Mum jumps up from the table and goes outside.
‘Sam. Sam!’ she yells, like she’s calling a lost dog.
I butter my toast then spread it thickly with peanut butter and honey, my favourite mixture. Steve gapes at it then pretends not to notice when I scowl at him. Mum trolls back inside looking worried.
‘He was upset last night,’ she says. ‘You don’t think he’s run away, do you?’
‘Who? Sam?’
I choke on my toast.
‘He wouldn’t have the guts, Mum. It takes guts to do a runner.’
‘You’d know.’
‘That’ll do,’ says Steve, as the phone rings.
Mum goes to answer it.
‘Steve. It’s for you.’
Steve goes out to take the call. Mum leans forward so that her face is centimetres away from mine and looks me straight in the eye.
‘Leanne, if you wreck my wedding day I’ll never forgive you, do you hear me?’ she hisses.
I keep chewing and stare right back.
‘Well? Do you hear me?’
‘You need to pluck your nose hairs,’ I say calmly. She looks like she’s going to lose it right there in our kitchen, but just then Steve comes back looking agitated.
‘The van,’ he says, and races out the back door.
Before we can follow he’s back, looking grim.
‘Last night the guys tried to pursue a van that was speeding but they abandoned the chase. Too dangerous. Got the first two rego numbers though, and the computer’s come up with my vehicle as a possibility. Look’s like it’s mine: the van’s missing.’
I’m stunned. My gooby little brother’s nicked Steve’s van? And been chased by some cops? Wow, he’s got more guts than I thought!
‘Sam wouldn’t steal your van,’ says Mum. ‘He can’t even drive.’
‘Mum, even an untrained monkey can drive,’ I go. ‘You don’t have to be a genius.’
‘No, not my Sam.’
Mum’s shattered. Her beloved son who can do no wrong has done a runner in her bridegroom’s V8.
‘I’d better go down to the station,’ says Steve.
‘I’ll drive you,’ goes Mum.
They belt outside and I can hear Mum revving the guts out of the Falcon. I hope they don’t stuff round forever at the cop shop: we’ve got to get our hair done.
They’re back, and Mum’s bawling again. Steve looks frazzled. There’s an APB out on the van. Sam’s on Victoria’s Most Wanted. Unbelievable.
‘What about our hair?’ I go.
‘Can’t you think about anything else?’ sobs Mum.
‘Life has to go on,’ I say. ‘You’re getting married in six hours’ time.’
‘Married? I can’t, not with Sam missing!’
‘Mum. You can’t cancel. What about the church? The reception? The cake? Well, forget the cake. But you can’t jilt Steve …’
‘I’m not jilting Steve,’ snaps Mum. ‘This is an emergency. We have to find Sam!’
‘Mum, we can’t drive all over Victoria looking for the little gooba,’ I go.
‘Leanne’s right,’ says Steve. ‘There’s a whole police force networking to find him, so go and get your hair done, love. The wedding’s going ahead because we’ll find Sam soon, okay?’
‘I’ll kill him when I get my hands on him,’ says Mum grimly, drying her eyes.
She drives like a maniac to the hairdresser’s.
‘Mum. Slow down, will ya?’ I go, as we narrowly miss another car.
We scream to a stop outside the mall.
‘Mum, I want to show you these cute new tops in “Top Down”, I say as we tear along the street. ‘They’re really cool, and …’
‘Shut up, Leanne,’ grates Mum. ‘How you can think of clothes at a time like this is beyond me!’
‘I’d have to be dead before I didn’t think of clothes. And speaking of dead, if you intend driving like a speed freak again I’m getting a cab.’
We reach Andrea’s Hair Salon and collapse into our chairs. Mum stares grimly at her reflection as Andrea gets to work. I’ve got Sharon.
‘Your hair would look gorgeous if you put a copper rinse in it,’ she goes.
‘Mum?’
‘NO.’
‘She’s having a bad hair day,’ I go. ‘And she’s wired for weird because my dumb brother’s done a runner in her boyfriend’s car.’
‘LEANNE!’
Mum looks scandalised. I don’t know why. I think it’s cool having a brother with an APB out on him. Sharon’s all eyes, wanting the gory details.
