Pulling the Moves (10 page)

I choke on my potato. How does an old guy like Steve know about the Chromes? Then I remember he’s a cop. He’s paid to know stuff about gangs like the Chromes.

‘Who’m I supposed to hang with, then?’ goes Cola, her eyes glinting defiantly.

‘Well, there’s Leanne’s friends. Or you could make some new ones.’

‘Yeah? How?’

‘Join the basketball team,’ goes Sam. ‘Join the surf club. Join something.’

‘Yeah. Right. Bor … ing.’

I frown. She sounds like … me in a bad mood, the
way I
used
to sound before I grew up. I
had
to grow up when she arrived, because if I hadn’t, I’d have smashed her head through our bedroom wall! Maybe Cola did me a favour. She’s such a shit, I had to compete or reform. And competing’s too hard, too … boring!

‘Join a life,’ I go.

‘LEANNE!’

‘It’s not up to us to sort her out, Mum, it’s up to
her
,’ I snap. Cola starts bawling. Cunning little shit. That’s it. I’m about to dump my dinner on her head, but Danny squeezes my hand warningly under the table. I handle, but only just.

‘We’ve been thinking,’ says Steve.

That’s a change.

‘How long is it since you’ve seen your mother or contacted her, Cola?’

‘Dunno.’

‘Approximately.’

She shrugs.

‘Year or two maybe. I don’t count.’

Yeah? Betcha she knows the day, hour, minute and second.

‘I could set it up for you to meet, say a Saturday. Have some lunch or something.’

‘Here?’ goes Cola, looking scared.

‘No, somewhere comfortable for you both. Your mother can choose.’

‘What if she doesn’t want to see me?’ says Cola, her head down.

‘She will.’

Now how does he know that? If I was a mother with a shit of a kid like Cola I’d rather be dead than see her. But then I’ve never been a mother. I guess they put up with a lot of stuff from kids. Dunno.

‘Dessert?’ says Mum.

We eat some boston bun from the hot bread shop.

‘Dishes?’

‘Yeah, right. We’ll do them, won’t we, Danny?’ I go. Practice for the future.

I take off my ring and put it on the window ledge.

‘It’s washable, ya know,’ says Danny. ‘The detergent’s probably good for it.’

I put it back on. I don’t want it to leave my finger. Ever.

Cola goes with Sam to watch TV. I can hear Mum and Steve talking in the passage.

‘What if her mother doesn’t want to see her? Isn’t that making things worse, Steve?’

‘I’ve already checked. She’ll see her.’

‘Doesn’t she
care
what’s happened to her own daughter?’

‘Cola’s always been hard to control. The new stepdad made her worse. Right now it’s not a good idea for them to try and live together, but if they can maintain contact, it might help Cola.’

‘She’s so angry.’

‘She’s gone through a lot. Hates herself deep down. And feels that if she does get some success then people’ll expect more from her, and she’ll fail.’

‘Where’d you get all this from, Mr Psychology?’

‘From the school counsellor, where else?’

Their voices fade as they walk towards the lounge room. I look at Danny. He keeps drying plates.

‘You know,’ I say, ‘Steve’s—’

There’s a mighty crash.

‘What happened?’

‘Sounds like it was from the front bedroom.’

We rush up the passage. Mum, Steve, Cola and Sam are already there. There’s glass all over the place, a huge hole in the window, and a big rock lying on the bed wrapped in paper.

‘A message,’ says Sam. ‘Just like on
Z File
.’

‘Reality check,’ I go. ‘This isn’t Hollywood.’

‘Nah, it’s Chrome Land.’

Steve reads the message aloud.

‘Next time it’ll be your head.’

Cola shrugs, but her face has gone white.

‘Yeah, right,’ she says. ‘I’m so scared,
not
.’

She’s scared all right.

And so am I!!

It’s Saturday morning and Cola’s gone. Done a runner.

‘Yeah. Taken my good jeans and top and Reeboks,’ yells Leanne.

‘You must’ve heard
something
,’ accuses Mum. ‘She would’ve made a noise breaking the flywire and going out through the window.’

‘I tell you, I didn’t hear a thing.’

‘Maybe the Chromes came and dragged her through the window,’ I suggest.

‘Grow a brain, Sam. They waited calmly while she packed her bag with
my
best jeans and
my
best top
and
my
best Reeboks?’ says Leanne. ‘Nah. She was packin’ death. She’s done a runner and she’ll be light-years away by now.’

