The Story of Tom Brennan

by J. C. Burke

  'Right,' I nodded, then said, 'Do you really think Saint Vitus is going to, you know . . .'

  Gran frowned like I was about to say something unbelievably stupid. I changed tack.

  'I mean, Gran, you've got to admit, Mum has been getting up a bit more.'

  'But still not enough.' In a way Gran was right. The last two nights Mum hadn't made it to dinnertime.

  'Maybe Saint Vitus has started working on her?' I suggested.

  'Well, Thomas.' Gran went back to ripping the sticky tape. 'Perhaps this way Saint Vitus can keep her . . . vertical for longer periods.'

  Get Aunty Kath over to give her a roar up, I wanted to say. It'd be snappier than relying on old Saint Vitus.

  'Didn't you go for a run this morning?'

  'No.' I'd woken up on my bedroom floor at 3 am dribbling over a scrapbook.

  'Do you want some breakfast?'

  'Yeah, I'm starving.'

  'Good.' Gran sounded pleased. 'I'll put some eggs on.'

  'Oh, no,' I panicked. 'Weet-Bix'll be fine.'

  She raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

  'You know, today I'm going to the Hill Deli to buy one of their home-made lasagnes. I hear they're delicious.'

  'Sounds good.'

  'Well, seeing you don't like my cooking.'

  'Huh?'

  'You could have told me. Do you think I couldn't see you fading away those first few weeks? Living on cereal, my goodness, you silly thing.' She actually touched me kind of playfully, ruffling up my hair and tweaking my ear. I started laughing. 'I've got to look after you. You're my growing boy. You've started to fill out the last week. Must be the good Coghill air and the running with your uncle.'

  'Maybe,' I muttered.

  'If there's a meal you don't like I want you to tell me,' she said. 'I do have a thick skin, Tom. God knows I've needed one.'

  'Is Kylie still asleep?'

  'She stayed over at Brianna's.'

  'Why doesn't she just move in there?'

  'She's working hard on some sort of presentation she's giving on Friday.'

  'Not another edible one?'

  'No, thank goodness! I couldn't stand another fuss like that.' Gran shook her head. 'It's a debate, or a speech. Much simpler this time.'

  Friday morning a few of us hung around the lockers talking about the match we'd played the night before. We won easily against a bunch of lightweights from Everley Christian College – if we hadn't there would've been some serious questions to ask. I scored two tries, set up all the others, kicked four out of five, and slotted over a penalty from the sideline.

  The Bennie's fellas showed some glimpses. Jimmy, the outside centre, was fast, real fast, and it was virtually impossible for anyone to prop against Wiseman. But as a team they seemed to lack the killer instinct, which was completely different to St John's. I put that down to Harvey, the coach. He was a good bloke, but his attitude needed fixing.

  After, in the dressing room, he kept whacking me on the back, saying things like, 'Well done. Everyone looked like they were enjoying themselves, and that's the main thing.'

  Wrong!

  I'm sure the old man would make him see the light eventually.

  'The Everley lock was pathetic,' I said. 'He was as big as a house and did nothing.'

  'Did you see Wiseman crunch him?' Jimmy chuckled.

  'Yeah. I thought he wasn't going to get up.'

  'Do you believe it, they had their footy camp last week,' Rory told us.

  'Yeah?' I snorted. 'What a complete waste of time.'

  'We've got ours in about four weeks.'

  'The old man was telling me,' I said. 'Where is it? At some college?'

  'Yeah, it's part of Barton Uni. Where we go is like a conference centre. Excellent sporting facilities.'

  'You been there?'

  'Nah,' Rory answered. 'Just heard a lot about it from Wiseman. Don't know how many rugby camps he's gone on now.'

  'Heaps,' Jimmy answered.

  'There's a nursing college at the uni.' Rory nudged me. 'They reckon it's a chick fest.'

  'Yeah?'

  'They reckon last year, Davin, he was the captain, a big player, scored that many chicks he fell asleep during a training session.'

  'Yeah?'

  'That could be us, Tom.'

  'Doubt it.'

  'Could be who?' Brad Wiseman dumped himself down next to us. You almost felt the ground shake.

  'Been telling Tom about the rugby camp.'

  'It's a good week, mate.' He winked. 'Your old man coming?'

  I nodded.

