‘Then please refer to him by his name. It makes things easier.’ The officer nodded towards the tape machine. ‘So you didn’t try to get out of the car at this stage?’
‘I couldn’t open the door. Like I said.’
‘So he dragged you to the car, locked you in and drove off?’
The girl nodded, licking her lips. ‘Can I get, like, a drink or something?’
‘Did you try to elicit help?’ the officer continued.
‘What?’
‘Did you try to attract attention? Bang on the car windows? Scream?’
‘Yes. Of course. I told you. No one took any notice. Except maybe a dero and he couldn’t do anything.’
‘So you have a witness—’
The girl laughed. ‘You’re kidding, right? A dero. They all look the same. Even if we found him, he’s not gonna remember.’
Tully felt her aunt shift beside her. It felt like a warning.
‘So you drove around the city for an hour, banging on the car windows, screaming for help, and no one took any notice?’
The girl nodded. ‘It’s the city. What do you expect?’
‘And what did your abductor do?’
‘Do?’
‘While you were trying to attract attention.’
‘He ... I don’t know ... he drove.’
‘Did he threaten you with bodily harm? Did he strike you? Drive in a dangerous manner?’
‘No ... I don’t know ... can I get a Coke?’
‘Tully, I need you to concentrate—’
‘I’m thirsty. Please?’
‘I am sure we can arrange something. Could you please continue?’
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08
Tully’s Story
‘Hey, where are you taking me?’ I asked him.
He didn’t answer.
It’s not like I was expecting him to. I was just making small talk while I tried to work out what kind of mood he was in. And I was wondering if I could kick my way through the windscreen, but that only worked in movies. The glass looked really solid and had some kind of tinting to keep the sun out. And prying eyes. I thought about my phone that was charging at home next to the microwave. I was supposed to keep it with me at all times. Bamps’s rules.
‘Where?’ I tried again.
He shrugged.
‘Dumb,’ I muttered.
‘What?’
‘Dumb,’ I said louder. ‘You’re dumb. This is so dumb. Why don’t you let me go—’
‘Shut up,’ he said.
He was looking kinda jittery and I figured he was starting to get the jumps from not having his medication. I’d seen that happen before.
I looked around for some paper—a parking ticket, anything to write on. I was thinking I could write a note for help and hold it up to my window without him seeing. Somehow. The car was clean. Laney’s car always has lipstick tubes and parking receipts and used tissues lying on the floor. Bamps doesn’t have a car and Mum’s cars are always halfway to the wrecker. They are more like a mobile home, filled with photos and clothes and suitcases and anything Mum can’t bear to live without. But this car ... this car was clean. It even smelled clean. I made a list of things I could use. An empty gum wrapper. Check. Three one dollar coins. Maybe I could trick him into swallowing them and while he was choking I could climb over him and get out.
Or not.
One plastic drink bottle—empty. Maybe I could break the bottle and slash at him with the jagged plastic.
Unlikely.
I wondered if I could fog up my window and write a backwards message to whoever pulled up next to us in the traffic. I spent time thinking about writing the letter ‘e’ backwards.
‘Where are we going?’ I asked.
He was a good driver. The traffic wasn’t too bad considering it was Christmas Eve, although it was still early. When someone pulled out in front of us, he just ducked to the left and moved out of the way.
‘You don’t have a plan, do you? I don’t think you know where you’re going,’ I said.
It was just a guess, but it hit a bullseye. He stared ahead without talking but the muscles in his face bunched up like he might be turning into the Incredible Hulk or something.
‘Why ... don’t ... you ... just ... shut up!’ he growled.
‘I’ve gotta take a pee,’ I said, jiggling my legs. The funny thing was I hadn’t needed to until I said so.
He didn’t say anything. Just turned his indicator on and pushed the sun visor down.
‘Are we going on the freeway?’ I was looking at the signs trying to work out where we were. ‘Cause, like, there are no toilet stops on the freeway. And I really need to go.’
