I almost laugh. I like it when Mum swears, for some reason.
‘Fine. But don’t get pissy at me when someone gets bitten by a snake again,’ I say.
‘You’ll be right,’ Aunty Pam says to Tomas. ‘Take your books down and get some drawing done. It’s important, remember?’
Tomas nods.
I head through the lounge room. ‘Get your swimmers,’ I say to the boys. ‘We’re going to the lake.’
I’m feeling quite annoyed today. Maybe it’s the hangover. Maybe it’s Tesha dumping me. I dunno. What I do know is: I’m in a foul mood.
Tomas beats me to the shower. I just sit on my mattress until it’s my turn. I check my phone for the first time and there’s a message from Tesha.
Hey, u OK?
I ignore it. It’s been over ten minutes, and Tomas is still in the shower. I want to bang on the door, tell him to hurry the fuck up, but still I just sit there on my mattress. Then I send a text back to Tesha.
You don’t need to check up on me.
Tomas finally finishes in the shower and waltzes into my room, towel around his waist, like he owns the place. And it’s so hot and wet in the bathroom. He must have had the water on the highest temperature the whole time, scalded himself. The mirror is all foggy and the floor is slippery. The drying bathmat hangs on its post. I lay it down and turn on the shower.
When I get back to my room, Tomas is dressed in a shirt and football shorts, with thongs on his feet.
‘I’ll meet ya down there,’ he says. He’s carrying a sketchbook and pencils. I slam the door shut when he leaves.
I dry myself as much as I can, but I just seem to get wetter. I put on a singlet and shorts and head downstairs.
All the boys wait on the lounge with Tomas. I’m getting sick of the sight of them. Henry jumps up when I arrive.
‘All right, let’s go,’ I say, in the most monotonous tone I can muster. Outside, the other kids of the Mish are playing on their bicycles and scooters in the street. They kick footballs and run around while the dogs laze on the road.
We all walk together in a bunch. I notice Bobby still wears a bandaid on his ankle. Jude walks on one side of him and Henry on the other, and they remind me of me, Jarny and Kalyn when we were younger. We were like that, always walking somewhere together.
‘How far’s the lake?’ Tomas asks.
‘Like twenty minutes,’ I say. I push ahead and listen to all of their thongs smack on the ground as they walk. I’m barefoot. My soles are hard enough to act as a cheap pair of shoes.
The sun is burning today. Ahead of us, near the toilet blocks, I see Tesha. She’s with a couple of her cousins. I keep my eyes forward as we pass. I hope she doesn’t look my way and see us. I hope she doesn’t call out to me or anything.
As we pass Kalyn’s house, the front door bursts open. ‘Where youse goin’?’ He must have seen us from the window.
‘The lake,’ I say. I realise I’m still a little dizzy from the hangover.
‘Hold up,’ he shouts. He races back inside and comes out with football shorts on and a towel in his hand. ‘Who’s this?’ he asks, pointing back at Tomas, who’s walking quietly, Aunty Pam’s sky-blue sunglasses over his eyes, sketchbook at his side.
‘Oh, that’s Tomas. He’s living with Aunty Pam for a while.’
Kalyn and Tomas introduce themselves to each other. I just breathe through my annoyance at the kids racing forward and running back and shouting and laughing and teasing each other and spitting on the ground and fake-farting. We reach the bottom of the hill and walk through the camping ground.
‘There’s my boys,’ Troy shouts from his campsite, and the only thing I want in the world is for him not to join us. He shares a few words with Kalyn as I continue on with Tomas and the boys. We pass the other campers, and the tall trees neatly guiding the cleared dirt road as it manoeuvres around all the small campsite clearings. The trees offer us a spread of shade and sunlight.
As we start along the pathway to the lake, my eyes are scanning for snakes. I turn back to find little Bobby, and he is scanning for snakes as well.
We arrive at the lake. Unsurprisingly, it is occupied by the white campers. They spread in numbers on the sand around the edges, and swim in the water. Their laughter is loud as they play. I’m just so hungover I could probably vomit if I bent myself over.
We walk along the rim of the lake and find a spot by some shallows. We lay down our towels, and I assemble all the boys in a line and rub sunscreen on their backs and shoulders.
