The Crush (11 page)

A quick inside pass to the left and Matt ran in for his third try. The siren sounded and the Mongrels had won again. The guys belted out their victory song as Chris converted the final two points. Beaten, the Fairfield Marist College players sat, crouched or stood round the field, too stunned to move or feel. They'd lost—just. They'd played an honourable game and Matt couldn't help but applaud their performance.

‘Hey, fellas!' Matt called out to his teammates, clapping his hands above his head. The Mongrels did likewise as the Fairfield players headed off the ground. Although defeated, the Fairfield team returned the mark of respect.

A roar echoed from the neighbouring footy field.
Hundreds of Mother of Mercy College girls in green uniforms and Princes boys in grey slacks, pressed white shirts, ties and purple and gold blazers leapt into the air and shouted as their team scored another try.

‘So much for hoping they would lose,' Grover said.

‘They go straight to the grand final now,' Hazem added.

‘Look at that score, would you?' Chris said.

It was a massacre: 32–nil.

‘Don't worry,' Matt said. ‘We proved they aren't invincible. We'll do it again.'

He hoped his words sounded convincing. Every guy in his team knew Princes would be hungrier to win next time they met. They were a top team and top teams always rallied at the right time. But so were the Mongrels. Matt just hoped the guys wouldn't feel beaten before they stepped onto the field.

Grover saved the day. ‘Bring 'em on. I want to do some serious pounding.'

Grins jumped to the Mongrels' faces and they broke up laughing. That shattered the moment and everyone returned to a party mood. Chris suggested they celebrate their win by raiding the nearest pizza joint for some Hawaiian, meatlover's and extra-spicy babes.

Matt stood and watched the rest of the Princes game from a distance as his team made its way home. Chris joined him, carrying his school bag and boots.

‘You thinking what I'm thinking?' Matt asked.

‘Yeah. What's the phone number of that blonde over there?'

Matt laughed and shoved his mate. ‘Man, you're obsessed.'

‘Graduated my class with top honours.'

‘Pity you keep on flunking with the real thing.'

It was Chris's turn to push Matt away. ‘You can talk.'

‘So, what do you think? If we get into the grand final, can we beat them?'

‘I hope so. I'm sick of them paying us out because of where we live and what school we go to. I'm sick of them calling us ferals and driving their flashy cars past us like we're supposed to worship them. I'm tired of them getting praised all the time when we know they're shallow. We're just as good as them. You hear me, rich boys!' He yelled at the crowd but his words didn't carry.

‘Hey, is that them?' Matt said, nudging his mate.

Chris twisted about and saw two men talking to their coach. The first, a squat man in his fifties with glasses and grey hair, was dressed in a blue and white windcheater. The second, a lanky Aboriginal
man in his thirties, with cropped hair and a gap between his front two teeth, wore a black, gold and white jacket.

‘That's them,' Chris said. ‘The scouts. From the Doggies and the Tigers, by the looks of it.'

‘Who do you think they're talking about?'

‘The ballboy. Who do you reckon?'

Matt felt flustered. ‘Do you think I should go and introduce myself?'

‘Nah, if they want to know you, they'll introduce themselves. And stop staring, would you. They might think you're too eager.'

‘What should I do then?'

‘Find me a girl as good-looking as yours.'

‘Huh?'

Matt followed Chris's gaze. Sneaking towards them, Kelly was half-running, half-walking as she kept stealing glances over her shoulder. But her teachers and peers hadn't spotted her. They were distracted by the dying minutes of the game. Matt felt feverish all of a sudden.

‘I'll see you later at the Pizza Hut, stud,' Chris said, slapping him on the shoulder. ‘That's if you haven't already had a few
love
bites by then.' He laughed and left Matt feeling churned up and embarrassed.

‘Hey, Kelly, how's it going?' he asked, composing himself in time. No. Wait a minute. Was that grass in his hair? Get rid of it, dork.

Kelly looked over her shoulder again, then whispered, ‘Great. You?'

‘We won.'

‘I know. I heard you singing.'

He blushed and rubbed the back of his scalp. ‘Not a number one hit, huh?'

