by Cath Crowley
‘Leo’s not stupid, either, really. He recited me his poetry tonight. You know some journal accepted his work for publication?’
‘No way,’ Daisy says. ‘He really is Poet.’
‘Ed’s smart,’ I say.
‘Ed’s super smart,’ Daisy answers. ‘He set all the sheddies talking when he left school. We figured he and Leo must have done something bad for him not to come back.’
‘Okay,’ Jazz says, straightening her dress. ‘We have to save them. So remember. Stick together and run if you see the cops.’
I’m not a psychic but that goes without saying.
Poet
The Casino
2.15 am
Losing her
Running from my girl
Past the glitter of the casino
Past the line at the ATM
Past the reflection of me in the glass
Looking scared
Past the sign that says Wrong Way Go Back
Past the fireballs tearing at the sky
Back past the glitter
Back past the line at the ATM
Back past the reflection of me in the glass
Still looking scared
Back past the sign that says Wrong Way Go Back
Past the fireballs tearing at the sky
Till I’ve lost her
Ed
I get in the van and Leo hits the road, making Lucy nothing but a dot. A dot I never had a chance with. ‘Turn your phone off, Dylan.’ Leo throws his phone at him. ‘Turn mine off, too. We don’t want to make any stupid mistakes.’
‘So we’re still going?’ I have the urge to leap out of the free love van and into oncoming traffic.
‘You want me to let you out?’ Leo asks. He’s not mad. It’s a simple question. I say the word and he’ll stop. Through the front window the world is nothing but a tangled glare bouncing and moving past us.
‘You don’t want to do this, either. You think this is stupid. It is stupid.’
‘I know it’s stupid. So is Malcolm Dove coming over to my house and doing something bad to my gran. And then to you and me.’
‘Sooner or later you have to stop,’ I tell him. ‘Deal with the stupid things we’ve done without doing more stupid things to undo them.’
The van slows and I figure Leo’s actually listened.
‘The engine cut out,’ he says, pushing his foot on the accelerator as horns go off around us.
‘Get out of the intersection,’ some guy yells from the car behind.
‘There’s nothing I can do, moron,’ Leo yells back.
‘Maybe it’s the gasket,’ Dylan says.
‘I didn’t blow the gasket.’
‘Maybe it’s the transmission,’ Dylan says.
‘It’s not the transmission.’
‘Oil?’
‘No.’
‘Leo, that money Jake gave you for petrol. You filled it up before you leant me the fifty, yeah?’ Leo’s quiet and I can’t help laughing. ‘Criminal mastermind at work. You forgot to put petrol in the getaway van.’
‘Dylan, slide across and hold the wheel. Me and Ed’ll push.’
I jump out and lean on the back of the van. ‘Lucky we’re inconspicuous,’ I say.
‘Just push.’
‘You know, when they report this on Crime Stoppers half the people in the city are going to remember us.’
‘Will you push?’ he asks.
‘I am pushing. We’re not going anywhere.’
‘We are going somewhere. It’s taking a while because this thing weighs a tonne, that’s all.’
Cars roll past and people call us bad things. ‘You still got a good feeling about tonight?’ I ask as we turn and try shoving the van with our backs. More cars go past and more people yell at us. ‘The general consensus seems to be that we’re losers,’ I say.
‘Well, we’re not. Can you believe no one’s offered to help us?’
‘It’s a thirty-degree night and the city’s going crazy. Would you help two guys push a pink van?’
‘Yeah,’ he says, ‘I would.’
‘Yeah, you would,’ I agree. ‘You’re a good guy, Leo.’
‘Strange time to tell me, but whatever. Head for that traffic island.’
We manage to get the van across to the island and we lean against the back, catching our breath. ‘I really messed things up with Lucy.’
‘Join the club. I really messed things up with Jazz. No more lollies for me. I wanted to say sorry and I was all ready to do it and then my legs took off.’ He moves his hand quick across the air. ‘Just like that.’
‘Did they catch you?’
‘Dylan and I lost them in the crowd.’
‘You haven’t had a girlfriend since Emma. Maybe you panicked.’
