by Cath Crowley
I take my guitar on tour instead. We walk around the house. Grandpa’s left a note to wake him when dinner’s ready. Dad’s left a note to say he’s in the shop and not to worry about food for him. If he’s in the shop, surely he hears me and my angry guitar song. What would my note say? “Notice me, notice me, notice me.” I play some chords loudly to go with it. What sort of dad needs a note to work that out about his daughter? Gus and Beth notice things about me and they lived through the sixties.
Dahlia used to say I had a dad other kids dreamed about. “He never yells, he wouldn’t notice if you sneaked out, and he cooks the best chocolate cake I’ve ever tasted. What more do you want?”
I want a whole lot more. I want someone to talk to. I want someone who can fix things when they’re broken. I want to scream and have someone come running down the hall in their slippers, out of breath with worry.
I strike up another verse of “Dave Robbie Is a Total Wanker.” I play it as loud as I can outside Grandpa’s room. The world has lost its ears today. I’m screaming and no one can hear me.
“Charlie?” Rose calls, and knocks on the back door. I don’t answer. What’s the point, when everything she says is a lie? She’s still shouting when I walk through to the shop. I’m changing my name to Risk-taker. Dave can keep Rolling Idiot Robbie. It suits him. I storm into Dad like a runaway guitar riff, ripping at the air. Don’t think I have a plan, though. I never do.
I knock for ages on Charlie’s door. Eventually I give up and ride out to Dave’s. I sit next to him at the kitchen table and feel weird because neither of us says anything about what happened on the camping trip.
I know he’s forgiven me when he takes out this book on Formula One racing and starts showing me the pictures. “Look at this guy, Rosie. He’s on fire.”
“Right, fire. He’s going fast then, huh?” I wish Dave would talk to me about what he thinks is wrong with Charlie, but he keeps going on about the cars.
“Are you even listening? I mean he’s actually on fire.” Dave shoves the book in my face again.
“I can’t see any flames.”
“It’s an ethereal fire.”
“You mean ethanol, Dave. It makes a clear flame.”
“Whatever. He was burning in front of everyone and they didn’t even know.” Dave goes on and on in the background, but I can’t concentrate. I keep seeing Charlie’s face on the way home today. White ash. If Dave and Luke didn’t upset her, then that only leaves me.
“They walked up to find out what was wrong with him and they caught fire, too,” Dave says.
“Shit.”
“I know. He was dead before anyone worked out what was going on.”
“No, I mean, shit, I have to find Charlie.”
“Why, you know what’s wrong with her?”
“She heard us last night, Dave. When we called her Charlie Dorkin.” That has to be it. And she’s been burning ever since. Except no one was taking enough notice of her to see.
Dad’s counting the till when I storm in. It takes me about a second to lose my steam. “Charlotte, you’re back.” Looking on the bright side, I guess he noticed I was gone. “How was the camping trip?”
I want to tell him how awful it was, how I heard them all making fun of me. You raised a Dorkin. But then I’d have to explain to him what a Dorkin was and I’d feel worse after I finished than when I started. So instead I say, “There are animals in the bush, Dad. Dangerous animals.”
“Lucky you came back in one piece, then, Charlotte,” he says in his funny voice.
Look a little closer, Dad, I think, and ring the bell. “I’ll be outside having a Coke.”
After a while, one of the kids from the town sits beside me. I’ve seen him around but he hardly ever comes into the shop. “You don’t look so good,” he says. “I’m Antony Barellan, a friend of Rose and Luke’s.”
“I’m Charlie.”
“I know. That’s your dad in there, isn’t it?” He nods toward the shop.
“Uh-huh.”
“It was crappy that your gran died. My parents knew her. They said she was really nice.”
“She was nice,” I say, looking at the scratches on my hands from the camping trip. “Really nice.”
“So you’re only here for the summer, right?” He kicks at the chair and stares across the street. “You’re lucky. What do you do for fun in the city?”
I sit on my own and play guitar to ghosts, I think as Rose walks up. She scowls at Antony. “What are you guys up to?”
