She laugh and in her eyes there be fear and hope.
Mrs Rossi from number seventy-seven promised to donate homemade jam. ‘What you are doing is so lovely,’ she said. ‘So good to see the young caring about other people like this.’ She held her hands together and her curly hair bounced on her shoulders. ‘Wait one minute.’ She disappeared inside.
Ada smiled and rubbed her hands. She was like the salespeople that knocked on the door, except she made people listen. I looked at the list. We’d ticked off a few things but there was so much more we needed to get.
Mrs Rossi came back with a jar of jam covered with a cream cloth. ‘This is for both of you. I’ll take our new neighbours their jam in a bit.’
‘Thank you so much,’ Ada said, taking the jam. She squeezed her hand.
We walked down the street towards home. Ada held the jam up in the air. ‘Just in time too. I’m starving. It’s nearly five o’clock and we hardly had lunch!’ She squinted at the jar. ‘Hope it’s strawberry jam.’
‘You just ate a muesli bar like ten minutes ago.’
‘That wasn’t even a snack!’
‘It’s lunch for some.’
She stopped, put her hand on my arm. ‘Hey, stop doing that. You don’t even know me, Kane. I’m not some rich brat or whatever the hell it is you think I am.’
She looked hurt.
I tapped the donation list against my leg. ‘Sorry, I’m just on edge. You’re actually not bad for a goth.’
She rolled her eyes. ‘This,’ she said, waving at her face, ‘is anime inspired.’
‘Or something out of The Walking Dead.’
‘Ha ha.’ She whacked my arm but smiled. ‘We all have our shit, you know.’
‘Yeah.’ I nodded and wondered what demons chased her here.
‘This was fun,’ she said. ‘People are so nice. Well, most.’ She shivered. ‘My blood boils every time I think about that bigot yesterday.’
‘Don’t worry about that prick.’
‘Yeah. They’re only words, right?’ She shook her head and snatched the list from my hand. Her finger traced the writing. ‘We need to expand our doorknocking. The more people we ask, the better our chance of getting the bigger items. What are you doing tomorrow?’
‘I got school.’ Her eyes got dark for a second and she looked away. ‘But we can do it in the afternoon,’ I said quickly.
She smiled. ‘Okay, let’s meet at the park down the street in an hour to make a plan. You know the area better than me,’ she said, walking backwards. ‘I’m off to stuff my face. Want a jam sandwich?’
‘Nah. See you in an hour, goth.’
‘See ya, punk.’ She turned around and bolted down the street.
I walked past Sicelo’s house. Neighbours had donated doonas, tables, chairs, canned food and pillows. Some were in Sicelo’s front yard now shaking hands with his dad, and Sicelo’s mum gave them cake and tea. They hung around eating and drinking in the front yard while Sam and Gugu high-fived. Sam’s smile was getting bigger every day that Dad stayed away.
‘Hey, Kane.’ Mr Tupu sat on the old couch in his front yard and waved me over. ‘Come here a sec.’
What the hell did he want? I walked to his driveway as Sione came out of the house.
‘I been thinking.’ Mr Tupu slapped his hands on his thighs like a wrestler. ‘This couch out here is a bit battered, you know?’
Sione fist-bumped me and sat next to his dad. He half smiled. ‘Come on, Dad, spit it out.’
Mr Tupu narrowed his eyes at him, mumbled something in another language. Sione pissed himself laughing.
Mr Tupu straightened. ‘Inside we got a three-seater couch that’s taking up space, hey. What do you say we take it over to the African neighbours?’
I tried not to grin like an idiot. ‘Yeah, that’s great, Mr Tupu,’ I said. ‘Thanks.’
‘Yeah, yeah, don’t mention it. You caught me on a bad day, you know?’ He got up, adjusted his shorts. ‘Maybe you can give us a hand with it tomorrow? Three of us should do it.’
He walked off and I sat next to Sione.
‘My dad’s a funny bloke,’ he said.
‘Yeah.’ I stretched my legs. They’d cramped from standing up. ‘At least he’s got a sense of humour.’
Sione leaned back and smiled. ‘You’re alright, Kane,’ he said. ‘You’re alright.’
I poked the grass with my foot and wondered when things would ever be alright.
‘Guess what, Mum? Kane said Mr Tupu changed his mind and he’s gonna give a couch!’
