (10 page)

She smiled and shook her head. ‘I’ll read the rest on my way home,’ she said. ‘It makes me want to skip work.’

I tucked the dollar into my pocket and kept writing. Four more verses, and I couldn’t recall the last lines but it didn’t matter—by the fourteenth square I had nineteen dollars and fifty cents, including a five-dollar note handed to me by a young mother with twins in a double pram. Some people pretended to pass without looking, but I could see their eyes, trying to read, while their chins pointed straight ahead.

The sun was making me feel sleepy. My legs tingled from sitting for so long on the hard ground. My brain hurt from thinking. I learned fast that if I sat in the fifteenth square, by the time my audience had read the other squares they felt obliged to throw me a coin. So the money continued to pour into my cupped hands and the embarrassment—the feeling that I was a beggar on a street corner—passed.

After two hours I had fifty-three dollars and thirty cents.

I composed a menu in my mind. I wanted a bowl of steaming chicken and sweet corn soup that didn’t come from a can, and a plate full of battered fish and chips soaked in vinegar. I would finish with a punnet of chocolate-dipped strawberries and a tall glass of iced tea. Maybe even a bag of hot, roasted nuts.

Bree was right. This moneymaking thing was easy.

The sky was starting to fade out and the flow had eventually slowed; everyone was zipped into jackets with their briefcases and handbags swinging and the line for the bus was long. I was still hungry, but past the point of fantasising over a three-course meal. I was reluctant to leave.

It took about half an hour to walk home.
Home.
How quickly I’d got used to the idea that a rat-infested squat on the cockroach side of town was home. I bought a soggy hotdog from a vendor in the mall and chewed it without really enjoying it.

What’s a hotdog made of?
I asked Vivienne, once.

Pig, chook, lots of parts,
she said.

Which parts?

Lips, beaks and arseholes,
she replied.

I smiled to myself. It only lasted a few seconds, but I was conscious that I had dredged up a memory of her and it hadn’t torn me apart.

I drank from a tap in somebody’s front yard to get rid of the taste and rinsed my hands.

The others were already at the squat, except Silence and Bree. The kitchen was warm and buzzing and the
usual fare was spread out over the door-table: chips and loaves of bread, cans of soft drink and a huge bottle of tomato sauce.

‘Darcy’s got laundry tomorrow,’ Arden said. ‘Make sure all your dirty clothes are in the bag.’

Darcy whooped and looked around with a smug expression.

‘It’s my turn,’ Carrie said half-heartedly, through a mouthful of chips.

‘Close your mouth when you chew. You look like a cow,’ Arden snapped.

Joe pulled up a crate and gestured for me to sit down. He offered a bag of chips.

I shook my head.

Arden draped herself over Malik, lifted his T-shirt and dipped a finger into his belly button. He looked like he was enjoying himself until she pressed too hard and he doubled over.

‘Did you check out the car?’ Arden asked him.

‘Yeah,’ he said. ‘Too easy.’ He grabbed her and tried to kiss her but she shrugged him off.

‘The plates?’

Malik grunted and tried again.

‘You okay?’ Joe said to me. He offered a slightly bruised pear and I took it.

‘I’m okay. Have you seen Silence?’ I bit into the pear. It was overripe and too soft, but it tasted like an orchard in my mouth.

‘I think he and Bree are picking up some stuff,’ he
said. ‘Arden’s talking about moving. We’ve been here too long already.’

‘Where will you go?’

Joe shrugged. ‘If she knows, she’s not telling. She’s pretty good at finding places nobody else wants.’

My pulse was jumpy. I could feel it throbbing in my neck, flickering behind my left eye. When one door closes, another was supposed to open, wasn’t it? Fifty bucks wouldn’t get me far. I’d just got used to the idea of hanging around for a while.

‘Oh,’ I said. ‘I might be moving on too.’

Joe’s head swivelled. ‘Hey, you’re coming with us, aren’t you?’

I didn’t get to answer.

Bree and Silence came up through the cellar door. Bree handed a green shopping bag to Arden.

Silence trudged in behind her like a world-weary traveller. He leaned over and planted a kiss on my cheek, then, as if he’d realised he needed to downplay the moment, he did the same to Joe.

Joe wiped the kiss off with his sleeve.