“I was just telling Charlie how boring it is around here.”
“Then maybe you should leave, Antony.”
He rubs his middle finger down his nose. “Luke,” he calls past her.
Luke arrives and ignores Rose. He sits in the middle of Antony and me and puts his arms around the two of us. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing. Haven’t even got money for cigarettes.” Antony grins in my direction. “Think you could get some from your dad, Charlie?”
“No, she can’t,” Rose says.
“I didn’t ask you, did I?”
She turns her back to him. “Come on, Charlie.” She moves without checking to see if I’m getting up, like a dog she’s owned for years. “I can get cigarettes,” I say. Shove that song up your arse, Rose Butler. Not everyone does what you tell them to do.
“Well, all right.” Antony grins.
“I’ll meet you by the river after I get them.” And it’d be good if you could have an ambulance waiting because I think I’m about to have a heart attack. They’re right. Smoking does kill.
Gran always said the shop would be mine when she and Grandpa died. Technically this isn’t stealing. It’s gift giving and this is the holiday season so I shouldn’t feel guilty. I should feel like Santa. “Santa doesn’t steal,” Mum says. It’s times like these I could really do without a dead mum looking over my shoulder.
Dad’s standing behind the cash register, right in front of the cigarettes. I need a diversion, that’s all. A simple, nothing-can-go-wrong diversion. The problem with kids like me is I’ve got no imagination for bad. The baddest thing I’ve done is stick gum under the table in class, not exactly a call-the-police offense. I back out of the shop planning to abandon my life of almost crime but Antony’s waiting there. His hand covers my mouth.
“Charlie …” His breath is warm and wrapped in chips. “Thought you’d need a bit of help.” He’s pressed so hard against my back my insides are sprinting. Now I’m sure I need that ambulance. “Listen. You go and distract him, and I’ll take the stuff.” He pushes me forward.
I walk inside. “Charlotte?” Dad says. “Charlotte, what’s the matter?” He steps out from behind the counter and moves toward me. I walk through to the kitchen and that’s when I break a lifetime habit and really cry in front of him. I start and I can’t stop. I want him to fix this mess, for him to hear Antony in the shop and kick him out. But he just stands there with his hands hanging and his head tilting to the side.
“It’ll be all right,” he keeps saying, and I want to shout, Get some new freaking glasses, Dad. I’m stealing from you. There’s no way it’s going to be all right.
I rain out tears. Over Dad’s shoulder I see Antony sneaking behind the counter pouring packets of cigarettes into his bag. If Dad turns the smallest bit, he’ll see him, too, but he doesn’t. He stares at his hands like he’s forgotten what they’re for. Antony does his best to hide the gap on the shelf while I wish with every part of my body that I could hide in Dad’s arms. I watch Antony give me the thumbs-up in the background and I stand there and cry even harder.
It takes all my self-control not to kill Luke while we wait for Charlie and Antony at the river. He’s wearing this stupid look on his face like all his Christmases have come at once. I want to grab him by the neck and say, You dickhead, there’s more at stake here than you. I’m not thinking about the scholarship, either. I’ve broken Charlie.
I can tell she’s been crying when the
y get back. “Are you okay?” I ask, but she ignores me.
“So, what’s next?” Luke lights up a cigarette.
“It’s New Year’s Eve,” Antony says. “We need alcohol.”
There are only two places they’ll be able to get any. Either Luke will steal it from his parents or they’ll go to Arthur’s bottle shop on the edge of town. A lot of kids have tried to steal from there and they’ve all ended up in jail. They’ve been happy for the bars after Arthur threatens them with these dogs he keeps hungry on nights like New Year’s Eve.
It’s the sort of thing Luke talks about when he’s trying to sound tough. “I could steal from Arthur,” he’d brag, and I’d laugh.
“In your dreams, buddy,” Dave would say. But we’re not in Luke’s dreams today. We’re in my nightmare. I don’t care about Antony, but if I know one thing for sure—he won’t take the stuff himself. He’ll find some way of convincing Luke and Charlie to do it.
