I take a swig from the flask. It goes down like water now. I lose Tomas for a moment, but find him again in the crowd of dancers. He’s stopped, with Abby. He’s kissing her. His hands are on her waist and her arms are around his neck. My heart drops and disappears as everything inside me empties. I feel the lump growing in my throat. The tears burn in my eyes and then they leak out, like I’m a stabbed waterbed.
I wipe away my tears, hoping Owen hasn’t seen. My eyes find Tomas again. He stops kissing Abby and they start to dance again. I don’t understand why I’m feeling so forgotten. I pushed him away, because I’m straight. And it makes no sense, because straight boys don’t cry over other boys.
I almost want to force myself to dance with them all, but then out of the corner of my eye I see Ethan and his mates strutting towards me.
‘Oi, abo,’ I hear.
There it is.
Abo.
Just like that, I am no longer a person but a thing. I’m a hollow shell, emptied of blood and organs. I sink into the earth and the whole world folds over and I’m covered in it all. I’m lower than dirt. I am not human. I’m nothing but an abo.
‘The fuck did you call me?’ I say. My whole body becomes hot. My fists clench and fire roars inside me. The fire takes over me and I can no longer control what I’m about to do.
13
I stomp my way over to Ethan and land a punch on his chin. He grabs my collar and my shirt rips as he punches me back. I take more hits to the face as his mates join in and I’m swung around. Owen’s face appears in the blur. His punches land on the back of Ethan’s head, and Ethan releases me. I go for the bastard again, punch him in the chest. One of his mates tackles me to the ground. The grass burns my face when I land. I see Owen fighting the other one, then Ethan kicks me in the ribs and his friend lifts me to my feet.
Kalyn and Jarny and Tomas come from nowhere. Ethan goes for them. He punches Jarny in the mouth, then Kalyn hits him in the face. Tomas punches the guy holding me, and I wriggle from his grip and punch him in the face. While I’m whacking his face, Tomas punches his stomach, and the white boy goes down. Tomas kicks him once in the face and he rolls away through the screams and the cheers I hadn’t heard until now.
‘Oi!’ I hear. It’s Constable Rogers and his partner racing for us.
I turn to Tomas. ‘Come on, you gotta go before the coppers get ya!’
I take his arm and pull him through the crowd. The dancers are still dancing. They knock my hand and I lose my grip on Tomas. I turn to see him jostling through the crowd for a moment, then he disappears.
I look for the fight. Constable Rogers is standing there with his partner. Everyone else is gone except for one of Ethan’s mates, who cradles his jaw. Jarny and Kalyn are gone from the crowd, although Tesha and Abby are returning to the dance floor.
I make it out of the crowd and pass by the bar, across the narrow street and past the toilet block. Hordes of people crowd the main street. I head for the beach, past the drunken adults and teenagers, past the fish-and-chips shop, and down the wooden stairs to the beach.
I’m puffing as I walk. My hands are shaking and I’m wide awake. I follow the sand and a freezing sea breeze rolls over me. Some drunken teens have made their way down to the shore, where they splash in the shallows.
I stop for a moment and let my muscles relax. I take off my shoes and socks, walk along the shore and let the waves roll over my feet. The light of town is bright behind me. I glance over my shoulder, to the wooden stairs, find myself hoping to see Tomas standing there. Hoping he’ll see me and come down. But he’s not there.
I keep moving, further up the beach, until my legs grow weak and I drop onto the ground, roll onto my back. I let myself sink into the cold sand; close my eyes so the darkness can calm my thoughts. The sound of the waves crashing to shore is like music to me, washing into my ears. The peace is interrupted, though, by fireworks booming into the sky. The crowd from the field cheers so loudly that I can hear them from here. The fireworks explode for so long, but I don’t open my eyes to see them.
I’m straight, I think.
It is wrong for me to want Tomas.
It isn’t the way.
It is wrong.
I need to forget. Forget and heal myself.
Get back to the way things were before I met him.
Get back to me, to who I was, who I can still be.
