‘So what are you doing now?’ Justin asked.
‘Not much.’
‘I might go up home a while. Want to come?’ He asked like she was always calling in, even though she’d never been to his house before.
‘Guess.’ It’d be interesting to see what sort of space a guy like him would fill.
two
SHARON KNEW THE STREET. Her best friend at primary, Carla, had lived there, before her Dad got a job and they moved away. It only had houses on one side, the other was the beginning of an industrial block, not that there was much happening there these days. The houses were all state designs, packed tightly together hard up against the railway line.
Sharon remembered the way her and Carla used to put their heads against the iron fence and feel the vibrations of the passing trains. On a good day there’d be so much noise and shaking inside your head you could believe it was going to take you with it. It hadn’t though.
Meantime the houses looked like they’d shrunk. Maybe it was time doing that, or the grass growing up so high against their walls.
‘You live here?’
‘You know it?’
‘Sort of.’
‘How do you sort of know something?’
‘Sort of know you don’t I?’
‘Here, stay outside while I tie up Tua.’ Justin slipped through the gate just as a huge creature, part dog part steroid, rushed toward them, barking and slobbering and twisting its head with excitement. Justin was as bad, whooping it up as the two of them danced around the lawn then disappeared down the side of the house. The barking turned to high pitched whines and Justin reappeared.
‘He hates being tied up.’
‘Funny that.’
‘Yeah.’ Justin looked around, like he’d only just noticed the place.
‘Oh, sorry about this. We were going to clean the place up but we decided it might look a bit suss. Here, inside’s better.’
Walking in through the front door was weird. Two worlds that needed more than just a wall between them. Sharon stayed stuck half a foot inside, not quite ready to move on.
‘What is it?’ Justin asked.
‘Dunno,’ she said, because she didn’t. Not exactly. It was the clutter of it, the way there was no space left alone just to be space. All sorts of stuff, spread round the kitchen like they had been transported to an appliance store showroom. Microwave, oven, dishwasher, food processor, everything new and flash, like it had never been used. And a silver polished thing on the bench, a coffee machine she thought, though she’d never seen one. When Justin opened the fridge and offered a drink she caught a glimpse of bright fresh colours way too good to eat. It was like someone had just gone mad on the HP, or won lotto, except in a different suburb. Round here winning would be a party and more smashed glass than you’d ever be able to clean away.
‘How many of you live here?’ Sharon asked, because it was the only thing she could make into a question.
‘Just me and Simon.’
‘He’s your older brother eh?’ She’d heard of him.
‘Yeah. Mum and Dad live in the other house.’
‘Other house?’ She could tell she was meant to ask.
‘Yeah. They were separated but now they’re back together only Social Welfare don’t know so they still get two houses. One for them, one for us. Sweet as.’
‘You’re lucky.’ She meant it too. If she closed her eyes and thought of escape, maybe it would look a bit like this.
‘So what does Simon do?’
‘Unemployed.’
‘What about your Mum and Dad then?’ Because the gear came from somewhere.
‘Same. It’s a family tradition.’
‘So,’ Sharon looked for a way of asking. ‘How do you afford all this then?’
‘Think I stole it?’ But he didn’t look upset. More he looked like he’d wanted her to ask all along.
‘Didn’t say that.’
‘Anything here, I can show you the receipt. Not that stupid.’
‘Right. So where do you get your money?’
‘Just because you’re unemployed,’ Justin winked, ‘doesn’t mean you can’t have an income. Come on, this is nothing. Have a look at the lounge.’
Television and video, surround sound, component stereo, a big couch that made the room look small, and even a pool table squashed into one corner, so you’d never get round to play half your shots.
‘What do you think?’ Justin asked.
‘It’s great.’ More than great. This was it. This was the way she wanted to be. Give her this and she’d be happy, never ask for another thing. Promise.
‘Come on, tell me. Where do you guys get your money from?’
