by Mark Brandi
Twelve
Jodie Hickey was in Ben’s bed.
She was under the blanket. That nice Onkaparinga with the satin trim that smelled so clean. She had a big smile on her face. It looked like she didn’t have a top on. Ben felt so horny. Like he never had before.
She told him to come closer. Fab said something then, because he was in the room too, but then he went away.
Ben went closer.
Then the blanket was gone and she was there, all naked. She was on the bed with her big boobs and white legs.
Soft, pink, slippery.
He mouthed the words.
He went closer.
Jodie smiled and brushed her hair and said there was no need to worry. They could watch telly and have ice-cream after. Vanilla ice-cream.
Vanilla. After Ben was finished.
After Ben...
Ben.
Ben.
‘Ben.’
‘Ben!’
His mum stood at the end of the bed. His dick was so hard it hurt, throbbing against the weight of the blanket. He felt horny and a bit sick all at once.
He turned over and buried his head in the pillow.
‘Time to get up!’ She reached under the blanket and tickled his feet. ‘You’ll miss the bus. C’mon!’
* * *
Like Ben had told Fab, Pokey was always gonna work it out. Eventually.
It happened at the bus stop. Not in the morning though. It was the afternoon, out the front of the school. It was Friday. They must have had it all planned out.
Ben had warned him. And he’d been on the lookout himself. But it didn’t change anything.
It wasn’t Pokey who got him though. Not at first. Jason Kettle, one of Pokey’s other friends, got it started. Fab was just standing there. He was looking up the street for the bus. Ben had just said something to him about Burke. And Kettle came with a basketball.
He did it with a run-up. He came in fast and threw the basketball as hard as he could into the side of Fab’s head. The ball bounced off it and out onto the road. It rolled all the way over the other side of the street and into someone’s front yard. That’s how hard he threw it.
Fab didn’t even make a noise. He just folded down into the dirt like he was made of nothing. The Hickey twins and some of the other girls screamed. Then Pokey came from the other side.
It was all planned like that. Ben could tell – he could see it all so clearly. Pokey came when Fab was already on the ground. Fab looked like he was dead. Really dead. And Pokey started kicking him. Full kicks. Right in the guts. Like a football. But Fab didn’t even move or make a noise.
Like he was really dead for sure.
Thirteen
It was two weeks later, a Friday, when Ronnie rang Ben’s mum again. She asked him to come over for a coffee, but he said he was out of town, which was weird because Ben saw the Statesman drive past school that lunchtime. But he didn’t say anything.
Ronnie said he didn’t have any work for him this weekend, but was going yabbying instead. He wanted to know if Ben could come – a bit of extra reward for his hard work. She told him Ben had hurt his hand playing football, but it should be okay.
At dinnertime, they had fish fingers and mash, which was the same most Fridays. MacGyver was on the little telly, but the sound was turned right down. You could still tell what was happening though. MacGyver and The A-Team were both good like that, you could watch without the sound while you were eating.
Ben waited until his mum had finished her dinner.
‘Can I ask Fab to come?’
‘Where?’ she said.
‘Yabbying. With Ronnie.’
His mum took her plate to the sink and rinsed it. ‘Don’t see why not.’ She got Ben’s dad another beer from the fridge. ‘What do you reckon?’
His dad shrugged and kept eating his mash.
Ben rang Fab after dinner, but Fab said he was going with his dad to Dimboola for an auction. Farm equipment. But then he rang back straight after to say he could come after all.
* * *
Fab’s mum dropped him at Ben’s house before breakfast. She beeped the horn and kept the engine running out front. Ben’s mum waved to her from the front door.
‘She must be in a hurry,’ she said. She told Ben to go help, ‘Quick.’
Fab’s mum drove an old white Valiant Pacer. Ben knew that it was a Valiant because Fab told him. Fab’s dad had told him it was a classic and to always be careful in it. Ben thought that if Mr Morressi told you something like that, you’d do exactly what he said.
Ben ran to the footpath. ‘Hang on, I’ll help you with the nets.’