‘We’d better look for her,’ sighs Mum.

‘Not me. I’m off to the hot bread shop. Some of us have got to work, you know.’

Leanne still works Saturdays and some evenings at Strachan’s Hot Bread Shop and Mum works there part-time four days a week.

Steve sighs.

‘I’ll have to report this,’ he says. ‘There’ll be a warrant out on her. Silly girl.’

I get a ride down to Torquay to my part-time job at Strapper. And I get the bad news.

‘Sorry, man. No more work. Things are slack. I’ve had to put guys off. Even Ant.’

Ant? He’s their best glass man. I can’t believe it. I walk round to his place. He’s sitting on his porch drinking a coffee.

‘Hi, man.’

‘Hi, Ant. Sorry about your job.’

‘Yeah, well. That was last Tuesday. Since then I’ve been setting up me own business, ding repairs in the shed. And Rippers has some new contracts coming up, mini surfboards for shop displays. Interested?’

‘Huh?’

‘Sit down, get the fat off your feet, have a coffee, lax out, man. You look stressed. I’m sayin’ there’s some work for you helpin’ me if you want.’

‘Yeah?’

‘Yeah. You’re getting good at the ding repairs now, Sam man.’

His partner Fi comes out with two coffees, one for herself and one for me. Their dog Banshee waddles up, looking for some snacks.

‘She’s hurt her back,’ says Fi. ‘She climbs up trees after possums and falls off. Only this time she wasn’t so lucky and crash landed.’

‘Sam’s gonna give me a hand with the glass work,’ says Ant.

‘Yeah, right. Only first you’ve got to clean up the back yard, get rid of the rubbish, and help me with the vacuuming,’ says Fi.

She scuttles back inside.

‘Women,’ says Ant. ‘Ya can’t live with them and ya can’t live without them. Surf’s up. Let’s hit the waves.’

‘I haven’t got my board or my wetsuit.’

‘I’ve got a spare. And a steamer. Let’s go.’

‘Hey,’ yells Fi as she spots us dragging the boards onto the roof rack of Ant’s old LTD. ‘What about the
work to be done round here?’

‘Later, love,’ says Ant. He guns the LTD and we’re off down the road to find some top filth.

‘Wye’s supposed to be good,’ says Ant. Who am I to argue? I have a brief moment of guilt thinking that I should call Mum in case I drown at Wye in the surf and she hears it on the news, but then I decide what she doesn’t know won’t hurt her. It’s an hour’s drive along the winding road. The surf’s building up.

We slide into Wye and there’re cars everywhere. Surfies everywhere. Dogs everywhere. Nearly everyone in Australia’s here. Even—

‘COLA.’

She turns around and pulls a face.

‘Can’t get away from you, can I?’

‘How did you get here? Who brought you? When did you go? Why’d you piss off?’

‘What’s this, twenty questions?’

She glares at me, clutching Leanne’s “Hot Buttered” bag that I got on a special from Strapper for Christmas. Dumb questions. Who cares how she got here? I guess I’d POQ if I had the Chromes after me, only I’d go further than Wye River, like the moon.

‘Steve’ll get you police protection,’ I go, ‘and he’s working on setting up a meeting with your mum. You
want that, don’t you?’

She scuffs the sand with her toe as the surfies mill round us getting their boards off roof racks to hit the surf. Then she shrugs and gives me this look.

‘You’ll be safe with us, Cola.’

‘Yeah. Right.’

I realise then that she can’t be safe unless she’s in a concrete dugout. A whole army of cops can’t protect her twenty-four hours a day in our town.

‘Who’s this?’ says Ant curiously, cruising up with his board under his arm. He’s impatient, ready to hit the surf. I introduce them and explain about Cola.

‘What’s the problem?’ says Ant. ‘Jan Juc isn’t Chrome country. You can move in with Fi and me till you get sorted. We’ve got a place under the house. Bed, shower, toilet. And you can eat with us, Cola. My brother was staying but he’s cleared off up north for a while.’

Everyone seems to be clearing off up north.

‘What about school?’ I go. ‘She can’t rock up to school or someone’ll dob to the Chromes.’

‘It’ll only be till I get fostered out,’ says Cola, looking excited. ‘It sounds cool.’

‘No parties, no drugs,’ says Ant. ‘You might get
bored outa your skull. There’s no action: it’s winter time. But it’s just across the road from the surf. Great walks.’

