White Ute Dreaming (3 page)

Kez walked. I rode. She said it was safer that way. She told me that they were going up to Fishwood at the weekend to have a look at a house. She was jiggling when she told me. Not a sign of a tear.

‘What's going to happen to us if we shift?' she asked.

‘I dunno.'

‘Would you write?'

‘Yeah. Of course.'

‘Phone?'

‘I dunno. Probably cost a bit in long distance the way we go on some days.'

‘The way
you
go on,' she said.

‘Me? You're the one always asking about Ernie and that.'

‘Would you get another girlfriend?' she asked, straight-faced.

‘I dunno. Would you get another bloke?'

‘No way.'

Yeah, that's what I was going to say. No way. Well, that's what I should have said. Nah, that's what Kerry said. No way.

I told her about being grounded for a month and that Mum had caught me having a smoke in the mower shed.

‘You said you'd given up smoking.'

‘I have. It wasn't entirely tobacco.'

‘Your mum caught you smoking dope?'

‘Yup.'

‘That hurts. So you've given up smoking as long as it's no more than fifty per cent tobacco.'

Smart arse. ‘I just felt like it then.'

‘Why?'

I shrugged. ‘I dunno. I thought it would relax me. Heaps of stuff going on.'

‘Ha! What stuff?'

‘You guys shifting and that.'

‘Does that stress you out?'

‘Yeah. I feel like I'm going to lose my best mate. And my woman. You know?'

She took my hand. ‘You could come and visit,' she said quietly.

‘Yeah. Short pushbike ride.'

Something changed in Kerry. She couldn't sit still when we got home. It was like she was excited about the possibility of shifting house. Dad had already dropped Ernie off so we took him for a walk. She gave me a peck on the cheek as she was leaving.

It's easy to tell when I'm depressed: I do homework. Mum comes to the door and I try to hide the fact that I'm working on my maths so she won't give me the once-over, twice. Pull out a magazine, flick the telly on. Something. It's like I don't even think about it. When I start feeling
flat I just click into autopilot and do what has to be done. That night, my cover-up was all too sloppy and she leant against the doorframe.

‘What's the matter, love?'

‘Nothing.'

‘Doesn't look like it. How's school going?'

‘Good.'

‘Did you take Ernie for a walk?'

‘Yep.'

‘How's Kerry?'

‘Good.'

‘How long do we have to play the guessing game, Wayne? What's bothering you? Sick of being grounded already?'

‘Nah. Yeah. Sick of it but that's not it.'

‘What is it?'

‘I dunno,' I said and shrugged. ‘The Humes are looking at moving to New South Wales.'

‘What?'

‘Yeah. Decided it's time to move on. I think Barry wants to live in the bush.'

She looked at the floor, deep in thought for a minute. ‘When's all this going to happen?'

‘Dunno, but they're going to look at a house on the weekend.'

‘Where?'

‘Fishwood.'

She frowned as though it was familiar. ‘Your dad goes fishing near there. What's that place called? Starts with an “M” . . .'

‘Bermagui?'

‘Yeah. That's it. Starts with an “M”,' she grunted. ‘Go
and have a look on the map in the back of the car. I'm sure it is.'

She was right. Fishwood is only about thirty ks from Bermagui and that made it seem a whole lot closer. Weird. I didn't feel like doing maths after that.

Lying on my bed that night, drifting in and out of la la land, I remembered something that Kez had said when we were at Mars Cove. She'd told me that one of her uncles had sexually abused her mum. I sat up with the thought in my head that it was Uncle Al and if they shifted up there then she'd be right near him. That's sick.

I'm going to have to get video surveillance to catch this woman. I got to school half an hour before the bell and the note I found was downright horny.

Wayne,

I saw you at lunchtime, eating your food.

Muscled body, you're such a dude.

I'd tell you my thoughts but they're a bit lewd.

Come with me baby, get down and get rude.

Anon.

I didn't care what she looked like anymore. I just wanted to know who she was. In desperation I asked Hendo if
he'd seen anybody putting stuff into my locker. He asked me when and I told him anytime. His locker was next to mine. He said that he hadn't but got me to show him the letters anyway. He wolf-whistled after reading the first one and his mouth dropped open with the second and third.

