While Steve was giving himself a black eye, Casey dropped in, built up plenty of speed and popped a 720. Two full rotations before he fell from the sky onto concrete and landed smooth as Peter Garret’s head. It was as close as you could come to flying without wings.
He went over to Steve.
“You’re just like your brother,” Casey said, tapping his heart with his fist, “you have a lot of rage inside. I used to be the same.’’
Steve was looking at his shoes.
“But the best day of my life was the day I realised I didn’t have to prove myself to no one,” Casey continued. “I used to snap boards, get pissed off, just to show people how good I was. But you don’t need to do that here. I already know you’re good. You skate like your brother, and when Ryan was cool he was as good as anyone I’ve ever rolled with. And I’ve skated with the best.”
Steve looked up.
“Let’s give it a go,” said Casey.
They went to the top of the vert ramp. ‘‘Vert’’ stands for vertical, which means that when you drop into one of those suckers you’re going straight down. Your instincts tell you to keep your weight back so you don’t take a dive into a pool without water, but if you want to stay on your board you have to do the opposite.
“Trust your board,” said Casey, “and let your weight rock over your front knee. Feel the force, don’t force the feel.”
He did a demo, making it look as easy as apple pie.
Steve had a go. Dropping in is not something you can practise in the centre of Beeton. Not unless the health authorities decide to clean out the local swimming pool because of an outbreak of meningococcal. Steve took Casey’s advice and committed his weight to his front knee, and although it was a sketchy drop-in he hung with it as he rolled down the monster and up the other side, sliding down on his backside rather than risk coming back fakie.
Casey slapped his hand and smiled. “McTeigue and Marshall,” he said. “We were a hell of team once. You never know, we might roll again.”
Alex never wore a watch skating. It was a guaranteed breakage opportunity. Nevertheless, he knew it was time to go.
CHAPTER 10
Dinner at Becky’s
“Make sure you mind your manners, Alex.”
“Yes, Mum.”
“And tuck that shirt in. You look like a lout when it hangs round your knees.”
“Sure, Mum.”
“And wish your father luck. Ben’s fighting for the Australian title tonight.”
“You should be coming instead of being with that squeeze of yours,” teased Chief. “Or better still, bring her along.”
“I would, but Becky’s dad won’t let her out of the house,” said Alex. “Wish Ben luck for me, will ya, Chief? Tell him the only reason I’m not coming is that it’s not worth it — the fight will be over too quick.”
Alex got off the train at Toowong and, as usual, was struck with the difference between Beeton and this place. It was like switching channels from The Osbournes to The Brady Bunch. Everything was so neat and tidy. Once a dog got run over in Beeton and it took the council a week to pick it up.
After Alf Tonella was convicted and fined, the family was short of money, which is why Becky and her mum moved to Logan City. But now Alf had a new job managing an ice-cream shop. It may have been a sweet job but it didn’t pay nearly as well as being a lawyer. Still, Alf wanted to live in a ‘‘good’’ suburb, even if they did rent the worst house on the street. Also, Becky’s grandparents in Italy were paying for her to go to St Lucy’s, one of the most expensive girls’ schools in Brisbane.
Alf and Becky were playing tennis at the local school court. Again, this was an unusual sight for Alex. In Beeton the school tennis courts had no nets or no fences, or both. The light was fading but Alex couldn’t keep his eyes off Becky. It was a balmy evening and she was dripping sweat in her black bike pants and white sports bra.
Her dad was feeding her balls out of a giant shopping trolley, yelling at her to “set and rip” her forehand. After awhile Alex figured out what he meant. She had to set her feet in the right position then hit the ball as hard as she could while keeping it inside the lines.
It was a bit like skateboarding, really. Set your feet into the right position on the board, then rip it into the air and catch it using technique and control. Yeah, Alex reckoned he could get the hang of this snobby sport if he wanted to.