‘I’ll give it a go.’

‘Right. Now we’ve got some top waves to catch. If you’re serious you’ll be here when we get back. If you’re not …’ Ant shrugs. ‘Come on, Sam.’

I struggle into my wetsuit behind the LTD and grab the board. I look back at Cola hunched up, her knees to her chin, gazing at me against a background of grey sky and mist. Then I walk down the track to the beach.

We hit the surf. The swell’s filthy, really good junket, and I forget about Cola as I bury myself in the surf. I lose all track of time. Eventually I’ve got no energy left and I have to go ashore. I’m totally wiped. Ant follows.

There’s no sign of Cola.

‘I should’ve stayed with her.’

‘Look, Sam, you can’t be responsible for her. She got a good offer; she could take it or leave it.’

‘She said she was taking it,’ I say, scouring the beach with my eyes for her.

‘So she changed her mind. Let’s go.’

‘But what if the Chromes have got her?’

‘We can’t do anything about it, can we?’

I think about this. I can’t fight a crew of Chromes, even if I did find where they’ve taken her.

We get into the LTD and belt back along the twisting bends of the Great Ocean Road. I fret about Cola. I should’ve stayed, should’ve called Steve, should’ve told her to sit in the LTD …

‘Can you drop me at Strapper?’ I ask. ‘Mum’ll be picking me up from there in ten minutes.’

Ant drops me outside Strapper then roars off back to Jan Juc. I sit on the edge of the gutter, feeling tired, cold and depressed. Why is life so complicated? I’ve really stuffed up, losing Cola. And Leanne’ll kill me when she finds out I didn’t grab back her gear.

Mum screams up and I get in the Falcon. Do I tell her about Cola or not? She’ll probably bawl me out for not staying with her and calling Steve. So I don’t say anything.

‘You’re quiet,’ she says.

‘Tired.’

‘Did you work on a lot of boards?’

I tell her about Strapper not having any work, and about Ant’s offer. She doesn’t look too thrilled: it means she’s got to drive me an extra five k to Ant’s at Jan Juc. Big deal!

‘Steve’s got in contact with Cola’s mother. She’s keen to see her. Apparently the new marriage didn’t work out. Cola’s mother’s on her own, trying to sort out her life.’

This news should thrill me, but it doesn’t. Cola’s mum sounds like a full-on loser. What’s to stop her clicking onto some other deadhead and repeating the whole thing? Where’ll that leave Cola? I say this to Mum.

‘You can’t work out other people’s lives for them, Sam. If Cola’s mother wants her back, and Cola wants to go back, you have to let them sort it all out together.’

‘Yeah, right. But we can’t tell Cola any stuff because we don’t know where she is, do we?’ I go. ‘Right this minute the Chromes might be shredding her.’

‘You have a vivid imagination, Sam. She’s probably conned some nice family into adopting her,’ says Mum.

‘Yeah, right.’

It’s so frustrating. Fate seems to always stuff up. If I’d known this info about Cola’s mum a few hours ago I could’ve got the big reunion scene organised and Cola out of Chrome territory and they both might have lived happily ever after.
Might
.

‘I’ve got another problem,’ says Mum. ‘Leanne. She’s now decided she’s engaged to be engaged to Danny.’

‘I thought you liked Danny.’

I get a bad thought.

‘It’s not because he’s Aboriginal, is it?’

‘Good heavens, no. I think he’s a lovely boy. But they’re too young. How can Leanne know if she’s really in love? She hasn’t had enough experience.’

Leanne? She’s been running round with boys behind Mum’s back since she was thirteen. She’s been in love about a hundred times. If she doesn’t know the real thing by now she never will, I’m thinking, as Mum rolls into our driveway.

‘Mum, just leave her alone, okay? Believe me, Leanne will sort out her life.’

Mum sighs.

‘I guess I don’t have a choice. Funny thing, I can accept that Cola’s mother might stuff up again, having messed up her life before, but I can’t accept that Leanne might stuff up.’

‘Well, she’s your only daughter, Mum. You’re emotionally involved.’

‘Exactly. And if I try to stop her seeing Danny she’ll probably do something crazy like leaving school and
moving in with him.’

Why do all adults think that going to school is the be-all and end-all of everything? I’ve often wondered if space creatures from an intelligent planet landed here they’d be shocked that we humans herd our young into big boxes called schools from age five to age eighteen to sit all day long learning stuff which, in the main, is useless.