‘I thought blackfellas don’t need sunscreen,’ Tomas comments. I just ignore him. When I’ve applied the sunscreen to all the boys, they race into the water.
‘Don’t go too deep,’ I shout. I take off my singlet, leave it on my towel and follow Kalyn into the water. ‘Coming, Tomas?’
‘Maybe later,’ he says, as he sits down and opens his sketchbook. He’s already wet, though: he has sweat all over his forehead.
The water is so cold as it rises from my ankles to my knees to my man-parts. I duck under the water, come back up and my curls are falling over my eyes. I wipe them to the side and there’s Tomas sketching on the bank.
‘What’s his story?’ Kalyn asks. He keeps his voice quiet, but the sounds of the kids splashing each other masks us.
‘Dunno, really. He’s living with Aunty Pam, just got out of juvie,’ I say, keeping to his volume.
‘Juvie? What he do?’
‘Dunno. I didn’t ask.’
‘What if he’s, like, a rapist or something?’
‘I don’t think so,’ I say. But I can’t be sure.
Me and Kalyn swim a bit further towards the centre of the lake, until we can’t reach the bottom with our feet and have to tread water. All the camping teens turn up, gathering in a group further down the shore: Jasmine, Matt, Andy, Levi.
And then I see Jarny. He’s coming around the bend, standing tall on his bark canoe. He’s stuck his Aboriginal flag into place, and it’s swaying in the gentle breeze. He’s paddling as he stands, and I feel bad, because last year the three of us did that together on the canoe, but now Jarny’s alone.
‘Oi, white boy,’ I hear him shout to the group of teens. ‘Where’s my rent?’
‘Look at this fool,’ Kalyn laughs.
‘You’re on Aboriginal land,’ Jarny continues. I just roll my eyes, as the teens exchange words with him and he laughs before heading our way. I notice that the parents along the bank with their children have stopped to stare.
Me and Kalyn return to our towels. Tomas is slouched back on his own towel now, no longer sketching. He stares at Jarny as he approaches, paddle gliding through the water.
‘Why didn’t you tell us you were getting the canoe?’ Kalyn asks.
‘Well, I figured youse were gone to the lake without telling me, so I had to do it alone.’
I didn’t even think to ask Jarny if he wanted to join. He lands the canoe and pulls it onto the sand, then introduces himself to Tomas, who introduces himself back. The kids are still playing and splashing in the water. Henry is yelling at someone, then laughing, then yelling some more.
‘You related to Jackson?’ I hear Jarny ask.
‘Nah, just living with his aunty for a while,’ Tomas replies.
‘What’s your story?’ I ask.
‘My story?’
‘Why are you staying with my aunty?’ I roll over and lift myself to my elbows to face him.
‘Bail conditions,’ he says, watching me through the sky-blue sunglasses.
Jarny bursts into laughter and so does Kalyn, but I can see he’s trying not to. Bail conditions. Tomas takes off his shirt and walks into the water. I turn my head to one side and rest it on the towel. Through my closed eyes, I just see red. I reach for my singlet and drape it over my head.
I dream a strange dream, finding myself in that space between being asleep and being awake. In this dream, I am trying to walk up a staircase, but the stairs keep falling from beneath me. I r
un, but it doesn’t matter, because the stairs just keep falling. After a while, the fallen stairs grow into a pile that I find myself on top of, as it grows up to my feet. The remaining stairs, guiding the way to a door at the top, begin to fall away too. I’m stuck. I have to jump, but the courage within me is too weak.
I wake to a splash of water landing on my back. The water is so cold on my hot skin. I sit up and hear Henry’s laughter as he runs through the water. My back is sunburnt – I feel it when I move, like a hard growth of skin that’s just birthed itself there. I sit up and put on my singlet. The kids are all still playing in the water – cheering and laughing and screaming. Out of the corner of my eye, I see that Tomas is sketching in his book again.
‘Where’d Jarny and Kalyn go?’ I ask.
‘Dunno. They left in the canoe about twenty minutes ago,’ he replies.
My head is aching. I lean forward and rub my eyes. I can hear Tomas’ pencil striking the page like it is happening inside my ear.
‘You drawing?’ I ask.
‘Nah. Writing.’
