Jellicoe Road (9 page)

Over the weekend Ben gets word through Raffaela that the Townies and Cadets want to meet at the scout hall in town. It’s about the last thing I want to do but these days I can’t give Richard any more of an excuse to take over and I certainly don’t want to be at home.

I don’t talk much on the walk there. Ben keeps on stealing glances at me, about to say something a few times and then changing his mind before finally giving in.

“Rough week?”

I shrug.

“Raffy’s worried that the Townies and Cadets will have more to bargain with,” he says.

“I don’t think Raffaela has much faith in me.”

“Well, you’re wrong,” he says, serious for a change.

“I don’t think anyone in my House does.”

He grabs my arm gently and stops me from walking any farther. “Don’t say that. Because I know it’s not true.”

“You weren’t there this week, Ben,” I say quietly.

“No, but they told me stuff and all I remember hearing was concern in their voices. And I remember something else. Hanging out with you and Raffy in year seven, skating around that Evangelical church car park. All those Christians were praising the Lord at the top of their voices and you stopped for a moment and asked us, ‘Who do you believe in?’ I wanted to be all mystical and Mr. Miyagi-like from
The Karate Kid
. Do you remember what Raffy said?”

But we reach the scout hall and I see Raffaela waiting there for us.

“People like Raffy don’t lose faith,” he says quietly as we walk in.

Santangelo and the Mullet Brothers, who are clutching guitars, are sitting on the stage and then Jonah Griggs enters with his second-in-command, Anson Choi, and we all sit down at a trestle table.

“You guys don’t seem happy,” Santangelo says.

“It was a long walk. We need some of those trails,” I say.

“I’ve got a proposition, so can we begin?” Santangelo asks.

“It would be smart of you,” Griggs tells him. “Because out of everyone here you’ve got the least to offer.”

There’s a silence between them and I know that at any minute there will be a full-on brawl.

“Wouldn’t you say that letting
any of you
walk down our streets on weekends is a great deal to offer?” Santangelo threatens icily.

“You can’t control that. Too many of us belong here,” Raffaela says.

“You haven’t belonged here for years.” He sneers.

“What are you implying?” Raffaela asks, and I see hurt there as well as anger.

“Accusing, not implying. Would you like me to point out the difference?” he asks.

“He beats me in one spelling bee and now he’s Mr. Intellectual,” she says, looking at me as if I’m really going to get involved in this ridiculous exchange. “In second grade,” she continues. “Get over it, Chaz!”

“Are we finished?” Griggs asks politely. “Because
we’d like to get into a discussion about having access to at least one of the water ways.”

I look at him, shaking my head. “No chance. It’d be like cutting off our hands.”

“Then learn to live without your hands.”

“No, because then we won’t be able to do this,” Ben says, giving him the finger. Jonah Griggs calls him a little bastard and almost leaps across the table and everyone’s either pulling both of them back or swearing or threatening.

“Let’s talk about the Club House!” Santangelo says forcefully.

“Then talk!”

“I don’t want to talk about the Club House,” Griggs says. “We want water access. That’s what we’re here for.”

Santangelo is shaking his head. “You know what you are? You are a—”

“What? Say it!”

They are both on their feet now, fists clenched and it’s on for young and old. Yet again.

“Santangelo!” I yell above it all. “The proposition. Now. Or we walk and we are not coming back.
Ever
.”

It takes him a moment to calm down and I point to the chair.

“No interruptions,” he says, sitting down. He stares at Raffaela and I turn to her and put my finger to my lips. She takes a deep breath and nods, as if it’s the most difficult thing she’ll ever have to do. Anson Choi gets Jonah Griggs back into his chair and it’s semi-calm again.

“Okay. Seniors only and that means year eleven. We open three nights a week, hours eleven thirty to two
A.M.
Cover charge five dollars. No more than a hundred people per night. For each of those nights, one of us is in charge so that means organising entertainment, food, alcohol, et cetera.”

“Alcohol is an issue,” I say. “First, how do we get hold of it, and second, what happens when some moron gets plastered, breaks his neck trying to get back into dorms and Houses or…tents, or drives back to town under the influence? The teachers will be on us like flies and we’ll get stuck inside forever.”