Fab was reaching deep inside the boot, which was enormous, like a deep black cavern.
‘What about your hand?’ he said.
‘It’s okay. I can use it now.’ He held it up in front of Fab. He liked the look of his swollen knuckles, how they made his hand look bigger. A bit like a man’s hand. Almost like Ronnie’s. ‘How’s your ribs?’
‘Only hurts with big breaths. Or if I cough.’ He lifted up his singlet and showed Ben the ugly yellow bruise, the size of a dinner plate. ‘You know where we’re goin?’
‘Dunno,’ said Ben. ‘Should be here soon, but.’ Ben grabbed the nets and gently lifted them out, taking most of the weight in his left hand. ‘How come you didn’t go to Dimboola?’
Fab picked up two tins of dog food, his hessian sack, and then slammed the boot shut. ‘He needed extra room in the Kingswood.’
‘What’s he buying?’
‘Dunno. Rabbit traps maybe.’
Just talking about Fab’s dad still made Ben feel a bit sick in his guts. And a bit scared too. He walked round to the side of the car and Mrs Morressi wound down her window. She had her hair pulled back in a ponytail. Red lipstick. But she looked different with her hair like that. Younger.
‘Ben!’ she smiled. ‘I haven’t seen you in so long! You look like you grow. You come around soon, yes?’
Ben smiled. The warmth rushed up in his chest and filled him to the brim. ‘Yes, Mrs Morressi.’
She clicked her tongue and shook her head. ‘Eva!’ She reached out and touched his arm. ‘You call me Eva, remember? You look after Fab now. No more accidents with the footballs, okay?’ She looked at his hand and frowned. ‘You both be more careful, yes?’
The wind gusted and Ben saw two deep-purple marks on her arm, up under the sleeve.
He smiled and promised that he would.
* * *
Ben’s mum made them both pancakes in a rectangle pan that Ben liked because he could cut them into squares, like a grid. He gave Sunny half of one of the pancakes, but then Sunny went outside and threw up, so his mum said not to give him any more and to leave him outside. His mum talked to Fab while she was cooking and asked if his parents were planning any holidays. Fab said he didn’t know, but that he hoped so. Ben couldn’t imagine Mr Morressi would ever go on a holiday anywhere.
The cartoons were on but they weren’t that good. They watched The Archies and then Mr. Magoo. There was an ad on for Sea World and Ben asked his mum if they could go, but she didn’t answer. He didn’t really want to go to Sea World anyway, he was just trying to show off a bit in front of Fab.
The sun was coming through the yellow glass in the sliding door and onto the telly, which made it hard to see. But it felt like it was going to be warm, which would be good for yabbies. If it was too cool, they wouldn’t come out of their burrows, which were like dark little caves in the mud.
Ben was about to change the channel when there was a knock at the front door. Ben said it wasn’t him because he came down the side last time. But then he heard Ronnie talking and his mum inviting him in with that voice she sometimes used when guests were around, like she was Princess Diana or something. He came into the lounge and said g’day.
He was wearing a blue singlet this time, like a shearer might wear, and he looked kind of stiff and strange, standing there in the lounge, in his stubbie sho
rts and with his long, ropey arms. Like he didn’t really belong inside.
Ben’s mum introduced him to Fab. Fab said hello and Ronnie nodded, but didn’t really look at him. He asked if they were ready to go, but he stared at the telly as he said it, even though it was just ads, like he didn’t want to look at Ben either. Ben’s mum asked him if he wanted a tea or coffee but he said no and kept staring at the telly, kind of like he was annoyed about something.
As they left, and once Fab was out the door, Ben gave his mum a hug goodbye.
He felt kind of glad that Fab was going with him, that it wasn’t just him and Ronnie.
* * *
Ben and Fab sat in the back of the Statesman. It was big in there and warm from the sun – it smelled like pine trees and was much cleaner than Ben’s parents’ car, which always had receipts and old paper bags in the back from the supermarket.
The Statesman had blue velour seats with leather trim and Ben’s feet didn’t even reach the floor. There were power windows and Fab started making his go up and down until Ronnie told him to leave it. Even though they were tinted, you could see outside just perfect, and Ben watched his mum wave from the front bedroom window.