We go into the kitchen. There’s a really nice smell of cooking—Mum’s homemade vegie soup, and her chicken casserole. I decide to take a shower. The hot water stings my shoulders like piercing needles and I’m glad to be warm. I wonder where Cola is: shivering in some deserted shed or under a bridge? Or has she hitched a ride to Adelaide? Or decided to go back home?

We eat tea at the kitchen table, Danny and Leanne, Steve and Mum. And me.

‘I wonder where Cola is,’ says Leanne.

‘Dunno.’

I stare at my chicken casserole. Suddenly I don’t feel very hungry any more.

‘Saturday night. You going out, Sam-boy?’

‘Huh? Me?’

‘You.’

Leanne cuddles up to Danny and Mum looks fondly at Steve. I feel like the odd one out.

‘Why don’t you call Bin and ask her out?’ goes Leanne. ‘Take her to a movie or something.’

‘I dunno …’

Trouble is, if I take Bin to a movie she might think we’re going together again. I don’t want to be hooked up to a girl right now. I like Bin a lot, but I don’t want to be a permanent item. Pity I couldn’t just date her when I feel like it, put her “on ice” if I want to go out with someone else. Like Cola.

But it doesn’t seem to work that way. You’re either involved up to your armpits or you’re not.

‘We’re outa here,’ says Leanne, when we’ve eaten the dessert, lemon cheesecake.

‘Not till you’ve done the dishes.’

‘Aw, Mum … it’s Sam’s turn. He never does anything round here, gets away with murder and—’

‘Who? Me?’

‘Listen, you little turd, I’ll …’

‘LEANNE. Don’t speak to your brother like that!’

‘Come on, Sam. You and me are doing dishes,’ says Danny. ‘Leanne, go put your face on.’

‘What’s wrong with my face?’ says Leanne, hands
on hips.

‘Being run over by a steamroller could improve it,’ I go.

Danny laughs.

‘You’re beautiful the way you are, Leanne, but I know you. We’ll get to the movies and you’ll see some babe from school all done up and you’ll want to put on the war paint.’

Leanne gives him a hug and rushes out.

He knows her so well! How does he do it? I can’t figure out females at all!

‘So, Sam. Do you want to come with us, bring Bin?’ says Danny, filling the sink with hot water and squirting in detergent so that the bubbles foam to the top.

Leanne’ll kill me if I drag along too. Maybe Danny doesn’t know babes after all.

‘Nah, I think I’ll get a video. Or maybe go to Cooja’s place.’

Just then the phone rings.

‘Sam, get the phone,’ yells Mum from the lounge room where she’s taken her coffee to be alone with Steve.

‘Why me? It won’t
be
for me, it’ll be for …’

‘Just
do it
.’

‘Okay, okay.’

I pick up the receiver.

‘Hi, Sam.’

‘
Cola
!’

My heart gives this huge lurch.

‘Where are you?’

‘At Ant’s place. Told you I was going there.’

‘But—we looked for you. You’d disappeared.’

‘I got cold,’ said Cola.

‘You could’ve sat in the LTD.’

‘It was locked.’

‘Oh. Yeah. Well—how did you get to Ant’s? How did you know where to go?’

‘Some guys were leaving so I asked. They knew where Ant and Fi live so they dropped me here.’

She makes it sound so simple.

‘It’s dangerous to hitch. They could’ve been, like, serious serial killers,’ I go.

‘With names like Tubey and Bicka?’

‘Oh, Tubey and Bicka, they’re cool.’

‘So what’s your grief, then?’

‘Well, nothin’. Except that I didn’t know where you were.’

‘What was I s’posed to do, like, write a message in the sand?’

‘There’s such a thing as paper, pen and a
windscreen.’

I sound sort of … possessive. I decide to change tactics.

‘Steve’s found your mum, and that Lennie guy’s out of her life,’ I go.

Silence.

‘Hey, Cola. You still there?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Your mum wants you to come back home.’

‘Yeah? Till she meets the next loser?’

‘Look, Cola, she wants to get her act together. Maybe this time she’ll make it,’ I say, remembering what Mum said.

‘Yeah.’

‘You should give her a chance.’

‘I’ll think about it.’

I can hear noise in the background.

‘Where’re you ringing from?’

‘Ant’s. In their lounge room.’