‘Only if every musician in the world retires.' They grinned together before she asked him about the weekend. ‘How'd you go with your dad?'

‘Fantastic. Better than I expected. The guards were sadists but he was really cool. I'm definitely going to see him again.'

‘What's he look like?'

‘Like me except taller and he has a goatee.'

‘That explains the bum fluff on your chin,' she said, playfully stroking his dozen blond whiskers. Matt blushed a rich red. Her fingers were smooth.

‘So what's he like? Is he normal?'

‘For a bank robber, yeah.'

‘He's a bank robber!'

‘Uh-huh. A famous one. The Laughing Skull Bandit. I asked my teacher today and he said he remembered him. He used to go into banks
wearing this skull mask. Apparently it had a big smile on it like it was laughing. Somebody even made a telemovie about him a couple of years ago.'

‘Is he …? Y'know …?'

‘No, he said that part of his life's over. He really didn't want to talk about it.'

‘That's good.'

He nodded. ‘I don't know how I would've felt if I'd found out he'd shot or killed someone.'

A parent walked past and slapped Matt on the back. ‘Good game, son.'

‘Thanks.'

He watched the man leave.

‘Have you told your mum yet?' Kelly asked.

‘Nup. Things are pretty frosty between us. She wanted to know if I'd been in her room. I said no but she didn't believe me. We got into a major fight again.'

‘Did you put the letters back in her drawer?'

He nodded. ‘Though I reckon I should've left them on the kitchen table to see her reaction. I can't live with her anymore knowing she's lying to me every day.'

A couple of swallows darted around the empty footy oval, swooping on jittery insects jumping
between blades of grass. The distraction gave Matt a chance to change the subject. ‘How's your arm?' It wasn't in a sling any more.

‘Healed, see? And I got my dad to fix the door so it won't slam as hard next time.'

Hey? What door?

‘I should be okay from now on. I won't be as clumsy in future.'

‘Good,' he answered, emptily. ‘So how's everything between you and Aaron, anyway?'

She glanced back at the match. ‘Fine. We're just as strong as ever.'

‘Oh. That's, er, good to hear.'

‘Are those the talent scouts?' she asked, noticing the two men waving goodbye to Matt's coach. They were both heading towards the Princes game.

He said they were.

‘Then it's true.'

‘What's true?'

‘They're here to talk to Aaron.'

‘What?'

‘My dad's heard whispers that the Bulldogs are keen to see Aaron pull on a blue and white jersey next year.'

‘Are you kidding?'

‘No. His father's been doing a lot of wheeling and
dealing with the club. My dad's convinced Aaron's a dead cert.'

Matt was stunned. ‘Are they … interested in anyone else?'

‘Dad thinks so but he's not sure. I'll ask him again tonight if you like.'

‘Thanks.' He suddenly felt nauseous. The scouts had already picked Blackwell. No. It wasn't fair.

Kelly giggled.

‘What?' he asked.

‘Then again, I could stop toying with you and tell you now.'

‘Huh?'

‘Dad said the Doggies were extremely interested in you too,' she said, grinning cheekily.

‘Are you joking?'

She wasn't.

‘All right!' He laughed through heavy sighs of relief. ‘You really had me going.'

‘I know. I was just having fun.'

‘I'll give you fun!'

He chased her across the footy field, trying to tackle her. Too fast, she zigzagged out of his reach, goading him with her laughter. Eventually he ran out of breath, just as the full-time siren blew. Doubled up, he watched Kelly run back towards the Lions
match, flirting with him with her playful eyes. She met up with the team as they punched their arms into the air and screamed in celebration. They were through to the grand final. Again. Blackwell saw his girlfriend and lifted her into the air. He let her slide into his arms for a passionate kiss. Hot jealousy fired up in Matt's chest until he saw Kelly was looking sideways at him.

 

Sand sprayed across the grass as Matt booted a football perched on a mound. The ball spun end over end as it arced towards the centre of the goalposts. He held his breath. Goal!

‘She loves me!' he shouted.

