The Whole Business with Kiffo and the Pitbull (19 page)

And overlaid on all that was the knowledge that I was without a real friend, other than Kiffo. Don't get me wrong. I'm not ashamed of him or anything. Far from it. But, as I've said before, there are just some things you can't talk to Kiffo about. Some things I'm not allowed to visit. Not properly. And sometimes, just sometimes, you need a conversational map where the boundaries are open and there's no legends saying, ‘Here be dragons!'

Let's be honest. My life was a mess.

Chapter 19
The promise

[
Calma Harrison
– Virgo
. Sensitive, kind, intelligent, given to
occasional forays into the criminal underworld.
]

Doubtless if I had read my stars they would have said something like: ‘Your life is a mess and you feel that things can't get any worse. Do not worry. By Monday, you will have found that they can.'

I spent Sunday in my room, except for those times when Mum left the house to do the shopping or whatever. Then I'd rush down the stairs, stock up on anything I could find in the fridge and watch some telly. As soon as I heard the car on the gravel outside I'd take off up the stairs again and lock myself in my bedroom. Once or twice Mum came up and knocked on the door but I ignored her. Childish, I know, but it seemed like the easiest option. I really wanted her to go to work, but she must have had the day off, or just rung in sick or something.

Naturally, I spent a fair amount of time contemplating my situation. There could be no doubt that I was up to my neck in the brown, smelly stuff. But then I remembered that my grandmother used to say of some people that they could ‘fall down the dunny and come up smelling of roses'. Maybe it wasn't all over yet. Maybe Calma Harrison could yet emerge from the excrement with an aroma of patchouli. It all depended on what happened with the Pitbull, obviously. If we could expose her, then I could just imagine the reaction.

Children, I expect you are wondering why I have called
an emergency Assembly today. Some of you might also
be wondering why Miss Payne has been led from the hall
in manacles, escorted by four SAS men in camouflage
gear. I feel you should know that Miss Payne has been
masquerading as an English teacher, something that will
not come as a surprise to those of you who were in her
classes. But none of us suspected she was also using
her position here to distribute hard drugs to students,
the school janitor and certain members of senior
management. I said none of us suspected, but that is not
strictly true. I call upon Calma Harrison and Jaryd
Kiffing to step forward to receive the highest honours the
school can bestow. For these students, with no help from
any authorities, indeed
despite
the barriers erected by
people like myself, who should have known better, these
fine, upstanding students have exposed her for the
heartless, cold monster she is. On behalf of the entire
school, I offer my full and sincere apologies to Calma
and Jaryd, in addition to my formal resignation from the
role of Principal, a job that I am clearly unfit to hold.
The Police Commissioner here will now present these
two students with the Distinguished Medal of Honour, a
cheque for ten thousand dollars and a certificate
proclaiming them joint winners of the Young Australian
of the Year award, prior to us chairing them around the
school grounds to the tune of
Advance Australia Fair
.
Let's hear it for Calma and Jaryd.

Yes. A lot was riding on what Jonno could dig up. That was one of the reasons I decided I had to go to school on Monday morning. I sure as hell didn't feel like it. In fact, throughout most of Sunday, the thought of going made me feel physically sick. But on Monday morning I waited until Mum had left for work and then shot down the stairs, grabbed a quick breakfast and rushed off. It wasn't just the hope of Jonno turning up trumps either. I had had a brilliant idea and I needed to run it by Kiffo.

Now, do you want the ever so slightly good news, the bad news, the other bad news, the yes there's more bad news or the completely, holy crap this is disastrous, news? Okay.

The bad news: I got a note in Home Group to go to see Mrs Mills.

The ever so slightly good news: I had been taken out of the Pitbull's English class.

More bad news: there was no other class to go into, so I would have to spend my English lessons in a little room by the Assistant Principal's office that was normally reserved for the kind of student who couldn't be trusted in classrooms. We had plenty of them at the school, the kid who couldn't go five minutes without uttering an obscenity or who felt duty-bound to dismantle the walls or the person sitting next to him.