‘I knocked a little old lady over and she spilled her coins. It’s safe to say I panicked.’
‘So tell her you’re sorry. Explain that your last girlfriend nearly had you arrested.’ I watch as he slides onto the ground and leans his head against the back door. ‘Leo?’
‘I lied to you,’ he says. ‘I haven’t been mowing lawns for the past ten Saturdays. I needed the five hundred dollars for a poetry course. My gran wanted me to take a TAFE poetry course on Saturday mornings.’
I don’t say anything because I don’t know what to say. It surprises me and it doesn’t.
‘I was writing poetry. I owe Malcolm because I want to write poetry. You got attacked in the park for poetry.’ It’s like once Leo starts saying poetry he can’t stop. ‘Mainly I work with free verse. I did a haiku last week, though. “I am in deep trouble/I owe lots and lots of cash/Malcolm will kill me.”’
I can’t stop laughing about Leo’s haiku, about the guy who wants to kill us. ‘My teacher said it was earthy.’ Leo imitates her. ‘Most of the women in my course are Gran’s age. I like them.’ He looks at me. ‘Stop laughing.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I ask, but I know why.
‘You didn’t want to make me feel like an idiot because you can read and I can’t.’ ‘You’re so full of it,’ he says. ‘You can read, it just takes you longer. I heard what Lucy was saying to you. About that course at Monash.’
‘I’m not doing it.’
‘I know you won’t do it. If Bert hadn’t died you’d have stayed there with him, bored out of your brain, because it was safe.’
‘I liked working with Bert.’
‘You liked Bert,’ he says.
I’d get mad only I know he’s right and so does he so there’s no point. I take out the sketchbook and flick through it for a while. Bert smiles and waves, like he’s agreeing with Leo. ‘He was a good guy.’
‘He was a great guy,’ Leo says. ‘He would have told you to stop bitching and apply for the course.’
We watch the traffic for a while; coming and going, thoughts of Lucy and the course she told me about come and go. Thoughts about Leo’s course come and go too. ‘So, why didn’t you tell me about the poetry?’ I ask.
‘Because I was writing haikus on Saturday mornings with little old ladies,’ he says. ‘It’s different from writing on a train carriage. I felt like a bit of a wanker.’
‘You’re not a wanker.’
He shrugs. ‘I don’t care anymore. I like poetry. Anyone who doesn’t like that can shove off.’
‘And you’re big enough to make them shove off.’
‘Exactly,’ he says.
We watch more traffic and listen to people yell more interesting things at us and then Leo says, ‘Bert would have told you to go see Beth.’
‘I told Lucy everything tonight. Unemployed graffiti artist who quit school before he finished Year 10. She couldn’t wait for me to get into the van. Beth won’t be any different.’
Leo takes a while to answer. ‘She knows. I told her. She doesn’t give a shit.’
I think about that. I think about her standing there in front of me with the box of my things, waiting for me to say something. She’s been waiting for
months. I think about her waiting at the tree tonight, about how she’ll feel if I don’t show. A taxi slows and stops in front of us. ‘You need a lift?’ the driver asks.
‘We could still make it to the school,’ Leo says.
But you have to stop doing stupid things sometime. ‘I’m not doing the job,’ I tell him.
He waves the cab on.
‘You’re a smart guy,’ he says. ‘You know, Emma dumped me because I’d abseiled out of that window and she’d said I had to grow up or that was it. I told her I’d grow up when I felt like growing up. Emma dumped me because I chose not growing up.’ He shakes his head. ‘So to get her to take me back I vandalised the side of her house.’
‘Technically, I vandalised it and you gave me artistic direction.’
He chuckles. ‘The course made me think a bit, you know. That we’re smart enough to get out of here. We’re just too stupid to work out a way.’
‘That course was really worth the five hundred dollars.’
He chuckles again. ‘Robbing the school was not one of my brighter ideas.’
‘You’re not going either?’
‘Tomorrow we sign up at Maccas. I’ll come clean with Jake and ask for some help in the meantime.’
Dylan gets out of the van and sits next to us.
‘We’re applying for jobs at Maccas,’ I tell him.