He reached down to my feet and I pulled them up on the seat out of his way. Instead of grabbing at me, though, he picked up the empty drink bottle and threw it at me.
‘Can you aim?’ he asked.
Then the lights changed and we turned onto the freeway. I wanted to ask him to take me home, but for just that instant I couldn’t think where home was.
We moved around a lot, me and Mum.
Sometimes we had to move in a hurry, late at night or so early in the morning that it was still dark. Sometimes it was because we couldn’t make the rent money and other times ... well there was always a reason. She used to make a game of it. One suitcase each was all we could take. My suitcase was black with lots of red tape where the edges had come away near the zip. My memory tin fitted neatly into the front pocket.
‘We’re going, Pumpkin,’ was all she had to say.
I hated pumpkin. I hated any kind of vegetable, if it came down to it. Luckily Mum was more into takeaway food than home cooking.
I’d grab my suitcase from under my bed and shove it full of the things I loved. Sometimes she’d sing to show she wasn’t afraid. But I could tell. The way her voice wobbled on a high note or caught like there was something stuck in her throat.
‘Move it, Pumpkin,’ she’d urge.
There were things I had to leave behind that I dream about now and then.
My shiny red gum boots, only one week old.
A soft feather pillow that fitted my head just right.
A locket with my initials inside that I couldn’t find in our rush to leave.
I left Bronnie behind in Pakenham, my best friend at playgroup.
Connor’s last words to me were, ‘See you tomorrow.’ But I never did. I left him behind in Beaufort. I was six.
There were other kids I made friends with. Then I didn’t. If someone tried to be friends with me at school I’d tell them I was dying and that it was contagious. I told one girl I was a vampire and would probably suck her life-force if she got too close to me. They learned to stay away. I learned not to care.
Mum used to say it was better not to let anyone get close.
‘People let you down, Pumpkin,’ she’d say. ‘They may not mean to, but they will anyway.’
I didn’t realise she meant she would too.
09
Fitzroy Police Station: 25 December, 2.10a.m.
‘So you’ve moved around a lot?’ said Officer Fraser.
Tully figured he must have been playing the good cop, although even the woman hadn’t been too bad. She nodded.
‘That must have been difficult for you.’
Tully shrugged. ‘Yeah, boo hoo for me. Like I said, I got used to it.’
‘Did you make many friends at your last school, Tully?’
Tully gave a bark of laughter. ‘That school? You have got to be joking. I mean, I’d have to be desperate.’
‘So, no close friends at all?’
‘I don’t need friends. When can I go home?’
‘Have you ever been in trouble with the law, Tully?’
‘No.’
The officer nodded and wrote a note on his pad, then flicked back a few pages.
‘Do you know a Ms...’ The officer squinted at the rough handwriting, then grunted. ‘Ms Bukor?’
Tully sho
ok her head.
‘Ms Helene Bukor is a shop assistant at the pharmacy. She said you were quite a regular customer.’
‘Oh. Her. Sure. I know her.’
‘Ms Bukor mentioned she had suspected you of shoplifting on more than one occasion.’
‘And I suspect her of impersonating a human being. Maybe we were both wrong? I need to go to the loo.’
‘Could you tell me what happened to the bag after the hold up?’ The officer sat still, pen poised over his notepad.
‘The what?’
‘The drugs and money that were stolen from the pharmacy.’
Tully laughed then stopped when no one joined in. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘As I stated at the beginning of the interview, we are investigating an armed robbery and abduction. At this point we are trying to ascertain the nature of the abduction.’
Tully felt her aunt lean in closer to her but this time she drew comfort from Laney’s presence. ‘I need to pee. Do you want to clean up the mess or can I go to the toilet?’
10
Tully’s Story
Have you ever stopped to think about toilets? Toilets and change rooms. I spend a lot of time in them so I guess you could say I am an expert. The smell of a girls’ change room is hard to describe. There’s musk and rose and vanilla. There’s baby talc and Nordic pine and cigarette smoke. And sweat. Lots of girly sweat. Stinky shoes. Damp towels and old socks.