“Luke, don’t,” I say. “You’ll get caught.”
“You can’t tell me what to do,” he says, and the three of them stand up. I catch Charlie’s arm. “I know why you’re mad. I’m sorry.” She barely looks at me before walking away.
“Happy New Year, Rose,” Antony says.
“Don’t get too happy yet, Antony,” I tell him.
And then I run as fast as I can to get Dave. Branches scratch at my legs and leave thin streaks of red, but I keep moving.
I bang on the door till he opens it. “You have to come with me.”
“I can’t. Dad’s not happy I forgot to mow the back paddock before I went camping. I said I’d have it done by the time he and Mum get back.”
“It’s Luke and Charlie.” He still doesn’t move. “And Antony Barellan.”
“What are they doing?” Dave asks. I can tell he’s still not sure if it’s worth annoying his dad for. I want to protect Charlie a little if I can, but it’s too late for that now. “She stole some cigarettes.”
“My dad’ll kill me tonight if I don’t mow the paddock and she’s got a while before lung cancer kicks in so I think I’ll let her cool down a bit.” He walks toward the shed.
“Antony was talking about taking alcohol from Arthur’s.”
“Okay, that’s different,” he says, and we run for the gate.
There’s no sign of them at the bottle shop. They’re not at the river, either. “Where do you think they are?” I ask.
“They’ve maybe got some alcohol, and it’s a nice night. Antony’ll be looking for a place to drink it.”
“The quarry?” I ask.
“They couldn’t get there without a car,” Dave says. “You think they’re dumb enough to steal one?” Neither of us bothers answering. We’re talking about Luke Holly and Antony Barellan.
“I guess I’ll ride out and check,” Dave says. “You go home.”
“No way. I want to be the first to kill Luke.”
“I’ll kill Antony and bring Luke back alive. You can kill him then. But you need to ring Charlie’s grandpa and tell him she’s staying with you so she doesn’t get in trouble. You need to be home to cover for her if he checks.”
“Find her, Dave.” Charlie’s been through a lot. She shouldn’t have to add spending New Year’s Eve with Antony Barellan to the list.
Shit. I’m in trouble. When I wished for people to take notice of me, I was thinking concert, not court of law. At least Luke didn’t go through with stealing from the bottle shop. He looked at the dogs and decided it would be better to steal from his parents.
“Where are we going now?” I ask.
“The old quarry,” Antony says. “We won’t get caught there.”
“It’s miles away. We’ll be walking all night.”
“But we’re not walking, Charlie.” He pulls a clip out of my hair and uses it to pick the lock of the car we’re standing in front of. Shit. I’m not entirely unconnected to the crime scene.
“Get in,” Antony says.
“I don’t want to get in. I want to go home.”
A porch light shines and we’re in clear view. “Get the fuck in.” Antony pushes me. “You want to get caught?”
Luke gets in, too, and Antony hot-wires the car. “Remember your seat belts.” He laughs and takes the car from zero to a hundred in a minute. He takes huge swigs from his beer at the same time.
“Charlie, relax.” Antony stares at me in the rearview mirror. “You look like you’re scared half to death.” That’s only because I like my drunk driver to have his eyes on the road and both hands on the wheel. “This is no time for jokes, Charlie,” Mum says.
“I know, I know, I know,” I say, and Antony asks me what I know and I think: I know you’re a dickhead. “Nothing,” I say. “I know nothing.”
I start playing “Where the Fuck Is Dad?” in my head. I’ve heard stories about fathers who can sense that their daughters are in trouble. “Where the fuck is Dad? Dad. Dad. Dad.” My fingers tap the panicked rhythm on the car door. After a while I change my song to “Who the Fuck Am I Kidding?” My dad couldn’t sense me if I was screaming in his face. The only person left to save me now is me. That really makes me wish I had a plan.
The car swoops from one side of the road to the other like a bird dazed by light. My stomach is swooping, too. It’s dark and I can’t see much of anything outside the window. Even if I could get Antony to stop the car, I’d be lost.
