by Sue Lawson
A few minutes ago, Dad was snarling and bellowing. Now he slunk in his chair, face white and sweaty.
‘So maybe I’m not grounded after all,’ I said, staring straight at him. ‘And as for the whole confiscation thing…’
‘Who have you told…’ His whispered words trailed off as Mum shook off the caller, a telemarketer by the sounds of it.
If I hadn’t been sure before, I was now.
‘I have to register our phone number on that Do Not Call website,’ said Mum, sitting back down. ‘I’m sick to death of … Stuart, you look terrible. What’s wrong?’ Mum reached to feel Dad’s forehead. He pulled away from her touch.
‘Nothing. Indigestion.’ His chair scraped on the lino as he stood. At the kitchen sink, Dad poured a glass of water and gulped it down. He placed the empty glass on the bench and clutched the counter, knuckles white. He took a slow breath. ‘Ruby, your actions were irresponsible, but I think your mother is right, Mojo’s death is enough to teach you a lesson.’ The steel and anger had drained from his voice.
Mum’s eyes widened. ‘What about the grounding, confiscating the phone and things for the rest of the holidays?’
‘Not necessary. I’m going to the bathroom.’
When he’d gone, Mum stared at me. ‘What happened?’
I thought about telling her too, but the worry etched across her face stopped me. ‘Beats me. One minute he’s going off, the next he’s all quiet and weird. Can I go to my room?’
‘Hmmm?’ asked Mum, staring down the hall after Dad. She shook her head. ‘Yes, yes of course. I’ll check on Stuart.’
Sas
Why, when you’ve had a great, no, perfect day, is the next one a shocker? If Khaden hadn’t talked me into asking Ruby to come to the pool with us, Mojo would still be alive, Khaden and I wouldn’t have fought and I wouldn’t feel so awful.
I don’t want to write about what happened to Mojo. It’s bad enough that I keep seeing her running towards us, one minute tongue hanging out, eyes bright and tail wagging, the next, her face twisted in pain and her tail tucked between her legs. The way Mojo tried to keep running to Ruby was just horrible. And all I can smell is blood and that foul vet clinic. If only I could shake those images and wash the stink out of my nostrils.
I didn’t want to see Mojo dead in that room, but Khaden made me go.
Okay, so he didn’t make me, but I could tell by his face that I had to go. That tiny room and Ruby’s sobs. Ugggh.It made me feel sick—not vomiting sick, but awful sick, like something more than Mojo died.
Poor Mojo.
Poor Ruby.
It was the first time in ages I’d seen Ruby’s dad, too. Stuart’s changed—he’s lost weight and is buff for an old guy, but not as buff as Dad. He’s wearing trendier clothes, too, though now that I think about it, his clothes were a bit too young for him. But it wasn’t how he dressed or how fit he looked that stood out the most. The biggest change was the way acted, how he treated Ruby, right there in front of everyone, after Mojo had died and all. It was as though Mojo’s death was a nuisance. I wonder if he’s like that all the time, if Stuart is what’s up with Ruby.
After Ginny dropped Khaden and me home, I figured my day could only get better, but it didn’t. Everything was okay until Khaden and I went out the back and lay side-by-side under the massive lemon tree in the back yard, looking through the leaves and lemons to the blue sky. Khaden said he felt sorry for Ruby and insisted that we needed to be nicer to her, especially after Mojo. I knew he was right, that the whole Mojo thing was horrible, but Ruby had been strange before Mojo. When I pointed out how she’d run off, chucked mentals and acted all paranoid, Khaden just shrugged and said he didn’t see that she was any different.
Was he for real? I tried a different approach and pointed out that technically, because Ruby didn’t snib the gate, and because she started the game of chicken, Mojo’s death was her fault.
Khaden went off and said he was sick of me pushing Ruby into doing stuff, sick of Ruby and me competing with each other.
Me compete against Ruby? That made me furious. I told him I was over Ruby and her moods and was just about ready to end the friendship.
Next thing we were both standing and yelling, a bit like Dad and Mum used to before the divorce, only we weren’t pointing and calling each other names.
Then I said it ‘Your problem is you don’t understand women—it’s not like your mum…’ I stopped before I said more, but it was too late. He was gone, thundering down the side path.
