by Beale, Fleur
‘Thanks Dad,’ said Buzz, a fat grin all over his dumb face. ‘I’ll get the ute and can we borrow a battery to chuck in the Commodore?’
‘Hang on!’ Frank said. ‘You’d better find out if you can take it first.’
I almost laughed. My two traitorous friends looked like Frank had snatched their ice creams.
‘But it’s been there forever,’ Robbie said. Buzz just kicked at the floor.
I didn’t mean to say anything. I wanted them to sweat but the words just came out anyway. ‘I rang the council last night. It’s all yours. If you want it.’
Robbie high-fived me; Buzz yelled, ‘You beauty!’ But Frank gave me the sort of stare that’s packed full of suspicion, so I smiled at him.
Buzz ran for the ute. Robbie headed for the trailer, yelling for me to come and give him a hand. The two of us jumped onto the back of the ute, and when Frank swung himself up into the cab we were off with Buzz driving.
Robbie and I lay down, watching the sky. It was going to be sweet. They’d let me in on the car even if I didn’t get a job. We were mates.
‘You could milk cows,’ I said.
Robbie grunted. ‘They shit, they stink, they kick.’ He turned his head to look at me. ‘How ’bout you? You could milk cows.’
‘They shit, they stink, they kick.’
We laughed. He’d never get a job, and if some fluke happened and he did, he’d never keep it. Not long enough to earn a hundred miserable dollars.
Chapter Three
OUT OF THE DITCH
BUZZ PARKED THE ute on the side of the road, hazard lights flashing, then the four of us scrambled down into the ditch.
‘You did check that the engine’s still there?’ Frank asked.
‘It was yesterday,’ I said. ‘But no battery.’
Frank looked at me with the sort of look that says Nobody asked you, you flea on the bum of a dog. I can ignore looks like that.
‘Get the bonnet open,’ Frank said.
We wrestled with it again and I reckon it was easier the first time, but we got it open and propped it up.
‘Hmm,’ said Frank. ‘Did it have a distributor yesterday?’
I looked at Robbie. Robbie looked at Buzz. Buzz looked at me. ‘Dunno,’ we all said.
Frank gave a bit of a grin. ‘Got a learning curve ahead of you, boys.’ He let the bonnet down gently. ‘Right. We’ll tow it out with the ute. Then you’ll have to drive it onto the trailer.’
Like, how? The three of us knew enough to understand that an engine minus its distributor wasn’t going to take us anywhere.
Frank just laughed. ‘A problem for you to solve. And you’ve got till we get this heap out of the ditch.’
I wanted to ask if he’d shove it right back into the ditch if we didn’t solve his little problem, but I figured I wasn’t his favourite person right then so I kept my mouth shut. I also engaged the brain. I can use it when I have to — not that my family or any of my teachers would say so. But if I solved Frank’s little problem, then I’d score Brownie points with the others.
Think, think, think. Can’t drive it onto the trailer. The ramps are too steep to push it up. Can’t tow it up. Gotta get it up under its own power. No engine. Back again round the same old thoughts. Damn it! Think sideways. Get out of the loop.
Robbie and I stood back, watching Buzz drive the ute forward till the tow rope was taut. Frank gave a thumbs-up and the old Commodore crawled out of the ditch, dropping grass and glass as it came.
We need another motor. Hitch it up to the wheels somehow. That’s when it hit me. ‘The starter motor!’ I yelled. ‘We drive it up using the starter motor. After we put the battery in.’
Unwilling admiration is how I’d describe the look on Frank’s face. ‘Well done,’ he said. ‘Mind, though, it won’t do the starter motor a power of good.’
We didn’t care, and if Frank had a better idea he was keeping quiet about it. We got our heads under the bonnet, dropped in the battery, and watched Buzz put the leads in the right places. I wasn’t exactly sure where the starter motor was, and Robbie was keeping quiet about it too. Lucky for us, Buzz knew what to do. He just leaned into the car, put the key in the ignition, turned it, and the starter motor cranked over. The engine, though, stayed as dead as a squashed possum. Yeah, okay — no distributor so no grunt from the engine. I looked at Robbie. He looked back at me, and neither of us had a clue what to do next.