  'He's a good bloke,' Wiseman said. 'He shouldn't get in the way too much.'

  'I was telling Tom about Davin.'

  'Oh yeah, Davin, mate,' he chuckled. 'He got back in the dorm about 5.00 every morning.'

  'Talking about Davin.' Rory nudged me again. Chrissy was walking across the grass towards us. Davin must have been who she waved to in church. Her boyfriend.

  'Ooh, I want her,' Wiseman moaned.

  'Buckley's, mate,' Jimmy told him.

  We were all gawking, our jaws slumped on our chins, when Chrissy lifted her hand, gave a big wave and smiled – at me. 'Hey, Tom,' she called. 'Good game, I heard.' I nodded. Speaking was out of the question. 'Hubba, hubba,' Wiseman whacked me on the back nearly knocking me over. 'Go, Tommy.'

  Around the corner appeared Kylie and Brianna, deep in conversation. I'm sure Kylie saw me though she acted like she didn't. She knew I was suss of Brianna.

  'What's your sister done to her hair?' Rory asked.

  'Dunno,' I groaned. 'She spends hours in the bathroom putting shit through it.'

  'They're up to something.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'I don't know.' Rory rubbed his chin. 'Brianna gets this "I'm very important" kind of walk. She sort of swings her arse.'

  'You just reckon she's hot,' Wiseman mocked. 'You've always had a thing about her.'

  'Piss off, Wiseman.'

  The bell rang back to class. But for some reason Rory's words had tightened the knot in my guts.

  I had a double period of maths, then lunch. I was in the advanced class with all the geeks. It doesn't matter where you are, the blokes in the advanced maths class are always the ones with poxy skin, bumfluff and bad haircuts – except me, of course. I sat next to Dom, the only other normal human in there. Some of the chicks were okay, but they were so brainy you didn't know what they were talking about half the time.

  'My head hurts,' Dom complained as we wandered out. 'I hate having maths on a Friday.'

  'I'm going to the canteen,' I said. 'See you down at the field.'

  I seemed to be waiting forever in the canteen line. My tummy was growling. I counted my money, wondering if two meat pies, a packet of chips and a chocolate milk would be enough.

  A few girls were whispering, and I could've sworn one of them pointed at me. When they saw I was looking they turned away. I watched them through the corners of my eyes and caught one of them nodding, like she'd just realised something.

  For a minute I had to remind myself I wasn't at St John's. After a while I'd grown used to the whispering there. But at Bennie's? Nah, I told myself. I was being paranoid.

  Then the girl behind tapped me on the shoulder and said, 'Excuse me, you're Kylie's brother, aren't you?'

  'So?'

  'Just asking.'

  No, I wasn't being paranoid.

  The rest of the afternoon I felt the knot getting tighter and tighter.

  Rory and Jimmy were hanging by my locker after school.

  'We're going down to Burger King,' Rory said. 'You want to come?'

  I still had half the scrapbook to do but something in Rory's face and the way Jimmy stared at his feet told me I'd better go with them.

  We walked out in silence.

  Once we were away from kids cramming onto buses and jumping into cars, Rory spoke. 'Your sister got herself a bit worked up.'

  'What are you on about?' I said.

 
'Brianna and Kylie were up to something.'

  'Just tell us, Rory.'

  'They do that public speaking,' he began. 'It's an extra thing you can do in Year Nine. Anyway, it seems . . .'

  He was giving me the shits so I turned to Jimmy. 'What's he on about?'

  'Aw?' Jimmy frowned and stared at his feet again. 'Um?' He looked at Rory, who was obviously the spokesman.

  'Kylie had a bit of a story to tell.'

  I felt the knot snap, my guts landing at my feet.

  'If you get what I mean.'

  No, I didn't get what he meant. Kylie wouldn't do that – no way.

  'Apparently the topic was terrorism.' Rory kept talking. I could tell he was trying to be careful with the words he chose. 'Most people talked about September 11, and Bali and London . . . but Kylie talked about, um – well, she called it domestic terrorism.'

  'Huh?' But I got what he was telling me.

  'What happened to your family back in Mumbilli and . . . stuff.'

  I watched my feet, my black shoes putting one foot in front of the other.

  'Why didn't you tell us?' Rory said. 'I mean, I could tell there was something up the first day I met you at the touch game.'