‘Silence loves Friday,’ Carrie sang. ‘Silence has a girlfriend,’ she broke into chorus. Then she clutched her heart. ‘I’m so sorry, Darce. You must be devastated.’

Darcy spat, ‘Dream on, Carrie.’

‘No,’ Carrie said. ‘If I was dreaming I’d be on a plane to Majorca and they wouldn’t find your body.’

‘Up yours.’

‘It’s not like that,’ I said. I knew I sounded defensive.

Arden stalked me with her cat-eyes.
What is it like, then?
I read in her expression. She put her hand under Malik’s T-shirt, rubbed slow circles on his chest, then moved it further down.

God, why does she do that?
I thought.

Nobody else seemed to notice.

I wanted to react, to tell her it bothered me, that I believed sex belonged in the bedroom behind a closed door. Or to tell her that it didn’t bother me at all, that I wasn’t shocked or embarrassed. But I didn’t really know how I felt. I just knew we were playing a game, and I was losing, because I didn’t understand the rules. So I looked away.

Silence seemed tired, sad. He went upstairs.

I watched him go and ignored the urge to go after him. I didn’t want to run, not with Arden watching. My skin was hot and prickly so I asked Joe for another pear.

‘Sorry,’ Carrie said to nobody in particular. She started clearing up leftover food, scraping chips and crusts into a plastic bag.

‘What did I miss?’ Bree asked.

‘Nothing,’ I mumbled. I risked a glance.

Malik was smirking at me, eyes heavy-lidded, while Arden’s hand moved in his jeans.

I couldn’t stand it. I ran to the bedroom and threw myself on the mattress. Arden’s dirty laughter followed and my head ached. The blanket that Silence had given me was infused with dust and made me itchy all over.

I put my arm over my face and tried to imagine it
was dark. I fantasised about stinging hot water in a bathtub so deep my shoulders and knees were under at the same time. I wanted to hitch out of the city and pick up where Vivienne and I had left off, in a town with salty air. I’d lie about my age and pull beers in the day; in the evenings I’d sit on a beach and drink glasses of wine and wait for morning. Maybe, while I was sitting there, I’d meet a guy. I’d smile and he would sit next to me and we’d wait for morning together. Or we’d sleep tangled and he’d wake first and brush sand off my face. He wouldn’t care that I’d never wear a dress. He’d be all mine, not somebody else’s, and he’d never have to sneak away before morning.

I felt myself slipping and jerked awake.

Outside, light was fading and streetlights were coming on. A piece of newspaper was peeling away from the window. Through the triangle, I saw the silhouette of a woman on the second floor across the street. She lifted a child above her head; she pulled him close to her chest. They were a two-headed creature. Together, entwined.

The black hole was sucking me in. Was this what Vivienne felt, those times she whispered that we were leaving? Was it her way of fending off the notion that nothing would ever be good again?

This was my inheritance—forever chasing stars.

‘You okay?’ Bree asked from the doorway.

Compassion was the worst thing to offer to someone like me.

‘Yes,’ I barked, and she went away.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Our big adventure began at nine o’clock that night.

I’d fallen asleep, curled up with the blanket over my face, only waking when the sense of someone watching burned through my oblivion.

‘Get ready,’ Arden said. ‘Put something warm on. It’s cold out.’

In the kitchen, Bree sat by herself. She looked lost—not her usual smiling self.

Carrie kept cleaning dishes as if world order was at stake if she didn’t get the mugs lined up for morning. I saw Silence on the stairs, briefly, before Arden dragged me away. We went down into the cellar.

‘Where are we going?’ I asked.

‘Consider it part of your induction,’ she said.

I followed, doubling my steps to keep up with her.

A few streets from the squat, Arden hailed a taxi. She sat right next to me in the back and I felt the push-pull force of her. She was reining her emotions in, keeping them close. She pinned her hands between her knees and stared straight ahead through the windscreen. She wore dark-denim jeans, her customary trench coat and high, thick-soled boots laced up to her knees. Her dreads were stuffed under a black beanie.

‘You look like a member of the IRA,’ I said, immediately wishing I could take it back. My stomach churned.

