No Alarms

by Beckett, Bernard

  He said it without going near her eyes, like he was scared they’d trap him.

  ‘But not as bad as you’re thinking.’

  ‘You don’t know what I’m thinking.’

  ‘Not dangerous, is what I mean.’

  He stopped there, like it was a full explanation and she could go away now, lucky to have heard that much.

  ‘And…’

  ‘I don’t have all the details yet.’

  ‘So why are you asking me?’ He was wimping out. It was easy to see.

  ‘Okay, okay. There’s this guy, a rich guy, quite old. There’s some stuff in his house, not valuables, some sort of documents or something, and it’s no good asking what cos Simon never lets on about those sorts of details. Anyway, his house, well it’s actually an apartment, and it’s like impossible to get into. That’s where you come into it. You go round to see him, and while you’re in there you disarm the alarm. Then we can follow you in.’

  Maybe it was Kaz’s dress, digging into her at the place where the bottom of her stomach rolled over, that made her get it straight away. Or the way the lights of the city sparkled, so clean and distant, like they were mocking her. Maybe it was just what she was used to, seeing all her best chances collapsing.

  ‘No way. No fucken way.’ Said too loud, so it bounced off the water and the containers, came straight back at her. ‘I’m not a slut. I wouldn’t do that.’

  Justin looked relieved, that he hadn’t had to say the words himself.

  ‘No. It wouldn’t be like that. Not exactly.’

  ‘Doesn’t matter. I’m not doing it.’

  Five thousand bucks. You could lose that in one night, just on drinks for the neighbours. But some things, once you’ve done them, they’re yours for life.

  ‘I’m not a slut. You shouldn’t have told him I was a slut. Get a slut to do it. Madeleine’ll do it, just for the experience. You won’t even have to pay her.’

  ‘No, let me finish,’ Justin said, holding up his hand like he was some father off television, being patient with his children. ‘This guy gets escorts all the time. Fancy ones. He has drinks with them, then takes them out to dinner first. Always. You just have to do a runner during the meal. It’s easy. We wouldn’t do that to you. Shit, I wouldn’t do that to you Sharon. No way.’

  ‘How do you know? How do you know that’s what he always does? And how do you know he won’t change his mind. You don’t. You can’t. This is all shit. All of this.’

  Sharon stood up and threw his jacket back at him.

  ‘I’m outta here.’

  Justin stood too but he didn’t try to stop her, just pulled another magic trick and had forty dollars in her hand before she realised.

  ‘For the taxi. I’ll see you tomorrow, when you’ve had time to think.’

  The taxi ride was all the time she needed. By the time she got home it wasn’t Justin she was pissed off with. She was pissed off at herself, for ever having believed it might happen that easily.

  seven

  THEY CHOSE TO DO THE PAINTING on a Thursday. By then everyone knew the school had told Trish it wasn’t allowed but that only made the class get into it more. Another one of those things Sharon could almost believe had been planned. Thursday they had English last so they could get it done and then be out of there before anything happened.

  The pieces of work had been chosen, seven of them all together, including Sharon’s list. Junior, who knew more than most people about tagging, had come up with the design, and they’d planned it all out on the whiteboard. It seemed so strange, seeing her own words up there amongst the patterns. No one knew they were hers because the whole class had wanted it kept that way, all the work anonymous. Sharon’s wasn’t the best one either. Everyone agreed that went to a rant about school, that was going to be painted in a big spiral, right in the middle of a white ‘Fuck You’. Sharon imagined what it must have been like for whoever had done that, sitting quietly, hearing everyone say how much it went off.

  They’d spent two lessons planning it out, like it was some job Justin and Simon might have done, only this one didn’t involve getting naked for some foul old man. Everyone had something to do, a bit to paint or draw on. When the day finally arrived there was a buzz in the room, people all getting loud, high on the excitement. Trish had all the cans of paint lined up on her desk and people came forward and took the colour they needed, then crowded around Trish’s desk, waiting for their final instructions.