Perfect to zero in twenty-four hours flat.
Dad used to tell me, when we were talking, that life was a gift to be treasured. Wrong! Life sucks.
Later…
Okay, so life doesn’t suck as much as I thought. Khaden came back after dinner and is asleep on the sofa again, but not because Mike had hit him. Khaden came back because Mike was away and Taj had gone out. Mum insisted Khade stay over and help us put up the Christmas tree, which cost Mum fifty bucks. For a thing that will die in a few weeks! Anyway, after we’d finished decorating the tree, Khaden and I talked for ages about all sorts of stuff—TV, Christmas gifts, and Ruby.
Khade has a point. I should try harder with Ruby. We’ve decided we’re going to leave her for the weekend, then ask her to meet us at the park so the three of us can hang out again, maybe go to Khaden’s and listen to him play the guitar. It’s ages since I’ve heard him play.
Everything is good again. Our first fight. Is that a milestone?
IM Chat
Sas: Hey Ruby, u ok?
Ruby: Archie’s calling me a murderer
Sas: That’s not fair
Ruby: He has a point
Sas: Come on, Ruby. It was an accident
Ruby: Meh. Wot’s on for the w’end?
Sas: Babysitting. Mum has open houses, then study on Sunday. U?
Ruby: Work—both days because of Xmas. Grrrr
Sas: Good money for Sundays?
Ruby: Yeah—time and a half. What’s Khaden doing?
Sas: Beats me. Guitar? Working? Want to meet up Monday? Park?
Ruby: Cool—10?
Sas: See you then :P
Ruby
Sas, Khaden and I arrived at the park at the same time, but from different directions. Khaden and Sas strolled across the oval, laughing. When Sas saw me, she sprinted over and gave me a massive hug. ‘You okay? After Mojo and all?’
I squeezed her tight then wiggled out of the hug. ‘It was awful.’
‘Yeah,’ said Khaden, leaning against the monkey bars. ‘It sucked. Did you ring that guy who drove us to the vet’s?’
‘Last night. Mum’s going to take him beer to say thanks.’ I cleared my throat, trying to dislodge the sorrow lumped there.
‘Surprised to see you here, after the way your dad was,’ said Sas.
‘Yeah, I didn’t think we’d see you again until your thirtieth birthday, at least.’ Khaden shook his head.
I forced a laugh.
‘Let’s just say we came to an understanding.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Sas.
Despite the hug and the show of concern, I couldn’t shake the feeling they weren’t telling me something, and that stopped me from spilling everything. Plus, I wasn’t sure I could talk about Mojo or what I knew about Dad without breaking down. ‘So what are we doing today?’
Khaden pulled himself onto the bars and hung upside down like we used to at primary school. ‘Come around to my place and I’ll play you this song I wrote,’ he said as he flipped to stand again.
‘What’s it about?’ asked Sas.
Khaden shrugged. ‘Love song, I guess.’
My skin prickled. I needed to drown the memories of Mojo, Dad, and all that meant for us as a family, to push away the thick sorrow threatening to swallow me. ‘Nah, let’s do something. Go somewhere.’ I danced around them. ‘We could go to the junction—I need a new mascara—or we could go up to the supermarket and do the trolley thing again.’
/> ‘Easy tiger,’ said Khaden, frowning.
‘Yeah, let’s just hang out at Khade’s,’ said Sas.
I stopped dancing. ‘What’s wrong with you two?’
They exchanged a look.
‘Ruby, the other day was awful,’ said Sas. ‘Why don’t we just take it easy, lay low today, okay?’
‘Nope. I need to do something fun.’
A hot breeze ruffled the leaves and clouds scudded together. Another loaded look darted between Khaden and Sas.
‘We could see a movie at Chadstone,’ said Khaden.
It was a start. ‘So, let’s do it!’
When the bus pulled up at Chadstone, Khaden, Sas and I ran down the aisle, ignoring the tutts from the older passengers who hadn’t found our stories and laughter as entertaining as we had.
The heat from the cement was intense. I jumped from the bus step to the footpath. ‘Where to?’
‘Follow me,’ said Sas. The shopping centre was packed. Christmas decorations crammed shop windows and hung from the ceiling, and Christmas carols filled the air.
