by Debra Oswald
‘G’day, Mr Stone,’ echoed Stella.
And then everyone started saying it. There was a messy chorus of ‘G’day, Mr Stone’ from a hundred and fifty of us.
‘Look, I’m not interested in grandstanding or stupid stunts,’ Stone said, waving us away with his hand, as if we were some silly nuisance.
From my backpack, I hauled out a stack of papers.
‘Hi Dennis,’ I said. ‘I don’t know if the newspaper would be interested in looking at these. They’re letters of support for the skatepark. So far, we’ve got about –?’
‘About sixty,’ confirmed JT.
JT and I had tramped around the shops and offices in Narra to get letters of support. I also got a bunch of letters from businesses and clubs in Glenthorpe saying that their skatepark was an excellent thing and didn’t cause major problems.
‘Plus there’s a petition,’ I explained as JT pulled the folder out of his backpack. ‘Three hundred and fifty signatures so far.’
Dennis looked over the letters and the petition. He nodded, impressed.
‘Cool camera,’ said JT, admiring the digital camera hanging around Dennis’s neck. ‘Hey, what about a photo of the Narra youth who aren’t interested in a skatepark?’
‘Why not?’ Dennis laughed.
‘Quick! Quick! Photo opportunity! Bunch up for a photo!’ squawked JT, flailing his arms around to herd everyone into a group. ‘Midgets in the front. Hot-looking girls in the middle – save a spot for me there. Wrinkly old dudes up the back. Excellent work.’
After a lot of pushing and shoving, we eventually got ourselves into a messy but tight pack. I ended up squashed right next to Lauren Saxelby. I didn’t dare look at her and she didn’t look at me.
Dennis had to take several steps back so he could fit such a large group in one shot. ‘All looking this way, please,’ he said.
‘Everyone smile!’ ordered JT. ‘Say “Skatepark!”’
Chapter Fifteen
The photo made the front page of the Narra News and the big juicy headline read: ‘Perseverance. Narragindi Kids Won’t Give Up Fight.’ The next thing we knew the council suddenly changed their mind and the concrete slab for the skatepark was poured two weeks later.
That Sunday, after the demonstration, I didn’t catch the bus back to Glenthorpe. I collected my stuff from JT’s place and moved back home.
Amy stood in the lounge room, glaring at me. She was still ropable.
‘It’s fair enough you’re mad with me, Amy,’ I said. ‘Do you want to punch me or something?’
‘Yes, I do,’ she replied sharply.
I stood in front of her, ready to be thumped. ‘Go ahead.’
Amy made a fist and eyeballed me with a solemn expression on her face. ‘I get one punch for me and another one because you made Mum feel bad.’
‘Oh … okay.’
She punched me in the belly – surprisingly hard considering she was only twelve. I tensed my stomach muscles more for the second punch but it still hurt.
‘Are we sweet now?’ I croaked, doubled up in pain.
Amy squinted at me, deciding if I’d suffered enough. ‘Maybe …’
Mum hounded me into going back to Narragindi High. I started again just in time for the Year 10 exams. (How’s that for great timing?) I had to wing it on big chunks of the exams because I’d missed so much school but it wasn’t as heinous as I’d expected.
On the last day of the exams, I was shoving stuff in my locker when Lauren came over.
‘Hi,’ she said. ‘Is it true they said we could name the skatepark after Corey?’
‘Uh, yeah. Mum reckons they’ve agreed to make a sign: THE COREY MATTHEWS MEMORIAL SKATEPARK.’
‘Well … we could make the opening a big party.’ Lauren’s voice was a bit wobbly; she was not as sure of herself as she used to be. ‘We could put on a skating competition – I mean, if you think that’s an okay idea.’
‘The Grand Opening Skate Competition. That could work,’ I said.
So for the next few weeks, Lauren Saxelby and I spent a fair whack of time together because we both wanted the opening of Corey’s park to be a top event. Lauren was round at our place most afternoons and half the weekend. Mr and Mrs Saxelby weren’t too thrilled about their precious daughter hanging out with skaters and ‘wasting her time’ on this project again, so it was easier if we always met up at my house.