It surprises me – that I’m thinking about Tomas instead of the fight I was just in. I don’t even care that Kalyn is getting with Tesha anymore. I feel like I should, but I don’t. It’s just nothing to me. I open my eyes and the tears leak from their corners. I look to the stars in the sky. They twinkle in their numbers, together.
I stand and pick up my shoes, start for the rocks at the end of the beach. The sounds of town drown away as I move further along, until it’s just the waves I hear, crisp and clear. It soothes me.
I climb up onto the rocks. They are so dark. I could easily fall and crack open my head and die here. I move slowly, feeling my way around until I see the sand of the blackfella beach, lit by the moonlight.
I jump down and land in the water. Of course, the tide has come in. The waves are freezing against my ankles. I stumble through the current, which threatens to drag me out. I tread out of the water and onto the icy, wet sand.
There’s music coming from the camping ground – Troy must be having a party with the campers. Another year, I might have walked over there, through the bush, and joined them. But Tomas is dominating my mind. I worry that he was caught by Constable Rogers, charged for the fight, and is sitting in a holding cell.
I find my way to the wooden staircase, make it to the top and pull my phone from my pocket, using the screen to light my way along the dark pathway through the bush. Snakes come to my mind, and spiders. I walk quickly, though. I need to get home and see Tomas returned to his mattress, so I know he is safe.
I make it to the end of the pathway and come onto the main street of the Mish. The bus is at the community centre. A load of people are getting off, so I stop and scan through them.
No Tomas.
I continue up the street and pass a few drunken teenagers sharing a joint in the gutter. I arrive at my house and walk inside. Mum and Aunty Pam are watching cartoons with the boys, who are all on their mattresses.
‘Is Tomas home?’ I ask.
‘Dunno,’ Aunty Pam says. ‘Thought you’d be looking after him.’
‘What happened to your face?’ Mum interrupts. She stands from the couch and starts for me.
‘Nothing,’ I say. I turn and race up the stairs. I get to my bedroom door and turn on the light. Tomas is not on his mattress.
I grab my phone, find Kalyn and send him a message.
Is Tomas with you?
Then I walk across the hall to the bathroom and check my face in the mirror. I have a little gash underneath my eye. It’s bleeding, but not much.
My phone vibrates with a reply from Kalyn.
Na. Think he went with Owen and Abby.
My heart sinks. I sit on the side of the bathtub. He’s with Abby. He’s done with me. He’s done trying. He’ll have sex with her, and then that will be that.
I’m not straight.
I’m something else.
So is he.
I walk back to my bedroom. Tomas. Tomas. Tomas. As I walk to my window, I picture his face, his curly brown hair, his brown eyes, his puffy cheeks. I step on the drawing I made of his superhero; pick it up and stare at it. It looks a little like him. I think about what I’ll say to him when I see him again. So many things I want to say. Sorry, most of all.
‘What happened?’
I almost think it’s Tomas’ voice, but it’s Mum’s. ‘Just a bit of a blue. Nothing to worry about.’
She stays standing there, staring at me from my doorway.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah,’ I say, quick to the word. ‘Yeah, I’m fine.’
‘You can talk to me, you know
?’ she says.
I swear, three hours pass by and she’s still standing there looking at my horrific battle scar. ‘I know, Mum.’
‘Kris! Jackson!’ Aunty Pam calls. Her shout startles Mum, who jumps a little. Red-and-blue lights flash into the darkness of the hallway, and when we get to the top of the stairs I see black shoes at the front doorway. Black pants follow them. It’s Constable Rogers. A woman copper stands beside him. Their eyes follow me as I come down the stairs with Mum behind me.
‘Jackson Barley,’ Constable Rogers says as I land on the floor. ‘Come outside for me, will ya?’
Fucking Ethan. He’s told the cops on me.
14
Constable Rogers is standing tall outside, wearing sheer hate on his face. Me and Mum stop inside the doorway and Mum props up her arm, holds it between me and him.
‘What you want with him?’ Mum asks.