‘Oh, come on,’ said Khaden, when we walked past the escalators to the cinema. ‘What about the movie?’
‘Mascara first, then movie, I promise,’ said Sas, leaning her chin on his shoulder. ‘Any movie you want.’
‘Any?’ asked Khaden, ruffling her hair.
Sas rolled her eyes. ‘Yes, even that sci fi, end of the world thing. Right, Ruby?’
I screwed up my nose, but Sas frowned. ‘Sure thing,’ I said, heading to the discount chain store.
Sas dragged me towards the department store. ‘No way, Ruby. Quality mascara.’
‘The security there is pretty major.’
‘Make-up’s this way.’ Sas ignored me and charged into the belly of the place. She stopped by the handbags. ‘So here’s the thing, we each get something, okay? And no buying anything as a decoy.’
I shifted under her stare.
‘Meet back here in ten minutes.’
With the need to bury all that sadness stronger than my fear, I stepped around a blonde woman in jeans and headed to the wall of make-up. For some reason, I decided to go for middle-of-the-range mascara. I untwirled a couple of wands, checked the colours and picked up a mascara with a gold case. Double black. Perfect. I slipped it between my skin and the waistband of my shorts like I had with the lipgloss. Before I headed back to the handbags to meet Sas and Khaden, I tried lipsticks on the back of my hand and smelt perfume testers.
‘Where’s Sas?’ I asked Khaden, who was slouched by a handbag display, hands in his pockets.
He shrugged. ‘Still shopping.’ There was no hint of irony in his voice.
Sas walked over from the jewellery department.
‘How’d you go?’ I asked.
‘No good. Let’s go somewhere else.’ Her eyes twinkled.
As we neared the doorway, I stood taller, feeling confident, strong and happy.
‘Excuse me.’ A hand tapped my shoulder. ‘Would you three come with us, please?’ A blonde woman dressed in jeans and a T-shirt motioned for me to follow her back into the store.
The confidence and happiness rushed from me. She was the one I’d stepped around to reach the make-up stand. A guy with a walkie-talkie hanging from his belt stood behind Sas and Khaden, blocking any chance of escape.
‘Why should we?’ asked Sas, hands on her hips.
‘Because it would be less embarrassing than doing this here.’
‘Doing what? Kidnapping us?’ Sas’s face was red. ‘If you have a problem, deal with it here. This is so unfair. You’re picking on us because we’re teenagers and that’s no different to racism.’ Sas’s noise attracted the stares of shoppers.
If only the whole complex would collapse and swallow us.
‘When you’re finished making a fuss,’ said the woman. ‘Come this way or—’
‘Okay, we’re moving,’ said Khaden, pushing Sas.
We followed the woman through the shoe department to double white doors.
‘Actually, this is racism,’ said Sas, her voice edged with victory. ‘You stopped us because Khaden’s skin is darker than ours.’
I cringed.
‘Whatever,’ said the woman, punching numbers into a keypad outside another door.
She ushered us inside. The room was plain, with only a table, four chairs and a water dispenser in the corner.
‘I’m Molly and this is Sal,’ said the woman, pointing to the guy. ‘Take a seat.’
Sal slipped out of the room.
Molly stared at me. ‘Want to take the mascara from your shorts?’
With shaking hands I pulled it from its hiding place and tossed it on the table. The mascara rolled to the floor, landing at Molly’s feet.
Sas’s eyes widened. ‘Ruby, how could you?’
Molly shook her head and gave Sas a thin smile. ‘And the bracelet.’
‘I find that offensive, as if—’
Molly’s laugh was breathy. ‘We can do this the easy way or the hard way.’
Sas’s eyes widened. ‘Look, I…’
Molly drummed her fingers on the table.
With a sigh, Sas reached into her bra and pulled out a men’s leather bracelet with silver beads.
Molly turned her attention to Khaden. ‘Your turn.’
Khaden stared at the bracelet on the table, smiled at Sas, and took a pair of earrings from his pocket.
‘Nothing else?’ asked Molly.
Khaden shook his head.
I slipped my hands under my thighs to stop them shaking, and fought back tears. Dad would kill me, rip me apart and kill me again.
‘So what now?’ asked Sas, folding her arms.