Yet more bad news: I had to listen to Mrs Mills for about six hours as she went on about how she would be there to support me, while really she was trying to get me to dish up the dirt. I blocked all of her deliveries with a straight, dead bat. Appropriate, really, since a straight, dead bat was exactly how I thought of her.

And can there really be more bad news: the Pitbull's classes were, according to Kiffo's reports later in the week, being received as the most enjoyable activity since the invention of masturbation. The last act of a desperate woman, according to Kiffo, but I didn't care if it was the first act of
Henry the Eighth
. I knew what she was up to and it wasn't going to wash with me.

The most catastrophic bad news: well, you'll have to wait for that. First, let me tell you about the idea I wanted to run past Kiffo. We found each other at recess. It wasn't difficult. All you had to do was look for the two students who were the biggest Nigels in the entire place and you'd have spotted us. We sat down on one of those concrete benches on the edge of the oval.

‘Kiffo,' I said. ‘I've had a brilliant idea!'

‘Oh yeah?'

‘I'm going to write it all down.'

‘What?'

‘Everything. The whole business with the Pitbull. Everything we've seen, heard and done.'

‘That's what you call a brilliant idea, is it?'

‘Yeah. Seriously. Listen, we've talked about getting proof, but so far we've got nothing to show the police. I mean, yeah, I hope Jonno will come up with something solid, but it would still be a good idea to have a record of all that's happened up to now. You know, in case we forget anything. Something that'll show the police that we're not just a couple of kids making up stories, but serious investigators making a serious report. Come on, how could it hurt?'

Kiffo thought for a while.

‘Still not what I'd call a brilliant idea, but I suppose it might be worth it.' His eyes brightened. ‘We could stick it in a safety deposit box, with instructions to our lawyers to open it in the event of our suspicious deaths. I saw a film once where they did that.'

I wasn't going to point out we didn't have a lawyer or a safety deposit box or any prospect of getting either.

‘Exactly, Kiffo,' I said. ‘Like insurance.'

‘Right. Go for it,' he said. ‘But, Calma, you've got to promise me one thing.'

‘Sure.'

‘I don't want you bringing . . . him . . . into all of this. You know what I mean. I know you, Calma, but what's gone on in the past isn't important. And I don't want his name mentioned. Do you hear me?'

‘But Kiffo . . .'

‘No, Calma. I won't listen. Not to that. If you're going to write about all of this, then I don't want him a part of it. Not a mention of his name. I need you to promise.'

I thought for a while. He was wrong. I knew that. But I also knew that there was going to be no way I'd be able to convince him of it. Anyway, I guess he had a right to make it a condition.

‘All right, Kiffo,' I said finally. ‘I promise.'

Chapter 20
Answers

‘You shitheads!' he said. ‘You shitheads are the biggest dick-heads I've ever met.'

You might remember that I never got round to telling you the worst piece of news – the ‘just when you thought things couldn't get any worse, then something comes and kicks you up the arse' piece of news. It happened on Thursday after school. Jonno was waiting for us, leaning up against the school railing, smoking. I noticed, without surprise, a can of VB in his hand. Kiffo and I stopped outside the gates and Jonno looked us up and down, taking a final gulp of his beer before crushing the can in his hand and tossing it away.

‘You shitheads!' he said. ‘You shitheads are the biggest dick-heads I've ever met.'

‘Whaddya mean?' said Kiffo.

Jonno just chuckled and shook his head.

‘What a pair of dickheads!' he repeated.

‘Look,' I snapped. ‘Just tell us, will you? I don't want to stand around out here listening to insults, particularly those that are inconsistent about the precise composition of our heads. I don't remember that being included in the price. And, frankly, I've been insulted by better people than you. Certainly more articulate . . .'

Jonno put his hand close to my face and pointed. The glowing end of a cigarette wavered millimetres from my eyes.

‘You watch your mouth, lady,' he said. ‘Where I come from, we don't make no difference between punching a woman or a bloke. So if you want to keep those specs on the outside of your face you'd better shut up.'