‘You look like you’re about to puke,’ she said. Then she had one of her moments of light and grabbed my hand. She rubbed circles with her thumb on my palm, studying my fingers. She aligned her hand against mine and compared them, her fingers so long and thin they overshot mine by a couple of centimetres.

‘You’re like a doll,’ she said. ‘I saw a movie once where these tiny people lived inside a house with normal-sized people. They hid in the walls and they only came out at night, or when the others were sleeping.’ She released my hand and breathed on the window.
Hah.
She drew a series of connected stick people in the condensation.

‘Sounds like a kids’ movie.
The Borrowers’
? I remembered the old movies Vivienne and I used to watch to get to sleep.

‘No, it was weird. More like a horror movie. I can’t remember what it was called. My parents were watching in the lounge room and I sneaked out of my room and hid behind the couch. I was about seven, I think.’

‘
Chucky
?’

‘Nope. Whatever it was I’ll never forget how those tiny people fucked up all the big people’s lives. And I got the biggest arse-kicking for sneaking out of bed.’

‘I hope the little people won,’ I said.

‘Left here,’ she told the driver.

‘Why the taxi? Is it far? Where are we going?’

‘Soon,’ she said.

‘Arden? That tattoo on your back. What does it mean?’

‘It means what it says.’ Her expression was blank and her fingers drummed a beat on the seat. ‘Next right.’ She nailed a thought and shared it. ‘Just so you know, if you hurt any one of my kids I’ll destroy you.’

‘Why would I hurt anyone? How could I?’ I said weakly.

‘Because you’re not committed. I can tell. You have one foot already out the door. We stick together.’

‘I’m just trying to figure out how I fit in.’

‘Just stay or go, it’s that simple. You won’t survive in the city alone. I think you know that. You’re not street. We have each other’s backs, but you’re not watching anybody’s back but your own, are you?’

I knew there was some truth in what she was saying, but it all seemed like badass, B-grade, homegirl hokum to me.

I sniggered.

Arden’s hand whipped out and smacked the back of my head.

‘Hey…?’ Anger flared but I copped the smack, rubbed my head and slid down in my seat.

‘Here’s your chance. Prove yourself, country girl, and you can make your own mind up if you want to stay or go. Otherwise, I’ll decide for you.’

Arden got the taxi to pull up at the top of a wide, well-lit street. She gave the driver a fifty, waited for the change and told me to get out.

I stood in the milky glow of a streetlight and wondered where we were. Bugs swarmed around the light and I could see my breath in crystals. The houses were large, set well back from the road in leafy gardens. Most had high fences and wrought-iron gates. Warm yellow light spilled from several windows and the air was pungent with the smell of spring flowers. I felt like the little match girl, standing half-frozen in the dark while the families inside were toasty and warm.

‘Come on,’ said Arden. She strode off, shoulders square, hands dug deep in her pockets. Rage was so close under her skin, she seemed untouchable.

I followed.

She led me past four or five houses before she decided on one. She slowed outside a red-brick two-storey house that looked like it had been transported from a southern plantation. Lanky white columns flanked the entrance and a driveway bordered with a low hedge curved like a sad mouth at the front. Two rooms were lit downstairs.

She paced past the house once, twice, and cocked her head, listening, while I waited in the shadows.

‘I like this one,’ she said.

‘I’m not going any further until you tell me why we’re here,’ I hissed.

She seemed to look right at me but a space beyond held her focus.

The situation slid out of my control.

‘See that pillar at the end, under the tree? I’ll give you a leg-up. It looks like that tree joins with the other one, the big one, see?’ She pointed, running her finger along with one eye squinted. ‘That big one has a branch that runs parallel to the ground. If you stay on that branch the sensor lights shouldn’t come on. You’ll be able to reach the roof, so you can drop down and climb up past the window on the right. The one with the blinds open. Okay?’

Blood throbbed in my ears. Arden sounded like she was speaking underwater.

‘What…?’

‘Go over the top of the roof and straight down the other side. Look for the smallest window.’ She held her hands about forty centimetres apart. ‘Bathroom windows are never locked. Go in head first, not feet, or you’ll get stuck.’

‘I…’

‘Listen. This is your chance. Prove yourself.’

‘This is a
test
?’

‘We’ve all done it. Bring me something pretty.’ She drew a band around her ringless finger.

‘You want me to break in? To
steal
something…’