The car took off with a low rumble. Ronnie beep-beeped the horn and Ben smiled as the Statesman powered down the road. He looked across at Fab and saw he was playing with something in his hand.
‘What’s that?’
‘Nothin.’
‘C’mon.’
‘It’s nothin.’
‘Jeez, you’re such a shit.’ Ben waited a few seconds then made a snatch with his good hand.
‘Stop it!’ Fab hissed. Ben saw Ronnie’s eyes in the rear-view mirror and moved back into his seat.
Fab whispered, ‘Here then.’ He opened his hand to reveal a furry, grey animal paw.
‘Jesus, what is it?’
‘A rabbit’s foot.’
Ronnie gunned the car and Ben looked up and saw they were already at the turn-off for the highway.
‘Where’d you get it?’
‘My father.’ Fab looked unsure, like he was wondering if he should be embarrassed or not. It was the same look he’d had when he first brought a salami sandwich to school. ‘It’s good luck.’
‘Can I borrow it?’
‘Nah.’ Fab closed his hand and put it back in his pocket.
* * *
Ben stared out the window. They were going fast and it looked like they were on the highway to Horsham. Ronnie had barely said a word and Ben didn’t know if he should say something.
He sat up a bit so he could see Ronnie’s eyes in the rear-view mirror. ‘Thanks for taking us, Ronnie.’
‘Yeah, thanks,’ said Fab.
Ronnie didn’t say anything for a few seconds, but looked at Ben in the mirror. Then he said, ‘No worries,’ and reached for the radio. Ben felt a little relieved as it came on – that song where everything she does is magic.
‘Where are we goin?’ Fab asked, raising his voice above the music. Fab was better at talking to adults, which usually annoyed Ben a bit. Ronnie didn’t look up in the mirror this time, but turned down the radio.
‘I’ve got a block near Glenorchy. Got a dam on it.’
‘Ah right.’ Fab’s voice had deepened a little in the last few weeks. Ben wondered if he was faking it. ‘Has this car got extractors?’
Ronnie glanced back over his shoulder. ‘Y’know a bit about cars do ya?’
Fab smiled. ‘A bit. My father tells me stuff.’
Ronnie clicked the indicator for a turn-off. ‘Well, it’s got extractors all right. Some people call em headers though.’
Ben felt like a little kid. His dad never talked to him about that sort of stuff. He probably didn’t know much about it himself. He knew about trains and timetables, but he never really talked about that either. He never talked much about anything really.
Ben was glad when Fab and Ronnie stopped talking about cars. Ronnie turned the radio back up again and reached into the console, took out a smoke and lit it, before powering down his window.
In the back seat, all Ben could hear was the roar of the wind.
* * *
By the time they got there the sun was high and it was getting hot in the car. They turned off the main road and up a short, steep dirt track that came to a farm gate. Ronnie stopped the car but kept it running. He got out and walked up to the gate. The radio had gone mostly static, but you could hear voices still, like they had just gone out of range.
Ben watched as Ronnie struggled with a padlock, which was stuck to a thick steel chain threaded through the gate, then hooked around an old fence post. Fab undid his seatbelt, sat up on his knees, and looked out the back window.
‘See anything?’ Ben said.
‘Nah, just farms. Must be outside Glenorchy. No houses or nothin.’ Fab sat back down and reached forward between the front seats, pulling open the console.
Ben grabbed his arm, his eyes wide. ‘What are you doin? Are you crazy?’
‘Lemme go will ya! Just seein if he’s got more of those skin mags.’
Ben pulled him back. ‘Stop it! He’ll see!’ Fab sat back in his seat, just as Ronnie finally got the lock open. He dragged the gate forward with a rusty groan, then walked back to the car.
Ronnie leaned over the open door, one hand on the roof and the other on his hip. He looked at Fab for a while. A long while. Ben wondered if maybe he’d seen him open the console. But he just stood there – his eyes strange in the sunlight, almost like a wild animal, like a wolf. He was just standing there in the sun with his chest heaving in and out, staring at Fab. Then he turned to Ben.
