by Kate Gordon
I ignore her; walk faster.
Leave me alone. Leave me alone.
I’m not talking to Mrs Koetsveld ever.
I’m not talking to Melody, either.
I’m going to volunteer in the canteen again at lunch time, and after school I’ll practise my musical songs. Tomorrow I’ll work out a way to avoid seeing her or Roz for the rest of the week.
I’m not talking about Wally.
I need him to be gone.
Dear Mum,
If there was one word
For my life so far,
It would be
Gone.
Chapter Thirty-Four
There’s a text message from Rhino when I finish school on Tuesday.
Let’s not go to work tonight.
I reply.
What???
Unless you need the dough.
This is just silly. I hit the green call button.
‘What are you on about, Rhino?’
‘Hey, Tiger. How’s tricks?’
‘Confused. Now … what are you rabbiting on about? What do you mean “let’s not go to work”?’
‘Shouldn’t that be “rhinoceros-ing on”? Hey, why don’t tigers like fast food? Because they can’t catch it!’
‘Rhino, you’re completely hyper. Please focus. Work?’
‘Work. Right. So, do you need the, like, six bucks fifty we’ll make down the mines tonight?’
‘No. I don’t really need the money but—’
‘No “buts”. I’ve got it all figured out. You’ll say you have a musical rehearsal you can’t get out of—they’re not allowed to get angry if it’s a school thing—and I’ll say I’ve got gastro.’
‘You’re going to chuck a sickie? But you know the Jamienator’s got a sixth sense for when people are just bunging it on.’
‘Lucky His Droidness is not on today—I checked. So he won’t be able to whinge to Mr Blakely—well, you know, say he’s going to whinge to Mr Blakely, and then hide behind the Sorbent. Plus, gastro’s heaps easier to fake than the flu, because you don’t have to put on a croaky voice. And it’s something you can recover from pretty quickly, so I’ll be right to work on Thursday.’
‘And what if someone sees us when we’re meant to be singing or … spewing?’
‘They won’t. Because we’re going on an adventure far, far away.’
‘Rhino ...’ I say, warningly.
‘Come on. I remember you saying a while back that you hadn’t been up to Cradle in ages ...’
‘Cradle Mountain? Rhino, that’s hours away! And how will we get there?’
‘I got my Ps yesterday.’
‘What? Serious? You never even told me you were going for them!’
‘I wanted to surprise you.’
‘That’s awesome,’ I say. ‘Go you good thing! But I’m still not going up to Cradle with you. We wouldn’t get back before midnight!’
‘So? That’s when the elves come out!’
It’s the mention of elves that starts to turn me. Rhino’s right. It has been a long time since I’ve been to Cradle Mountain, but in my memories it’s magic.
Just like the Otherwhere.
There could be elves there.
But ...
‘So, I don’t know about you but I have a curfew. It’s flexible but Auntie Kath worries about me if I don’t come home when she expects me. Especially now. And I know she stays up waiting for me to come home, even if she pretends to be asleep when I get there. Rhino, I have to go. I’m going to miss my bus.’
‘You’re not catching your bus. You’re coming with me. Look left.’
I do as he says and I see him, leaning up against a beat-up old Commodore, looking like he’s just won a gold medal.
‘You were there the whole time?’ I say. ‘That’s just creepy. Stalker stuff, Rhino. Hang on, I’m coming over.’
I press the red button on my phone. As I do, I see Roz and Melody walk out of the science block. They see me at the same time and speed up.
I break into a run. Rhino looks confused. ‘You can’t be that glad to see me.’
‘Get in,’ I say, quickly.
‘Only if you promise you’ll let me take you up the mountain.’
‘Okay! Okay! I promise!’ I cry, opening the passenger door. ‘Now get in and start the engine on this pile of crap!’
‘Hey!’ Rhino holds up his hands. ‘You’re not going anywhere in Shirley if you call her such nasty names.’
‘Shirley?’
‘Manson. From Garbage. Nineties icon. You know? “Only Happy When It Rains”, “Stupid Girl”, “#1 Crush”?’ He starts humming.