‘Your brother Sam’s done a runner? I don’t believe it. And nicked a car? I didn’t think he was that type of kid. Always seemed a bit … well …’
‘I know, gooba material.’
‘It’s always the quiet, silent types, Leanne.’
Yeah, right.
Finally our hair’s done. Mine’s piled up like a sand castle, with mauve ribbons wound through it which Mum produced from her bag. At least I’ve persuaded her to let me to have a strand dangling across one cheek. But I still look too posh.
‘All I need’s a friggin’ tiara,’ I mutter.
‘LEANNE!’
I hate my name, ’specially the way Mum says it. I wish she’d called me Madison, or Tiana, or Mirage, or something original.
Mum looks quite nice really. The hairdo suits her, piled up on her head. Her hair’s shorter than mine, but Andrea’s managed to make her look sophisticated.
‘Let’s have a coffee or something,’ I say, when we stand outside the salon.
‘How can you think of coffee at a time like this?’ says Mum. ‘Your little brother’s missing, maybe critically injured, and all you can think of is your stomach.’
I sigh. I’m starting to wish that he’d hurry up and be found.
Mum gets in the Falcon and we take off with a jerk because she’s changed gears too quickly. But at least she doesn’t plant the foot this time till we reach our street. She guns it and we roar up the driveway.
‘Steve?’ Mum calls as she bursts through the back door.
Silence.
‘Maybe he’s gone to get his hair done,’ I go. Steve’s practically bald.
Mum puts the kettle on and drags out a packet of Tim Tams.
‘I thought you were too upset to eat,’ I go, as she starts munching.
‘I always eat when I’m upset, you know that.’
‘Well, slow down. You’ll pop your wedding dress.’
The phone goes and Mum jumps up like she’s been poked by a cattle prod. I follow her to the phone. ‘Steve? Any news?’
She looks worried as she hangs up.
‘They think they’ve found him,’ she says.
‘Well, what’s the problem, then? You don’t look too happy about it.’
Then I get a terrible thought.
‘He’s not … dead, is he?’
‘LEANNE!’
‘What, then?’ I yell, as Mum starts sobbing.
‘They lost him. He’s somewhere near Portland.’
Portland? That’s the arse end of the world. Why would my dumb brother want to drive to Portland?
‘How come they lost him?’ I yell. ‘What’s wrong with the police force? You think they could round up an old white panel van with a fourteen-year-old-kid driving it. What sort of dipsticks are they?’
‘LEANNE!’
‘Oh, stuff it. I’m going to watch TV.’ I go into the lounge and switch on the set. Mum comes and plonks herself beside me. We both stare at the screen. Mum munches away, holding the biscuit packet like it’s a life raft.
‘Mum, what was your first wedding day like?’ I ask, when the commercial comes on. I’ve gol to try and distract her or she’ll eat the whole packet and throw up all over her wedding dress.
Mum sighs. ‘It was lovely,’ she says, as the first raindrops start to splatter against our lounge room window. ‘A beautiful, sunny day, not a cloud in the sky.’
‘Right.’
<
br /> ‘Of course I only had an eighteen inch waist in those days.’
‘Right.’
I think to myself how much that is in centimetres.
‘We had two white Mercedes to drive us to the church. Your Aunty Paula was the bridesmaid, and we carried tuberoses and stephanotis.’
‘Right.’
Mum jumps up, goes over to the sideboard and drags out her wedding album. She starts turning the pages and showing me the photos. I’m not sure whether it’s cool to be gawping at your first wedding photos when you’re lining up to get married a second time, but it seems to be taking her mind off Sam and the biscuits. We go through the ceremony, the reception, and leaving for the honeymoon while I try not to yawn. I glance at my watch. Nearly twelve.
‘How about I make us some scrambled eggs or something?’ I offer.
‘What? Oh, no, Leanne, I couldn’t eat a thing.’
There’s a knock on the door. Mum leaps up like she’s been stung, but it’s only Mona the florist with the flowers.
‘Sam’s done a runner,’ I tell her.
‘What? Oh, deary me. I thought he was happy about this wedding,’ she says, putting the bouquets and buttonholes on top of the Tim Tams on the coffee table.