‘That’s wonderful, baby!’ She smiled big like she did when something made her really happy.
Me and Mum were making chocolate crackles for Mr Bailey coz he was still sad. Her hair kept falling on her eye and she tried to blow it away but it didn’t work so she moved it with a finger but chocolate got stuck in her hair. ‘Can I take some to Gugu too?’
‘Of course!’
I wiped her hair and helped Mum mix coz she couldn’t do it with one hand and then she let me lick the bowl and all the bubbles stuck to my tongue.
‘Kane and Ada did a great job. So did you! So proud of you, baby.’
I smiled coz Gugu was gonna be really happy and didn’t have to sit on the floor no more.
We put the chocolate crackles in colourful cups and left them in the fridge. Kane came and said he was going down the road to plan with Ada coz they were gonna ask the other streets to help too! He took two chocolate crackles from the fridge and put one in his mouth and some fell onto his T-shirt.
‘Hey! Mum, Kane’s gonna finish the chocolate crackles!’
‘It’s only two … geez, bud, how many can Mr Bailey eat?’
‘Kane. Stop teasing your brother.’ Her eyebrow went up. ‘I hope the other chocolate crackle is for Ada.’
He shaked his head and bit the other chocolate crackle and went outside and Mum made the tsk-tsk noise like Mrs Aslan. Mum said I should watch TV till the chocolate crackles cooled and then I could take them to Mr Bailey. I got the jar of magical colour dust potion and shaked till the colours sparkled. Mum came too and hugged me on the couch. Her hand was scratched and it was hard when I touched it. She got it from work when she was wiping the sink. I kissed it to make it better. ‘Does it hurt?’
She shaked her head. ‘Nothing can hurt me.’
‘Not even Dad?’
She looked sad. ‘Not anymore.’ I tickled her till she laughed. ‘Are you having fun at school, baby?’
‘Uh-huh. I ate four lollies in Mrs Fuller’s class and got a star for my pictures! And at lunch Gugu and me played with Sicelo and his friend. And then I gave Gugu some magic colours from the jar so it can protect her too.’
She kissed my hand and it tickled coz her nose was cold like Sunshine’s.
She touched the jar with the colours and opened the lid. ‘Guess what? This magic potion works super fast when …’ She put her fingers inside and got some dust and closed the lid and her skin got red, blue and green. ‘… when it’s sprinkled!’ She threw the colours up yelling, ‘Abracadabra! Begone, bad things!’ And the colours fell on the couch and the floor and went in my eyes and I squeezed them shut and laughed with Mum. She put the jar in my lap and I felt strong and brave like the bad things could never touch us again.
The park at the end of Grandma’s street had a small creek that slides into the bushes. The water was brown and grubby and I threw a stone into it and it sank to the bottom. I sat on the only swing in the small playground. Grandma still wasn’t home so I had left her a note. I loved this part of the day, when everything slowed down and the clouds were bruised and the sun was getting ready to set. Like magic, night hid all the crap and made me forget that everyone was laughing at me at school.
I missed home, the smell of Mum’s morning coffee, soaking in the spa, the light that splashed in my bedroom and coloured my crystals. I missed walking down the street without shitting myself that someone had seen the video on Facebook. I breathed in the smell of gr
ass and leaned my head back like I used to when I was small and Mum used to push me so high I thought I would fly off the swing.
‘S’up.’ Kane turned up licking a pink cupcake paper and dropped it on the grass. He wiped brown marks from the corners of his mouth with his fingers. ‘You meditating or something?’
‘I was thinking. You should try it sometime.’
He scrunched up his face. ‘You know how to think?’ he said, half smiling.
‘I have my moments.’ A crow pecked at something dead and stringy on the grass. ‘Sometimes I don’t know what I think. Do you ever get like that?’
Kane sat down and stretched his legs on the grass. He took the list out of his pocket. ‘Nah.’ He stared at me like he was trying to figure something out, then looked down at the paper. ‘I think we should start at Johnstone Street. It’s bigger,’ he said, slapping the paper.
‘Not into deep-and-meaningfuls, huh?’
He shrugged. ‘What’s up with that? Why do girls blurt out their feelings like this?’ He clicked his fingers.
The swing squeaked and I went back and forth with my toes. ‘Maybe because when you trap feelings inside they grow into a feral animal that takes over your head till it feels like you’re going to explode.’
