I pushed off into the deeper water, breast-stroking in the maple-coloured river until I reached the shore, a shady crescent of sand just behind some overhanging pines.
‘Nice spot,’ Cash called from where he was treading water. ‘You wanna bum there for a bit?’
‘Bum there?’ I pretended to be shocked.
‘Ha!’ Cash snorted. ‘Bum around. Hang.’
‘Sure.’ I was a little hesitant. We were far enough upstream now that we were out of Casey’s sight.
Cash waded out of the water and collapsed onto the grainy beach a couple of metres from where I was perched on a rock, my knees pulled up to my chest. I shivered and rubbed my goose-fleshy arms.
‘Cold out of the sun,’ I commented.
‘Yeah, it is a bit.’
‘So, what’re you gunna do after you leave here, like, after Christmas or whatever?’ I asked, trying to sound casual.
‘I’ve got some options. Got a bit of cash at the moment so I’ll probably head down to Victoria round Daylesford area. I’ve got some mates living on a property down there.’
‘That sounds awesome,’ I said. ‘I’m jealous.’
Cash shrugged. ‘I get itchy feet.’
I nodded. ