by Sue Lawson
‘Stuart,’ warned Mum.
Dad shrugged. ‘Just being honest, Ginny.’
‘There’s a first,’ I muttered.
‘What?’ asked Dad, his voice like the ice in his glass.
‘Environmental vandal.’
‘Add it to my list of failings,’ said Dad.
‘Bloody long list.’
‘Ruby!’ Mum dropped the potato she was cleaning into the sink. ‘Too far, young lady. Apologise.’
The ice chinked as Dad twirled his glass, watching me.
I had to get away from him, his fake cool and smirk. ‘I’m taking Mojo for a walk.’ I snatched my dog’s lead from the hook by the back door and stormed outside. Mojo dragged on her lead as I sprinted down the drive and onto the street. I didn’t stop running until I felt like I wanted to throw up. Hands on my knees, I panted. Mojo lay flat on her stomach beside me, legs and tongue sticking out.
The lyrics from that Dream Team song, Know, circled my brain.
Secret, it’s my secret.
They can’t know. They can never know.
Yeah, well I knew Dad’s secret. And I hated him for it.
Sas
Mum will not let up. ‘Write to your father. Write to your father.’ She’s like a crazed parrot. If only I could cover her with a blanket and shut her up for the night.
Well, Parrot Mother, here is my letter to dad.
Dear Angelo,
Mum told me I have to communicate with you, so here goes. You know how, when you rang tonight, Mum said I was in the shower? Well, she lied. I’d locked myself in my bedroom and refused to come to the phone.
I absolutely do not want to speak to you.
How’s that for communication? I’d say it was honest, open and clear communication, wouldn’t you?
You might like to try that approach next time you undergo a MAJOR life change that affects me. What’s the deal with letting Lee tell me and then asking Mum to explain, rather than do it yourself?
Just so we’re clear, this is NOTHING like you and Mum divorcing. Even though I was only eight, you were honest with me about everything back then. Remember? Why couldn’t you be honest with me about this?
Sarah Maree Donohue-Milito
S.M Milito-Donohue
Sas Donohue
PS: By the way, I’ve decided to change my name to Donohue.
PPS: Thanks for wrecking my holiday with Ruby and Khaden.
Khaden
Hands in his pockets, iPod music drowning out the cars and trucks whizzing by, Khaden crossed Warrigal Road. His fingers twitched as he listened to the lead break in Train Wrecks’ Tell Me. If he was lucky, he’d be first home again and could play his guitar without interruption.
Khaden turned into his street which was lined with green wheelie bins, their lids flipped back as though they were laughing. He frowned, trying to remember the last time Mike had laughed. Christmas? Taj’s birthday? One thing was sure; Mike hadn’t laughed since Taj left school to become a roadie and mixer for that band.
If he’d been paying attention, Khaden would have been ready for Neris’ Rottweiler, but he was too preoccupied with the tension between Taj and Mike to realise he’d reached Neris’ fence. When Cuddles slammed into their closed gate in a barking frenzy, Khaden clutched his heart like an old man, and swore. His earbuds dropped out and hung from his shirt towards the footpath.
‘Shut up, Cuddles,’ said Khaden.
Cuddles stood on her back legs and barked harder, eyes rolling and cables of white slag dripping from her mouth.
Khaden picked up a crushed UDL can from between tyre marks on the nature strip and chucked it at the dog’s head. Mrs Neri burst out the front door, wiping her hands on her apron and yelling words Khaden couldn’t understand.
Mrs Neri was proof that dogs looked like their owners. Her voice was a deep rumble, her teeth white and pointy, and wiry hairs stuck out of moles on her chin.
When she saw Khaden, she changed into English and yelled over the dog’s barking. ‘Khaden. I thought it was that Tippet boy.’ She flicked her hand at the Tippet’s house across the road. ‘Ahhh, teppisti! Tease my Cuddles all the time. He’s a good dog.’
‘Yeah, he’s a great dog, Mrs Neri.’
She yelled again at Cuddles, who cowered and slunk to the verandah. Mrs Neri took its head in her hands and made baby noises, her hairy chin close to the dog’s.
Khaden shuddered. That thing could rip her throat out and she was practically kissing it. He had to clear off before Mrs Neri asked him in to eat pasta, or to load him up with vegetables from her garden.