‘Shut up and drive,’ I say, but grinning. I’ve always wanted to say that.
‘Fine.’ Rhino slides into his seat and turns the key. The engine splutters to life. He beams at me. ‘Oh yeah, listen to that. Sexiest sound in the universe!’
‘Rhino, if you don’t drive away right now ...’
I look out my window. Roz and Melody are only a couple of metres away.
‘All right, Tiger,’ says Rhino. ‘Hold on to your stripes. You and me and Shirley M are going on an adventure!’
I don’t look back to see their faces. I don’t want to see them scowling or sad.
I just want to escape.
I want to be gone.
Chapter Thirty-Five
When they were twelve they ran away together.
They saved up their Dollarmites money and bought two tickets on the Redline to Launceston. They stuffed their backpacks full of Arnott’s Shapes, Samboys and Milky Ways; enough supplies for an adventure.
My mum took my dad’s hand and whispered to him, ‘Come on. I’m taking you to a place that’s a bit like the Otherwhere.’
Auntie Kath had told her that The Cataract Gorge was like something from Lord of the Rings, and that some people reckoned it was actually a volcano that would one day erupt lava all over Launceston. There was even a chairlift you could go on that let you fly to the clouds.
They spent their day flying and talking to peacocks and hiding in caves and chasing elves.
At the end of it all, they called Grandma T. They knew if they called my dad’s parents, they’d both be in heaps of trouble.
Auntie Kath came with Grandma T to pick them up. Auntie Kath was more than happy to come along if it meant she could stock up on art supplies at Birchalls, and a Kate Bush cassette tape at Wills. On the way home they all stopped in Devonport for Chinese food. Auntie Kath was glad that her sister had run away because she got to have new music and art stuff and deep-fried banana with ice cream.
And because it made her happy to see my mum happy. It made her happy to see how much my dad was properly in love with her sister. Auntie Kath said that she could tell that night. The boy had fallen hard. It happened that day, in the Gorge.
And my mum was in love with running.
‘What are you thinking about?’ asks Rhino, as we drive further into the wilderness.
‘My mum and dad,’ I say, without thinking.
I assume he knows.
Everyone in this town knows.
‘There’s a poem,’ he replies, his eyes never leaving the road.
‘I don’t want to hear any poems,’ I snap.
He ignores me. ‘I had to read it for school. Our teacher thought he was being so cool, letting us read it, because there’s swear words in it. But anyway, it’s all about how our parents … well …’
‘I think I know the one,’ I interrupt, because he’s turning red, and because I don’t want to hear him say it. I don’t want another boy reading me poetry. I don’t want another boy telling me lies. ‘It’s all about how they damage us. Hand down all their flaws and neuroses to us.’
Rhino nods. ‘Without meaning to, I gue
ss, because they’re just humans, too, trying to work it all out.’
‘There’s a song Auntie Kath loves,’ I go on. ‘It makes her cry. Mike + the Mechanics?’
Rhino holds up a finger. He shuffles the tapes that fill the centre console. He plucks one out. It’s a mixtape, with a hand-written card in the plastic cover. He pushes it into Shirley’s dusty cassette player. The song is from the perspective of a son, expressing his regret that he never resolved the conflict with his father before he died. It talks about how each generation of children always blames the one that came before it for all our problems. Every word of it is like a knife to the heart.
‘Yeah,’ I say, my voice sounding hollow. ‘That’s the one.’ I look out the window. Too many trees. A crow flies from the branches of one like a bullet. It bursts through the setting sun and keeps on until I can no longer see it.
‘Tiger?’
The song changes to a poppy dance number from the nineties.
‘Ah, Culture Beat,’ Rhino says. ‘The true poets of their age.’
I turn to him, as the verse slides into the chorus. ‘Go on, then,’ I say. ‘Take me away’.
Chapter Thirty-Six
I breathe out. I’m a dragon puffing smoke.
