She makes it sound so simple.
‘It’s dangerous to hitch. They could’ve been, like, serious serial killers,’ I go.
‘With names like Tubey and Bicka?’
‘Oh, Tubey and Bicka, they’re cool.’
‘So what’s your grief, then?’
‘Well, nothin’. Except that I didn’t know where you were.’
‘What was I s’posed to do, like, write a message in the sand?’
‘There’s such a thing as paper, pen and a windscreen.’
I sound sort of … possessive. I decide to change tactics.
‘Steve’s found your mum, and that Lennie guy’s out of her life,’ I go.
Silence.
‘Hey, Cola. You still there?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Your mum wants you to come back home.’
‘Yeah? Till she meets the next loser?’
‘Look, Cola, she wants to get her act together. Maybe this time she’ll make it,’ I say, remembering what Mum said.
‘Yeah.’
‘You should give her a chance.’
‘I’ll think about it.’
I can hear noise in the background.
‘Where’re you ringing from?’
‘Ant’s. In their lounge room.’
‘Oh.’
I gaze at the wall and try to remember what Ant’s lounge looks like.
‘It’s neat here. They’ve got this room under the house but I can come up and watch TV and use the phone and stuff.’
‘You gonna stay there for a while, then?’
‘Dunno.’
‘I’ll come and see you tomorrow, then.’
‘Can you come tonight? Stay over?’
‘What?’
I nearly drop the phone in shock.
‘In your bed?’ I bleat.
‘No. You’re not getting that lucky, man. In the van in their back yard.’
‘Oh.’
‘Well, then?’
‘Well what?’
‘You comin’ or not?’
‘I’ll have to get a ride,’ I go. ‘What’s your number? I’ll ring you back.’
I race back to the kitchen where Danny’s now drying the dishes.
‘Er … Danny … like, could you do me a small favour?’
‘What?’
‘Drive me to Jan Juc.’
‘When? Tomorrow?’
‘No. Now.’
Danny looks at his watch.
‘S’pose. Leanne and I can always catch the late movie. Ask her.’
Uh oh. This could be a major problem. I have to work an angle here.
‘Mum. Steve. Guess what?’ I yell, bursting into the lounge room where they’re wrapped round each other on the sofa. I ignore the fact that my mother’s necking in public and wave my arms madly like a windmill.
‘Cola phoned. She’s safe.’
Steve untwines himself and stands up.
‘Where is she?’
‘At Jan Juc, with Ant and Fi. But I don’t know how or when she got there.’ (Well, I don’t know whether Tubey and Bicka drove the coast road or the main road, do I, or the exact time she got there, do I?)
‘Ant from Strapper?’ goes Mum. ‘What a coincidence.’
‘The thing is, Mum, she wants me to go down there. She’s got things to sort out.’
‘Do you want me to drive you?’ goes Steve.
‘Well—er—it might be better if I get a lift with Danny, then I can stay over in the van in the back yard. She says she’s got a lot to tell me. Private stuff.’
‘I don’t know …’ says Mum, looking suss. ‘Where does she plan to sleep? In the van with you?’
‘MUM!’ I act shocked. ‘She’s stayin’ in the room under the house. I’m not tryin’ to jump in her knickers, Mum, I’m just tryin’ to help her sort herself out.’
Steve looks at Mum.
‘Maybe we should let Sam handle this, dear.’
Mum sighs. ‘I don’t think …’
‘Please, Mum.’
‘Oh, all right. But don’t get involved in any crazy schemes, Sam. You can stay the night in the van, then you’re back here by 5pm Sunday. You’ve got homework to do and school on Monday.’
‘Okay. It’s a deal. Thanks, Mum.’
I look at Steve.
‘Thanks, Steve.’
I gallop down the passage to Leanne’s room. The smell of hairspray and full-on perfume hits my nostrils like a squirt from a mutant skunk.
‘Leanne, Mum says you and Danny have to drive me to Jan Juc,’ I go. ‘It’s an emergency.’