‘Mate, she's hot. Who is it?'

‘I just told you I don't know.'

‘Yeah, yeah but who do you reckon it is?'

‘I dunno.'

He said that he had a detention in C6 that evening and told me that he'd watch my locker like a hawk. Yeah, that's comforting. Hendo watching like a blind hawk who's stoned out of his tree.

I saw Den at recess. He was having a smoke with Carlson and Shane Lee.

‘It's the drug lord! Can I buy some hashish from you, mister?' he said in his best Colombian accent.

‘Get stuffed.'

‘Kez said you got grounded. Whoah. That's harsh.'

‘What's this about some chick writing you love letters?' Carlson asked.

Good old Hendo. Should be working for News Corp or the BBC. Want the world to know? Tell Hendo.

‘Nothing. Anonymous letters with sick poems.'

‘Hendo said she's hot for you, mate.'

They jeered. Kez came around the corner and asked her brother for money. He fished in his pocket and my stomach leapt into my throat. Don't mention it. Please let it be.

‘I reckon I know who it is,' Den said as he handed her some coin.

‘Who?' Carlson asked and ground the remains of his smoke into the concrete with the heel of his runner.

‘Mambo Mandy, I reckon.'

‘Masterson? You go, Wayne. Whoo!'

Kerry looked at me, wide-eyed. ‘What?'

I should have told her all about it right then but the part of my brain that has been damaged by too much dope kicked in. I shrugged and said, ‘Nothing.'

‘Bullshit,' Den said, and began to tell Kez what he'd heard about the letters. Hendo arrived halfway through and added his fifty cents worth by making lots of humping actions and licking his lips. Kez took it well. She walked off. She went home on the bus that night. Yep, she took it well.

Mum spent two hours getting ready. It made me sick in the guts to see her fussing with her hair and checking herself in the mirror. I was lying on my bed when she poked her head in the doorway and asked me how she looked. I whistled but I thought she looked old. Sometimes she tries too hard. Richo would be impressed though. He's nearly fifty and not married. You'd reckon you'd give up after a while. Not Richo. I couldn't help thinking that my life would have been massively different if they had worked out as a couple.

Richo brought her flowers. Huge bunch that Mum had to split into two vases. He just looked like my school principal—boring suit, numb-nuts tie and shiny shiny shoes. Still, his suit pants had both knees in them, he was clean-shaven and he stank like stale cologne, which has to be an
improvement on my old man. When Mum slipped into the passenger seat of his BMW and Richo quietly closed the door, I felt like she'd let me down. Let me and Dad down. Mum and Dad busted up eight years ago and since then neither of them have had an obvious relationship. I mean, Dad hangs out with Auntie Pat and that but if they're bouncing the bedsprings it sure is well hidden. Mum just went on a date. Couldn't really call it a hot date but it was a date just the same.

I did a runner. I figured that I had a couple of hours at least before Mum got home. I grabbed Ernie's lead off the clothesline and got him running along next to my bike up to the Humes' place. We were both puffing and huffing when we got there, only Ernie had his tongue hanging out the side of his mouth and he dribbled on the front doormat. Kerry answered the door.

‘Sorry, Kez,' I said and she bent down to scruff Ernie's ears and give him a hug. She fussed at him for a full half-minute while I held his lead and listened to someone shouting next door. When she stood up she looked across at the neighbours' kitchen window. There were two people arguing—a man and a woman—and they were going right off. Something smashed. One of them appeared in the kitchen window and ripped the blind closed. Kez and I looked at each other and raised our eyebrows at exactly the same time. She laughed.

‘Sorry, Kez,' I said again. This time she shrugged and asked if I wanted to come in.

‘What about Ernie?'

She shrugged again and shouted, ‘Mum, it's Ernie and what's-his-name. Should I let them in?'

Footsteps from the kitchen. Gracie's face lit up. She
looked at Kez. ‘I dunno. Do you think they're house-trained?'

‘I don't know about the big one but the cute one is. I helped train him,' Kez said.