Goofily, he trotted over to reclaim the ball, his only companion on the field. The rest of his teammates were happily pigging out at the Pizza Hut. He bent to pick up the football and couldn't help but smile. One Sydney club was definitely talking about him, even to the point where he might make a lower grade side as early as the following year. Wait until his dad found out. He'd be rapt. Oh, yeah. Maybe his mother too.

He remembered Kelly toying with him and he smiled. Beautiful Kelly. They were fast becoming good friends. She didn't have to come over and see
him but she did. She could've made her teachers mad, not to mention her boyfriend. Maybe she …

No, it was best not to get his hopes up.

He built another mound of sand and placed the ball on it. Taking a deep breath, he stepped backwards and double-checked the angle. It had been a while since he'd practised kicking for goal. Chris was the team's sharpshooter but Matt wanted to impress the talent scouts any way he could. And if that meant adding kicking to his skills, then he'd practise all night.

Thump!
The ball swung too far to the right.

‘She loves me not.'

Dragging his feet over to the ball, the eighty-minute workout finally caught up with him. His legs and guts hurt, and he needed to rub some soothing ointment into his calves.

He bent to scoop up the ball when,
bang
, he was hit from behind. A football bulleted into the back of his skull and knocked him off his feet. Dizzy and in pain, he rose to his hands and knees before a boot kicked him back onto the grass.

‘I thought we had a deal, Cassidy.'

‘Whey?' Matt answered, mixing up his words.

‘The concert. Remember our talk? You were supposed to lose last week. But did you? No. You not
only won but you won again today. I thought you were smarter than that.'

‘Blackwell?'

‘And friends. Now how about our deal, feral?'

‘I told you I don't throw games.'

‘Wrong answer. Fellas.'

Two of Blackwell's goons grabbed Matt and hoisted him to his feet. Matt looked around for help. There was none.

‘I warned you.'

Blackwell punched Matt in the chest. The pain detonated in his guts and brought him to his knees again. He felt like vomiting but the goons didn't let up. They lifted him again and gave Blackwell another shot.

‘You've got one more chance, Cassidy. Are you going to throw your next game?'

‘No.'

‘Sorry?'

‘No!'

‘Dumb feral!'

The first punch hit him in the face. The second in the kidneys. By the third, he was doubled up and hoping that the hurt would end swiftly.

A chill set in across Bankstown at seven o'clock. Residents locked their doors early and rugged themselves up in front of the television. A Ford pulled up outside a house and after a brief farewell, a teenage boy stepped into the cold. Chris
brrr
ed a mouthful of steam as he waved to Rhino and his two hulking brothers before they drove off. Pulling out his keys, he walked to the side gate. A sensor light blinked on and blinded a body slumped against the fence. It hissed and covered its eyes.

‘Matty?'

The Sundance Kid rushed over to his friend then stopped. Red and swollen, Matt's face was streaked with blood from where his cheek had been split open. His neck was bruised, as were his arms and
legs. He was still wearing his footy jersey and shorts despite the chill. Matt was shivering, but not just from the cold.

‘Who did this to you?' Chris asked, pulling off his jacket.

‘Blackwell,' Matt said, swallowing dryly. ‘And friends.'

‘Why?'

He told him. Chris was incensed. ‘When?'

‘After the match.'

‘And you've been here ever since?'

Matt tried nodding. ‘I didn't know where else to go.'

Chris started lifting Matt up by the armpits. ‘C'mon, you've got to get inside.'

‘Don't let your parents see me—'

‘Don't worry. They're at my uncle's place. They won't be back for hours.'

They staggered inside the Pearce home. Chris rolled Matt off his shoulder into a wooden chair then flicked on the kitchen light. The Sundance Kid almost choked. He hurriedly turned on a lamp next to the phone then cancelled the kitchen light.

‘I've got to tell Rhino and the guys. Blackwell can't do this to one of us.'

‘No! Chris, I don't want them involved.'

‘Are you kidding? When Blackwell threatened you, he got us involved.'

‘Please. It's over. Don't make things worse.'

Wide-eyed, Chris couldn't believe what he was hearing. ‘But Blackwell nearly killed you tonight.'

‘I don't want another fight, okay?'

‘That's crazy. He's gonna get one whether you like it or not.'

He reached for the phone and punched in the numbers.