‘It’s not important.’ He waved his hand, like there were a thousand ways of earning that sort of cash. ‘Here, supplies are in my room.’
He kept his stash in a cute little antique tin on his desk next to the computer printer. Apart from the computer though this room was bare. Just a little single bed, carefully made, a set of drawers and a black and white poster on the wall of some guy Sharon didn’t recognise. No clothes hanging about like there were at Sharon’s, no overflowing rubbish bins or collection of things she couldn’t quite throw away. Looking around Sharon decided this wasn’t a bedroom at all. No, if hers was a bedroom, there needed to be a different word for this.
• • •
She’d never seen a person take quite so long to roll a joint. He played with each strand like the whole thing was going to be judged in a competition.
‘Just do it,’ Sharon said.
‘Anything less than perfect’s a waste,’ Justin replied, holding up the finished product for her inspection. ‘Look at that.’
‘Still just going to be smoked though.’ Sharon said.
‘Not arguing, just saying look and remember. You might never see a better joint.’
His zippo appeared suddenly, almost without him moving, and it was lit. He moved so easily nothing he did ever looked try-hard. He handed it to her and Sharon felt like she was being watched, judged too, even though he turned his back and started doing something with his computer. She knew she slobbered, always had, couldn’t help it. He’d say something and she’d be shamed.
He didn’t though, just took another drag and passed it back and when it was finished he rolled another, not going any faster. They talked a while, about things they both knew, school and parties and people they hated. Justin showed her a game on the computer he said worked best when you were stoned and although it was alright Sharon liked it better when they went back to talking. Loose talking, where you quickly lose sight of the details, like looking into a face that doesn’t have any features. Still a face though, still talking. The longer she stayed there the more Sharon knew this was a place she wanted to be. If there was a way of never leaving she would take it. This was the life she’d always meant to be living, like a misplaced grocery item accidentally taken home in the wrong trolley, and all this time no one had been bothered enough to take her back.
‘Hey Justin,’ Sharon said.
‘Yeah?’
‘Tell me where you get your money from.’
‘Nah, can’t.’ He shook his head but she didn’t believe him. How come he’d brought her here then? He must have known what would happen.
‘Yes you can.’
‘Simon’d kill me.’
‘I wouldn’t tell him.’
‘Maybe not.’ He looked at her, like he was weighing up the risk.
‘Trust me man.’
He didn’t say anything, just turned back to the computer and flicked through some screens.
‘Nah, come on. I’m sick of that computer shit. Talk to me.’
‘Here,’ he said, not looking round. ‘Have a look at this then.’
‘I don’t want to look at that shit, said already.’
‘Don’t say I didn’t offer then.’ Justin shrugged and then she clicked.
On the screen was a map, all the street names
written in, and when he moved the mouse the streets all changed, new houses, new suburbs maybe, like you were flying high above them. Another click and the view swooped in close, so you could make out the borders of individual properties, all drawn as the same unlikely rectangle, and some of them coloured in red, yellow or green.
‘What is it?’ Sharon asked.
‘It’s a map,’ Justin replied.
‘I’m not stupid.’
‘What of then?’
Sharon looked again, scanned the street names. Russell Ave. She’d been there. She knew where this was. Of course.
‘It’s places you’ve cased.’ Made sense. Easiest crime there was, burglary. Cops only caught the stupid ones, the others weren’t worth the effort.
‘Well done.’
‘So what’s the colours then?’ Sharon asked.
‘You tell any one you’ve seen this, you’ll never ever have anything to do with this. Understand?’
Sharon nodded. Of course she did.
‘Okay, green’s places where no one’s home during the day. Yellow’s a place with green either side. Safe you see. Understand?’
Sharon nodded.
‘What’s red?’
‘Places we’ve done.’ He was showing off now. Not that he had to, she’d seen the stuff they could afford. ‘Here, where do you live? Hardy Street isn’t it?’ He clicked through the screens till she was looking down on her own place. You’d have to be crazy, she thought, to bother with a street like that. You’d pay, if they ever caught you. They had though, three reds.