‘I’ll put in a good word for you. We still have to fill this thing up with petrol and get it back to Crazy Dave. He’ll make us eat cockroaches if we don’t.’
None of us moves. ‘I can’t believe you threw eggs at Daisy on her birthday,’ I say.
‘You two have been hanging out since Year 10. You’ve known her since primary school. How do you not remember her birthday?’ Leo asks.
‘I try not to pay her too much attention. I figure if I do she’ll work out she doesn’t want to date me.’
‘That’s the stupidest thing I ever heard,’ Leo says, and I listen while he gives Dylan his women secrets. ‘Don’t ever throw anything at them. Every now and then, tell her something you’re thinking, even if it’s about the rain. Write her some poetry. And grow up.’
‘I can’t write poetry.’
‘I’ll give you one of mine,’ Leo says.
I get this lucky feeling leaning against that broken-down pink free love van listening to poetry. I got Dylan and Leo as friends. I had Bert. I try not to think about how I don’t have Lucy. At least Beth doesn’t hate me. That counts for something.
‘I better call Jake and tell him we messed up. See if he can come down here with petrol.’ Leo turns on his phone. ‘Shit.’ He checks his messages. ‘He’s texted me about fifty times. Get away from the school. Don’t do the job. Malcolm’s doing the job. I told him the code. Are you there, idiot? I think my phone’s full,’ Leo says and dials Jake’s number.
‘It’s me.’ Leo listens and winces. ‘Sorry, Jakey. I’ll make it up to you. Really? No, don’t put her on. Don’t. Gran, hi.’ He winces again. ‘I had to pay for the poetry classes somehow. You don’t have the money; you’re living on the pension. Okay, I should have asked. No, I’m not coming home yet. I’ll be home when I’m ready. Okay. I’ll be home when you say I’m ready. When is that? Okay, that’s fair. I love you too, Gran. Can you tell Jake to come with petrol to the corner of Flinders Street and Swanson? He’ll see me. I’m kind of hard to miss.’
‘Good news?’ I ask after he’s hung up.
‘Not exactly good. Not exactly bad. But your nipples are safe. Turns out Malcolm paid Gran a visit. She caught him sneaking around the house with his bad men and hit him in the nose with her stick. The screaming woke Jake and his mates. Malcolm told them I owe five hundred dollars and Jake told Malcolm about the job as proof that I’d pay him later.’
‘Are we getting to the good news soon?’ I ask.
‘Jake drove Gran around to the ATM and she paid Malcolm five hundred dollars. Jake gave Malcolm the alarm code when she wasn’t listening to make sure things were really square between us. My debt is paid in full. Lucky we ran out of petrol, hey?’
‘I’m still out rent.’
‘Yeah, but we got a bright future at Maccas and you never wanted to do the job anyway.’
‘No, I didn’t,’ I say, and get that lucky feeling again.
‘Why didn’t you ask your gran for the money in the first place?’ Dylan asks.
‘Because I didn’t know she had five hundred dollars sitting in a savings account. And if I did I wouldn’t have wanted to take it from her.’
‘You’ll pay her back,’ I say.
He nods. ‘After Jake brings the petrol we can stop at Barry’s and grab food before we return the van.’
I wait around. We talk a bit. We yell some things at passing cars till Jake gets there. I don’t go to Barry’s, though. Leo drops me off at Beth’s on the way. ‘You’re early,’ he says.
‘I can wait if I have to.’
I don’t have to. I jump the fence and head to the tree and she’s already there. The sun’s not up yet but it’s coming soon. The world’s thinned to silence. I lean against the tree and the birds scatter. ‘I made them leave,’ I say.
‘They’ll come back.’
‘I want to tell you some things. I know Leo already told you but I want you to hear it from me.’ Anything else is the easy way and I’m tired of that. ‘I never read the Vermeer book. I know all about him because I went to exhibitions and watched documentaries but I never read about him. I left school because it got hard. I don’t have a job. I don’t have money. I’m Shadow. And I’m sorry I broke up with you the way I did.’
She leans in and whispers that she knew, that she missed me, that she doesn’t care if I have money or not. She traces the blue around my hands, traces the bits of sky left there.