Mum starts bawling again. Mona puts her arms around Mum, bursts into tears, and they both hug and rock and sob together. There’s another knock on the door. I go and open it and it’s Bin’s mum, Mrs Strachan, holding the wedding cake in a box.
‘I wanted to show you before I take it to the Scout Hall,’ she says.
‘It looks lovely,’ I lie. I think it looks gross, mountains of cream, not like a wedding cake at all.
‘Oh, Beth,’ shrieks Mum. ‘Sam’s run away. He’s stolen Steve’s van.’
‘What? Not little Sam?’ says Bin’s mum.
Little Sam? Oh, please!
‘It’s just awful,’ says Mona. ‘Awful.’
‘Maybe he’s gone to find his dad,’ says Beth.
That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard. Portland’s nowhere near Noosa, which is up north. Noosa’s light-years away. I just know that Sam hasn’t done a runner to find Dad and lost the way. After my experiences on the run to Noosa and the hassles I had with Dad, he’s the last person Sam’d be trying to find! He’ll probably be driving round searching for some surf down on the southern beaches, knowing him.
‘Oh, I can’t bear it,’ Mum cries. ‘He could get horribly injured. Or what if they shoot him?’
‘Reality check, Mum,’ I snap. ‘The cops aren’t going to shoot him. It’s SAM we’re talking about, not some crim.’
‘I feel so helpless,’ Mum groans. ‘I want to go to Portland right now and find my son.’
‘I know, I know,’ says Beth.
The three of them grab each other and start wailing and moaning. This isn’t a wedding; it’s a funeral!
I sigh and stare at them.
This is horrible.
Another knock on the door. Is this Visit the Studleys day? I walk back down the passage and open the door. It’s Bin and Cathy, her friend.
‘Hi,’ says Bin. ‘Is Sam home?’
‘No.’
‘Oh. Well, do you know where he is? We have to talk to him.’
‘So do we!’
‘Huh?’
‘Come in. You may as well, everyone else in this town’s here.’
Bin stops short when she sees the wailing crew in the lounge room.
‘Mum! What’s wrong?’
‘Sam’s done a runner. Nicked Steve’s van,’ I go.
‘What?’ Bin stares at me. ‘I don’t believe it. Sam would never do something like that!’
‘Yeah. It’s a bit hard to believe.’
‘Not Sam,’ says Cathy. ‘Cooja, maybe. But not Sam. He’s so … tight.’
‘Tight?’ says Mum, and starts bawling again.
‘She means straight,’ I translate over the noise. ‘Bin, Cathy, let’s go to my room. Maybe you guys can give me a clue where he’s gone.’
I sprawl on my bed. Bin spreads herself on the other bed, staring at me anxiously with her bright blue contact-lensed eyes, and Cathy plops her curves onto the beanbag, and hangs her head so that her dark hair falls like a curtain and I can’t see her face. She knows something, or else why is she acting weird and sort of defensive?
‘Are you sure he didn’t say anything to you guys?’ I ask. ‘Anything that’d give us a clue?’
‘Nah. He doesn’t tell me his secrets,’ Bin goes. ‘But then, boys never do tell girls secrets.’
‘They just use girls up,’ says Cathy.
Whoa. Something’s going on here.
‘Maybe Sam told Cooja that he was gonna run,’ I go.
‘Cooja? That walking slime bag?’
Cathy bursts into tears. Bin reaches down and pats her hand.
Maybe we have some odd substance in the walls or something that makes people cry? But then I don’t feel like crying, do I?
‘Cooja’s broken up with Cathy,’ says Bin.
I just stop myself from saying ‘Again?’ and hand her the box of tissues.
‘I shouldn’t have done it,’ sobs Cathy.
‘Done what?’ goes Bin.
‘Done … you know …’
‘What?’
‘You know …’
‘You mean sex?’ I go.
Bin looks shocked.
‘Cathy! You didn’t!’
Cathy hangs her head again and mumbles through her hair.
‘I didn’t mean for it to happen. He was just kissing me and we were — you know — just messing round … and then—well … it happened.’
‘Okay, so it happened,’ I say. ‘It’s not the end of the world. Unless — you’re not pregnant are you?’
‘No. He wore a — you know — ’
Ready, willing and able, eh, Cooja? I think, as Cathy sobs and Bin looks grim. Then she gets up, sits on the beanbag and puts her arm round Cathy.