‘Sorry, Kris,’ Constable Rogers says, ‘I’m going to need Jackson to step outside.’
Constable Rogers and the woman copper step back. Mum lowers her arm and I walk through the doorway. The ground is cold as my feet land on the cement.
‘What you want?’ I ask.
‘Jackson Barley, at this point in time, we are placing you under arrest . . .’
‘Fuck off,’ I say, rolling my eyes. I turn away and Constable Rogers grips my arm. I take his wrist and he shoves me. The woman copper grabs at my neck and suddenly I’m on the grass of my front lawn, on my stomach. Everything is dark and someone’s knee is driving into the centre of my back.
‘Get the fuck off me!’
They pull my arms as hard as they can. They bring my wrists together and lock them into handcuffs.
‘Bet you’re lovin’ this, Rogers,’ I snap as they lift me to my feet. Constable Rogers shoves me forward, out my front gate. The woman copper races ahead to the back of the waiting paddy wagon. She opens the back door and pats down my pockets.
‘I’ll meet you at the station, son,’ Mum says. I turn and see her over my shoulder. I’d forgotten she was there. ‘Don’t say anything to anyone until I get there.’
She stays and watches as they load me into the back of the paddy wagon. They lock me inside and I’m almost crying.
There are no windows to see out of. I wonder if Mum is still standing there. So many times she’s had to pick me up from the police station, but never before has she had to see me arrested.
The doors of the paddy wagon close and the engine starts. We move and I rock forward. I use my feet to force myself back against the wall. The tears roll from my eyes as my thoughts turn back to Tomas. I start to worry I’ll never see him again. I bang my head back against the wall. Then again. Then again. My ears ring and the pain distracts me from the throbbing in my wrists, which are tight against the steel of the handcuffs.
The paddy wagon stops and the door is opened. I climb out of the back and Constable Rogers takes my elbow and forces me to walk. We’re at the back of the police station, where all the cop cars are parked.
The woman copper holds the door open for us as I’m forced inside the station. There are coppers everywhere inside. They talk and laugh, and their fingers hit keyboards as they sit at their computers.
We come to the end of the hallway and enter the holding room. I have a quick phone call with the legal aid, then Constable Rogers uncuffs me and pushes me inside one of the holding cells. The door is metal-framed, with clear panes made of thick plastic rather than glass.
‘Sit tight for me, mate,’ he says as he locks the door.
The room is lit with an icy-white light. In the cell beside me, I can hear a man through the metal dividing wall complaining about being arrested, saying he’s only had one beer and is going to blow under the limit when they take him to the breathalyser. I sit on the steel bench in the cell and watch as the copper standing behind her computer at the tall desk offers Constable Rogers some papers to sign. Then Constable Rogers heads back up the hallway and disappears around the corner.
It’s cold in the holding room; they must have the air-con on full blast. I’m relieved, though, because Tomas isn’t sitting in any of these cells. I lean forward to check the clock, and it’s just past two A.M.
I think Tomas will worry when he comes home to find I’m not there. Or maybe he won’t care at all. Maybe they’ll just ship me off to juvie. For months, even. Maybe Tomas will fuck up again too, and I’ll run into him at juvie. Or maybe he’ll just go back to Sydney and get moved to a new family and I’ll never see him again.
I lean back on the cold steel bench. An officer leads Mum into the holding room, and she looks so big and round, but the sight of her brings a smile to my face.
She waits at the tall desk while the police officer who brought her in opens my cell. He leads me to the desk and orders me not to cross a line marked on the floor. He reads a document to Mum, explaining some important stuff to her I guess, but I don’t listen to the words because I’m staring at my mother’s face, at the freckles sprinkled across her nose, looking black on the brown of her skin. I stare at her lips, which are big and resemble mine. She doesn’t look angry, though I’m sure she is. I want to apologise so badly.
‘The detectives will come and interview you soon,’ the officer says.
They lock me back inside my holding cell and place Mum on a chair outside. I lean forward in my seat.