‘All right then. Put newspaper down just in case.'

Ha, ha. They let us in and Ernie went scratching across the wooden floor. Gracie asked me how I was going and I told her things were cruising.

Den poked his head around the doorway to the kitchen and nodded. ‘I thought you were grounded,' he shouted and went back to clanking dishes.

‘Yeah. I am.'

Gracie frowned. ‘What are you doing here then?'

I shrugged. ‘Mum went out for tea. It was a bit quiet at the flat.'

‘Ah, I see. Better make it a quick visit,' she said, and I felt like bolting back out the door.

Kez stood in the hall watching Ernie pull at his rope and sniff the furniture. ‘You coming?'

I shrugged and followed her to her room. Jesus the cat sat in the hallway licking his paw. At the sight of Ernie his eyes narrowed, his ears flattened and his tail began slashing across the floor. I thought he was going to run off and I held Ernie's rope hard as he pulled and scratched over the timber to get a better sniff of the cat. He was stretched right out and heaving on his lead like a sled dog. Jesus smelt Ernie's nose then stood up and rubbed against him. No fear. Ernie squirmed and backed away. Big brave guard dog.

‘Sorry, Kez,' I said a third time, and sat on her bed.

‘What for?'

‘I dunno. Not telling you about the stupid notes I've been getting.'

‘That's cool. Don't worry about it.'

‘Nah. I should have told you.'

‘Maybe, but you didn't,' Kerry said, and hung her head.

There was a big hole in the conversation and I could hear the distant clunking of dishes in the sink and Ernie panting.

‘I think we should give it a break,' she said from behind her hair.

‘Give what a break?' I asked, but I knew. I could feel it in my guts like I'd swallowed a boulder.

‘Us,' she said flatly.

I would have thrown up but it felt like that boulder had stuck in my throat. I should have kissed her, held her, told her I loved her. Something. Should have. Big brave guard dog me stood up and slipped out the door. A fat lazy tear splashed on the mat with Ernie's dribble. No-one would see it there.

I
DID MORE HOMEWORK IN THE FOLLOWING WEEK THAN
I'
D
ever done in my life. Fell asleep at my desk one night, face down on my English folder. Woke up with a paperclip mark on my cheek that made me look like a pirate. Slept in my clothes. Didn't brush my teeth. Wore my Bulls hat instead of combing my hair. Mum didn't take any notice. She was pretty light on her feet and she told me I wasn't grounded. Keep off the grass, she said. Whatever.

Dear Wayne,

Through the jungle I would slash,

With my sword I'd crash and bash.

All the demons I could smash

Just for one good body pash.

Anon.

I was reading and re-reading that note with this image of Xena floating around in my mind—boobs nearly jumping out of her steel-studded leather bikini—and someone sniffed back a booger right in my earhole. Hendo. What a charmer. He said he'd spotted the girl putting the note into my locker, only it wasn't a girl it was a boy. I reckoned he was bullshitting and he swore he wasn't. Pointed him out to me. Year eight, I think. Weedy little crim. I felt like bashing the worms out of him. Little poofter. Hendo and I cornered him at recess. His mates ran off a safe distance and he stood there like he was some sort of kung fu expert.

‘Come on,' the kid said flatly. There was no fear in his voice but his eyes were almost all black.

‘Settle down, you little prick. I don't want to go you yet. I just want to know why you're writing me letters.'

‘I didn't write you any fucking letters.'

‘Bullshit. I saw you putting them in his locker,' Hendo said, and pushed him in the shoulder. He stood like a rock.

‘Yeah, I put them in there but I didn't write them.'

‘Who wrote them?'

He shook his head.

‘Who wrote them?'

‘Nup,' he said, and got ready to run.

Hendo lunged at him and the kid pushed his hands aside so he stumbled. I grabbed at the sleeve of the kid's shirt and pulled him to the ground. Put my knee in his back and mashed his head into the concrete with my stump.

‘Fuck off, you prick. Get off me,' he shouted, his voice breaking into a squeal.

‘Who writes them?' I asked.