‘Eh, Khaden, you want a job after school? Cash in hand?’
‘What doing?’
Mrs Neri raised both palms to the sky. ‘What do tilers do? Sit around, smoke and talk. But my Carlo and Joey, they need help a couple of hours a week.’
‘Sounds okay, I guess. I’ll go see Mr Neri at work.’
‘Nah,’ she swatted the air with her hand. ‘He’ll call in on you at home.’
‘Cool. Thanks.’ Khaden started to walk away, but Mrs Neri wasn’t finished.
‘And Khaden, not so loud tonight, eh?’
Khaden’s face flushed. He knew she wasn’t talking about his music. ‘Sure thing, Mrs Neri.’
IM Chat
Khaden: Let’s do something fun my friends
Sas: Beach or pool?
Ruby: Beach
Khaden: Beach
Sas: Meet at tram stop at 10
Ruby: 10? Don’t u sleep?
Sas: Okay. 11!
Sas
Mum is driving me insane. I’m only allowed to go to the beach with Ruby and Khade if I write to Dad first, so here I am, sitting on the floor, back pressed against my bed, pretending to write to him.
Dear Angelo,
Love to chat, but I’m hanging out at the beach today with my friends … people who listen to me and care about me.
Your daughter
Sincerely
Sas
Ever since I wrote that, I’ve been staring out the window, thinking about Ruby and Khaden. Something’s up with Ruby, I know it. She’s moody and complains all the time now, mainly about her dad. I don’t see what the problem is. I mean, Stuart’s pretty funny, and, for an old guy, isn’t bad looking, in a Robert Downey Jr way.
Ruby and Stuart have never been best buddies, not like Dad and I used to be, but they didn’t fight like they do now and she didn’t whinge about him all the time. Every time she mentions him, she pulls this face, as though she’s in pain. It’s so annoying. She doesn’t know how lucky she is. Her family isn’t all broken, her dad hasn’t lied to her and she isn’t a nanny/slave like me. Ruby needs to get over herself.
And then there’s Khaden, my guitar-playing, laid-back, other best friend. Khaden. Something has changed between us too, but not in a bad way.
Once I could have talked to Dad about Ruby, Khaden, everything, but now. Grrrr—life is so frustrating.
Ruby
Sas, Khaden and I sat on the stone wall, our legs dangling towards the sand. Seagulls circled above, still squabbling over a crust of bread snatched from the beach. People of all shapes and sizes roasted in front of us and guys in shorts played soccer on the grassed area behind us.
The sun warmed my back, but not enough for me to want to swim in the freezing mid-November bay.
Sas’s elbow dug into my ribs. ‘Two o’clock.’
Three guys wearing long boardies and sunglasses strolled along the dry sand, watching two girls in tiny bikinis jump and squeal in the shallows.
‘The one with the cowboy hat is cute,’ I said, rubbing my ribs.
Sas giggled. ‘The blond’s hotter.’
Khaden shook his head. ‘You two are obsessed.’
‘You can talk!’ Sas play-punched Khaden’s arm. ‘You’ve been perving on Miss Purple Bikini since we arrived.’ She nodded at the girl lying on a pink towel to our right.
Khaden’s face flushed. ‘Yeah, well…’
&n
bsp; The girl rolled from her front to her back and lifted her bottom to straighten the towel beneath her.
‘It’s not hot enough for a bikini,’ I said.
Sas leant against Khaden. ‘Go talk to her.’
‘You serious?’ he asked.
Sas nodded, her blue eyes sparkling like the ocean.
Khaden folded his arms. ‘Nah.’
‘Come on Khaden, break the boredom,’ I said.
‘Here we go,’ said Sas.
Khaden laughed.
‘What?’ I looked from him to Sas.
Sas squinted at me. ‘You’re always bored, Ruby.’
‘Am not!’
‘Yeah, you are.’
‘Bet she smells like strawberries,’ said Khaden.
‘What?’ said Sas and I at once.
He nodded at the purple bikini girl. ‘Bet she smells like strawberries.’
‘You don’t even like strawberries,’ said Sas, frowning.
‘You’re weird, Khaden,’ I said.
‘At least he’s not bored,’ said Sas.
I should have stuck up for myself, argued with her, but I didn’t.
‘So Khaden, go find out what she smells like. And while you’re sniffing, talk to her.’