Lucy
Daisy, Jazz and I lie in the bushes near the Media block. ‘What’s the time now?’
‘Four o’clock,’ Daisy says, her eyes closed. ‘A minute later than the last time you asked me.’
‘We’ve been waiting here for over an hour. They’re not coming.’ Jazz stands and stretches her legs.
I look past her and see some shadows get out of a van, walk across the grass and crawl through a window. ‘They’re here.’
We move quietly and I get a tingle that I’m pretty sure comes from the thought of Ed, not the thought of illegal activity. We stand at the open window and Jazz sticks her head through and whispers, ‘Get out here, Leo.’ He doesn’t answer. ‘Leo,’ she says a bit louder. He still doesn’t answer. ‘They must be unplugging things in the computer room. I don’t want to go in there unless I have to. I’ll try calling his phone again.’
I keep watch while she dials. ‘Leo,’ she whispers. ‘You answered.’ She holds the phone out and we all crowd and listen.
‘Yeah, I answered. I’m sorry I ran before. Sorry I lied, too.’
‘We’ll talk about that later. For now, get out of the Media block before the police come.’
‘I’m not in the Media block,’ he says. ‘I’m at Barry’s having a burger.’
‘If you’re at Barry’s, then who’s in the Media block?’ she asks.
‘Jazz,’ Leo says, ‘get out of there. We’re coming but you need to run, right now.’
‘Hello, Lucy,’ Malcolm says, leaning his arms on the window. I look into his two black eyes.
‘Run!’ I scream.
We take the short cut around the girls’ toilets and past the staffroom. I’m running the fastest because I’ve had experience with Malcolm and, judging from his face, I can’t rule out that he doesn’t want to kill me.
‘Are they behind us?’ Jazz yells, and I tell her I don’t know; I’m not wasting time on looking.
‘Go, go!’ Daisy yells, and takes the lead. ‘I think they’re behind us.’ She keeps running and looks back and there’s no time to warn her. She smacks straight into the security guard and falls over. ‘Okay,’ she says, shaking her head. ‘That was unexpected.’
&nbs
p; The security guard looks at us and we look at him and my future looks dim and then Jazz says in her most innocent voice, ‘Thank goodness we found you. We were taking a short cut through the school and noticed some men robbing the Media block. We told them we were calling the police and they started chasing us.’
It’s not exactly a performance worthy of a Golden Globe but he buys it. ‘Stay here,’ he says. ‘You might need to give a statement.’
As soon as he’s out of sight, we run again. I’ve seen enough of Malcolm Dove to last me the rest of my life. We don’t stop moving till we’re a couple of streets away from the school. ‘At least they decided not to do the job,’ Jazz says, the run still moving through her voice. ‘Things could have turned out way worse tonight.’
‘You got your action and adventure.’ Daisy leans against a fence. ‘And then some.’
‘I wouldn’t have minded a little romance.’ As Jazz says that a pink spot appears at the end of the street, moving through the night like a dot of sunrise in fast forward. It’s them, I think. It’s Ed.
It’s Ed and I’m finally going to have the chance to make things right. To tell him he’s smart and if he can’t read then there’s a reason. And if there isn’t a reason I still don’t care. I’m going to tell him that I’ve never had a better night than this, laughing and talking behind our hands. I’m going to say that I want to hang out with him today and tomorrow and the next day. And on one of those days I want to take him to Al’s studio and show him all the things I’ve made. Show him how glass works, how you can heat it and change it. How you can add colour. Show him how after you’re done and it cools, it becomes this beautiful thing that you’ve made.
‘Hey, you feel that?’ Jazz asks. ‘The change is here.’
‘At last,’ Daisy says. ‘I’m so sick of sweating.’
I hold out my arms and let the change float across my skin. The lightning never came in the end. Just the breeze. I feel like that Winged Victory of Samothrace sculpture that Mrs J showed me. It’s marble, held at the Louvre in Paris. A statue of the winged goddess, Victory. She lost her head along the way but she still looks triumphant. Half angel, half human, wings spread wide. I turn to Jazz. ‘I’m going to kiss Ed,’ I say, and she smiles.