Leanne swings round from the mirror where she’s arranging her hair into this fairy-floss mop on top of her head. There’s all these wispy bits hanging everywhere. She looks like Wanda the Witch but I don’t tell her this. I want that ride.
‘Wow. Like your hair,’ I say, faking full-on admiration.
‘We ain’t drivin’ you nowhere, Sam.’
‘Danny says it’s okay. And Mum says!’
‘Yeah? Well, I’ll …’
‘Late movie,’ I go. ‘You can take in the late movie, Leanne.’
I can see her brain cells spinning round so fast that her fairy-floss hair nearly flies off her head.
‘All right, then,’ she goes. ‘Get in the car.’
I grab some clothes and shove them in my bag.
‘See ya,’ I yell, before Mum and Steve change their minds, and I belt out to Danny’s car, a clapped-out Holden with a V8 engine, and fling myself in the back. Leanne piles in the front and Danny guns the engine. We’re off with a squeal of tyres. I can’t wait till I can get my own set of wheels: it’ll be cool. Leanne winds down the window and her hair blows all over the place like a palm tree in a tornado. We shriek down the main street and out onto the highway.
It has to happen. “Eeeow, eeeow.” Cops. Is my life to be governed by cops? And sirens? Danny pulls up. Two young cops straight out of Cop School get out and walk over.
‘Did you know you were doing 117 k in a 100 k zone?’ says one of the cops, leaning in the window.
‘Sorry,’ says Danny. ‘This mother gets away from me sometimes.’
The other cop’s at Leanne’s window, gawking at her legs.
‘Seat belt,’ he says. ‘You’re not wearing your seat belt.’
‘I am,’ I squeak from the back seat, but he doesn’t seem to notice.
‘Oh,’ says Leanne. ‘I forgot. But I always wear my seat belt. I was in an accident once and I would’ve been killed but for the seat belt. See? I’ve got scars on my thighs.’
She reefs up her mini even higher and shows the cop her scars that she got when she was twelve crawling through a barbed-wire fence. His eyes nearly pop out of his head.
‘This model’s not a V8, is it?’ says the other cop to Danny.
‘Nah. I dropped in an engine,’ goes Danny.
‘Hey, didn’t you used to play footy for Westside?’ goes the cop.
‘Yeah.’
‘I remember you. You were fantastic. Why don’t you play now? Westside’s my team.’
‘Yeah? I’ve been up north, but I wouldn’t mind taking up footy again.’
‘You don’t know anyone who could drop a V8 cheap in my unit, do you?’ asks the cop.
‘I could.’
‘Yeah? Grouse. Look, we’ll forget the speeding fine, mate. Here’s my number. Could you give us a bell, say, tomorrow? I’m off for a coupla days.’
‘Sure,’ goes Danny, looking at the scribbled number the cop gives him. ‘No problems, Shane.’
‘And we’ll forget the seat belts, too,’ says the other cop, with a parting regretful look at Leanne’s legs. She gives him a smile that’d melt the snow on Mt Everest, and we’re off down the highway again.
‘Top guys,’ says Danny, planting his foot but keeping the needle on the tonne.
‘You didn’t see him pervin’ on my legs,’ says Leanne, looking affronted.
‘Yeah? Well, so long as he doesn’t touch,’
goes Danny. ‘I reckon I might join the footy team, eh. If I can play in the ruck, like.’
I can’t believe it. Leanne flashes her legs, Danny chats about footy and engines, and we’re off the hook. You can learn a lot about life from the back seat of a clapped-out Holden.
We hurl through Torquay still doing a century in the 70 k zone and roar across the bridge to Jan Juc. Danny takes the corner on two wheels and we’re whipping down Sunset Boulevard to Ant’s place.
‘Here,’ I go, and we screech to a halt.
Ant’s out the front with his head under the hood of his LTD.
‘Thanks,’ I say, bailing from the back seat, but Danny’s out of the car and strolling across to the LTD. He sticks his head under the bonnet.