I remember one afternoon Lauren and I were working at the kitchen table. She was on the phone, determined to speak to the boss of this major skate gear company about sponsoring the competition. I was supposed to be doing some other work, but I kept sneaking looks at Lauren. She looked sort of sweet, chewing on a pen, concentrating, figuring out what she was going to say. The last few weeks, she’d been so funny and straightforward. I was beginning to think she wasn’t as full of herself as I’d thought.
When Lauren finally got put through to the skate company boss, she went into her rave about the opening day competition being a ‘great publicity opportunity’.
‘The Narragindi skatepark is a classic good news story,’ she said. ‘This is your chance to give something back by sponsoring grassroots skating, not just flashy pros.’
She really put the pressure on those guys and in the end, she managed to scrounge fantastic prizes out of that big company. She was amazing.
‘So bossy,’ I laughed.
‘You having a go at me again?’ she shot back, ready for a fight.
‘Bossy in a good way.’
Lauren blushed then, as if I’d really embarrassed her this time. I felt bad about making her embarrassed so I tried to think of what I could say, how to tell her what I really thought of her.
‘Uh … look, Lauren … I, uh …’ I mumbled and then no words came out. Every line I imagined saying sounded lame or goony so I just froze up. Lauren squirmed, even more embarrassed and paranoid about why I was acting so weird.
Luckily, Amy saved the day by barging into the room with a plate of chocolate brownies she’d just baked. I shoved a brownie in my gob and stared at a bit of paper in front of me.
It was a close call. The skatepark got finished the day before the opening celebration. There was a metal frame, ready to attach the sign to name it THE COREY MATTHEWS MEMORIAL SKATEPARK. Mum had driven down to the council workshop to check the wording on the sign was correct.
A group of us spent the day at the new skatepark putting up decorations and organising things for the next day. JT was desperate to slam his board onto the new half-pipe and try it out. But we all agreed that no one should use the ramps yet – they should stay untouched by wheels until the official opening celebration.
We went for pre-cast concrete ramps: two quarter-pipes, a half-pipe, couple of vert ramps, a decent funbox. It was pretty much like the model I made when I was twelve. Now, standing on the solid concrete in the middle of the real skatepark was unreal.
‘Did you ever think we’d get it?’ Lauren whispered.
I shook my head and we both laughed.
JT and the others headed home, which just left Lauren, Amy and me waiting for Mum. I was so busy yacking to Lauren I didn’t notice Mum drive up at first.
‘Doesn’t it look fantastic!’ yelled Amy, dancing over to her.
‘Yep. Fantastic, Amy,’ said Mum.
There was a heaviness in Mum’s voice. I knew something was wrong.
‘What’s up?’ I asked her.
‘Bad news,’ she said.
‘No one can pull the plug on the skatepark now. We’re standing in it,’ I pointed out.
Mum sighed. She didn’t want to have to tell me the next part. ‘I thought the sign – I thought dedicating the park to Corey was just a formality but –’
‘But what?’ I demanded.
‘The council knocked it back,’ she said. ‘They won’t let us name the park after Corey.’
‘They can’t do that!’ protested Amy.
‘Well, they can,’ said Mum.
‘Did they
say why?’ asked Lauren.
‘Something about what’s appropriate for the town and what’s –’
‘It doesn’t matter why,’ I snarled.
‘I’m not going to tell everyone yet. I don’t want to spoil the big day,’ Mum said.
‘What’s the point?’ I yelled, taking it out on Mum. ‘What’s the point? Why would I want to be here tomorrow? Why would I want to have anything to do with this stupid skatepark?’
Mum and Lauren both tried to calm me down but I wouldn’t listen. I grabbed my board and turned to walk away. Mum shouted after me, angry and sad at the same time.
‘Zac! Don’t you shut down and not talk to me. Don’t do that to me again.’
I’d never heard my mother sound so desperate. I stopped but I couldn’t turn around. I couldn’t face her.