Buzz straightened up, grinning at our gloomy faces. ‘Chill, bros. We’ll crank it along with the starter motor.’
We let Buzz drive it. I didn’t want to look stupid in front of Frank. Don’t know what Robbie’s reason was. Could be he’s just a nice guy — really wanted to drive it himself, so worked out that if he wanted to, Buzz would want to as well, so he’d let Buzz do it. You miss out on stuff by being nice in my opinion.
The driver’s door wouldn’t open, so Buzz slid in through the window. ‘Okay! Here we go!’
The starter motor cranked over. ‘Houston, we have lift-off,’ Robbie said.
I thought Buzz would drop it into reverse and back up onto the trailer very slowly and very carefully. He didn’t. We heard the gears graunch, but then he just sat there, turning his head round to look back down the road.
‘I’ll do it if you’re scared,’ I yelled.
He didn’t answer. Frank didn’t look bothered, just leaned against the ute like he had all the time in the world.
‘Move it, Buzz!’ Robbie’s yell tailed off as the car started moving — but not towards the trailer. No, Buzz took off in a spectacular U-y that took up the whole road. He came back and lined the car up nicely in front of the trailer ramps. Then he did do the slow and careful thing.
The rest of us got behind it and pushed, but we’d never have got it up onto the trailer without the starter motor. It groaned away and didn’t sound happy, then smoke started pouring out from under the bonnet. The car was heavy, and, not that I’d say so, it was lucky Frank was with us.
We gave it one last heave just as the motor burned out. ‘Made it!’ Robbie yelled.
Buzz swung out of the car, a grin stretched across his face. ‘Let’s get the old girl home.’
We didn’t say much on the way back. I could tell Robbie was off in happy-happy land, dreaming of driving round a paddock. But me, I was worrying. Frank could be a problem. It looked as if he’d got into Buzz’s ear and yammered away about not letting us scrounge off him all the time. They were definitely singing the same song. Buzz, I could get around. Buzz plus Frank — no way.
Then I cheered up. I had the Brownie points from the starter motor idea. That would carry me through for a day or two.
Frank let us put the car under a tree not far from his big shed. Not in it. Apparently he didn’t like junk messing up his space. He gave me a look.
Okay, Frank. I get it. I’m junk. You don’t like me. Tough.
He said, ‘You could have trouble getting hold of a dizzy for this. You’ll need a points one. Electronic won’t work.’
Robbie whispered to me, ‘What’s a dizzy?’
‘Work it out,’ I said.
‘We’ll get one,’ Buzz said. ‘We’d best get a seatbelt too.’
Full rally harness, roll cage. Best not suggest that in front of Frank.
Frank wiped his hands on his overalls. ‘I’ll leave you to it. Two weeks, remember.’
Talk about a killjoy.
We stood around the car. ‘One starter motor, completely fried,’ Buzz said. It was still smoking. ‘Must have melted the whole thing.’
‘We’ll get another one,’ Robbie said. ‘Anything else we’re going to need?’ Not that he knew any more than I did if something was stuffed.
Buzz was more clued up. Well, he’d grown up around engines, so fair enough. ‘Just the distributor, starter motor and a seatbelt. Then we’re in business.’
We stood round grinning at each other.
‘Let’s go and look on the computer,’ I said.
&nb
sp; Buzz’s face closed up. ‘No. I’m not doing a thing till we’ve got the money to do it properly.’
‘Suit yourself.’ I walked off.
I was on my bike, down the drive and almost at the road when I heard Robbie yelling at me to wait up. I waited. ‘Thought you’d be staying to play with your buddy,’ I said as he came near. Nasty, but I felt nasty. Actually, cornered was how I felt. Get a job and keep my friends, or stay as I was and hang out with my cat because I’d have no friends. I kept on being nasty. ‘You answered any ads yet? Like: wanted a useless dreamer who can’t keep his mind on anything for more than two seconds.’
‘I’ve got an interview at four today,’ he said, giving me such a fright that this time it was me riding off into the path of approaching traffic. ‘Jake!’ he bellowed. ‘Watch yourself!’