‘Cars!’ says Leanne in a disgusted voice. ‘Now I’ll be here for hours. Might as well stretch my legs.’
She piles out and leans against the Holden. Fi leans over the balcony.
‘Do you want to come in for a coffee?’ she yells.
Great. Half the family’s coming with me.
Leanne and I walk round the back and up the stairs. I introduce Leanne to Fi and they size each other up, the way girls do. They seem to click because they smile at each other.
‘The guys’ll be hours once they get talking cars,’ says Fi.
‘Yeah,’ says Leanne. ‘It’s a pain.’
We go inside and Cola’s curled up on the sofa watching TV. She looks completely at home.
‘Hi’, I say, plonking down beside her.
‘Hi.’
‘Love your hair,’ says Fi to Leanne. ‘Where do you get it done?’
Cola doesn’t take her eyes off the box. Fi and Leanne start chatting about hair. Fi can’t make up her mind whether to get another spiral or get tips or get it all shaved off. Cola peels her eyes off the action and starts into the hair discussion. I feel unloved and unwanted, so I grab three mugs of coffee and go back outside to the LTD.
The conversation’s all about engines, way beyond me, twin carbies and magno somethings and maybe dropping in a gas converter. I give them the coffees and hang round trying to look interested.
‘Wanna check out a coupla boards, Sam?’ says Ant, jerking his finger towards the shed in the backyard. ‘I’ve picked up an old Malibu and an original thruster that needs some work.’
My territory! I take my coffee with me to the shed. The light’s not too good, but I can see that the old Malibu’s in mint condition for its age, a collector’s item. The thruster’s a mess. I run my hands lovingly over the pitted surface. She’ll take some work, but—
‘Can I come in?’
It’s Cola. She’s framed against the light, blonde hair shaggy on her head, and a lop-sided grin on her face. She’s wearing a blue-checked shirt of Ant’s which is hanging off her like a tent, frayed blue jeans, and Reeboks on her feet. She looks … gorgeous. I gulp and straighten up from stroking the thruster.
‘Yeah. Sure.’
‘What are you doin’, then?’
‘Checkin’ out these boards.’
I explain about the Malibu, one of the first surfboards ever invented. It’s huge.
‘This is what they surfed on years ago,’ I explain, running my hands over it. Maybe, just maybe, Ant’ll let me have a go on it…
‘This one’s a wreck,’ says Cola, pointing to the thruster.
‘Won’t be when I’ve finished with it,’ I go, because I’m just itching to get it glassed up.
‘Yeah? Jokin’ aren’t you?’
‘No joke.’
I explain about sanding and glassing. Cola looks interested.
‘Tomorrow you can give me a hand if you like,’ I say casually. She nods.
‘Okay.’
We walk back up the steps. Ant and Danny have peeled themselves off the LTD and the girls have stopped rabbiting about hair. Fi’s got a great video, Damage II from the video shop, so Danny and Leanne decide to stay and watch it instead of catching the movie. Fi makes nachos (heaps better than Mum’s, loaded with jalapeno and guacamole), and popcorn. We sprawl on the sofa and floor. Cola’s next to me. She takes my hand and holds it. My heart starts thumping at a million clicks a minute. What does this mean? Is she keen on me, or just lonely?
I think about my life. Mum’s with Steve. Dad’s with the lollipop lady in Noosa. Leanne’s got Danny, although for how long, who knows? Still, that’s their problem. Leanne settled, going with someone, is a modern-day miracle. Cooja’s broken with Cathy and pulling moves on Cola, but is she interested? A couple of days ago I thought Bin was the one for me (after I’ve tuned a couple of hundred girls, of course).
And now, Cola.
She seems really keen on learning about surfboards. Bin likes surfing but she thinks the resin stinks and the sanding hurts her eyes because the glass particles get stuck on her contact lenses. Maybe Cola’ll be keen to learn about ding repairs. Maybe she’ll be keen to learn to surf.