It’s so cold at the mountain that my toes might’ve fallen off without me even noticing. I haven’t felt them in at least an hour, despite the extra socks Rhino gave me. He brought thick woollen gloves for me, too, and a beanie and scarf and an oversized parka.
Even with all the extra layers, I’m still bloody cold.
But in a good way.
We’re walking around the Enchanted Stroll.
We’ve already seen a wombat’s bottom poking out of its burrow, and Rhino is convinced he saw a platypus, but by the time I looked, it had disappeared. ‘You scared it off,’ Rhino said. ‘Everyone knows platypuses are afraid of tigers.’
Now, we’re watching a tiny echidna snuffling about in the undergrowth, searching for ants.
‘How can an animal with spikes and such a silly long nose be so cute?’ I ask. ‘And it lays eggs and eats bugs. It’s so wrong and yet—’
‘It’s the perfect crazy combination, I guess,’ Rhino says. ‘With some people, all the bits just come together to form a perfect whole. And on another person, all those same bits look weird.’
‘An echidna’s a person now?’ I ask, crouching down so I can watch the little creature more closely as it rambles along.
‘Uh, did I say “person”?’ Rhino smiles. ‘I meant “monotreme”.’
‘Obviously.’ I grin up at him.
‘Obviously,’ he echoes.
‘So,’ I say, as I look at the sun, plump and sinking happily in the sleepy sky, ‘what’s your girlfriend up to tonight?’
Rhino shrugs. ‘Can’t we just talk about echidnas?’
I shoot him a look. ‘Trouble in paradise?’
Rhino sighs and looks away. ‘Here, I’ll make you a deal. You don’t mention the girlfriend thing; I won’t mention Wally.’
My voice is sharper than I mean it to be. ‘Were you going to mention Wally? I thought the whole point of this is so we don’t talk about Wally.’
Rhino shakes his head. ‘You thought that was … I just thought we were having fun. Why does everything have to be about Wally?’
‘He just died,’ I snap. ‘So I guess, yeah, some stuff should be about him.’
‘But I thought you didn’t want—’
‘Shut up,’ I bark.
‘Sorry,’ Rhino mumbles. ‘I’m just confused.’
‘You think I’m not?’ I try and make my voice gentler. But my forehead is thudding; my hands are clenched into fists. My heart feels wrong in my chest. This all, suddenly, feels wrong. I don’t want to talk about Wally. I don’t even want to think about him. But Rhino is not allowed to dismiss him.
I know he didn’t mean anything by it, but it still felt wrong. He didn’t know Wally. He only met him once or twice when he came in to visit me at work.
He is my best friend.
I’m the only one who’s allowed to dictate what role he plays in this night. I’m the only one who’s allowed to shut him out. Or let him in.
‘Sorry,’ Rhino say again, quietly. ‘I really didn’t mean anything by it.’
I shrug. I don’t trust myself to answer him.
Above us, a possum screeches.
Rhino’s arm shoots out. He hugs me close.
I tense.
‘You all right?’ Rhino asks, his voice creaking. He strokes my face.
He strokes my face.
‘Golden,’ he whispers.
He doesn’t quote poetry; doesn’t say another word.
He looks like he might cry.
I’m filled with stardust. I’m filled with the whole world.
‘I’m fine. You all right?’
‘Yeah. Just chillin’. Killin’.’
There’s a crunching in the gravel behind us. Rhino’s arm drops from my shoulder.
‘Evening,’ says a male hiker. The lady beside him smiles.
‘G’day,’ I say, and Rhino says, ‘Nice night for it.’
‘It’s a beautiful night,’ she says as they pass. ‘The sort of night that makes you believe in love and magic.’
We watch their backs, fading into the darkness.
Rhino begins to hum, softly at first, then more loudly.
‘Sorry, weirdo,’ I say, giggling as he performs his strange little version of a boy-band dance in front of me. ‘I got nothing on that one.’ He stops and shakes his head, a disappointed look on his face. ‘“Could It Be Magic?” Take That?’
‘Cheesy.’