‘Hey, that’s our house. It was you took our stereo!’
‘Sorry, didn’t know.’ Justin shrugged.
‘Give it back.’
‘Can’t can I? It’s sold.’
‘Bastard.’
‘I know.’
‘Can I help then?’ He had to say yes. It would be the best, like something off a movie. A chance to show them all, all the people who thought she couldn’t do anything useful. She’d buy stuff for Zinny too.
Sharon looked at Justin but he refused to take his eyes off the screen.
‘Go on.’
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘Course it is. Come on. This one here, it’s yellow. Let’s go and do it, right now. Here, no, don’t even need you. I’ll do it myself. Prove I can.’
‘It’s not like that,’ Justin said, talking slowly like he was a teacher and she was back to being thick. Fuck you, she wanted to say, but she couldn’t, because she could tell there was still a chance of him letting her in.
‘Most people doing this don’t make so much, or they blow it all and get caught when they’re desperate to make some more. Simon’s cleverer than that. A lot of the time we only take little stuff, a camera or some cash. So people don’t even know they’ve been hit. Or we steal to order. Single item, straight in straight out. It’s like Physics or something. There’s a set order you do things and as long as you don’t mess with it it seems to work out.’
‘I could still help,’ Sharon insisted, knowing how bad it would be to have to let this go. ‘Next time, when you’ve got something on, I’ll help you out.’
‘That’d depend on Simon.’
‘Ask him.’
‘Maybe.’
‘You’re the best.’ Sharon flung her arms around his body and felt it tense with the surprise. She planted a huge kiss on his cheek, the big slobbery kind like Zinny always gave.
• • •
That night Sharon tried to cook something different, the sort of thing Justin might cook, in his flash kitchen with all its flash colours and tastes. Only there wasn’t much in the cupboards and all that was left in the fridge were some carrots and a lettuce that had started to slime. The freezer was full though. Theirs was a freezer household. Pies, pizza, frozen veges, ready to microwave into an instant munch, although that was dodgy now the plate thing had stopped rotating.
She grated what was left of the cheese over a meat pie and put it in the oven. At least she was doing something, making an effort. She went through the drawers for a recipe book she’d once had, to see if there was any way of rescuing the carrot. Kaz appeared, dressed for an argument, tight black jeans and a cropped white top, showing off the stomach she was forever sunning on the grass out the front with the morning TV set up on the open window ledge.
‘What are you looking for?’
‘Recipe book.’
‘We haven’t got one.’
‘Yes we have. It’s red, from school.’
‘Nah, haven’t seen it.’ Kaz shook her head, her eyes saying she was already thinking about something else. ‘You doing something special?’
‘Not really.’ Sharon thought of Justin but she knew how to hide a blush.
‘Don’t make any for me eh? These jeans’ll bust if I eat anything.’
‘You going out?’
‘Down to the pub probably. Can you look after Zinny?’
Sharon couldn’t say no, not with Zinny there, pretending to play with a plastic truck but listening too. She remembered how it felt.
‘Yeah, sure.’
‘Good one. I’ll pay you half if I get a win.’
‘You going to be late?’
‘Depends. See you later eh?’ And she left.
‘Hey Zinny,’ Sharon said, ‘want to help me cook?’
‘Okay.’ His eyes were huge, like they’d done their growing first and were waiting for the rest of him to catch up.
‘Bring that chair up here then. You can grate the carrot.’
She gave up on finding the recipe book and they settled on an untried mix of tinned pineapple and half a pot of yoghurt, that had been in the fridge as long as the lettuce. It tasted okay though, with the pie, and Zinny took great care to mix it all together with his stubby little fingers. Still, Sharon knew how embarrassed she’d be, if Justin could see them both.
‘What do you think then?’ She asked her little half-brother.