Mum’s voice was shaky with almost crying. ‘I thought … when it happened – when Corey died – I thought: okay, Gail, you better hold yourself together through all this … so when Zac’s ready to talk, you can … oh, I don’t know. I miss him. I miss him so much. And I feel guilty. Why didn’t I make him stay over that weekend? Why didn’t I ring the cops and say – I don’t know what … I should’ve scooped him up and mothered him and … I should’ve kept him safe. You were a good, good friend to Corey.’
I shook my head. I wasn’t a good friend.
‘Yes you were,’ Mum insisted. ‘I was so proud of you for that. Now I don’t know what to say to you. About why things happen. Something like that can happen to Corey and there’s … and I don’t know what I can say to my own kid.’
Mum lost it then. Behind me, I could hear her crying and Amy saying, ‘It’s okay, it’s okay.’ Then Amy yelled at me, ‘Don’t make Mum cry again, you dirtbag!’
‘Leave him, Amy,’ said Mum. ‘He doesn’t have to be part of it if he doesn’t want to.’
I didn’t want to listen anymore. I didn’t want to think anymore. I threw my board onto the path and gunned it. I hit the road surface at speed, swung round the corner and into the lane past the op shop. I cut through St David’s churchyard and down along the riverbank. I wanted to go so fast the rush of air blasted every thought and memory out of my brain. I wanted to push my body so hard, my lungs exploded. There was part of me that wanted to hit a wall at full pelt so I was smashed into a million pieces.
I kept skating blindly, faster and harder, until my muscles were aching. I passed the last of the houses and skidded along the dirt road. It was only when I hit Draper Reserve that my numb brain realised that I’d followed the route Corey and I skated when Stone hassled us all those months ago.
I collapsed onto the river beach. It was almost summer but the sun had started to sink below the trees, so it was chilly out there. All I let myself think about was the rasping sound of my breathing as I lay there on the cold sand.
Chapter Sixteen
I was hunched on the sand watching the river when Lauren found me. She sat down next to me without saying a word. It reminded me a bit of Corey and me – the way we could just hang together without talking.
I spoke first. ‘Why did I think some stupid kids’ skatepark would make anything feel right?’
‘Corey’s still dead,’ Lauren said flatly.
‘Yeah.’ I could tell she got it. We sat in silence for another while.
‘People in this town loved it – the murders,’ I said. ‘Not everyone, I’m not saying everyone. But a lot of them felt better after what happened to Corey and his mum – seeing bad things happen to people they think are scum – I don’t know …’
‘It makes them feel safer,’ said Lauren.
‘Safer. That’s it.’ It was as if she could put my thoughts into words better than I could.
‘Not that I can feel superior,’ I muttered.
‘What do you mean?’
I shrugged and clammed up, too ashamed to explain.
‘At least you didn’t hurt his feelings,’ said Lauren. ‘The night of the party, he kind of – well, he wanted to kiss me and he said –’
‘I know.’
‘You do? Oh …’ Lauren blushed, not realising that Corey had told me a lot of stuff. ‘It’s not that I didn’t want to kiss him. I don’t know. I think I just got scared. And now I can’t take that back or change my mind or – I mean, that was the last time I saw him.’
‘But you didn’t know that,’ I said.
‘No … doesn’t mean I don’t feel guilty.’
I looked directly at Lauren. There was something about her that made me want to admit more to her than anyone – things I hadn’t even admitted to myself.
‘Before Corey died, I was pissed off with the world,’ I said, ‘but there was no target, no reason – not enough of a reason, anyway. Then when Corey died, it was – oh, you’re gonna think I’m even more of a dirtbag than you already do …’
‘I don’t think that,’ she said.
‘It was like, when Corey died, I had a target now. I could be angry about what happened to Corey. And it was sort of a relief, you know? How screwed up is that? My best friend gets murdered and in a weird, screwed-up way, it makes me feel better.’
‘But that wasn’t the only thing you felt,’ Lauren said.
‘No. Oh no. I also felt sorry for myself big-time. Poor little Zac. He misses his friend Corey. I make myself sick. What right have I got to feel sorry for myself when Corey – I mean, I’m so lucky compared to him. He was a good person and he had nothing – the world gave him no chance. It’s not fair me being so lucky, having so much, when Corey – it’s not right – it’s –’
Sometimes the tears sneak up on you and your throat closes up so suddenly you can’t speak another word. I cried so hard it was like the tears were ripping out from down in my guts and up through my chest.