  I kept my head down.

  'Jimmy's cousin's in gaol. Isn't he, Jimmy?'

  Jimmy nodded.

  'She had no fucking right,' I muttered.

  'I knew, mate.' Jimmy spoke quietly. 'A few of us do. My old girl saw it in one of the papers. You never said nothing about it so I didn't say anything to you. Wasn't your fault.'

  My breath panted at the back of my throat. He knew? Jimmy knew?

  'We're your mates, Tom,' Rory started. 'We're part of a ...'

  'What else did she say?' I cut in. The anger was beginning to bubble in my veins. 'Huh? What other crap did she . . .'

  'Apparently she talked about graffiti,' Rory said. 'Graffiti being sprayed on your house.'

  'She had no right!'

  'Mate . . .?'

  'I can't do this,' I mumbled. 'I can't do this.' I turned the corner and started running.

  I was suffocating inside my own body.

  So that's why Kylie'd been at Brianna's place nearly every arvo and weekend. She was preparing her speech. Preparing to spill the guts of our family. Too busy to even visit her brother.

  Words and pictures collided in my head as I imagined Kylie standing up on the stage. I could almost hear her.

  I walked all the way home. Over and over, like a TV I couldn't switch off, my head spewed the memories, the other ones I didn't like to think about. Like the morning after Daniel's sentencing. The morning I'd walked out the back door to get some air, to get away from having to look at Dad's sad face staring at the wall in the kitchen, and seen the ugly black letters sprayed along the wall where Daniel and I once played handball. 'SHAME ON YOU, BRENNANS, SHAME.'

  It was dark by the time I kicked open the screen door and threw my bag against the cupboards. Dad, Gran, Mum and Kylie were sitting around the kitchen. Kylie's head was on the table. She was sobbing. Loud hiccups shook her spine.

  I stood there looking at them, their faces pulled and prised in all directions, their grief sitting in every crevice of their skin. I wasn't going to join them, join their sordid little circle that sat there doing nothing. I was going to walk out of this kitchen and not look back.

  'Tom?' Dad stood up. 'Tom?'

  'You stupid cow!' I spat at Kylie.

  'Tom!' Dad called after me.

  But I'd already walked out. I felt the power in my legs, and my heart pounding hard in my chest, as I strode past the picture in the hall that said 'suffer the little children', past the doorway to my mother's hideaway and back out to the night's crisp air.

  Kylie wasn't going to destroy us, no way! I wasn't going to let her. Even if it took me all night, I'd finish the scrapbook for Daniel. I'd give him something to hold onto. Something to help him out of that past. Stuff her, I thought. She's not taking us down with her.

  Brendan was sitting on the steps outside the cabin, a six-pack by his feet. It was as if he'd been waiting for me.

  'You want one?' he said.

  I nodded and he chucked me a bottle. I pressed it against my forehead, almost expecting the cold glass to sizzle on my skin.

  'I don't know what in God's name got into her,' he said.

  'She'd been planning it,' I spat. 'That's almost sicker.'

  'She still crying?'

  'Howling.'

  Brendan glanced at his watch. 'Ooh, that's about four hours now.'

  'Huh?' I paced along the strip of concrete outside Brendan's cabin. 'Four hours what?'

  'Four hours she's been crying. She came straight home after she'd done that – that bit of theatre,' he told me. 'She was freaking out. Did your grandmother give it to her, or what! I thought she was going to get the old strap out.'

  'Good.'

  'Kylie's only tough on the outside.'

  'What a joke!' I drained the last drop of beer. Its potion swum in my head. 'I just don't get her. Why? Why would you want to do that? Haven't we been through enough? What's her, her . . .?'

  'She's angry. This is her way of getting it out. I guess it's better that way.'

  'Better for who?' I mumbled into the empty bottle.

  'What did you say?'

  'Nothing.' I yawned. I suddenly felt tired – a tiredness like I'd been beat up till I surrendered.

  'Chrissy came down here looking for you,' Brendan said.

  'Chrissy?'

  'She heard about it – at school.'

  'I guess everyone knows by now.' I sat down on the ground. 'Everyone.'

  'Tom, Coghill's not a little town like Mumbilli. It is possible for people to know things without it meaning the whole town knows.'

  'Yeah?'

  'Besides, there are heaps of people who already knew about it.'

