The Shattering (11 page)

‘I do!' Janna said triumphantly. ‘Did
you
know that Miffy was actually Dutch?'

‘Dutch?' Takeshi asked, pulling out the electronic dictionary.

‘From the Netherlands.'

‘Hi, Sione,' Aroha said. Pretty sharply, actually. From the way her eyebrows lifted, he could tell she was already sick of being shut out of the conversation. He risked a small grin at her, and she grinned back.

‘Oh, hi,' Janna said. ‘I wondered when you were coming.'

‘Can I have a quick word?' he managed to say, and Janna went aside with him, smiling at Takeshi as she went.

‘Have you talked to anyone else yet?' Sione asked, trying not to sound accusatory.

The smile dropped. ‘A few. Where's Keri?'

‘No idea.'

‘That's weird. She's usually really punctual.'

‘I thought we were meeting at my room? Coming together?'

‘Oh, were we?' she said. ‘I thought we were meeting at the beach at seven. I was wondering where you were.' She laughed. ‘I was just getting good and angry at you — what a waste of energy! Okay, anyway, I talked to a couple of guys, but none of them fit the bill.'

‘No older brothers?'

‘A few, but none staying until New Year.' Her eyes strayed back to Takeshi. ‘Look, can I ask you to talk to people for a bit? I don't want to give Takeshi the wrong idea.'

Sione felt his already-withering hopes dry to dust. ‘I . . .' He choked. ‘Janna . . .'

‘Hey,' she said, and squeezed his hand. ‘Friends, right?'

‘Sure,' he said, and stumbled away from her before he could see her turn back to Takeshi with the come-hither look she'd turned on for him once and never again.

‘Hey,' a soft voice said behind him.

Sione turned. Aroha was looking at him — not exactly with sympathy but with kindness. ‘Do you want to get a beer?'

‘I don't really drink,' he said. But as soon as he said it, he wanted the light dizziness of being drunk, the feeling of not having to worry about anything that was happening to him.

‘Me either. But you look like you need one. And they probably have Coke?'

‘Sure,' he said. ‘That's . . . nice of you.'

She shrugged and set off toward one of the tables on the other side of the beach. ‘I got dumped four weeks ago. Sucks, doesn't it?'

‘I wasn't exactly going out with her,' he admitted. ‘She doesn't owe me anything.'

‘Doesn't matter. Still sucks.'

‘How did you deal with it?'

‘Oh, all the ways the movies say girls should. Ice cream. Bitch sessions with friends about how he was never good enough for me in the first place. Didn't key his car — probably should have. He loved that thing way more than me.'

Sione managed a rusty laugh. ‘So what's next?'

Aroha glanced up at him, an odd little smile on her lips. ‘Rebound relationship, I guess.'

Sione might have come up with a response to that, but just then he noticed that the two guys grabbing beer cans from a chilly bin at the table looked familiar. The bonfire flared as someone threw on another log, and the light revealed their faces.

‘Hey!' he said, in surprise as much as greeting, and the two older boys turned to face him. Luke and Mark were summer friends — of Matthew's, of course, not his — Tongans from Upper Hutt. And Luke was a perfect candidate for the killer: the right age, an older brother, and living somewhere the killer hadn't struck recently.

Okay. He could do this. ‘Hey, guys. How's it going?'

The brothers looked at each other, faces strange in the flicker-ing firelight.

‘Oh, yeah,' Mark said after a long pause. ‘Little Felise. Want a beer? What's up?'

Sione winced. They hadn't recognised him right away. He took a can of beer and cracked it open, just to give himself something to do. ‘Uh, not much, eh,' he said, trying to remember if they knew about Matthew. Mum had sent the news to so many people, but she might have missed the regular Summerton crowd. ‘So, you guys going to be here for the —'

Luke broke in. ‘Who's your friend?'

‘I'm Aroha,' she said, and held out her hand. Luke looked down at it, then at Mark, and his full mouth twisted into a sneer.

That expression didn't look right on Luke's face, and Sione blinked. The air felt weird, electric tingling around them.

‘That's a Maori name,' Luke said. ‘You Maori, A-ro-ha?'

‘No,' she said. ‘Blame my mum. She liked it.' She tucked her rejected hand into her pocket, shrinking herself a little, but her voice came out clear. ‘So how do you know each other?'

