by Bill Condon
I wish I had the guts to start a slow hand-clap. I wish everyone would join in with me. We'd clap and boo and stomp our feet, louder and louder, and then maybe all together, we could swear our heads off and Mick would have a fit and die, and Delaine would run away and we'd chase him down and each one of us – every boy in the school – would give him six of the best, while we took turns at wearing his sunglasses.
I wish. I wish.
No one dares speak. The last day and Mick still has us under his iron thumb, grinding us down, grinding us down to nothing.
He raves on some more and then he tells us some good news, and some shocking news. The good part is this.
'Unfortunately, Mr Delaine is not here with us today.'
Not even Mick's glares and Clementian on the prowl can stop a rumble of gratitude rippling through the ranks.
'Silence!'
Then comes the part that shocks us all.
'The reason why Mr Delaine is not here is that last night he and his good wife were blessed by the arrival of a baby girl ...'
That Delaine has a wife – that anyone could love him – that's the shock. And now he's a father.
Clementian claps, uncertainly at first. Mick joins in. He holds his hands above the microphone to magnify the sound, to tell us we have to clap along with him. I fold my arms. A lot of us do.
I walk to my first class of the morning with Bails ambling along beside me.
'Imagine someone doin' it with Delaine!' He gives me the big grin. 'Is that weird or what?'
'Nah, I don't think I want to imagine it,' I tell him, 'but yeah, it's weird.'
'But then again,' he says, 'maybe we don't know Delaine as well as we thought we did.'
'You're right, Bails. I don't know him very well at all. I just know him enough.'
'Well, anyway,' we walk up the steps to Mr Wilson's room, 'it proves he's human. That's the scary bit, eh?'
'You've lost me. Why is that scary?'
'Well, he's not a monster, is he? It's not like he just crawled out of the Black Lagoon, Neil. He's human. He's just the same as us. Scary, mate.'
I'm always ready to laugh at anything Bails says because it's usually pretty dumb. This time I just nod.
I'll miss him and my other mates when I leave, but I know I'll bump into them around town, so we don't bother with goodbyes. Why go to that trouble when you can just punch someone on the arm and let that say it all?
I won't see the teachers, though, so all day long I say goodbye to the ones I like. There aren't many that I avoid, and those ones don't care about me either, so it works out well.
Johnno shakes my hand and says he'll miss me. Father Jim gives me a 'God Bless'. And Brother Geoffrey asks if I've done my homework. I start to panic because I didn't know there was any homework. That's when he winks at me.
Now, at the end of his class, it's Mr Wilson's turn.
'You mean I won't have the pleasure of your company next year, Neil?'
'Don't think so, sir. My dad says he might get me a job as a painter with the Post Office.'
'Do you like painting?'
'Not much.'
'I see ... well, don't forget what I told you.'
'Okay.'
I have no idea what he's on about.
Mr Wilson nods and smiles, and forgets me as soon I walk from the room. That's what I think, anyway. But as I go down the steps he pokes his head out of a window.
'Neil.'
'Yep?'
'You have talent – that's what I told you. I've seen it in every assignment you've ever bothered to hand in – and I still remember that story you wrote. You just need to work a lot harder, and believe in yourself. If you do that you can be anything you want. All right?'
'Yes, sir.'
'Good luck.'
That's about the best conversation I ever had with a teacher. It's also the last.
After all the years when the wall clock begrudged every second it gave up, today it streaks like lightning. Our last teacher is Hughie. The hot afternoon gets him drowsy and before long he dozes off at his desk, only to jump up, startled, when the bell rings. The bell to send us home.
60
The School Certificate starts on Monday. We go straight to the Assembly Hall. It's filled with desks set wide apart so we can't cheat. Mr Harris out the front. Clem-entian on patrol up and down the rows. The subject is English. I've been studying hard. Rose has helped me. It starts badly when I smudge the exam paper with my sweat. But it's English. Mr Wilson's class.
I blitz it.