I felt Lauren’s arm around my shoulders and I realised she was crying too. I put my arms around her and we clung to each other for what seemed like ages. And then we were suddenly face to face and both of us leaned in for a kiss. We pulled back – surprised and a bit freaked out. But then we – I don’t know – I guess we just gave in to the feeling and kissed again, for a long time. It’s weird how you can feel so great and so terrible at the same time.
Then, suddenly, kissing Lauren felt incredibly wrong. Corey had wanted to be with her and now I was the one kissing her. It wasn’t right. I twisted myself away and stood up.
‘No … this is … sorry, I’m sorry, you know …’ I said. ‘It’s not your problem or – nothing’s ever just right. Why can’t anything be right? Everything’s hopeless. So what’s the point? The whole universe is stuffed.’
Lauren didn’t stick around to hear any more of my crap. She turned away and ran through the trees to the road.
‘I’m sorry,’ I called out but probably too late for her to hear me.
I wandered around Draper Reserve until it was well and truly dark. It must have been about midnight when I ended up back at the skatepark. The streets were deserted – there’s not a whole lot of exciting nightlife in Narragindi.
It was dark except for one streetlight that spilled a haze of faint bluish light across the skateramps. There was enough dim light to read the sign that had been put up on the metal frame. Instead of THE COREY MATTHEWS MEMORIAL SKATEPARK, we got this:
NARRAGINDI SHIRE COUNCIL SKATEPARK.
NO LITTERING. NO BALL GAMES. NO LOUD MUSIC. NO DOGS. NO LOITERING.
I reckon those mongrels would have put NO SKATING if they could’ve got away with it.
I kicked the pole holding up their stupid sign but it didn’t make me feel any better. I thought I’d sorted out how I felt about Corey dying but I’d been kidding myself. I’d just been shoving my feelings into being angry with Ray Stone and being busy organising the skatepark opening. I still felt like crap.
The truth is, terrible things can happen and sometimes you have to just stand there and let the terrible things wallop you in the guts. Then you have to find a way to get up again. That was the part I w
asn’t so sure how to do. I felt exhausted, spacey, head spinning, as I walked away from the skatepark.
I’d got as far as the street when I heard a noise behind me. I turned back and in the dim light, thought I saw someone moving behind the skateramps. I stepped closer and realised there was a person standing on the coping of the half-pipe – someone with a skateboard – but it was too dark to see who.
The skater dropped in and whooshed down the pipe. Halfway up the other side, the light caught the skater’s face. It was Corey.
I was paralysed, stuck there on the grass, unable to do anything but watch. Corey zoomed back and forth on the half-pipe. He did a few tricks but mostly just went for a smooth run, made the turn and went back again, enjoying the perfect curve of the ramp. He didn’t notice me standing there – I guess because we weren’t in the same universe anymore. But the thing is – and I can understand why people might think this sounds crazy – watching Corey skate, he looked happy, satisfied, like he was one of those tiny skaters he always imagined on my old balsa-wood model.
Corey picked up speed and on his last run he kicked up, got some air and went flying off the far end of the ramp. He disappeared into the stretch of thick darkness beyond the skatepark.
Chapter Seventeen
The opening celebration landed on one of those perfect days you can get at the beginning of summer: warm but not too hot, electric blue sky, enough breeze to blow the sweat off your neck. Perfect.
Against that blue sky, the skatepark was eye-smackingly bright with balloons, bunting, a huge banner with the sponsors’ names and stuff. The whole park was chocka with people, swarming around all the stuff Lauren and I had organised for this day. We had a decent outdoor sound system for music and announcements, a Lions Club sausage sizzle, CWA cake stall, booths selling skate gear, a few carnival rides, a jumping castle and an inflatable slide for the really little kids to hoon around on.
Because Lauren had scrounged excellent prizes and bulk publicity, there was a good turnout for the skate competition. No big-name sponsored guys turned up, of course, but serious skaters came from towns across the state. There were a few guys from Sydney and one of the top junior girl skaters drove up from Melbourne.