To finish the workout Alf got Becky to run court sprints. “Hustle bella!” he yelled as she scuttled from one line to another. “Your opponents are running twice as fast! Do you want to beat them or not?”
Alf always brought everything back to winning and losing. Alex had never seen such a competitive bloke. Once Alf cracked a spat when Alex beat him at darts.
“Do you think she is fit enough?” Alf asked Alex as they walked home. “She can run faster, no?”
“She looks all right to me,” said Alex.
Alex had been here a lot for dinner in the last few months and it took on a familiar routine. Becky’s mum, Simone, would cook more food than ten people could eat. This was a problem, as there were only four of them, including Alex. Perhaps that was why their dog, Benny, was so fat.
Alex liked Simone. She would ask him questions — about school, his family, even skateboarding. Alf rarely asked questions. He was a loud man with a cheerful nature and would tell stories about the year he took off university to travel around Europe playing small-time professional tennis tournaments. And then he’d talk about how his ‘‘little girl’’ was on track to make the St Lucy’s first team, and how one day they’d travel Europe together — she as the player, he the coach.
“Alexi, what job do you want when you finish school?” was one question Alf did ask him.
“Professional skateboarder,” said Alex. “My mate Casey Marshall has been to Europe and skated in some big comps over there. I wanna do the same. Maybe Becky and I can travel together, she playing tennis and me skateboarding?” Alex suggested.
Alf arched his eyebrows but said nothing.
After dessert, Alf started dropping hints that Becky should get to bed as she had to get up early to play tennis. Becky ignored him and she and Alex went outside and lay in the backyard. They listened to the crickets, teased each other and held hands, before Alf’s shadow in the kitchen window reminded them that Alex should be going.
Leaving was always the worst part, and not just because he had to say goodbye to Becky. The first few times it happened Alex thought it was a coincidence, but the odds of it happening six times straight, which it had, were so astronomical that it was surely a statistical impossibility. At exactly the time when Alex and Becky walked to the station, Alf would decide to walk the dog. Not that they’d all walk together, but you never knew where or when he’d pop up. If Alex decided to make his move somewhere behind a telegraph pole, he’d always have to have one eye open in case he was sprung with his tongue down a father’s daughter’s throat.
This night, as Alex sat next to Becky on the station bench, he saw a figure on the overpass. It was dark and he couldn’t tell if it was Alf, and for once he didn’t care. He reached in and squeezed Becky’s shoulder. She smiled. He said, “I’ve got to tell you a secret,” then licked inside her ear, slowly and softly. She turned her lips towards his. Her soft, full lips.
Suddenly, there was a loud whistle. “Benny!” cried a voice from the bridge. “Here boy!”
Alex slumped back on his seat. “Becky,” he said, “this is seriously not funny.”
Then they both started laughing.
CHAPTER 11
Present from Chief
As he lay in bed Alex was as frustrated as a teenage boy alone on a Saturday night watching Miss Teen Universe. What if Becky’s dad never left them alone? What if he was still walking the dog beside them when they were 30? Kids his age were having sex, and Alex was lucky to score a kiss.
He closed his eyes and did the only thing a boy could do — he used his imagination. He n
ailed a 360 flip over the funbox to win the competition in Alexandra Headlands, and then Becky ran up and threw her arms around him, kissing him wildly. She was wearing bike pants and a sports bra. Her dad wasn’t there. He was temporarily back in jail after the judge discovered there was a stuff-up with his parole ...
That’s cruel, thought the left side of Alex’s brain.
Who cares? It’s your dream, countered his right side.
And it was a good one, too, if the size of the stain on his boxers in the morning was any indication. He chucked them under the bed to dry off before he’d sneak them into the wash.
As he ate eight Vita Brits, Alex could hear thumping coming from the garage. It was his dad working out. Alex went downstairs to find out how Ben did in the fight.
You’d think he’d have better things to do on a Saturday morning, but there Chief was, a moving sweatball. At first he was turning the speedball into a blur, then he started laying into the heavy bag.
Boom, boom, boom.