Every night Mum and Dad tell me not to worry.
'No matter what happens,' they say, 'it's all right. Just do your best.'
Geography and History – Tuesday and Wednesday.
My mates stand around afterwards comparing notes on how they went, checking their answers with each other. I'm smiling.
French and Science on Thursday. Back-to-back horrors.
It's touch and go, but I think I scrape through.
Maths on Friday.
Mum wishes me good luck in the morning. I feel lousy because I already know exactly how this exam's going to end. Luck won't help me.
I go into the Assembly Hall and sit down like everyone else, but for the first time all week I'm not nervous.
Mr Harris takes off his watch and places it on the desk in front of him.
'You have two and a half hours to finish this paper.' He waits for the second hand to hit exactly 9 am. 'You may begin ... now.'
I sign my name very slowly. There's no hurry because that's all I'm going to write in this exam. I don't attempt to answer a single question.
Only the few people who mark the papers will ever know, and they won't understand why I left the paper blank. That's okay. I'm doing it for myself, not them.
My last small act of defiance.
When Delaine hit me I gave up on Maths, just like he gave up on me. I'd rather score nothing and walk out with my head high than have anything to do with him and what he tried to beat into me. Five minutes after the exam starts, that's what I do.
Outside the hall I run; past all the classrooms and the quad, past the Brothers' house and down Sandy Bay Road, feeling the breeze and the sunshine, and the tears that spring from nowhere.
Don't know why I'm crying on the best day of my life. Maybe it's for Troy or for Sylvie or because I can't find God, no matter how hard I look. Or maybe I'm like Mum – crying because I'm happy.
One day I'll have all the answers, now I've only got the questions. But that's fine. No matter what happens, I know everything will be all right.
I gulp in freedom, and I run.
Acknowledgements
The writing of Confessions of a Liar, Thief and Failed Sex God was helped along by regular workshops with my friends Sandy Fussell, Vicki Stanton and Chris McTrustry. Maureen (Mo) Johnson and Marion Smith were also there to help – just an email away. Chris Cartledge, Colleen and Michael Ryan, and Harry Peters, all gave me valuable advice. As well, I'd like to thank two great editors, Sarah Hazelton and Rosie Fitzgibbon, and Woolshed Press publisher Leonie Tyle, my special saint of patience and encouragement.
Finally, and as always, my greatest supporter has been my wife, Di.
Give Me Truth
I'm an ocean cliff, He's erosion. I feel a large part of me crumbling into the sea, yet somehow I don't mind at all.
Caitlin and David have much in common. They're the same age, they go to the same school, they're both in an amateur play. And each of them is watching their family fall apart.
It's a violent situation, but violence isn't always physical, and neither are threats. In their own ways, Caitlin and David are in it together, but separate. And somewhere, somehow, inevitably, it all has to come to a head.
With Give Me Truth, Bill Condon has written another powerful, memorable novel for young people, with characters that stay with the reader long after the last page is turned.
Read on for an extract
David
&nb
sp; 'I want to go back home,' Allie whimpers. 'Please can we?'
'No one hits my kids. No one.' Mum spits the words out of her like they're made of acid.
I'm jammed in the backseat of the car beside plastic bags full of clothes and boxes packed in a hurry. It's as if we've escaped from a fire and the jumble of things we've saved is all we have left of our lives.
It happened so quickly. They were in the kitchen. We heard Mum's voice first.
'I've had enough! That's it! I want you out of my life!'
'No! It's not that easy! You are still my wife! We exchanged vows! Do you remember that, Lorraine? Do you?'
Allie and I were in the lounge room. I cranked the sound up high on the TV. Cindy laid her head between her paws and puffed and panted. Spit dropped from her mouth and spotted the floor.
'Aw, look at her, David. She's scared.'
'She's a wimp,' I said. 'There's nothing to be scared of.'
Allie got down on the floor and stroked Cindy's head.
'It's okay. It's okay.'
I stepped around them and shut the door but the fight still broke through.