‘I don't know. Some sheila in year eleven. She pays me but I don't know her name.'

‘She pays you? How much?'

‘One buck. A buck a letter.'

I looked at Hendo, who smiled and told me to let him up. The kid got to his feet but I held on to his shirt.

‘I'll give you two bucks if you point her out to me.'

‘All right. Just let me go,' he said, and pulled against my grip so his shirt ripped. I let go and he dusted himself down. We walked around with him for the whole of recess. He couldn't find her.

‘What's your name?'

‘Fitsy.'

‘You'd better not be bullshitting me, Fitsy, or you're history.'

‘I'm not,' he pleaded, and the bell rang. ‘She might not even be here today.'

‘Meet us here at the start of lunch. If we have to come and find you mate, you're rooted.'

Took him two minutes to find her at lunch.

‘There. The sheila with the white hair.'

‘Sitting down or standing up?'

‘Standing up. Where's my money?'

I fished in my pocket and found a dollar.

‘You said two bucks,' he protested.

‘Yeah. That's all I've got. Piss off.'

He grumbled and walked away. He could have knocked me down with a drinking straw. It was Carolyn, my Auntie Pat's daughter. I like her and that but I would never have guessed she was hot for me. I should have left it alone. It
was better when I didn't know. She's just not like that and the thought of kissing her didn't fill me with blood, if you know what I mean. It made me feel a bit sad. Bit sorry for her. Some of the stuff she wrote was desperate.

Den said they had found a house to rent in Fishwood. Big mud-brick place in the bush. Den had picked out his bedroom. He reckoned he had seven rooms to choose from. Who would build a house with seven bedrooms? Not just a little bit of bush but hundreds of acres of state forest around them. One neighbour—he lives nearly a kilometre away. An old bloke with heaps of sheep. They gave the agent some money already. They shift on the eleventh of April. Four weeks. Right at the start of the school holidays. You go, girls.

Until Den told me that stuff it didn't seem real. It was always softened by a ‘maybe' filter. Maybe they couldn't get a house. Maybe the job would fall through. Maybe Kerry would get a grip on reality. Maybe not. I saw her one lunchtime and my guts ached. She tried to turn away without being obvious. I realised she'd made a hole in me. If the wind blew from the right direction, I reckon I'd whistle like a beer bottle. Not just a little hole, something big and nasty. Too big for Bandaids.

Hendo lost it in English. Mrs Heath asked him to sit on his chair about fifty times.

‘What difference does it make?' he complained.

‘It makes the world of difference to me, David. Put your chair down.'

‘Why?'

‘Because it's dangerous and you could break the chair,' she said, her voice getting louder.

‘That sucks,' Hendo said, and flopped flat on his chair. Propped his feet up on the table.

‘Put your feet down.'

‘Ahhhh. Come on.'

‘Get out!' she barked with so much anger that Hendo shat himself. Picked up his bag and stomped out the door. Hendo always pushes it to the limit, like it doesn't feel right unless someone is cracking the shits at him. Mrs Heath stands her ground. I like that in her.

It was cold that night. Clear and shivery like autumn was finally breathing down summer's neck. It's crazy how I do that. Every time I'm really aching I talk about the weather. It was the ‘whether' that was really giving me the shits. Whether I could be fucked going on with this stupid dance. This stupid puppet-show dance. I don't look backwards much, it's not the way I face most of the time, but that night, cramped up in my bed, I could see in a straight line to the time before my accident. Everything had been so breezy. It was like the perfect bourbon and Coke; has a jig in your mouth then slides all the way down leaving a nifty little glow in its wake. And it wasn't just the accident. That was just a little splash in my pond, you know, but the ripples went out in every direction like one of those big tidal waves in Japan. ‘Souvalaki', they're called, or something like that. First Mum and Dad started getting their shit together. Then Mandy and me started looking hard at each other, then that got
too
hard. Out of the rubble rose
Kerry and for a while it was awesome. Then Mum got all hot about Richo (or maybe it was the other way around) and Kerry . . . oh, I dunno. Just seemed so frigging messy. My whole life was a frigging mess. I wished everybody would piss off and leave me alone.