The noise reverberated around the garage like a thrash band. Chief worked out most mornings, though Alex hadn’t seen him this intense before. It was a wonder the neighbours hadn’t thought there was serious child beating going on and called the cops.
Then Chief did something Alex had never seen him do. Ever. He sat down and cried.
Alex wasn’t sure what to do. Should he leave Chief alone? Go upstairs and get Sharon? Or try and deal with this himself?
“So ... I take it Ben lost last night?” said Alex.
Chief jumped up and wiped his face with a towel. He hadn’t noticed Alex.
“Umm, no son, he won it alright. They stopped the fight after the second.”
“Then what’s wrong?” asked Alex.
“I’m just a bit sad, mate. Afterwards, Ben told me it was his last fight.”
“But why? He’s only 18.”
“I know. But he’s had some bad luck. He got his girlfriend pregnant.”
“Oh,” said Alex.
They were quiet for a bit.
“Why can’t he still fight?” said Alex. “He’s not the one who has to carry the baby.”
“He reckons he won’t have time to train properly. He’s going to get a second job so he can support his family.’’
“Aren’t you going to talk him out of it?” asked Alex.
Chief shrugged. “It’s his call. It’s a bloody tragedy, though. The kid could have won a gold medal at the Olympics.”
Chief looked at Alex, went to say something, then paused.
“What?” asked Alex.
“I’ve got something for you,” said Chief. “Come upstairs. I’ll meet you in your room.”
As Alex sat on his bed he wondered what it could be. A new pair of boxing gloves, maybe? Perhaps Chief wanted him to take Ben’s place? Alex was a good fighter, and went to the gym to train with the boys about once a week. Jimmy and John came with him and they always had a good workout. But boxing wasn’t his number one sport. Not by a long shot.
Chief closed the door behind him. He gave Alex a paper bag with Soul and Pattison written on the outside. Alex tried to undo the sticky tape but it ripped, so he ripped it more, and inside was a cardboard packet full of condoms. ‘‘Extra ribbed for her pleasure’’, it said on the box.
“I don’t know what you get up to with that girlfriend of yours,” said Chief, “and I don’t want to know, that’s your business. But I know when I was about your age I was doing things in the back of cars I’d rather not remember.”
Alex winced. Too much information.
“But if you are doing it, or thinking about doing it, I want you to use these,” Chief said. “It’s not worth risking your future for a moment of stupidity.”
Alex went red. Chief had only talked to him once before about sex. He’d left him with a couple of pamphlets and said if Alex had any questions to come and talk to him. Alex never did.
“Anyway,” said Chief, “I’ll just leave these here.” He put them on the dressing table.
When Chief left, Alex had a look. The box was wrapped in so much plastic it took him five minutes to open. Too bad if you were in a hurry. He looked everywhere but couldn’t see a size, like “junior” or “big guys” .
He read the instructions. Always put on before contact with partner’s genital area occurs. Squeeze the tip while rolling onto the erect penis. Hold the rim of the condom while withdrawing to prevent spillage. Don’t return used condoms to the distributor through the mail.
It sounded like a lot of stuff to remember. He put them in the bottom of his underwear drawer, the only place Sam wouldn’t look. Although now he’d changed to boxers, she mightn’t be so grossed out. He wrapped them up in an old pair of jocks he still had.
Later in the day the phone rang. “Alex, for you,” his mum yelled.
“Hi spunky!”
“Hey Becky.”
“What are you doing tonight?” she said.
“Going to the city with Jimmy and Sarah,” said Alex. “We’re seeing a movie. Wanna come?”
“Can you come over here instead?”
“Ummm. Dinner?”
“Yep.”
“With your parents?”
“No. With me. They’re going out tonight.”
Alex’s chest started beating like he was on top of a vert ramp.
“And your parents are letting you stay home by yourself?”
“Well, not exactly. My cousin Rina is supposed to look after me, but she really wants to go to her boyfriend’s house. And I really want my boyfriend to come to my house, so we’ve sort of organised it.”