I decided to shut up. Jonno didn't look the sort of person to make idle threats.

‘Yeah, all right,' said Kiffo. ‘Let's stick to business. Because if you start on my friend here, we're goin' to find ourselves fallin' out. Big time. I might be half your size, but you know me, Jonno. If I get it into my head to fight you, you'll have to kill me before I'll stop.'

Jonno looked at Kiffo, as if weighing things up. Then a big grin spread across his face.

‘Never short of balls, Kiffo. I'll give you that. Right. I've done the job, but you aint gonna like the results. Subject's name is Payne, aged 45. She
is
into drugs. But she's not pushing. She's a volunteer for DARP, the Drug and Alcohol Rehabilitation Program. They have a 24-hour hotline. Payne goes out on calls maybe two, three times a week, to deal with junkies and alkies. Tries to keep them straight. She's not a drug dealer, for chrissake. She's a pillar of the community. Probably get a medal.'

Jonno flicked his cigarette butt away and produced a can of beer from a side pocket. Did he have an esky in there? Kiffo and I looked at each other. I could see denial written all over his face. As for me, I knew. I knew, with that awful sense of inevitability, that what Jonno had said was the truth. I could almost taste the bitterness of it.

‘What about that bloke, Ferret-face?' said Kiffo, an air of desperation in his voice.

Jonno popped the ring-pull and took a big swallow.

‘Name is Collins, a director of DARP. Doctor, apparently. Big shot.'

Giuseppe's. A group of businessmen. ‘We mustn't miss
this opportunity, gentlemen. There is a huge shortage of
top-grade heroin on the streets at the moment . . . and we
must hope it stays that way, if we are to rid our society of
this appalling disease.'

‘Nah!' said Kiffo. ‘It can't be.'

‘I'm telling you straight,' said Jonno. ‘Two nights I followed her. One time she met Collins at this hall place. That's how I got to check him out as well. Anyway, this hall. It's a sort of safe haven, a place where junkies go to get decent needles, hot food, that kind of stuff. It's what she does, Kiffo. I seen it with me own eyes.'

Calma and Kiffo stand on a pile of milk crates as they
watch Miss Payne and Dr Collins talking inside the Drug
Rehabilitation Centre.

Jonno prised himself away from the fence.

‘Look,' he said. ‘Got to go. Business appointment. I'll expect payment by this time tomorrow night, Kiffo. Come round to my place. I'd hate to have to come round to yours. Know what I mean?'

If Kiffo heard, he gave no sign. He was still shaking his head as Jonno strolled away down the road.

‘You're wrong, Jonno. You're wrong,' he said. But his voice was almost a whisper. I reached towards him and linked arms. It was some indication of his state of mind that he didn't resist, didn't even seem to notice.

‘Come on, Kiffo,' I said. ‘I'll buy you a coke or something.' He turned towards me.

‘You don't believe it, do you Calma? You didn't buy any of it.'

‘Yeah, Kiffo,' I said. ‘I bought the lot.'

‘Why?'

‘Because it fits. Because it's what happens in real life, not the stuff we've been spinning. Don't you see? This whole thing, this whole fantastic adventure. We wanted to believe it. It was brilliant to think that a teacher we hated was also a criminal. But we were wrong. It's not good enough just to
want
something to be true. Because then we're simply part of a game – a terrific game, an exciting game. But in the end, only a game. And now we know, Kiffo. We know. It's game over.'

Kiffo plodded on for a few more paces, his eyes fixed on the ground. But then he stopped, grabbed me by my free arm and swung me round to face him.

‘Not for me, Calma,' he said. ‘Not for me.'

I shook my head.

‘Come on, Calma. Think,' said Kiffo. ‘How do we know Jonno is telling us the truth?'

‘Why would he lie?'

‘Why? 'Cos it's second nature to him. He can't do nothin' else. What if she bought him off? What if she realised we were on to her and she decided to cut Jonno in? What if he's working for her? What if he always has been?'

‘If, if, if. If your aunt had testicles, Kiffo, she'd be your uncle! It doesn't make sense.'