Khaden and Sas locked eyes for a moment. I looked away from them and picked at grains of sand on the stone wall.
‘Think of it as research for your essay,’ said Sas. ‘The pastoral care essay about doing stuff that scares you.’
Khaden pulled a face. ‘Sas, that essay is about challenging yourself, not making a fool of yourself.’
‘So you were listening,’ I said.
Khaden grinned.
‘Dare you,’ said Sas.
Khaden watched the girl stretch. I wondered what it was like to have guys stare at you like you were a plate of hot chips.
‘What’s it worth?’ Khaden’s question broke into my thoughts.
‘Apart from killing the boredom?’ asked Sas.
I gritted my teeth.
‘Yeah, apart from that.’
Sas beamed. ‘A burger on the way home.’
‘And fries,’ I added.
‘Burger, fries and a shake, and I’ll think about it,’ said Khaden.
‘No time for thinking my friend.’ Sas shoved him to the sand. ‘Do it now, or buy Ruby and me a burger, fries and shake. Plus, we post all over Facebook, Twitter and MySpace that you’re a big chicken.’
Khaden looked from the girl to Sas. ‘Yeah, but…’
Sas snatched my hat and tossed it like frisbee. It landed on purple bikini girl’s thigh.
‘Hey,’ I squealed.
‘Oh no, Ruby’s hat has blown off.’ Sas sounded loud and fake. ‘Khaden, could you rescue it? Please?’ She drew out the ‘please’.
I shimmied forward to rescue it myself.
‘It’s okay, Ruby, I’ll get it.’ Khaden glared at Sas. ‘You suck.’
He had that right.
When Khaden reached bikini girl, she was sitting up, holding my hat. Khaden slipped his hands into his pockets and smiled. She smiled back and spoke, but kept hold of my hat. They looked strange—her sunbaking in a bikini and Khaden in his black skinny-legs, Ramones T-shirt and skater shoes. The cheers of the soccer guys and the drone of traffic on the main road drowned out what she and Khaden were talking about.
Khaden pointed at us. Bikini girl looked up and nodded, but still didn’t hand over my hat.
Sas’s grin faded. ‘He only had to talk to her, not get her life story.’ Instead of loud and fake, Sas sounded snakey.
‘Hey, this was your idea,’ I said.
Her jaw became tight. ‘He’s not her type.’
Bikini girl held my hat towards Khaden, who had to step closer to reach it. The girl didn’t let go straight away.
‘Check her out, she’s full-on coming on to him!’
I started to laugh.
‘It’s not funny, Ruby,’ snapped Sas.
‘What’s the big deal? It’s not like he’s your boyfriend or anything. He’s our mate.’
Sas shifted position as though the stone wall we sat on was burning her thighs.
Khaden strolled back towards us, a massive smile on his face, and handed me the hat. Hands in his pockets, he leant back on his heels.
‘You right?’ I asked, grinning.
‘Just soaking up my awesomeness. She was helpless under the Elliot charm.’
I burst out laughing. ‘You’re an idiot.’
He shrugged, still grinning and rocking back and forth.
Sas made a strange noise, like a growl.
‘Oh, and Sas, Erica smelt like cherries.’
Sas scrambled to her feet and slung her bag over her shoulder. ‘We owe you a burger.’
Khaden pulled his hand free from his pocket and wagged his finger at her. ‘Burger, fries and a shake, thank you.’
‘Whatever.’ Sas glared at bikini girl.
Khaden pulled himself up on the wall to stand beside us. The steps would have been easier, but then again, bikini girl—Erica—was watching.
‘Don’t even think of buying it at that dodgy place over the road,’ said Khaden.
I screwed up my face. ‘Yeah, that place is a salmonella outlet.’
‘So, we’ll stop at the one near home,’ snapped Sas, brushing down her shorts.
I had to chew the inside of my cheek to stop myself from laughing at Sas’s mood change.
Sas
Why can’t Mum just shut up about Dad? How I’m not coping with his ‘news’.
FYI, Mum—I’m coping fine, I’m just pissed. Not at Dad’s ‘news’, but at the way I found out.
Ever since Dad and Mum broke up a lifetime ago—okay, eight years ago—I’ve spent weekends with Dad. Every second weekend was the best, when it was just me and Dad, and no annoying little sisters. I had my own room at Dad’s place and we did all kinds of cool stuff together, like make sushi, have dinner parties for his friends, eat lunch on bay cruises and go to plays and concerts.