‘We knew his brother. Used to be a little band of four. Matthew, Mark, Luke — and him.' Luke jerked his chin at Sione. ‘Except it's funny, eh? We got white names, and Sione got the Pasifika one.' He dragged out Sione's name the way he had Aroha's:
see-oh-neh
, mocking emphasis on every syllable.

‘Why's that funny?' Aroha asked cautiously, and Sione wanted to stop her, because he could recognise the setup for a putdown even if he didn't know exactly what it would be.

‘Because
Sione's
the potato,' Luke said, and stood there smirking at them while Sione's stomach went into freefall.

He couldn't believe it. Not from Luke. These guys never wanted to bother with him, but they'd either ignored him or let him tag along when they went swimming or played beach cricket with Matthew and the others.

They'd never done this.

Aroha stiffened again, this time with anger.

‘Hey —' she began. ‘Hay's for horses, beer's for men,' Luke said, which didn't even make sense, and he grabbed at Sione's beer. Out of instinct more than anything, Sione kept his grip on the can.

‘Hey, man,' Mark said. ‘Take it easy, eh? Sione's okay.'

Luke snorted. ‘Yeah? I should take it easy on you, Little Felise?' He pushed Sione's shoulders, sending him stumbling back in the soft sand. ‘Take it easy, you little faggot?'

‘Oh, fuck
you
!' Aroha snapped. ‘Sione, let's go.'

He wanted to leave, but he couldn't turn and meekly follow her. He had to say something, let Luke know this wasn't okay, ask him what he'd done.

But he thought he knew.

Too smart, too rich, too small. Not a real man.

He could feel his mouth opening and shutting like a fish's.

‘Sione,' Aroha said again, flickering glances at Luke as he sauntered over, ugly, unfamiliar smile firmly fixed on his face. He loomed over Sione, blocking out the moon.

‘Bro, nah, come on, let's get another drink,' Mark said, and was reaching out for his brother's arm when Luke shoved Sione again, knocking him onto his ass.

‘
Hey!
' someone shouted behind Sione, and then Janna barrelled past him and shoved Luke in the chest.

Luke took a step backward, probably more out of surprise than at the impact, and pushed Janna out of the way.

She shrieked, and fell into the sand — not hard, but Sione could finally move, in her defence if not his. He threw the can of beer straight at Luke's face. It flew uselessly past his cheek, but Luke shouted and grabbed for him.

But Takeshi was already there, standing between Janna and Luke, the muscles in his bare arms standing out as he clenched his fists and stared at Luke. Mark was saying something to Luke, trying to get him to calm down, but if Takeshi threw the first punch, Sione knew Mark would probably help his brother. It was important to back up family. Takeshi looked pretty strong, but Luke and Mark would destroy him. Sione staggered to his feet, trying to make himself ready to fight.

‘
Police!
' a huge voice roared. ‘Come on, break it up!'

And Sergeant Rafferty appeared, bigger than Mark, bigger than Luke, huge white hands grabbing Luke at the scruff of the neck like a cat would a kitten. ‘Who taught you to hit girls, sunshine?' he asked, and his voice was soft and heavy.

Sione saw it cross his face, the exact moment when Luke realised that he'd pushed a local white girl in front of a local white cop. He didn't protest Sergeant Rafferty's hand on his neck. His eyes flickered over Sione's face, oddly pleading, as if he couldn't work out what was going on, as if he couldn't work out how he'd got to this moment, what he'd done to make this happen.

It was exactly how Sione felt, and
he
hadn't pushed anyone. Aroha was explaining what had happened, voice high and angry over Mark's faltering explanation that Luke had been only joking, and Sione turned away, feeling sick. He hadn't done a damn thing.

‘And you're okay?' he heard Sergeant Rafferty ask, and looked over his shoulder. Janna was flicking sand out of her cleavage, looking more irritated than anything else, but the sergeant wasn't talking to her.

‘I'm fine,' Takeshi replied. ‘May I go?'

‘Sure. You're sure you're okay, though? We've got the ambos on standby.'

Takeshi hesitated — probably because he couldn't work out
ambulances
from
ambos
— and then looked at Janna.