I look to him and see his hand moving fast. He’s licking his lips and has a tight grip on the pencil. His hands are big, I notice. The pencil looks so thin when he holds it.
‘What are you writing about?’
He sighs and stops writing. ‘It’s sorta like a superhero origin story. But I want it to be unique. And I’m a shit drawer, so I thought the weed might help. I’ve kinda got a story, but I dunno.’
‘So, you’re a bit of a superhero nerd?’ I tease as I lie on my back on the towel.
‘No, not a nerd. An artist.’ He makes me chuckle. ‘I just haven’t been able to really get the character right. The point of the program I’m in is to show the judge that I’ve put my energy into something creative, so she knows I’m getting better, that I have potential. But it’s hard because I can’t draw for shit. I like to write, I guess. I think I’m all right at writing.’ His voice sounds higher somehow.
‘Well, you don’t need weed. Maybe I can help you,’ I say. ‘With the drawings, I mean.’ I almost stop myself but continue. ‘I used to be a pretty good drawer. Maybe you just need to see your superhero as a drawing first, before you can really know who they are.’
‘Maybe you’re right,’ he says. ‘Or maybe I just need more weed.’
I sit up and hold out my hand. He’s reluctant, but he hands me the sketchbook. I take the pencil to a blank page and start drawing some boots.
‘What do they look like?’ I ask.
‘Who?’
‘The superhero,’ I say. I’m becoming annoyed again, but I don’t want to be.
‘He’s Koori,’ Tomas says.
‘And?’
‘I don’t fucking know,’ he says with deflation in his voice as he sinks to the sand. ‘He’s the first Koori superhero.’
I can’t help but giggle. I turn the pencil around and rub out the boots I’ve drawn. ‘He’s Koori, so maybe he’s barefoot? Like, traditional?’
‘Yeah, barefoot. Traditional,’ Tomas says, sounding almost excited now. He’s sitting up again. I draw some bare feet and draw up to his thighs. ‘He’s muscly, too,’ Tomas adds.
I add muscles to the legs and start on the waist. I draw a belt with a rounded centre, which I cover with a small pentagon at the buckle. I sketch the body, giving him a six-pack of abs.
‘Maybe just a four-pack,’ Tomas says. I rub out two at the bottom and sketch the outlines to his shoulders. I make his chest broad and give him pecs. ‘And he has a scar on his neck, from when the coppers cut his throat.’
I look up from the page. ‘Really?’
‘Yeah. The coppers kill him. Then he rises from the grave.’
I giggle again. ‘If you say so.’ I sketch a slight scar, which stretches around his neck like a smile.
‘And give him long hair. Like, to his shoulders.’
I sketch the hair, parting it down the middle and letting it flow to the sides, messy, like he’s standing in front of a pedestal fan. Then I start on his eyes. I draw them angry and add the eyebrows. I give him a puffy nose and sketch big lips. I hand the book back to Tomas. He gazes at the sketch for a moment.
Even though it’s just Tomas, I feel nervous to have him examining my work. I turn my attention to Henry in the water. He is swimming out and then he’s treading water. I should yell at him, but just then he starts back towards the shallows.
‘Damn,’ Tomas say, ‘you’re a good drawer.’
I feel warm. Maybe it’s just the heat. Or maybe it’s the slight smile he wears on his face when I glance over my shoulder to him, because I feel a different kind of warm – one that doesn’t radiate from the sky; one that radiates from somewhere else.
‘Do you know him now?’ I ask.
‘I think so. He lives on the Mish. There’s some threat, and he has to save all the children.’
‘What kind of threat?’
He hums for a moment. ‘Not sure yet.’
7
I arrive home with the boys just before sunset. Mum’s roasting chickens, and the smell fills the house.
‘How was your day?’ Aunty Pam asks Tomas. She has specks of blue and yellow paint on her forearms.
‘Good,’ he says.
‘Good. Better you hang around these fellas than your other mates. All they was doing was getting ya into trouble.’
Tomas rolls his eyes and we share a look. We sit at the kitchen table and are served our plates: carved chicken with vegetables and mashed potato, all topped off with gravy. All the kids end up with gravy on their faces.