  ‘Right, we’re all go then. Junior’s been out there at lunchtime and has drawn in the outline, very faintly of course. We walk back round past the Home Ec. block so we don’t draw too much attention. I’ve already checked with the PE teachers and there won’t be any class on the courts. Remember, speed and accuracy eh? Keep it quiet, get it done, get out of there. Let’s leave our mark.’

  ‘Miss?’

  ‘Yes Jason?’

  ‘What say someone comes out and tells us to stop?’

  ‘Here’s the plan. If that happens you all stop straight away. I’ll get into an argument, they’ll suggest I take it into their office, I tell you all to go back to class, then as soon as I’m gone, you finish the painting. And don’t forget to spray on the anti-graffiti finish. We can’t have people painting over it can we?’

  ‘Sweet.’

  They were all smiling together. Sharon half hoped they would be caught, just so she could get another chance to see Trish in action.

  It wasn’t like a school thing at all. There was no one pissing around, trying to get out of doing stuff or trying to make the whole thing fall apart. Instead it went just like they’d planned. Sharon was right in the middle, spraying on the red background, using a sheet of cardboard to form the borders the way Junior had shown her. Around her she was aware of the others, all totally onto it, only looking up to check on each other, and maybe give a smile. All they needed was some loud music, pumping full on in the background, and it would have been perfect.

  ‘Ms Black!’

  Miss Flynn’s voice was unmistakable, even at a scream. It had a way of penetrating, getting inside your head and bouncing around.

  She was standing at the side of the court, hands on hips, like she was about to launch into a haka. And the look in her eyes was a look even Sharon didn’t recognise. Something more than angry, like a part of the fight was with herself.

  ‘We will take this to the Principal’s office now,’ she said in a voice that had been used so often, to make other people bend. Then she turned on them, the class with their spray cans and their secret instructions. She looked over them slowly, one at a time, like she was storing all their faces on a list somewhere inside her head.

  ‘And don’t even think of painting another thing after we’ve gone.’ As if she knew. ‘It will be a direct and willful disobeying of an express instruction and will be treated just as any other form of vandalism. I can assure you the board have already discussed this outcome and will not treat you with any sympathy whatsoever. Ms Black! The Principal’s office. Now!’

  She barked the words, the ways owners do when they’ve spent too long with their dogs. Most people would have given in straight off, to a voice like that.

  Not Trish though. Surely not Trish.

  Sharon looked to her, they all did. They waited for her to say something. They waited for her to argue, give them a lead. But her head went straight down, like the ground was the only safe thing to stare at, and when she looked back up it was only straight ahead. Then she began to walk across the court, like she’d been told to, like some helpless little child who’d been caught sneaking in the back way late. Marched off to the Principal’s office, without an argument, without even a word. Sharon felt the whole afternoon collapsing. The same feeling she had seen on Zinny’s face last Christmas, when Kaz had decided to tell him Father Christmas wasn’t real, because there wasn’t any money left for presents. The class was left standing there, all of them trying to find some way of staying staunch, but knowing what they’d se
en.

  ‘Fucken bitch,’ someone muttered.

  ‘I reckon.’

  ‘I hate her.’

  And Sharon wasn’t sure who they were talking about, Mrs Flynn or Trish. At least Mrs Flynn was reliable. At least she didn’t go making promises she couldn’t keep. The spray cans were all on the ground and no one was picking them up. Sharon took hers and threw it hard at the wall but it went too high, bouncing off the top into the bushes on the other side.

  ‘My dad’d kick my arse if I get suspended,’ Ollie said, making it easier for all of them.

  ‘I won’t be able to play rugby.’

  ‘Fuck it.’

  One person walked away, then another. Some of them hung around, taking a last look at what they’d started, like they were still thinking of doing something, but Sharon knew none of them would. They were soft, all of them. Just another class of wimps, jumping at the chance to pretend to be big, but full of shit in the end. Same as she was, for ever having believed it might mean something, some pathetic little English project.