But thanks to Dad, my weekends are now filled with housework and babysitting. That time with Dad used to be so easy and so much fun, but he stuffed it up. I could have handled his news, if he’d just told me himself. It wasn’t like he didn’t have a chance that last weekend we were together.
We talked about everything else over lunch at that seaside café.
I don’t want to think about dinner at the awful café/bar/restaurant/whatever it was. That black-and-steel place where Dad just fiddled with the stem of his wine glass while Lee told me. I waited, the whole trip back to Melbourne, for Dad to explain, to say something, but he didn’t.
Dad’s ‘news’ was bad enough, but then he gave Mum that ‘follow your dreams’ lecture. If he’d stayed quiet she would never have started that real estate course and my life wouldn’t be so bad. Thanks to Dad, I’m Mum’s full-time, live-in nanny, only without the full-time pay.
Every week I cook five dinners out of seven, make the girls’ school lunches and breakfast, and do the washing, ironing and vacuuming. Last night, Mum had the nerve to crack it with me because the noise of the vacuum was making it tough for her to study. Poor baby.
Ha! Typical. I’m in my room—well, the room I have to share with Eliza—having time to myself, and Mum is bellowing down the hall for me to empty the dishwasher and repack it. It’s not even my stupid job!
Is it any wonder I don’t want to ‘communicate’ with Dad? My life is CRAP thanks to him.
Ruby
A head of me, Khaden and Sas strolled out the school gates.
‘Hey, wait up,’ I yelled, running to catch up with them, backpack slapping my shoulder. ‘Where are you going?’
‘Café,’ said Khaden. ‘I’m starved.’
‘Okay if I tag along?’
Sas laughed. ‘Are you serious, Ruby? You never have to ask.’ She put her arm around my shoulder.
As we walked, we made plans for the summer—trips to the pool, beach, movies.
&n
bsp; ‘Hey, we could catch the bus to Phillip Island, Rosebud or something,’ I said, stopping at the pedestrian crossing over the road from the burger place.
Sas scoffed. ‘It’s not that easy. I have to babysit the girls.’
Khaden pushed the crossing button.
I looked across the six lanes of traffic to the crowded café. ‘Can we eat outside—in the sun?’
Sas sighed and stepped onto the road. ‘Come on.’
‘But…’ I looked at the ‘Don’t Walk’ symbol.
Sas and Khaden darted across the road through a gap in the traffic. I followed a few seconds later. They made it to the other side, but I was marooned on the median strip, the wind from the cars and trucks whipping my hair. By the time the lights changed, Sas and Khaden were lined up in the café, behind a bloke as broad as Dad but with tats up his neck and throat.
‘Thanks for waiting,’ I said, standing beside them.
Sas pulled a face.
The heat from the fryers and the sun blasting through the glass windows made the restaurant hot and stuffy. I wiped my palms on my school dress. A zit-faced guy took our order—three fries, burger, shake and two diet colas. ‘There’ll be a wait on one of the fries.’
Sas picked up the tray. ‘We’ll meet you at the table, Ruby.’
Khaden dumped napkins and straws onto the tray and shrugged.
‘Outside?’ I asked. My throat felt like it was closing over.
‘Sure,’ said Khaden.
‘There’s a table there.’ Sas nodded to a booth in the back corner of the cafe. Khaden glanced at me, then followed. He slipped his school bag under the table and slid along the bench to sit beside her.
Zit-boy handed over my fries. I grunted thanks and scuttled to Sas and Khaden, carrying on like seagulls over their fries. Khaden’s iPod sat on the table between them. He and Sas had an earbud each.
I dropped my backpack, crashed into the seat opposite, and shook the sweet-chili sauce sachet. ‘You can share my fries.’
‘Not if you’re putting that on them,’ said Sas, her nose wrinkled.
I squirted sauce over the fries.
Sas took the earbud out and handed it to Khaden. ‘They’re awesome. Who are they?’
‘This band Taj has been mixing for. They have a weekly gig at The Basement.’
Khaden’s brother Taj was the same age as Harrison. I couldn’t imagine Mum or Dad letting Harrison work at The Basement, or even go there.