'It's really bad tonight, David.'
'Don't worry about it.' I shrugged. 'Pass me the remote.'
A dish smashed. Cindy jumped up. Allie held on to her. 'No one's going to hurt you, girl.'
I bit my lip and waited. A glass splintered across the floor. In my head, I could see it happening: Mum's face red and twisted, Dad roaring even louder.
'We should do something.'
'Like what, Allie?'
'I don't know. Anything.'
'Just watch the TV. They'll stop soon.'
They didn't stop. Tonight was a fight different to any other. The noises kept on and on. The house shuddered.
Allie looked to me for reassurance. I didn't have any, but when she gave me that look – as if I was the only one in the world who could help her – I couldn't let her down.
'I'll go and see if everything's okay,' I said.
We both stood at the same time.
'I'll go with you.'
We argued a lot, me and Allie. She could be a pain and I guess she felt the same about me. But now, instinctively, I took her hand and squeezed it. It was only for a moment but it was important.
'Come on,' I said. 'They'll stop if we're there.'
We stepped into the hallway. Mum was up ahead. Dad behind her. Moving fast. Both of them. Yelling.
'Leave me alone! I don't want to see you again! Ever!'
Crash went the office door as she slammed it behind her.
'You don't walk away from me, Lorraine! You don't!'
Dad hammered on the door with his fist.
'I want you out here! Right now! Open this door!'
'You stay here, Allie.'
'I'm going with you.'
There were maybe ten steps between us and Dad. I walked just in front of Allie, pretending to be brave. When we got there she stood closest to him.
Allie said, 'Stop, Daddy. Please stop.'
I said, 'Come outside for a while, Dad.'
But he was in another place to us, much too far away to hear. He kicked at the door and broke through the outer layer, leaving splinters and the imprint of his shoe.
'I'll smash it down, Lorraine! You know I will! Come out!'
The door flew open.
Mum: Red eyes and streaks of black down her face.
Screeching.
'I'm sick of it, Mike! Sick of you! Sick of this incessant fighting!' She covered her eyes with her hands. 'Please, please – leave me alone!'
Allie ran to Mum and hugged her. Both of them were crying.
'Lorraine, for God's sakes.' Sighing, Dad slumped against the wall. 'I don't want to fight with you – I love you. Can't you see that? I love you.'
'Then don't! Just don't, Mike! Because I don't love you!'
Mum shoved Allie ahead of her, into the office. She dived in after her but before she could close the door Dad pushed it open.
'Lorraine!'
He was rushing at her.
I reached out to him and caught his sleeve.
'Dad.'
'Go – away!'
He spun around and I saw a face I'd never seen before. My head sprang back and there was sudden pain and the room rushed past me and then I was down on the floor. My lip throbbed. I tasted blood.
Mum and Allie leaned over me. Behind them I saw Dad. His eyes were shut and his mouth was open. He was crying. He was screaming. And he wasn't making a sound.
'It's not fair, Mum.' Allie pushes herself back in the seat as far as she can go. 'I didn't even get to say goodbye to Cindy.'
'Not now, Allie. Not now.' Mum stares grimly at the road. 'I have more important things on my mind right now than your bloody dog.'
Allie swivels around to face me. 'He didn't hurt you, did he, David? I mean, not bad – there's nothing broken, right?'
'Nah – I'm good. Fine. And he didn't even mean it, you know? I just got in the way. It was no big deal or anything.'
'See, Mum? David doesn't care. Dad got angry, that's all. He made a mistake. Mum ...'
Allie waits for an answer. It doesn't come.
'This is a dumb fight,' she says. 'Why can't we just go home and fix it up with Dad?'
Ignored again, Allie glances back at me for support. I don't hesitate.
'I was the one who got hit,' I say. 'And I'm over it. Completely. It was an accident. You don't just leave someone because of one thing. You know Dad, he's not like that. It was just – '
Mum leans on the horn and the blast kills our arguments stone dead.
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