‘Chris, hang up,' Matt pleaded. ‘It'll only cause more grief.'

‘Yeah, for him.'

The phone kept ringing as Chris twisted on the spot, willing for someone to answer. He turned round to check on Matt, only to find him out of his seat and reaching for the handset.

‘Matty, don't!'
Ching
. A dead line. ‘Whatcha do that for?'

‘I said I don't want any more fights.'

‘He hurt you, man. I just can't sit around and forget what happened. You're my mate. It's like him attacking my brother.'

‘Then if you're my mate, you'll listen to what I'm saying.'

‘You're afraid to fight him, aren't you?' Chris asked,
punching in a new number. Matt tried killing the line again, but the Sundance Kid blocked him.

‘You know exactly why I don't fight.'

‘But that was a long time ago.'

‘Not for me.'

The ploy didn't work. Chris turned to the wall as a woman's voice said, ‘Hello?'

‘Yeah, is Hazem there? Cheers.'

Matt shuffled towards the back door.

‘Where are you going?' Chris asked.

‘I don't want to be a part of this.'

‘Get back here. Don't be stupid.'

‘Sorry, but you're the one being stupid.'

Phone still in his ear, Chris watched Matt drag himself towards the exit. Just as Hazem answered, Chris huffed and hung up. ‘If you weren't my best mate …'

He never finished the threat. He stormed from the kitchen towards the bathroom. Matt watched him go and caught sight of his reflection in a display cabinet's mirror. His face had been mashed. Afraid, he turned away.

Chris returned with towels and hot water. He dragged a chair over to Matt, ordered him to sit and wiped the blood and grass away from his face. Blood still dripped from his cheek.

‘You've got to get stitches, man.'

‘No hospitals. The doctors will tell my mum.'

‘Sorry, mate. That's the deal. If you don't want me to ring the guys, then you've got to go to hospital. We'll tell the doctors you got injured playing football.'

Matt winced as Chris dabbed hot water on his cheek again. He could tell his mate was angry with him, but Matt believed he'd made the right decision. Blackwell had made his point. That would be the end of it.

 

Matt was wrong. Things only got worse.

The next day at school, with his face mangled, he was in trouble before he stepped off the bus. From his seat, he could see graffiti spraypainted on the music block's walls:
Matt Cassidy is a legend! Up the Mongrels! No school if we make the grand final! Nobody can stop us—not even the teachers!
The busload of students cheered, whistled and clapped as Matt sank in his seat.

Avoiding all teachers, he headed for his locker in the English and history block. Along the way, he saw a yellow poster advertising a party that weekend, at his place! He tore it down and read the words:
Going away celebration! Help me trash the joint! Everybody welcome. Bring all your friends
. He scouted the
quadrangle. A yellow poster was on every pole and window. He tore down those he could see and blanched when he spotted more outside the school grounds along the highway.

Enraged, he marched straight to his locker. He'd stash his bag then skip school for the rest of the day. No, the rest of the week. He had to escape before the teachers found him.

Entering the central corridor, he immediately noticed his locker. The small metal door was askew, the lock was busted and the edges were twisted back. Someone had jemmied it open. He ran towards it, angry. This was his own private space.

He opened the door to see what had been taken and gasped. Quickly, he banged the door shut. But the whole thing was busted.

‘Mr Cassidy! Don't move!'

The Dragon Lady marched straight for him, eyes smouldering with hate and teeth ready to rip into flesh. She stopped in front of him as he backed up against his locker.

‘I've been searching for you all morning. Open your locker, please.'

He paled.

‘Ms Draco, I can't.'

‘Why? You have hands, don't you?'

‘Yes, but—'

‘If you won't do it, then I will. So move!'

Reluctantly, Matt stepped aside. The Dragon Lady glared at him then opened his locker. She pulled out a bag of ecstasy and held it in front of his face. ‘Your playlunch?'

 

The two police officers stood up and shook hands with the Dragon Lady, who sombrely thanked them for coming. They looked at Matt menacingly, warned him that they would be talking to him again, then placed their hats back on. The deputy principal walked them outside.

‘Well, Matthew. Are you going to sit there or tell me the truth?' the Dragon Lady said.