‘We call your parents.’
The colour drained from Khaden and Sas’s faces.
Maybe, if I played this right, Dad wouldn’t kill me. I cleared my throat.
‘Molly, Khaden’s dad is out of town for work and Sas’s mum is in Tasmania on holidays.’ I hoped Khaden and Sas would follow me.
‘So who is their guardian at present?’
I shrugged. ‘They’re staying with me. So I guess it’s my dad.’
I heard Sas’s sharp breath.
Molly handed me a pen and notepad. ‘What’s his number?’ She took the pad back from me and tapped it. ‘Won’t be a minute.’
‘What gives?’ asked Khaden the moment Molly left the room.
Sas leant forward. ‘Yeah, Ruby, your dad went mental at the vet’s and you hadn’t done anything really wrong, but this … he’ll blow a fuse for sure.’
‘It’ll be right. Dad will sort this out.’
‘This better work, otherwise, we’re screwed.’
I wondered where the tough Sas had gone.
The door opened and two cops came into the room, one young and serious, the other older with a softer face. Molly followed them. ‘Stuart Martin’s working on that new development on North Road and should be here in five minutes.’ She nodded at me. ‘This is his daughter, Ruby, this young lady is Sarah Donohue and—’
‘Hello Khaden,’ said the older cop.
My chin just about fell to my knees. Sas looked as stunned as I felt. Khaden, slumped in the plastic seat, folded his arms.
‘A moment? Outside?’ said the older cop to Molly.
‘How come he knows you?’ I asked as soon as they left the room.
Khaden shrugged. ‘His kid’s a friend of Taj’s.’
‘Serious?’ said Sas. ‘That has to be good, right?’
Something about the way Khaden wouldn’t look at either of us made me think he was lying.
The young cop came back inside the room and the older guy stood in the doorway.
‘…and thanks Molly,’ he said. ‘We’ll take it from here.’
I could see Molly’s puzzled face past the cop. ‘But—’
‘Thanks.’ The older policeman closed the door.
The young cop pulled a chair closer to us and sat. ‘I’m Constable O’Brien
.’ He jerked his thumb at the old cop. ‘That’s Senior Constable Dobson. You three are in big trouble.’
‘You can’t interview us until Mr Martin arrives,’ said Sas.
O’Brien folded his arms. ‘No worries, we’ll wait.’ He nodded at Khaden. ‘Decent bruise, mate. More problems with the furniture?’
Khaden’s face was blank.
The door opened. ‘Stuart Martin’s here,’ said Molly.
I swallowed the fear threatening to swamp me.
‘John Dobson,’ said the older cop, offering his hand to Dad. ‘And Nathan O’Brien.’
‘What the hell is going on?’ said Dad looking from me to John Dobson.
‘These three have been caught shoplifting,’ said O’Brien, looking pleased with himself.
Dad rubbed his eyes and made a sound somewhere between a growl and a sigh.
This was it. I took a deep breath. ‘Dad, we stuffed up, in a major way, but everyone makes mistakes, right? I mean, we’ve all done things we shouldn’t have, right?’
Dad’s mouth pulled into a frown.
‘As their guardian, do I have your permission to interview them?’ asked O’Brien.
Dad’s eyes widened.
‘Guardian?’
‘Yeah Dad, seeing as Sas and Khade are staying with us, that makes you their guardian.’ I stared at him, hard. ‘You get it, don’t you?’
Dad’s face flushed. ‘Yes, yes, interview them.’ He leant against the wall, his mouth a thin line.
Constable O’Brien stood, paced and glared, firing questions hard and fast.
The three of us said the same things—we’d never done it before, didn’t know why we’d done it, felt terrible. Blah, blah, blah. When Sas fake-cried—at least I think she was fake-crying—Khaden rubbed her back in slow circles, but that didn’t make O’Brien let up. He gave us the drink-driving, drugs, jail and ‘life of crime’ lecture, pointing and yelling to make his point. If he was trying to scare us, it worked.
Just when I was sure he was about to charge us, he glanced at the older policeman, who was leaning against the wall. ‘So what do you reckon?’
Dobson scratched his head and frowned. ‘‘It is a first offence. We could make this an official warning.’ He leant towards us. ‘But if you do this again…’