He picked at the grass till there was a small pile next to him. ‘Is that why you’re here? With Mrs Aslan?’
‘Yeah.’
‘What happened?’
I told him about Dimitri and the party, Mum’s psycho fits, the Facebook video, the slap. My words made him laugh, frown and squirm on the grass. ‘So yeah, I got no idea what the hell I’m feeling, but everyone else knows how they feel about me.’ Mum thought I was a lesbian but I wasn’t even sure that I liked girls. Maybe it was the alcohol, maybe it was Casey, maybe it was just fun? I asked myself every day but the answers were as foggy as the memories of the party.
He was quiet for a bit. Thoughts tightened and scrunched up his face like the paper next to his feet. ‘You gotta show up,’ he said, lifting his head.
‘I have. All over Facebook.’
‘You gotta show up at school.’
I shook my head till it felt like it would fall off. ‘I can’t.’ Vomit crept up my throat. ‘Everyone’s seen it. My school, it’s … you don’t know.’
‘Don’t show up and you give them power.’ He fiddled with the pink cupcake paper, folding it till it nearly disappeared in his hand. ‘Show up and you shut them up.’
‘I guess I could punch them if it came down to it.’ I pumped my fist in the air.
He laughed and spit flew out of his mouth.
‘Don’t laugh too hard. God.’
‘Stick to words,’ he said. ‘Leave the punching to me.’
I rolled my eyes and let out a breath. ‘You know, you’re not as tough as you let on.’
He moved back like I’d thrown a rock at his head. ‘You don’t know shit about me.’
‘Maybe not, but I know you could have hit that racist guy yesterday, but you didn’t.’ He could have shaken off Grandma’s hand, he was that angry, but he stood by her, trembling.
‘I chose not to.’
‘I’m glad.’
His face burned up to his ears. The sky was orange and lit up the grass around him. He sat in a golden patch that made the spikes on his head glow.
Show up, he said. I imagined turning up to school, sucking up the jokes and laughter till I was full of it, laughing with them. I had enough courage to do it. Not like Mum. She didn’t care enough to show up.
‘You gotta admit the racist prick deserved a belting,’ Kane said.
I touched my cheek. ‘No one deserves to be hit.’
Our eyes locked and the crow made a crying sound that chilled my arms. Kane looked away, grabbed the piece of paper.
‘If we can’t get the big stuff tomorrow, we should go to the Salvation Army or one of those charities—’
‘Muuuuuum! Kaaaaaane!’
Sam’s scream sucked the air out of me.
‘What the hell?’ Kane flew up, his face white, hands in fists. He bolted towards Sam’s screams and I ran behind him.
‘Muuuuuum! Kaaaaaane!’
The plate slipped through Angie’s fingers, crashing to the floor. ‘Sam!’ she said, rushing to the front door and flinging it open. It hit the wall, the bang propelling her forward as she hurried down the porch steps. ‘Sam!’ she said. ‘Sam!’ Her vision blurred and she told herself it could be nothing, only a fall, a graze on the way back from Mr Bailey’s, but his wailing didn’t stop.
Kane stood on the nature strip in front of the house, his shoulders square, hands in fists. When she reached his side her legs buckled. ‘No!’ She fell on the grass at Kane’s feet. ‘No! Dean! Please!’
He stood in the middle of the street, Sam pinned against his chest, a lighter in his free hand. ‘There she is. The woman of the hour!’ He slurred his words and pulled Sam’s hair. ‘Here to save you.’
Sam whimpered. His clothes were dripping wet. ‘M … m … mummm …’
‘Sam, b-baby, it’s going to be okay. I’m h-here—’
‘Here to say goodbye.’
His laughter curdled Angie’s blood. ‘Dean … let him go.’ Her words quavered and she willed her legs to move. She held Kane’s hand and staggered up. ‘Please. This is between us.’ The stink of fuel burned her nose.
‘Between us?’ He laughed. ‘Between us, ha? Wasn’t between us when you took me to court. Uh-uh.’
‘Dean,’ she said, willing authority into her voice. ‘It was the police—’
‘You bitch.’
Kane stiffened beside her. ‘Let him go.’