People are pigs. They’re pigs. I know we have cleaners at the school—I’ve seen them cleaning up at the end of the day—but by the time I get to the change room the next day there’s always those little square bits of white paper on the wet floor. The liquid soap is empty because someone’s tried to write a message with it on the bench. The bin is overflowing onto the floor.
You can learn a lot about a person by what they do in the change rooms.
Rumours and secret meetings and birthday celebrations all take place in our gym change rooms. There’s this girl at school who does her best work in the change rooms. She is one of those people. The kind that smile while their eyes dart all over you looking for a place to stick the knife. I don’t mean a real knife. Worse than that. Her name is Ravel or Ramel or Camel—I’m never quite sure, so I try not to call her anything.
It was the last week before September holidays and after that there were only two weeks left of revision time before exams. I probably should have been in class but couldn’t stand the end-of-the-world theme the teachers had going for students like me who hadn’t done any work all year.
Ravel found me in the change rooms halfway through Period Two. The change rooms were filled with the bags of Year 8 PE girls and what looked like the Year 12 Outdoor Ed girls’ gear. So I wasn’t surprised to see Ravel rock up in her sports uniform. Her hair, pulled back in a messy golden ponytail, was bouncing even after she’d stopped nodding her head at me. She was a prancing Shetland pony. More like a pony than a camel. I wished I had a spare apple to shove in her mouth.
‘Hey, here you are,’ she said.
‘Yep,’ I agreed.
Ravel leaned against a wall and pulled her foot up behind her to stretch out her thigh. I knew that she wanted me to ask her what she’d been doing, so I didn’t.
‘I just wanted to explain about that thing at my house—at the start of Schoolies,’ she said finally.
‘Hmmm?’
‘It’s just a gathering,’ she said. ‘Just small. So, you know, maybe next time.’
‘I’m sorry...’ She was making no sense and I wanted her to leave.
‘The MySpace invite? I stuffed up. It wasn’t for everyone. My bad.’
‘Umm, sure Camel, whatever. You have fun.’
I saw her face in the mirror as I walked into a toilet cubicle. She looked confused.
‘I’d better get on with it,’ she said lamely.
‘Nice hair,’ I murmured as the door snapped behind me.
R, why don’t you answer my texts? Meet me in sports equip room at lunch. PLEASE. W.
11
September
Nathan leaned his head out the car window, his trademark yellow hoodie pulled back off his face. ‘Want a lift?’
A group of girls tittered as Tully brushed past them, her backpack swung over one shoulder.
‘Sure,’ she said as she climbed into the passenger seat. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
Nathan managed to burn some rubber as he took off and Tully waved to the girls through the window.
‘Have a good look,’ she yelled, then bounced back against the seat.
‘Friends?’
‘Huh!’
‘Isn’t that Ravel’s group?
‘Is that her name? We chatted today. Where are we going?’
‘Wherever you want,’ said Nathan. He turned on the radio and skipped through the stations.
‘The park.’
‘Sure. I didn’t even know you were at school today. Did you go to any classes?’ said Nathan.
‘Physics and Food Tech,’ said Tully. ‘I love Food Tech. It’s the only class where you can eat your schoolwork.’
‘So what did you do the rest of the time?’
‘Hung out. No one asks you why you’re in the gym change rooms when you’re wearing a PE uniform. Did you see the MySpace invite for the start of Schoolies?’ asked Tully.
‘Ravel’s invite?’ Nathan asked.
Tully nodded.
He shrugged. ‘Sure.’
‘Why didn’t you mention it? Laney still has me on internet rations at home just ’cause I used up all her download time last month. I totally missed it. Luckily, Ravel mentioned it in the change rooms.’
‘That’s nice.’
‘Made a point of mentioning that I wasn’t invited.’