“She’s got a point.” This from Jonah Griggs. “Anyway, Cadets signed a contract saying no drugs or alcohol while we’re out here. If we get caught, it’s
zero tolerance expulsion.”

“Where’s the fun?” Ben asks.

“It’s not as if we have to give up alcohol, Ben,” Raffaela says. “We never had it in the first place.”

“But if we’re going to socialise and there’s going to be live music….”

“Hold on, hold on. What live music?” Santangelo asks.

“As if there isn’t,” one of the Mullet Brothers argues. “We’ve got a band…kind of.”

“What you have is
not
a band. It’s two guitarists,” Santangelo says to them.

The Mullet Brothers are offended beyond words, staring at Santangelo as if he has betrayed them, and without even having to consult each other they turn and walk away towards the stage in a huff.

“Let’s get back to the plan and work out the lack of entertainment later,” Jonah Griggs says. “We might contemplate sharing the Club House, but it’s them that control most of the space around it.”

Then they’re all looking at me. “Seventy foreigners on our land three nights a week? That’s a lot to agree to.”

“Plus access to the river,” Jonah Griggs persists.

On the stage the Mullet Brothers are rehearsing and the amps are so loud we can hardly hear ourselves.

“I want to know one thing,” I say. “What’s in this for me? For us?” I say, pointing to Ben, hoping he likes the fact that I’m using his line. Except Ben is too wrapped up in what’s happening on stage.

“Put the amps on two. It’ll sound better,” he calls out to them, as if they asked him.

“Ben?” I say, looking at him, reminding him why we’re here. I can tell by the expression on his face that I’ve lost him for the afternoon.

“And put the electric guitar amps lower than the bass amps!” Choi shouts out. Jonah Griggs doesn’t say anything to him. Just stares.

“Find us a venue where we don’t have to put up with this crap,” I say, standing and starting to leave.

“I know the perfect venue,” Santangelo calls out. “It’s called the Club House.”

I swing around. “Once more with feeling. What’s in it for me?”

I realise Ben isn’t even following me. He’s already close to the stage, arguing with Choi and the Mullet Brothers about the amps.

Instead, Jonah Griggs and Santangelo are standing there, almost side by side. Almost.

“Information,” Santangelo says. He has that look again, as if he wants to tell me something but doesn’t know how. He shakes his head, like he’s changed his mind.

“Chaz? What?” Raffaela snaps.

“Nothing.”

“Well, call me when you’ve got something,” I say, walking away again.

“The Brigadier knew your mother,” Jonah Griggs says, dropping what he knows is a bombshell.

I don’t want to stop, but I do. Because I can’t believe his audacity and I’m curious to see where he’s going with this.

“Do you want me to let you in on a little secret?” I say. “Lots of men knew my mother. So don’t go there.”

“You wanted to go there three years ago,” he says, walking towards me.

We are so close we’re almost touching. My fists are clenched at my side, and I’m trying to find the right words.

“Oh, so you think I’m still that person I was on
the train?” I say, seething with anger. “My needs have moved on, thank you very much. It’s what happens when you’re betrayed.”

He doesn’t even flinch. “What I know is a whole lot more than I did back then and I can tell that this dickwit knows something about you, too,” he says, glancing at Santangelo. “And I think it’s pretty obvious that you’re still an emotional mess looking for your mother and you know that if you find her, you’ll find your father as well. So let’s talk about river access and the Club House,” he continues coolly, “and I’ll tell you what you’ve been desperate to find out for most of your life.”

I’m staring at him, so angry I can barely speak. “You know what I’m desperate to know, Griggs?” I spit at him. “What did you use on your father? Was it a gun or a knife?”

The room goes sickeningly silent except for the sound of Choi’s footsteps hurrying towards us, like he knows what Griggs’s next move is going to be. But he is too slow, because Griggs has me pinned against the wall, my feet dangling so that we’re eye to eye.

Ben is on him and then Santangelo. Raffaela is
clutching onto me but I don’t break eye contact with Griggs. Choi shakes a finger at me, like he’s saying that my time will come and then pulls Griggs away and they walk out.

Ben, Santangelo, and Raffaela are looking at me in shock.