  • • •

  Zinny had a thing for heights. He’d spend all day at the park if you let him, standing up on the slide looking down, not going anywhere. Not because he was scared of going down, just because up there was his favourite place, well away from the ground. Or he’d come running over and drag Sharon from her watching spot, under the tree with her cigarette butts for company, making her push him high on the one unsteady swing. She’d only go so far though. One chain was longer than the other and the frame wasn’t properly cemented in. Sharon didn’t understand. She couldn’t stand being halfway up a ladder. The thing with different fathers maybe. She watched him up the slide again, dangling his feet over the edge, looking up at the grey sky that couldn’t even be bothered raining on them. Another couldn’t-be-bothered day.

  ‘Hi.’ It was Mark, even though his voice didn’t belong in a place like this. He was wearing one of those big puffy jackets fat kids should never wear, and a woollen hat his mother had probably knitted. He brushed the ground before he sat down, and sat down before he was asked.

  ‘What are you doing here?’ Sharon asked. It wasn’t right, that he should know where to come looking. Kaz wouldn’t have told him.

  ‘Just walking past.’

  ‘Bullshit.’

  ‘I was.’

  ‘You never walk past here. What’s round there then, past the fence?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t remember.’

  ‘See? So what are you doing?’

  ‘Okay. I was looking for you. I wanted to talk to you.’

  He blurted it out, like it was something he’d been holding onto for too long.

  ‘Oh no, not a chance dork.’ Sharon stood.

  ‘No, no,’ he held up his hands, trying to assure, trying to backtrack. ‘I just thought you might need some cheering up. You know. After all that stuff with Ms Black.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘You know she’s lost her job.’

  ‘Like it matters,’ Sharon snapped. ‘What sort of job is that anyway? Working in a school like ours.’

  ‘And Dad said there’ll be a hearing with the registration board now.’

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘She might not be able to teach again.’

  ‘But they can’t do that. That’s why she moved down, from Rotorua. To get work.’ Trish had told her that herself. ‘Not over that. That’s crap.’

  ‘No, there’s other stuff too.’ Mark sounded like he didn’t want to say it.

  ‘What stuff?’

  ‘There’s rumours, about her and students. One of the other teachers, who lives in the flats, said she’s had students there, staying the night. And she hasn’t denied it. They’re saying stuff about her.’

  ‘What sort of stuff?’ Sharon asked, like she couldn’t imagine.

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Dad says she’ll probably be de-registered.’

  ‘Yeah, well you can tell your Dad he’s an arsehole.’

  She hauled Mark to his feet and slammed him against the tree.

  ‘Doesn’t matter anyway. She won’t care. She’s too good to be a teacher.’

  ‘No, it’s not his fault,’ Mark protested. ‘I knew you’d do this. I just, I just want to help you.’

  ‘Yeah, well you can’t. There’s nothing you can do to help me so why don’t you just piss off?’

  Mark looked to the ground, his face not far from tears, like this hadn’t gone the way he’d planned at all.

  Well welcome to the world.

  ‘I thought I might be able to help you. We could make a student complaint or something.’

  ‘You don’t know shit and you can’t help me. I’m already going to do something anyway. I’m going round to see Trish, to sort this out. Now piss off.’

  ‘You can’t see her.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘She’s already gone. They kicked her out of the flat. I heard she’s already back up in Rotorua.’

  ‘She wouldn’t have. Not without saying goodbye.’

  ‘It’s what I heard, that’s all.’

  ‘Well you still can’t help me.’

  ‘I helped you with your writing.’

  ‘Yeah, and look what happened to that.’

  ‘Well,’ Mark looked uncertain, like he didn’t know whether it was worth saying it. ‘If I ever can help you Sharon. I do want to.’

  ‘You can start by fucking off then. Go on.’

  Sharon let him go and he hesitated for a moment, looking into her eyes like he was hoping they would tell him something different. Not a chance.

  ‘Sharon, I want a swing,’ Zinny called out when Mark had gone.

  ‘Yeah, in a minute matey. In a minute.’