‘Do you wanna ride up front, mate?’
‘Yep!’ Ben shot Fab a smirk and jumped out the back door.
* * *
Ronnie drove the Statesman up the incline and through the gate. The block opened out and it was bigger than Ben imagined. It was empty, apart from one large gum tree a few hundred metres away, off in the far right-hand corner. Up to the left was a small hill, beyond which he reckoned was the dam. The long yellow grass on the hill seemed almost alive, whipped wildly by the wind. Ronnie stopped the car again and got out to close the gate. He locked the chain.
He drove slowly, the car following a worn path through the grass toward the hill. The tall, dry weeds whacked at the sides and brushed underneath. Ben could see less from the front, but the seat was deeper and comfier. He looked across and Ronnie had his seatbelt off and looked like he was concentrating, his eyes squinting in the sunlight. He had a small, green tattoo under his ear that Ben hadn’t noticed before, like a blurry star. Ben looked back to Fab, who had moved to the middle seat to get a better view.
The car was starting to get really hot inside, so Ben was glad when Ronnie opened the windows and the smell of earth and grass came rushing in. Ronnie glanced at Ben.
‘What happened to your hand, mate?’
Ben looked down at his swollen knuckles. He wanted to tell him what he’d done. That it was almost like in a movie. That Pokey had cried.
Ronnie would be impressed. Definitely. But it was too risky. He might say something to Ben’s mum.
‘Playing footy at school. Goin for a mark.’
Ronnie looked at his hand. Then he got that funny smile again. ‘Is that right?’
Ben looked at his hand once more. ‘Yep.’
* * *
Fab saw the dam before Ben, who was busy looking out to the long, dry grass rushing by his window.
‘Is that it?’ he called out from the back.
‘Yep,’ Ronnie said.
Ben looked up and saw the small square dam, cut into the corner of the block. It was muddy and it looked deep, with steep banks at the sides. By the fence line, beside the dam, there was an old wooden pen where they must have done mulesing or something. Ben had seen them do it once on Barry Jack’s farm, where they cut the skin off the sheep’s bums to stop the blowies.
Inside the pen was a small tin shed with no front, just a w
ood frame with rusty sheets on the back, top and sides. Ronnie pulled the car up between the pen and the dam and turned off the engine. It hummed and ticked for a few seconds, then fell silent.
‘Better than your usual spot?’ he said. He levered the handbrake with a heavy click.
‘Which spot?’ Ben said.
‘That one near the Leviathan. You go there, dontcha?’ He paused and looked Ben in the eyes. His face went a bit tight and he blinked a few times quickly. ‘Ya mum told me, I think.’ He opened the console and got his pack of smokes.
‘Yeah, we go there sometimes. Hasn’t been that good lately, but.’
Ronnie opened his door and Ben felt the heat rush in. There was the steady hum of farm flies and it stank like sheep shit.
Ben undid his seatbelt and looked back at Fab, who was still in his seat.
‘Are you coming?’ he said.
But Fab didn’t answer. His gaze was off somewhere in the distance, like he was thinking deeply about something.
Fourteen
The road on the way back from Ronnie’s block seemed different to Ben, almost like they had taken a different route.
Maybe it was because he was up front this time. It felt rougher and it seemed to twist and turn a lot more.
‘Bastard about the weather,’ Ronnie said, peering under the fog on the windscreen.
Ben wiped a small circle on the passenger window with the palm of his hand, careful not to leave streaks with his fingers.
‘Yeah,’ he said.
He looked out to the brown-green blur of trees and farmland.
Not long after they had arrived at the dam, the wind had come in quick, shifting from the west to a cool southerly, pushing the heavy clouds in from over the Grampians. The rain had fallen in big drops and had felt cold, like it came from way up high. They had barely had enough time to bait the nets.
First, they hid under that little shed to see if it might pass. The rain was so loud on the tin that they couldn’t hear each other speak. Then it started to leak inside, so Ronnie yelled to get in the car.