I didn’t speak to him for the rest of the journey. My life was falling into pieces around my ears and there didn’t seem anything I could do to stop it. The obvious thing would be to look for work as well. But that wasn’t me, that wasn’t what I was about. Life was for cruising through: don’t make waves, slide around problems, don’t worry. It was a damn good recipe — had carried me along sweetly for nearly seventeen years. And now this.
Bugger.
I got home, fed my face, fed Speck, lay flat on the lounge floor with Speck on my chest and thought about the whole train wreck of my life.
Buzz wasn’t going to cave. Robbie was serious about earning money, damn him. Would the two of them go ahead and build the paddock basher without me?
I rang Buzz, and for about the first time ever wished I had a mobile. A text — so much easier than talking. But, no money, no phone.
‘You really going to do this?’ I didn’t add the without me part.
‘It’d be better with three of us,’ Buzz said. He didn’t add the but two will do part.
‘See ya,’ I said.
‘Yeah. See ya.’
I slumped back on the floor. Speck climbed back on board. I stroked her and thought about the unfairness of life. I couldn’t decide who I was madder at, Buzz or Robbie. Robbie probably, seeing it was all his brilliant idea. A true friend wouldn’t run off and leave me to hang out by myself all holidays.
‘Buzz and me, we always look out for him,’ I told Speck. Always riding in formation, with tall, chunky Buzz in front, shorter Robbie in the middle, and tall skinny me last, looking out for my mate Robbie. It was always like that. Every photo of the three of us was the same, Robbie between Buzz and me so he wouldn’t get lost. Long, short, long — that was us. But not for much longer.
Mum came home. Speck ran to meet her. No loyalty anywhere these days.
I thought about telling Mum. But when she asked me how my day was, I just said, ‘Okay.’
Gramps rolled in at around six. ‘What’s eating you, young fella?’ he asked.
I shrugged. ‘Nothing.’
Mum gave me a narrow-eyed look.
‘Liar,’ said Gramps. ‘Talk about a bear with a sore arse.’
I left the room. Mum called me back. Apparently it was my turn to do the dishes. Did them. Couldn’t be bothered arguing. She said, ‘I guess you’ll tell us in your own sweet time.’
I guessed I wouldn’t.
The phone went. It was Robbie. ‘Jake! I got it! I got the job. I start right after New Year.’ He was all joy and sparkles.
‘Bully for you,’ I said.
He didn’t even hear what I said. The words just kept bubbling out of his gob. ‘They’re going to pay me every Friday, so Buzz says we’ll start working on the car on Saturday — doesn’t matter if I haven’t got the full hundred up front.’
I’d thought they were my mates. Mates stick together. They didn’t just go off and leave you in the cold. They shouldn’t. I didn’t ask what the fecking job was. I got told.
‘It’s cleaning offices five nights a week. Design and software outfit. I start at five and finish at seven.’
‘You’ll last a day. If you’re lucky,’ I said, and hung up on him. Let him sparkle all over Buzz. Buzz would sparkle back and they could have a fine old sparkle party together. Without me.
Chapter Four
BETRAYED!
IF ROBBIE STARTED his fancy pants job after New Year, there would be slightly over two weeks when they wouldn’t be doing anything on the car unless Buzz changed his stupid mind.
Two weeks, give or take, I’d have friends. After that: goodbye Jake, been nice knowing you.
Traitors. Morons.
My mind edged up to the idea of getting a job. Lots of benefits: money, money, money, and keeping my mates.
The bad: working, yes sir no sir to an idiot boss. Joining the rat-race. Having Mum tell me it’d do me good. Having Gramps go into one of his when I was your age riffs.
Hell in a bucket! I didn’t want a job. Didn’t want to work. Bugger my old man — why couldn’t I have a father who had money? Just to depress myself more, I decided to ring him up.
He answered for once. Probably meant he was out of work again. ‘Jake! Good to hear from you, son. How’s life? School okay?’
‘It’s the holidays, Dad.’
‘Of course it is! Christmas fast approaching. How’s your mother? And Gramps?’
I cut to the chase. ‘Dad, I need some cash.’
‘Ah!’ He pulled out the hurt father act. ‘Might have known you wouldn’t get in touch just to pass the time of day. Just to catch up.’