‘We're okay,' she said, and stepped toward Sione as the sergeant, still shooting worried glances at Takeshi, walked away to make sure the boys left the beach. ‘What happened?' she asked.

‘He called me a potato,' Sione said. His voice sounded strange — well, of course it did; it was the first thing he'd said since the whole thing began. His messenger bag was
heavy
— why the hell had he brought it to the beach? Did he think it would make him look like less of a dick?

‘What —' Takeshi began, and Sione broke.

‘Brown on the outside, white on the inside, okay?' he snapped. ‘
Fia palagi
. Not really Samoan.
Rich
boy in his fancy clothes, too smart, no mates, pathetic tosser who only wants to be
white
—'

‘Sione —'

He whirled away from Janna's hand on his shoulder. ‘I've — I'm done, okay? You'll have to do it.' He gestured at the spectators, all the curious young men. ‘
You'll
have to.'

‘Of course. Sure, no problem.'

‘You need to — Luke's not really like that,' he said. ‘I could have handled it, okay? They weren't going to do anything!' That was a lie, he knew . Luke was massive, and he'd been so weirdly aggressive, for no reason Sione could pin down. It couldn't have been that he was with Aroha, who was watching him with an unreadable expression. Those guys hit on palagi girls all the time. He'd seen them.

Sione was afraid it was just him, Matthew-less him, with no reason for anyone to be tolerant or halfway nice. Had Luke really hated him all these years?

‘I could have handled it,' he repeated to Takeshi's confused face, and took off up the hill, bag thumping against his side.

CHAPTER NINE

JANNA

Janna watched Sione run through the dunes toward the road.
God, the poor guy.
Of course, this meant that now she was stuck doing all the work herself.

‘I guess it's just us,' she said. ‘Aren't you lucky, Takeshi? Two pretty girls at the beach.'

‘All the people will envy me,' Takeshi said calmly. The way he pronounced
vee
made Janna's knees wobble in her boots, and she was seized by the totally inappropriate urge to stick her tongue in his mouth.

Someone stumbled past them and threw up into a patch of sand grass, which sort of killed the impulse.

‘Lightweight,' Janna said, and cast a practised eye over the beach. Most of the people were strangers, but there were a few people from school. Hemi and Kyle were talking to each other by a chilly bin, Kyle's hands making the motions that said he was thinking through a new beat. They saw her and waved.

At the very end of the beach was a
big
group, a lot of tourist kids mixing and dancing, none of them the boys she'd managed to screen before Takeshi and Aroha turned up.
Excellent
, she thought, and led the way.

Sand, Janna had discovered years ago, was a great excuse for stumbling into handy, boy-shaped support and requiring him to hold her up. Takeshi seemed to understand this important obligation and did not disappoint, his arm steady under hers.

She stopped dead when she realised that two of the figures at a table were familiar. And
not
young.

‘Ew, it's the Maukis brothers,' she said, and used her free hand to point. Octavian was taller and Tiberius wider, but otherwise they looked creepily alike, dressed in near-identical black shirts and black jeans, with the same neat beards and slicked-back hair. ‘They think they're twenty-three or something. It's so gross.'

As if on cue, Octavian grabbed a dark-haired girl's plastic cup of something, taking a sip and laughing at her outraged look as if this was normal flirting, or something. Which it might have been, if he wasn't at least twenty years older than she was. The girl moved away, her body language screaming,
Ick! Ick! Ick!
Octavian followed until she joined a group of girls, who closed protectively around her, and only then did he back off, looking for someone new.

‘That's foul,' Aroha said. ‘Those guys are the artists, right? We bought a painting from them last year, but it's really crap. Mum ended up putting it in the guest room. They were so smooth to her, it made me sick.'

‘They're disgusting. Right, Takeshi? We met Tiberius at the art gallery this afternoon,' she explained to Aroha.

Takeshi looked baffled. ‘There was a . . . hat,' he said vaguely. ‘No, uh, crown.' His hand went to touch his hair.
‘Omoi.'

Janna remembered the coloured light cut into little pieces and the feeling of being covered in golden warmth, like the glory that sometimes swept through her with Cherry Bomb in her hands and a song to storm through. But the memory was weirdly hazy.
God, Janna, get a grip. Romance is so bad for your brain.