Mum and Aunty Pam wash the kids, who all stack in a line at the top of the stairs and enter the bathroom in turns. I just sit on the couch with Tomas watching Friends on TV. We can hardly hear because of the shower and the kids upstairs howling like maniacs, but Tomas laughs anyway.
‘You watch this show much?’ I ask.
‘Used to.’ He yawns and props his legs up on the couch, the tips of his toes grazing my thigh in the process. His touch startles me, and I bring my legs a little closer together.
‘Who’s your favourite character?’ I ask, hoping he hasn’t noticed me panicking at his touch. ‘Mine’s Chandler. I reckon he’s the funniest.’
‘Yeah,’ he says, ‘Chandler for me too.’
His voice sounds different somehow. Maybe it’s the tiredness, but his words sound lighter, just as they did last night when we were sharing a joint.
The kids boom down the stairs a few at a time when they’ve finished washing, leaving wet footprints on the floor as they march over to their mattresses.
‘We’re going to sleep now,’ Henry says, pointing at the couch Tomas and I are sitting on.
‘I know,’ I say, dismissing him.
‘You have to leave, so we can go to sleep.’
I throw my head back and groan. ‘Fine,’ I say. I stand and poke my tongue at him.
‘Mum! Jackson poked his tongue at me!’
‘Stop it, you boys, before I flog youse both,’ Mum shouts from upstairs. Me and Tomas make our exit, passing Mum and Aunty Pam on the stairs as we head for my room. Tomas falls onto his mattress as soon as we make it through the door.
‘What a day,’ he says. He wriggles his shirt off and drops it on top of his sketchbook on the floor. I sit on the side of my bed and take off my singlet.
‘You wanna smoke some more?’ I ask. I’ve hardly finished my sentence before Tomas starts scrambling through his backpack. I roll across my bed, push the towel against the bottom of the door, and Tomas is already at the window sparking his lighter. I lean beside him against the windowsill. We’re smoking together again and it feels exciting, like I’m doing something terribly naughty.
‘That Jarny lad’s a joker, hey?’ he asks.
‘Yeah. He’s all right, though. Takes some getting used to.’
‘You notice his flag was upside down?’
‘What? Was it?’
‘Yeah. The red was on top, instead of the black
.’
‘Shit. I didn’t even notice. I guess the whitefellas probably wouldn’t notice either.’
We giggle together for a moment.
‘Kalyn’s cool,’ he says.
‘Yeah. He’s my cousin. We been through a lot together.’
‘Yeah?’ His tone’s changed. It sounds almost like he’s interrogating me.
‘Yeah,’ I say, as I watch him take the joint to his lips.
‘Like what?’
‘Just stuff.’ I’m blushing and I don’t know why. I almost want to call him out for prying, but then the joint is done and he flicks its butt out the window. He stares at me for a moment and I hold his gaze.
‘I’m fucking high,’ he says with a giggle. ‘Goodnight.’
He falls onto his mattress and I fall back on my bed. I’m lying over my blanket and I feel the breeze as it comes in through the window. It washes over my body and cools me as it hits the sweat on my chest and stomach. I close my eyes, but they open right back up because he’s snoring again. Already!
‘Oi,’ I whisper. He doesn’t respond, just keeps snoring. He’s somehow got louder than last night. I can’t even fathom how he can fall asleep so easily – it’s like the moment his head hits a pillow, his brain just shuts down. Automated, like a robot.
The morning heat has filled the room and I’m all sweaty and sticky. I don’t hear snoring, though. Tomas is awake on his mattress.
‘You gotta go get your snoring checked out,’ I say as I roll off the bed, slip on my football shorts and singlet. I check my phone and there’s a message from Kalyn.
Abby’s havin a party tonight. You comin?
I reply: Dunno.
I walk across the hall to the bathroom and piss for what feels like minutes.
‘Jackson!’
I turn my head to see Henry standing there at the door I didn’t close.
‘You got one too,’ I laugh. He can’t see it anyway, but he’s covered his eyes in fear.
Tomas is already in the kitchen pouring himself a bowl of cereal when I make it downstairs. He’s laughing with Henry and Bobby and the other kids all stacked around the table.
‘Heads up. Me and Pam are gonna have a few drinks tonight,’ Mum says. I just nod.
The Boy from the Mish Page 5