He brakes on the road near the old quarry and the car skids across dirt. “All right!” he yells as he opens the door and jumps out; his voice hits the rocks and splits a thousand times. Grandpa never let me go here on my walks. “Wander where you like, Charlie, but the old quarry’s dangerous. Loose rocks fall on you from nowhere.”
“Woohoo!” Antony screams even louder.
In what world does arriving at a dark place full of rocks call for a woohoo? “Luke, I want to go home.”
“Relax. Have a drink.”
“I’m not thirsty.”
“Not that sort of drink.” He empties the can and reaches for another.
I look across at the car. I must be the only kid in this place above ten who can’t drive. Please send someone to save me. It feels like we sit for hours. I hold my knees and wish as hard as I can on the star that’s sitting on the horizon. All the while Antony and Luke are talking about how they’re going back into town to do some damage; I’m watching that star on the horizon get closer. I’ve never seen one fall horizontally before.
“So, you ready to head back?” Antony asks, and his breath smells like rotten fruit. If he drives now, he’ll kill us. “Make a decision, Charlie,” Mum says, and she’s right. I should make sure Dad doesn’t get another phone call like the two others he’s had.
Antony and Luke walk toward the car. I stand still. I’ve been trying so hard to fit in and do what everyone else is doing, but sometimes doing your own thing is fine. It’s the finest thing there is. “I’m walking back,” I say. They’re too drunk to notice. I jog over to them. If they’re too drunk to notice, then they’re too drunk to drive.
I put my foot out a centimeter. Antony trips over it. I trip Luke, too, and he takes a little while to work out how the ground hit him. “And you call me Charlie Dorkin,” I say, trying to decide on the next part of my plan. It doesn’t go any further than this, though. Antony stands. I trip him again. It’s going to be a long night, I think. But then that star gets close enough to make a little noise. Thank God. Stars don’t grunt.
“Hey,” Dave calls out, wobbling toward us on his bike. He gets off and looks at Luke and Antony on the ground. Antony stands. I trip him up. “I see you’ve got this under control,” Dave says.
“I could do with a lift.” You owe me that, at least. I walk over to his bike. He shakes his head, goes to the car, and bends behind the wheel. Is hot-wiring a car taught in schools here? I get in the front seat and Dave hits the accelerator.
We don’t talk until he stops the car and kills the lights. “This where they took it from?”
>
“Yep.”
“You shouldn’t have gone with them, Charlie. Antony’s an idiot.”
No shit. “Maybe I went because I’m Charlie Dorkin, Dave. Charlie Dorkin, Charlie Dorkin.” I sing a bit for him in case he’s forgotten. “I heard it all.”
“You heard wrong.”
“There’s really only one way to hear Dorkin.”
“They were talking about what they used to call you.”
“Nice.”
“You never spoke to us. You sat up in that tree.”
“Because you were calling me fucking Charlie Dorkin.”
“You didn’t know that. I tried to talk to you all the time, and then one summer you arrived with your Walkman on and that was it. You never took it off.”
“I don’t get why this summer’s any different. I was still Walkman-wearing weirdo chick when Rose asked me to the river.”
“I never said you were Walkman-wearing weirdo chick.” He’s laughing, but I’m not ready to laugh. “I don’t know. I thought maybe Rose was playing a joke.”
“I’m loving this brutal honesty.”
“But I don’t think that anymore. She wanted to rip Luke’s head off tonight,” he says.
“And you?” I ask, staring through the windshield at a sky naked of smog and city lights.
“You can’t really think I’ve been hanging around you for a joke?” he asks, and I know what Gus meant when he said the air drummed. The world’s drumming tonight. I wind down the window.
“I remember this time I saw you dancing with your mum,” Dave says. “She was singing into a tomato sauce bottle and you were playing air guitar.”
“I was eight.” I’d been crying because I knew that Rose didn’t want to go swimming with me. “Do I have to ask her?” she’d said to her mum out the front of the shop, and I knew she was talking about me.
“Charlie?” Mum had said as I walked back inside. I was so angry, and she was the first thing I saw to throw my voice at.