‘Like I told the cops, the drugs aren't mine.'

‘Then whose are they?'

‘I don't know.'

There was a knock at the door. Saved!

‘Who is it?' the Dragon Lady snapped.

‘Ms Cassidy is here to see you,' the secretary said, cracking open the door.

‘Send her in.'

Matt's heart raced faster. Not his mum!

She stepped into the room, still wearing her council worker overalls. Her boots and hands were
flecked with tar. By the confusion in her eyes, it was clear that no one had told her why she'd been summoned. The Dragon Lady introduced herself then asked his mum to have a seat.

‘Matthew! What happened to your face?'

He tried turning away from her. He'd crashed at Chris's place again. ‘I got injured at footy practice.'

‘What were you practising against? Elephants? And are those stitches?'

Impatiently, the Dragon Lady cleared her throat. ‘Ms Cassidy, I'm sorry to call you here but this is urgent. We found a bag of ecstasy in Matthew's locker this morning.'

‘What?'

‘We've called the police, who have confiscated the drugs—'

‘Wait a minute. Ecstasy?'

‘A whole bag of it.'

‘Matthew, are you taking drugs?'

‘No. It's not mine, I swear.'

‘Then whose is it?'

‘I don't know.'

‘Then how did it get in your locker?'

‘Someone broke into it overnight and planted it. Ask Ms Draco. I found the lock busted when I got to school.'

‘Who's this “someone”?'

‘I don't know.'

‘I think you do,' the Dragon Lady said.

‘No, I don't.'

‘They're the same people who spraypainted graffiti on the music block and put up all those posters, aren't they?'

‘What graffiti? What posters?' his mum asked.

The Dragon Lady explained the other pranks to her.

‘And you had nothing to do with those either?'

‘No. If I did, I wouldn't be stupid enough to sign my own name.'

‘Then who is doing this to you?'

He refused to answer. Let them convince themselves he was guilty!

‘Stop protecting them, Matthew,' the Dragon Lady said. ‘Tell us why they are doing this to you. Are you in trouble?'

‘No.'

‘Then what's going on?'

‘Nothing's going on, all right?' He almost jumped from his seat.

‘Sit down,' the Dragon Lady said.

‘Why? You don't believe me, do you?'

‘Why should I if you keep on carrying on like this?'

They stared at each other before he fell back into his seat and crossed his arms.

The Dragon Lady breathed out. ‘If you don't tell me who's responsible, then I'm going to hold you accountable for all this.'

‘Now wait a minute,' his mum said. ‘My son's no drug dealer. And I believe him when he says the drugs aren't his. He knows I'd kill him if they were.'

The Dragon Lady sighed wearily. ‘I'm not stupid, Ms Cassidy. Despite what some people might think, teachers do have brains. If Matthew was on drugs or dealing them at my school, I'd know about it. Kids talk and that talk eventually gets back to me. I know which kids are on drugs and which ones aren't. I even know whose parents are taking drugs and supplying them to their kids.

‘Matthew isn't on drugs. I know that for a fact. He's one of the better students at this school and would be one of the best if he didn't fool around with his friends so much. But someone has to be punished for this. Every kid in this school will know by recess that drugs have been found in Matthew's locker. I can't have students protecting other students at this school, even if they are innocent. So I've decided to suspend your son for three weeks.'

‘What!' Matt said.

‘He'll still have to come to school every day but—'

‘What about football?'

‘You're suspended from that as well.'

‘No! You can't do that! We're playing in the semi-final.'

‘Then tell me who owns the drugs, Matthew.'

Blackwell! Blackwell! Blackwell! How much he wanted to scream that name. But he couldn't. There were rules.

Outside, as he waited with his mum for the bus, he grudgingly thanked her for sticking up for him.

‘Don't “thank you mum” me. We're not finished yet.'

‘Hey?'

‘This isn't over. I want to know what's going on.'

‘I told you I don't know.'

‘I thought we were supposed to be honest with each other.'

He snorted. ‘That's good coming from you.'

‘What's that supposed to mean?'

He didn't answer and flagged the bus instead.

‘
Matthew?
'