‘So you’re not a virgin. You had to lose it sometime,’ she says, trying to act cool.
Not exactly the most comforting thing to say, I think, but then Bin’s in shock. People say odd things when they’re shocked, and Bin doesn’t know how to handle it.
‘But he told,’ wails Cathy. ‘He promised he wouldn’t. He told Boxie, and he was winking and carrying on, and then he practically told the whole school.’
‘So how come I didn’t know?’ says Bin. ‘I’m supposed to be your best friend. How come you didn’t tell me?’
Oh, good one, Bin, lay a guilt call on your best friend! I glare at her and she clams up.
‘He told all his mates. Why did he do that? I thought he loved me but I think he’s dumped me,’ sobs Cathy. ‘He won’t answer my calls and he walks away if I go near him. I feel like mud.’
I sigh. I feel a million years old. Did I used to feel and think like this?
‘Look, Cathy. It’s his word against yours. If anyone says anything, just look scornful and say “Grow a brain” and walk off. And from now on, don’t confuse sex with love, okay? I haven’t got time for a heart-to-heart now, but later on when we find Sam and this wedding thing’s over, we need to have a good talk.’
They go, Bin with her arm round Cathy, heads close together. I hope Cooja doesn’t drop in here or he’ll be wearing his balls round his neck, I swear!
And so will Sam, if I get my hands on him. Where the hell is he?
SAM
Feels like we’ve been driving for hours. Where’s the cops? Who wants to go to Adelaide? Macca, that’s who. Turns out he’s got a brother there.
‘Like, guess what? I found out this dude’s name’s Sam Studley,’ says Cola suddenly. ‘And he’s fifteen.’
‘Who cares?’ says Zac in a flat voice. ‘We’re dumpin’ him soon as we can.’
‘Hey, Sammy,’ says Cola, swinging round. ‘You got a home or what?’
‘Yeah. Course I’ve got a home. Hasn’t everyone?’
‘Nah. We ain’t,’ goes Ma
cca.
‘So where do you live, then?’
Cola looks at me and shrugs. ‘With mates. In squats. Wherever.’
‘Cola. Shut up.’
Zac sounds edgy. She swings back and stares out the window.
Street kids. I haven’t seen this lot before, but then when I’ve been jigging school in the mall they’ve probably still been asleep. They don’t usually cruise till late arvo. I wonder what it’s like being a street kid. Sounds cool. But I wouldn’t want to spend my life on the run dodging cops.
‘Better get off the highway,’ says Macca.
We turn off onto a side road. It’s the country, flat paddocks and a few trees. We could end up anywhere. This is dumb. If the cops start searching with infra red in the dark they’ll find us easily.
We skid in the loose gravel, and I think we’re going to lose it. But Steve’s spent big bucks on the best tyres, and the van holds the road.
‘I need to pee,’ says Cola.
Macca slams on the brakes.
‘Go for it,’ says Zac, patting her on the bum as she wriggles across him to get out. So that’s how it is, Cola and Zac.
‘But … it’s dark out there,’ she says nervously.
She’s right. Black. No stars. Nothing. I wouldn’t mind a leak myself but—
‘We’ll come with ya, then. Out!’ goes Zac, leaning over and poking me hard in the chest. ‘Might as well all have a piss, save stopping later.’
Macca opens his door, bails, and comes around to the rear door. I stumble out. Cola disappears behind a bush and we three do our thing. It’s so cold we’re steaming.
‘Let’s leave Sammy here,’ says Zac suddenly, staring at me.
Not a good idea. We’re in the middle of nowhere and it gives me the creeps.
Then he looks at me again.
‘On second thoughts, we’ll keep him. We might need him as a hostage if the jacks get us, eh.’
Hostage? I thought that only happened in Iran and places like that. I’m not hostage material; I want to be home asleep in my nice warm bed.
‘Er …,’ I go.
‘Dunno about a hostage,’ says Macca, ‘but he seems harmless. Don’t ya, Sam?’
‘Yeah,’ I go, ‘I’m harmless.’
Macca suddenly seems more friendly. Maybe it’s because of peeing together. Or maybe he’s mellowing out from the drugs he’s been on.
Pulling the Moves Page 5