  Sharon sank back down against the tree and felt her own tears coming. Typical it should happen now. All her chances stripped away again, and all the shit happening to all the wrong people. She thought of Trish, who’d turned out not to be so special after all. Who hadn’t even come round to say goodbye. Just another person running out on her. And Justin and Simon, who were arseholes after all, two more people in the queue, lining up to take a kick. And the only way out, the only thing she could do, was squeeze into one of Kaz’s little black dresses, so some old rich guy could think about taking it off. Her own private Derek. Shit, she might as well be Kaz, if that was how it was going to be.

  Then she was crying, and she felt Zinny beside her, his little warm cheek pressed up against hers.

  ‘It’s alright Sharon,’ he said. ‘It’s alright.’ And she had to smile, even though he was too young to know what he was talking about.

  • • •

  The jacket was gone and straight off Sharon knew who had it. She’d seen the way Derek was looking at it the day before. Same way he looked at too many things around their place, like he was planning on making an investment.

  ‘Where the fuck’s my jacket?’ she demanded, storming in on the two of them, lying together even though it was the middle of the afternoon. Derek didn’t stay over that much.

  ‘Oi, who said you could just walk in here without knocking you cheeky little bitch?’ Kaz asked, not making much of an effort to cover herself.

  ‘Like you never barge in on me.’

  ‘Not like this.’

  ‘That’s cos I don’t fuck him. I’m not that desperate.’

  ‘Piss off now girl, I’m warning you.’

  Derek didn’t say a thing. Too embarrassed, or maybe his mind was some place else.

  ‘I’m not going till that bastard tells me what he’s done with my jacket.’

  ‘We sold it,’ Kaz said, looking at Derek like the two of them were parents, the sort who discussed such things over the grocery lists.

  ‘We? What do you mean we? He’s temporary!’

  Sharon waved her finger at him, like that might be enough to make him disappear.

  ‘Sharon.’ Derek spoke now, trying to be the voice of reason, as if he thought she might b
e impressed. ‘You know and we know you didn’t get that jacket legally. You haven’t got the money.’

  ‘Maybe someone gave it to me,’ she replied, knowing straight off that wasn’t the point. She wasn’t in the mood to do this properly.

  ‘And you hardly wear it,’ Derek continued, like she hadn’t said a thing. He propped himself up on his elbows. Ageing man-breasts sagged beneath the mess of dark hair. ‘It was for your own good.’

  ‘How much did you get?’

  ‘Two-fifty.’ Kaz said.

  ‘So where is it?’ Like she didn’t know. ‘That’s my fucken money? Give me the fucken money.’

  ‘So you’d waste it on cigarettes?’ Derek said, but Sharon saw straight away what was happening.

  ‘You’ve spent it haven’t you? You bastard. You’ve stolen it, that’s what you’ve done. You’ve stolen my two hundred and fifty dollars! I should go to the cops.’

  ‘And tell them what? That the jacket you lifted’s been lifted back. Get real Sharon.’

  Kaz, who could change sides soon as look at you. Sharon stared her down. Tomorrow it’d be all sweetness and sorry, soon as he was gone and Zinny needed watching. Only sorry’d be no good, if she’d already gone and spent it.

  ‘We were talking Sharon, about you.’ Derek again, still trying to sound like someone he wasn’t. ‘Your mother was telling me, about your trouble at school. You need to make more of an effort.’

  Trying to turn it back on her, like she was doing something wrong. But if she could see it coming she could head him off too, cos she wasn’t half as thick as he’d like her to be.

  ‘So what?’ Sharon asked, keeping it bitchy, not giving herself away. ‘You’re saying I have to work at school now, if I want the money back?’

  And he took the bait, before Kaz could stop him, because he wasn’t like them. He wasn’t smart.

  ‘If you can.’ And he turned to Kaz, smiling like he’d just achieved some great breakthrough.

  ‘I’ll do you a deal then.’ It was a simple set-up. ‘We’ve got a Maths test Tuesday. If I pass three credits you give me that money.’

  ‘Don’t make promises you can’t keep,’ he said, still smiling like he thought he was so special, lying there in the same bed Sharon had thrown up on so many times, when she was little.