“Are you insane?”

I don’t know who asks and I don’t answer because I feel nothing but a need to get away from everyone. Instinct tells me to go to Hannah’s, but she doesn’t live there anymore and that’s when I realise the major difference between my mother and Hannah. My mother deserted me at the 7-Eleven, hundred of kilometres away from home.

Hannah, however, did the unforgivable.

She deserted me in our own backyard.

As I walk back to the school on my own, I realise I’m crying. So I go back to the stories I’ve read about the five and I try to make sense of their lives because in making sense of theirs, I may understand mine. I say their names over and over again. Narnie, Webb, Tate, Fitz, Jude; Narnie, Webb, Tate, Fitz, Jude; Narnie, Webb, Tate, Fitz, Jude; Narnie, Narnie…

“Narnie! Open the door, Narnie, please!”

Webb’s face had a sick pallor. Tate held on to him, crying, while Fitz paced the corridor outside Narnie’s room.

“Get out of the way,” Jude said, pushing Webb aside. He pounded on the door over and over again. “Fucking open it, Narnie.”

After a while they heard the click of the lock and Jude yanked it open before she could change her mind.

“Narnie?” Webb said, holding her. “Don’t do that to us. Please.”

“What did you take?” Tate asked, shaking her gently.

“Panadol. I had a headache,” she murmured.

“How many?”

“I need to sleep,” she said. “If I sleep, everything will be better.”

Webb led her to the bed and Tate sat down beside her.

Jude watched them fussing over her like they always seemed to. He remembered the story Webb had told him about Narnie in the car on the night
of the accident. It was after Fitz had come by to free them. How Narnie was stuck, frozen with fear, refusing to move. Narnie the fragile one who couldn’t cope with living.

“If you’re going to kill yourself, don’t do it until tomorrow night at ten,” Tate said.

“Promise?” Webb begged.

“I had a headache and it wouldn’t go away. That’s why I rang you, Webb.”

“Cross your heart, hope to die.”

“But she does hope to die,” Jude snapped.

“She knows what I mean,” Tate said.

Narnie crossed her heart.

“That’s not where her heart is,” Jude said bitingly.

“Scano, leave it,” Webb said tiredly.

“Well, it’s not. She just crossed her shoulder blade. What kind of a suicide victim are you, Narnie, when you don’t even know where the life force is that you’re dying to squash? Right here.” He poked her in the heart. “You want to do it properly, you make sure you get yourself right there.”

Narnie looked at him and he felt a wave of self-hatred, but he didn’t care.

“You’re an arsehole, Jude. Big time,” Tate said, almost in tears, putting an arm around Narnie.

“Yeah, I probably am. But I can’t be a part of this deal-making. Screw you, Narnie. If you die, a big chunk of us dies with you.”

He slammed out of the room and even Fitz seemed speechless.

Narnie curled up on the mattress and Tate lay beside her. “We’ll see you guys tomorrow,” she told them.

Webb leaned over, kissing Narnie and then Tate.

“You can keep Chairman Meow with you,” he said, snuggling the cat in next to Narnie before leaving.

Tate smoothed her brow. “Maybe it’s a good idea not to go to sleep for a while.”

“I can’t stay awake.”

“I’ll tell you about
To Kill a Mockingbird.
You might get in trouble if you don’t read it for English by tomorrow,” Tate said. “Do you remember what you’re up to?”

Narnie thought for a moment and then nodded. “Atticus makes Jem read to the old woman.”

Tate settled in next to her. “Well,” she began,
“Mrs. Dubose is really nasty. She lives next door and calls out to them every single time they walk past the house about how disrespectful they are and blah blah blah. Anyway, every afternoon Jem has to read to her and sometimes he takes Scout along and what they discover is that Mrs. Dubose is dying. But there’s a problem. You see, she’s been addicted to morphine most of her life and because she’s such a proud woman, she figures that she doesn’t want to die beholden to anything or anyone.”

“Even though the morphine would ease the pain of her dying?” Narnie asked.

“Uh-huh. So her pain-killer is actually Jem reading to her. It takes her mind off it. At the end of the chapter she dies, but she’s free and Jem’s respect for her is intense.”