‘It’s yummy,’ and he smiled through the smudge of sauce that hid the shape of his mouth. Hardly the best judge, Zinny. The one time he’d been to playcentre he’d eaten all his lunch and three other kids’ besides. They hadn’t invited him back.
‘Hey Zinny, do you like it here?’
‘Yep,’ he nodded, his big eyes looking round for seconds. ‘Is there more?’
‘Sure.’ She spooned another helping of collapsing pie onto his plate.
‘You really like it here?’ She was sure she hadn’t been that happy at his age. Even then she’d understood. Zinny didn’t answer, just did that trick you can do when you’re three, pretend the question’s too complicated and concentrate on looking at something else, looking cute. They’d be onto him when he got to school though, then he’d have to find a new way of avoiding things.
‘I’m going to find a way of taking you away from this you know Zinny,’ Sharon said. ‘Not just me, Justin and me. Justin’s okay. You’d like Justin. Yeah, me and him are going to take you some place where you can have anything you want. Any fucken thing, just have to say. You’d like that wouldn’t you?’ But he didn’t respond, just looked at her like he knew how crazy she sounded, and Sharon let it drop.
• • •
It took ages, two weeks and three days, before Justin said anything. The whole time Sharon was dying to ask but she knew better than to go opening her big mouth. Him and Simon were pros, they wouldn’t even think about working with some little girl who all the time was asking about the next job. That’s what she told herself anyway, while she waited, watching him whenever he came within view, all the time wanting to run over and grab him, all the time terrified they’d forgotten all about her. Then he walked up beside her in the corridor, on the way to Tourism, him doing his glide thing so she didn’t know he was there till he spoke.
‘Wanna wag and come for a smoke?’ he said, and she said ‘sure’ although at exactly that moment her stomach turned upside down and the noise never made it out. He must have understood though,
because he waited for her at the doors. She was silent the whole way up to the trees, trying to think of something cool to say but coming up blank, feeling the nervous sweat building up beneath her armpits.
It took forever for Justin to locate his cigarettes and even longer for him to take out two and light them. Sharon knew it was just the nerves making everything seem slow motion, slower even than Justin’s usual wound-down speed. There was a time at the school athletics, in the fourth form, when she’d seen him in the 100 metres. All these other guys hissing and straining, giving it everything and him, eyes half-closed like he was nodding off, but somehow gliding past them all. It was a school record too, the coach came into the class the next day and tried to convince him to enter the regionals.
‘Nah,’ he’d said, ‘I must have just got lucky, got myself caught up in some different sort of time zone.’ Except that’s where he always was, and now everybody called him Glide, the most relaxing person in the world to be with. Most days. Not now. Now Sharon wanted to take hold of his scrawny neck and squeeze the question out. ‘Hey Shaz, will you help us?’ so she could scream back ‘Yes!’ A thousand fucken times. Yes.
‘There’s a test,’ is what he finally said, easing his voice into the silence like he was afraid of offending it. ‘It’s Simon’s idea. He says you might be useful, sometimes, when we need a girl. But there’s a test.’
‘I’ll do it.’
‘You don’t know what it is yet,’ he said, like that might matter.
‘So?’
‘You’ve got to steal some mail.’
‘Easy. Whose?’
‘Doesn’t matter, it’s just a test. Twenty pieces from twenty different addresses, that’s all. To show you know how to do stuff without being caught. To show you’ve got the smarts.’
‘I have, no worries. I’ll show you.’ She knew she was being way too eager but she couldn’t help it. She would have gone right then, stealing mail, that was too easy, anyone could do that, but he made her listen some more while he told her all about it. How they’d started out that way, when they were little. How you needed a bus timetable and a map, so you could do a street and get out of there, before anyone called the cops. How you needed a paper delivery bag, so you’d look like you were delivering pamphlets, how parcels and coloured envelopes were best.
No Alarms Page 2