‘Don’t you dare move, Kane! None of you!’ He twirled around, waving the lighter at the neighbours who had gathered on the street. ‘Or I swear I’ll burn you all!’ He flicked the lighter on, off, on, off, casting his face in and out of light.
‘Dean, please. I’ll go to the court tomorrow, first thing, talk to the magistrate—’
‘Too late. You should have thought about the consequences before you threw me to the pigs!’ He kicked a red petrol can. ‘See this? It’s empty. Sam needed a quick wash. We both did, father and son.’
It was then that Angie realised that the liquid dripping off Dean’s shirt was fuel. He’d soaked her baby in it! Sam was shivering, his eyes closed, lips moving as if counting. ‘D-Dean. We can talk about this. Let him go and it will never happen again, I promise.’ Angie groped for words, stalled for time. A man was talking on his mobile phone. Surely he was calling the police! ‘You know I’m true to my word.’ A fog blurred her senses, pulling her further and further away, smudging the neighbours into one big shadow surrounding her and her children. She had to buy time; she had to save her son!
Dean flicked the lighter.
On. Off.
On. Off.
He was going to set himself on fire.
He was going to kill Sam.
My legs shook just like poor Sam’s. His eyes were hollow. His dad laughed, whacked him across the head. ‘Wake up, you stupid boy. You can thank your mum for this.’ He lifted Sam’s head, grabbed his face so hard his eyes were squished close. ‘Say goodbye.’
I tried to move closer to Angie but my bones were stiff. She held onto Kane as if saying a prayer.
‘Say goodbye!’ the man barked.
Sam moved his lips but nothing came out.
Kane was so still you couldn’t tell he was breathing. His fists were white and his eyes were on his dad. If he moved, the man would burn Sam alive. He waved the lighter at Kane, grinning as if this was a game, daring him to take a step.
Voices buzzed around me. A dog barked, someone sobbed, but no one dared to move. Everyone watched. Why the hell wasn’t anyone doing anything? The two big guys just stood there. They were the size of bodyguards; they could tackle Sam’s dad! The African man was hugging a blanket, like that was any use! Nothing but the sky moved.
Angie begged, and fell to her knees. Mum would hav
e dropped dead for sure. Not that Dad would ever do something like this. He was an idiot sometimes but he wasn’t evil. This man with the lighter wasn’t human. He was the kind of evil that belonged in anime, not in real life. ‘There’s good in the world,’ Mum used to say when I had nightmares and she’d rock me back to sleep. Where was the good now? Where was Grandma?
‘Don’t be stupid, bro … let the kid go!’ said the big guy with the tatts.
‘Just try it,’ said the man, twirling with Sam so he eyeballed everyone. ‘Try it, there’s enough fuel here to burn the damn street!’
Bony fingers dug into my shoulders and I jumped and let out half a scream. ‘Ada!’ Mum’s skin was so white it was nearly see-through. ‘Ada!’ she whispered, watching the man in horror and pulling me towards her. I fell into her arms and sobbed, holding onto her as tightly as I could.
‘My Sam!’ Grandma was hysterical. She stood next to me, praying to God, hitting her knees as if Sam was already buried. ‘He my Sam, he my Sam …’ she kept saying, wiping her nose with the end of her headscarf. ‘He my Sam.’
I held her hand, soft and warm like Mum’s.
The lighter made circles in the air.
No. No. No. Please God.
A haze of dust gathered in the lounge room. It burned Mr Bailey’s eyes, filled his mouth with grit. Gunshots and screams sounded outside, he was sure of it. Footsteps rustled the shrubbery in his garden. ‘The Viet Cong have come, Judy!’ he said. ‘Stay down!’ He put her photo on the couch, traced her face with a finger.
The air turned thick and humid around him, bringing the stink of the jungle, mildew and rot. He gagged with the reek of Matthew’s feet, how the skin had peeled off his foot along with his socks. Mr Bailey took off his socks just in case and crawled on the carpet towards the screams outside.
The prickly heat slowed him down, drenched him in sweat. His clothes clung to him. He took off his pants and top and slid towards the door. The sweat dripped in his eyes, blurred his vision. He blinked till he could see again. Orange gunfire lit up the front windows. ‘Honour the dead but fight for the living!’ he said, surging forward. ‘I’m coming, you bastards!’ His bones creaked as he got up, flung the door open and ran into the twilight.
Living on Hope Street Page 16