But she’ll probably go home to her mum. Light-years away. Is this just friendship or is this going to get deeper? How am I s’posed to know? Life’s so complicated. It’d be easier if we were born with instructions taped to our navels.
But then, maybe it wouldn’t be so—what’s Mum’s word, challenging!
About the Author
Margaret Clark is one of Australia’s most popular writers for young people. She has worked as a teacher and university lecturer and at the Geelong Centre for Alcohol and Drug Dependency.
Her novels for older readers include The Big Chocolate Bar, Fat Chance, Hot or What, Kiss and Make Up, Famous For Five Minutes and a trilogy about the Studley family: Hold My Hand Or Else!, Living With Leanne and Pulling The Moves. Back on Track: Diary of a Street Kid, No Standing Zone, Care Factor Zero, and Bad Girl, four searing novels for young adults, have become bestsellers. Most recently her Secret Girls’ Stuff, More Secret Girls’ Stuff, and What Do You Do When Life Sucks have been hits with her many fans. Her most recent titles Friends Forever: A Secret Diary by Sara Swan, Secret Friends’ Stuff and Trouble on Tuesdays are current bestsellers.
Margaret is a Doctor of Education and travels broadly speaking about her writing. Her books are published in 16 countries.
Other books about the Studleys
Hold My Hand—or Else!
What about all that stuff you keep reading about: the moonlit walks, the red roses, waves softly kissing the sandy shore? It doesn’t exist.
Does it have to be a problem just because you don’t want to hold your mother’s hand anymore and you’re not ready to hold anyone else’s?
Before you try to give yourself a hickey tonight, read this!
Living With Leanne
Sam Studley’s a bit older and wiser than when you met him in Hold My Hand—or Else! but it’s a pity he can’t say the same for his fifteen year old sister, Leanne.
No one seems to know where she is.
Some kids are saying she’s got AIDS and some are saying she’s been abducted. Some are saying she’s on the run to Kings Cross, some are saying she’s a speed freak and gone into a drug rehab centre, and some that she’s hiding out at home with chickenpox.
But if living with Leanne sounds full on, you should hear about living without her!
Other books by Margaret Clark
The Big Chocolate Bar
All junk food has been banned from the school camp. So Spoonhead, Amy Yui, Trash, Zits and some of the others think up outrageous ways of getting round the authorities. But their ingenuity results in a thriving black market with drinks going for up to $20 a can!
A novel for kids who are sick and tired of health food.
Famous For Five Minutes
Charmwood High, and Year 8 plans to turn the school play, Romeo and Juliet, into a rock musical. Everything’s moving along until someone mentions Equal Opportunity. There aren’t enough roles for girls in this production.
For the narrator, Peter Nutt, Equal Opportunity means more opportunities for teachers like Poxon and girls like Ravolini t
o get at him. And then there’s Millie Miletic from the Holy Family of the Little Sisters by the Sea: she’s in love!
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted by any person or entity, including internet search engines or retailers, in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including printing, photocopying (except under the statutory exceptions provisions of the Australian Copyright Act 1968), recording, scanning or by any information storage and retrieval system without the prior written permission of Random House Australia. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly.
Version 1.0
Pulling the Moves
9781742747552
Published by Random House Australia, 2012
Copyright © Margaret D. Clark
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
A Random House Australia Book
Published by Random House Australia Pty Ltd
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www.randomhouse.com.au
Addresses for companies within the Random House Group can be found at www.randomhouse.com.au/offices
First published in 1996
Reprinted 1997, 2002
National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication Entry
Clark, M.D. (Margaret Dianne) 1943-
Pulling the moves [electronic resource]
ISBN 9781742747552 (ebook: epub)
ISBN 0 09 183275 6 (pbk)
1. Title.
A823.3
Cover photograph by Jason Lucas
Cover design by Andrew Hoyne Design
Author photograph by Reece Scannell
There’s so much more at randomhouse.com.au
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