‘Mum,’ I begin, speaking through some little holes in the door’s plastic, ‘I’m sorry.’
She looks at me with a comforting smile.
‘I’m sorry I let you down,’ I say.
She stays quiet. I turn my eyes to the floor.
‘Is this because of that Tomas kid? He getting you into trouble?’ she asks.
‘No,’ I say quickly. ‘He’s good. He’s trying to be good.’
‘You and him are getting along, yeah?’
I look up and she has her eyes on me, studying me, still with the comforting smile on her face.
‘Yeah, I guess.’
I sit back and the nerves begin to grow in my stomach again. I’m going to say the wrong thing. If I’m not careful, she’ll figure out what’s been going on in my head whenever I think of him.
‘You guess?’ she asks.
‘Yeah. I mean, I don’t even know him, really, but yeah. He’s cool.’
‘He’s different, isn’t he?’
I look to Mum as she turns to look at the clock and rubs her eyes.
‘You know,’ she says, leaning back in her chair, ‘he’s had a really hard life, Tomas. I couldn’t imagine putting you through what his mother put him through. I think he’s had that upbringing hanging over him his whole life. He probably thinks that when his caseworkers and foster families look at him, all they see is that upbringing hangin’ over his head too. But you see past that, don’t you? You don’t even see that upbringing when you look at him, do ya?’
I shake my head, wondering where she’s going with this.
‘You just see him as he is – the person he is when you take away all the paperwork. And that’s something really special, you know? You’ve shown him something really good. You know what that is?’ She turns to me.
‘What?’
‘You’ve shown him acceptance. Because you like him and don’t treat him no different or look at him any different. He knows that. You gave him a normal friend. He’s probably never had a normal friend before.’
I lean forward, my eyes to my toes. ‘What if I’m not normal?’ My voice is quiet and shaky. ‘What if I’m different, like him?’
I crinkle my toes and a lump comes to my throat. My whole body is shaking. I look up to her and I can feel the tears readying themselves at the gates when my eyes meet hers. She leans forward and edges her face closer to the plastic between us. And suddenly I feel at ease, for the first time in what feels like forever. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if I got with Tomas. Maybe it would be okay.
A few minutes later, Constable Rogers steps into the holding room. He unlocks m
y door again, brings me out of the cell and stands me against the wall. I look up to the camera, and the officer from the desk takes a few photos of me. Now if I become famous for some reason, the magazines will unearth my mugshot, right at the height of my career, and for a moment it will be embarrassing but then everyone will say I looked my best at seventeen.
The cops take me and Mum into another room, where my fingers are dipped in ink and pressed against a sheet of paper, then Constable Rogers takes us into yet another small room, this one with a table and chairs. We sit down and another copper comes in, wearing just a normal shirt and pants. She introduces herself as Detective Beazley.
‘Do you know why you’re under arrest, Jackson?’ she asks. Her voice is calm and quiet, and she enunciates her words carefully.
I do know why, but I still shake my head.
‘You have been charged with aggravated assault. You are alleged to have attacked the victim at the football field before midnight tonight. Do you know what I’m referring to?’
Fucking Ethan. Fucking rat.
‘Yes,’ I say.
‘Were you under the influence of any drugs or alcohol when this happened?’
‘Not really. I had a couple of drinks, but I wasn’t drunk.’
We are escorted back to the holding room. Mum takes her place on the chair, while I sit back inside the cell. Four A.M. comes, and we’re both struggling to stay awake. With each passing second, my fear of being transported to juvie grows stronger.
‘He called me an abo, by the way,’ I say.
Mum turns to me. ‘The boy you hit?’
I nod.
She just smiles. ‘Next time, you just have to walk away. All right? Don’t give them any excuse to lock you up.’
I nod again and stretch out as much as I can on the bench. ‘Why don’t you sell your paintings anymore?’ I ask.
‘What? My paintings?’
‘Yeah, why don’t you sell them anymore? That’s what you want to do, isn’t it?’
The Boy from the Mish Page 11