Nathan laughed. ‘You wouldn’t go anyway,’ he said. ‘You don’t even like her.’
‘That’s not the point,’ said Tully. ‘It’s one thing to be invited and not go. It’s another to be uninvited.’
‘How did you even get to be a friend on Ravel’s MySpace?’
‘Last time I looked she was aiming for the most MySpace friends in the world. I can’t believe she knows half the people she has listed. Anyway, I just go online sometimes to see what’s going on. Knowledge is power. Someone said that. I think they’re right.’
‘Knowledge is power, hey? What sort of knowledge do you get hanging out in the change rooms?’
‘It’s amazing what people leave in their gym bag.’
‘You’ve been stealing stuff?’
Tully looked out the window. ‘Not stealing. Just looking.’
Nathan snorted. ‘Just looking?’
Tully nodded.
‘Be careful, Tul.’
‘I’ll never get why people like to label their gear. Just to make it really easy for people like me, I guess.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Ravel really pissed me off. So I waited until she left the change rooms then I found her bag, which was really messy by the way. Camel keeps her MP3 Player in her bag. She has crap taste in music.’
Tully smiled at the thought of the note she’d found tucked away in the bottom of Ravel’s sports bag side pocket. Now it was tucked away in her pocket.
‘Some girls are pigs, Nate.’
Tully thought Nate would be surprised if she gave him a run down of how messy those girls could be. They were so neat and perfect on the outside.
‘Why do you do it?’
‘I’m not a thief. I don’t steal anything, unless you count the hairclips. You can never have too many hairclips.’
‘Never,’ Nathan agreed. ‘So why? Aren’t you scared you’ll get caught?’
‘It gives me a rush. You know, the fact that any minute someone can walk in and find me with my hand in someone else’s bag. And sometimes I do get caught. I’ve always got an excuse. They always believe me. I guess I’m good at lying.’
‘Do you lie to me?’ Nathan looked straight ahead, then left and
right before he turned into a side street.
‘Not you, Nate,’ whispered Tully. She pushed her fringe away from her eyes.
‘Just as well.’
They pulled up into a car space adjacent to the park. It was empty, save for an old model sedan near the toilet block.
‘It’s their own fault,’ she said suddenly. ‘I do it because they think they can shut me out. They treat me like shit. I don’t really care. But who do they think they are?’
Nathan turned off the motor. ‘Do you want to go home?’ he asked.
Tully frowned.
‘Come on,’ she said. ‘I’ve been thinking all day about this.’
Tully pushed her fringe back out of her eyes. It was hard to see in the dim light of the skate ramp tunnel, and she swore at the batteries in her torch that had faded to nothing after only five minutes. They’d been at it for over an hour and her back was feeling cramped.
‘We’re gonna run out of black,’ said Nathan, shaking a spray can so that it rattled.
‘Then use brown. We’ve got brown, don’t we?’
‘It’s not the same—’
‘Seriously, Nate.’
‘Seriously, Tully. Let me see.’ He pushed Tully aside to look at the section she’d been working on. ‘Hey. Not bad.’
‘Sure.’
‘No really. It’s ... different.’
‘When do you think I’ll be ready to do something people are going to see?’
‘Umm...’
Tully pushed Nathan’s shoulder and he jostled her back before she held up her hand.
‘Someone’s coming,’ she whispered.
Nathan stuffed the cans into his backpack and Tully wiped her stained fingers on the wall behind her.
‘Leaving your fingerprints as evidence?’ whispered Nathan.
‘Shut up,’ said Tully.
A figure appeared at the tunnel entrance, bending down to look inside.
‘Hello?’
‘Griff?’ said Nate.
‘Hey, Nate. Thought I saw your car. Are you coming over tonight? We’re hanging out with Damo before he leaves for the coast.’
‘Sure. Who’s coming?’ asked Nathan.
‘Just the regulars.’
‘You’re on. Have you booked for Schoolies?’
Hostage Page 3