‘Oh, Tiger. You break my heart!’ He presses a hand to his chest, stricken. ‘Take That were the seminal nineties boy band. When we get back, I’m going to play you all their old stuff—and their new stuff, too.’
‘They’re still around?’ I’m surprised. Most of the bands Rhino likes disappeared at the turn of the millennium.
Rhino nods. ‘Better than ever. How can you not know this stuff? The only way you can possibly redeem yourself is if you tell me you do, in fact, believe in magic. Tell me, Tiger, tell me. I want to know if you believe in unicorns.’
‘Of course I do,’ I reply. ‘They live in the Otherwhere.’
Rhino laughs. ‘Naturally. With the pixies.’
‘Elves,’ I correct. ‘Speaking of which, they don’t seem to have come out tonight after all. We’ll have to try again another night. We really should be getting home. Auntie Kath will be worrying. She’ll be listening to baroque pop and painting moody things and glaring at the front door—and only two of those are acceptable. I hate worrying her.’
‘How long have you lived with your auntie?’ Rhino asks as we walk back to his car. It’s only then that I remember: Rhino didn’t move to town until he was fourteen. He lived in Hobart before that.
Not everyone in this town knows after all.
‘All my life,’ I reply, my voice cracking. It’s been ages since I’ve had to talk about this. I’ve forgotten how. ‘For a while, my dad was there. Then it was just us.’
‘What about your mum?’
‘Gone. Can we add this to the list of stuff we don’t talk about?’ I’m aware my voice is shaking. My chest feels tight.
We’re at the car park now. Rhino opens the passenger door for me and I get into Shirley.
‘Like Wally? And your counselling at school?’
I shoot him a look. ‘Just like that.’
I wish we hadn’t started talking like this.
Everything feels gloomy now.
‘I have no idea what I’d even talk about if I went for the counselling,’ I say, trying for light. ‘I have no idea what’s in my head, waiting to come out. It could be a dead parrot for all I know.’
Rhino laughs. ‘How do you know the parrot is dead if you don’t look?’
‘It’s a cat,’ I retort. ‘It’s Schrödinger’s cat that might be dead. Not his parrot.’
‘I imagine the same rule applies,’ Rhino argues. ‘So maybe you should look. I mean, talk, to see the parrot.’
‘Don’t you start,’ I sigh. ‘Please.’ Rhino turns the key, and Shirley shudders. I hope she manages to get us all the way home.
‘I could be there with you,’ he says, not taking his eyes from the road. ‘I could walk you to your session, wait while you talk?’
When I don’t reply he says, quietly, ‘It will be okay.’
‘Maybe. But it’s not okay now.’
Once we’re back on the highway home, I try and fix the night. ‘Knock knock!’
He laughs. ‘Avoiding the D&Ms with knock knock jokes? Sounds like something I’d do.’
‘That’s not how you reply to a knock knock joke,’ I say, sternly.
‘Sorry, Tiges. I should know that. Okay, try again.’
‘Knock knock!’
‘Who’s there?’
‘Rhino’.
‘Rhino who?’
‘Rhi-know you’re there. Open the door!’
‘That sucks, Tiges.’
‘I didn’t have much to work with, you know? There are heaps more jokes about tigers than there are about rhinoceroses.’
‘We’re a rare breed.’
‘You are.’ I look across at Rhino, who’s concentrating determinedly on the highway—a senior citizen driver at seventeen. It’s the one thing I’ve ever seen him do carefully. Rhino is wildness, chaos, fun. ‘Hey, Rhino?’
‘Tiger.’
‘Thanks. For tonight. And the beach. And the park. The fun stuff. It’s been … good.’
‘Adventures are good,’ says Rhino, still staring straight ahead. ‘And I’m glad we’re having them together. You’re cool, Tiger Geeves.’
‘You better believe it. But, you know, I don’t need a Manic Pixie Dreamgirl episode. I really don’t. I can figure this out on my own.’
‘I know.’ He shrugs. ‘I never said you couldn’t. We’re just adventuring, that’s all.’