“You’re going to pull a scam?” asked Alex.
“No. We’re just not going to tell the whole truth.”
“I can’t believe it. Becky Tonella is pulling a scam!”
Alex also didn’t find it necessary to tell his mum the whole truth. As far as she knew he was meeting Jimmy and Sarah at the train station, which he was, and they were to go into the city to see a movie, which he wasn’t. She didn’t need to know he was spending some quality alone time with his girlfriend. If she did, there’d be two chances he’d be allowed to go.
Before he left he made a visit to his underwear drawer. He unwrapped an old pair of jocks, took out an item and placed it in his wallet. He was only doing it for his mate, Justin.
Justin Case.
CHAPTER 12
Nerves
On the train, Alex let Jimmy and Sarah know that he wouldn’t be catching the flick with them tonight. It didn’t take Jimmy long to put two and two together.
“Where’re you going?” he asked.
“Becky’s house.”
“But you went there last night.”
“So?”
“Are her parents going to be there?”
Alex smiled and the game was up. Jimmy wanted the full run-down and didn’t care that Sarah was sitting beside them. The three of them went way back, so it didn’t really matter. Sarah was probably more trustworthy than Jimmy, anyway.
“So are you becoming a man tonight?” said Jimmy.
“Having sex doesn’t make you a man,” said Sarah. “A man is someone capable of love.”
“Love, sex, it’s all the same,” said Jimmy. “So tell me, Jackson, are you two gonna do it?”
“I don’t think so,” said Alex.
“But you might?” said Jimmy.
Alex shrugged.
“Does she want to?” said Sarah.
“She organised tonight,” said Alex. “What do you think that means?”
“It means that she wants you to be a man, and to make her a woman,” said Jimmy.
“Would you shut up with all that man / woman stuff?” said Sarah. “It means she wants a nice romantic evening with her boyfriend. She’s probably not even thinking about sex.”
“How can she not think about it?” said Jimmy. “Every time you turn on the TV, watch a movie, it’s in your face. Sex, sex, sex.”
“Just because you’re obse
ssed, doesn’t mean that girls are,” said Sarah.
“Guys have to be doing it with someone,” said Jimmy. He turned to Alex. “Tell me, mate. If she wants to do it, will you?”
The train pulled into Central station before Alex got a chance to answer. Jimmy and Sarah got out.
“Meet you on the 11.20,” Jimmy called out to Alex. “You might be a new man.”
CHAPTER 13
It’s Time
The little things told him how much effort she had put into making this night perfect. Not only was she wearing a strapless dress but there were candles lit and a delicious dinner she’d cooked herself. If the situation was reversed, Alex probably would have been in boardies and a T-shirt and ordered pizza.
They talked and teased during dinner, but mostly they smiled. It was a long time since they’d been alone like this. Actually, they’d never been alone quite like this. To Alex it felt strange. Like being grown-up all of a sudden.
“Do you want dessert now or later?” asked Becky when they finished their lasagne.
“Later,” said Alex.
They went into the lounge room and Becky put on some music. It was soft and slow.
She sat beside Alex on the couch and he leant over and sunk his teeth into her neck. “I’ve changed my mind,” he said. “I want dessert now.”
They kissed. The part Alex loved the most was right before the first brush of lip on lip. His body bristled with anticipation and his thoughts stopped. He held his mouth millimetres away until he couldn’t stand it any longer, and his lips pressed forward and found hers.
He rubbed the bare skin on her back and she snuggled closer, their bodies curling together. She pulled up his shirt and then it was off, the feel of bare skin too much to resist. His hand stroked her face and then slid across her rise. She took a fast breath but let him keep going, exploring where he had been many times before, but only late at night in his dreams.
“Do you want to go to my room?” she said.
The phone rang. Alex could tell who it was by the way Becky spoke — fast and low.
Alex Jackson: Closing Out Page 4