  'About – us?'

  'Mumbilli is on Planet Earth, mate.'

  'Well, why, when I picked up that stuff for Fin, did Chrissy think it was for someone else?'

  'You weren't ready. That was obvious.'

  'But you said it was . . .' I got up and sat down on the step next to him. 'You're doing my head in, Brendan.'

  'I've figured you out, Tommy.'

  'Hey?'

  'You think what happened to Daniel will make people look at you differently?'

  I buried my face in my knees. 'Remember what happened in the Billi?'

  'Sit up!' he told me. 'I can't understand what you're saying.'

  I sat up and linked my hands at the back of my neck.

  'Come on, Tom, say it.'

  'The Billi.' I tried to say a bit louder. 'Remember?'

  'But that was in the Billi, Tom! The Billi's a completely different place. There's 30,000 more people in Coghill. That means there's a lot more stuff going on. Why do you reckon your oldies decided to come here? It was more than just us being here.'

  I buried my face back in my knees.

  'Everyone's got secrets, Tom, but this is a big town. Nobody's thinking about other people's business, they're too busy thinking about their own. Coghill's not Mumbilli. You got to remember that, mate.'

  I sat up. My head felt like someone was whacking it with a steel rod. 'But – I loved the Billi.'

  'Of course you did. It was your home. But it's a small town, and you weren't going to survive there.'

  'How do you know it's not going to happen here?'

  Brendan looked right into my face. 'Hey, Tom? What do you think is going to happen?'

  I felt my shoulders lift then fall. 'That's what I'm shit-scared about. I can't – I can't go backwards.'

  'Tommy.' He put his arm around my shoulder. 'Listen to me, mate. Kylie shouldn't have done what she did. She didn't give a toss about anyone else when she did it. But it's done. Sooner or later everyone would've known, that's the reality.' He gave my thigh a slap. It jolted me. 'We should've talked about this ages ago. But it wasn't the right time. Well, not for you.'
/>   Again I shrugged.

  'You're stronger than her.'

  'No I'm not.'

  'You are. She won't even visit Daniel.'

  But for the last time I just had to get this straight. 'So,' I swallowed, 'you don't reckon anything's going to happen?'

  'Nothing,' Brendan answered. It was almost like he was laughing at me. 'Absolutely bloody nothing.'

  Brendan was right. As Dad and I drove down Federation Street at 6.30 am, on our way to visit Daniel, there was no graffiti to greet us. No signs hanging from shop windows, or people lining the streets with placards that read, 'Brennans go home.' It was boring old Federation Street, slowly waking up on a Saturday morning .

  I held my arm out the window. The cool autumn air tingled the hairs along my skin and the knot in my guts started to untie.

  'Dad, can we stop at Maccas for some brekkie?'

  'What? I made all that scrambled eggs you didn't touch. You said you weren't hungry.'

  'I wasn't,' I answered. 'But I am now.'

  'Make up your mind, Tom,' Dad said, making a U-turn into the Maccas driveway. 'Don't you go AWOL on me.'

  It was different visiting Daniel at the Crisis Centre. Still all the rules, but the atmosphere was a little friendlier. I handed the scrapbook in. After the guards had been through it page by page, checking for razor blades and drugs – not that I could figure where I could've hidden them – they gave it to him.

  'What's this?' Daniel asked.

  'Have a look.' I was feeling a bit nervous. 'It's a sort of birthday pressie for next week.'

  He opened it and a look of confusion wrinkled his face. He studied it for a second then looked up at me and smiled. Really smiled.

  'This is awesome, Tommy.' He flicked through the pages. 'Must've taken you ages.'

  'Some of the photos are classic.' I pointed to the one of him in the under sevens rugby. 'Do you reckon your shorts were pulled up high enough?'

  'No,' Daniel squeaked. 'What's Mum done to her hair in this one?'

  'Give us a look,' Dad said.

  It was a photocopy from the newspaper. Mum and Dad were posing with Daniel. It said, 'St John's record try-scorer Daniel Brennan is congratulated by his mother, Tess, and father, Joe. Daniel plays for the 16As and is a sure thing for the first fifteen next year.'

  'You were lucky the paper didn't pull this picture, son.'

  I'd tossed up whether to put it in, but it was such a great picture of Daniel with the oldies.