‘Like when was the last time you rang me — just to talk?’ The loser probably didn’t even remember who I was most of the time.
He didn’t answer, and I didn’t talk either. His turn. I’d listen to his excuse about why he couldn’t give me money right now. He was good at excuses. I’d only once caught him using the same one twice.
‘It so happens,’ he said, ‘it so happens, my son, that right at this moment …’
Here it comes, I thought. Nearly hung up on him.
‘… I do happen to have some cash to spare. Not a lot, but some. I’ll put it into your bank account this very evening. Call it a Christmas present.’
Well, that was a new one. A variation of the cheque’s in the mail, but I had to hand it to him. It was about the best brush-off he’d tried yet, so I laughed and said, ‘Awesome. Thanks, Dad.’
Robbie rang two seconds after I hung up and rabbited on about how he’d found all these parts on Trade Me, how he couldn’t wait to get started and why didn’t I look for work so that I could join in. I hung up on him.
Life pretty much sucked.
Just for fun, I checked my bank balance the following morning. Had to look at it twice. $102.38. For real? I let out a hoot of laughter. The old man had come across with the goods. First time in living memory. I printed out the page because I knew I wouldn’t believe it without the evidence there in front of me.
I reached for the phone, then put it back down. This required careful handling. I would need to be tactical, have a plan. I went and found Speck. She was a good listener, purred in all the right places.
‘So what do you reckon, Speck? Hand over the hundred today? Be back in the game right away?’
She yawned.
‘Yep. Have to agree with you. I hold out on them till next week. Actually, till Robbie gets his first pay. If he gets it.’
Speck purred. Intelligent cat.
I laughed. If old Robbie was his usual dreamy self and got the sack before he could earn a hundred bucks, I’d be in and he’d be out. ‘Life is sweet,’ I told Speck.
She closed her eyes, but she was still purring.
The next few days went by with the three of us doing what we always did — hanging out at the beach — except it rained one day so we watched movies at Buzz’s house. He hired them. Every so often he or Robbie would say, ‘Can’t wait to get started on the car.’ Then they’d look at me and I’d look right back, but I kept my mouth shut.
Christmas came and went. I hoped for money. Or a mobile that somebody else would pay the charg
es on. I got new jeans from Mum and a tee-shirt from Gramps, dark green and the wrong size. Nothing more from Dad.
Robbie started his job. I waited for him to get the sack. All that week, his head was off in la-la land. I seriously thought about not biking anywhere with him he was so useless.
Buzz said, ‘Let’s tie a string to him. Then you can give it a yank instead of yelling at him.’
Tempting. Very, very tempting.
‘Sorry,’ Robbie said. ‘Gotta concentrate at work, so I guess I’m over-compensating.’
We looked at him. If he lasted the week at work it’d be a bloody miracle. A couple of times, Buzz glanced at me and I could see he was itching to ask if I was looking for an income. I got good at not seeing him looking.
On Friday, Robbie said to Buzz, ‘I’ll bring the money tomorrow. Be at yours at nine. Okay?’
Buzz said, ‘Okay. But watch yourself on that road, bro.’
Neither of them looked over-the-moon happy. I was so glad I’d waited to produce my hundred, that I’d had the wit to play the long game. They wanted me to be part of the deal. Excellent. Now they’d just accept that a hundred bucks was all I was ever going to put in. No petrol money from Jake. No repairs if needed from Jake. Only a hundred up front, just enough to get me in.
Robbie and I rode home at three because Buzz was off to milk a herd of five hundred.
‘Good money,’ he said, looking at me.
‘You’ll be earning every last mucky cent,’ I said. End of conversation.
The next morning I got myself out of bed by eight, which caused a few comments from Mum and a fake heart attack from Gramps. By 8.15 I was on my bike and heading towards the ATM. I punched in the pin code and extracted two beautiful shiny $50 notes. I put them carefully in the most secure pocket of my shorts.
I turned up at Robbie’s in time to grab a slice of toast.
Robbie shook his head at me. ‘Mate, hate to say it, but old Buzz — he’s serious about us all kicking in the cash.’
I buttered another piece of toast. ‘You think I’m going to let you ride out there by yourself? Wake up and smell the roses, bro.’
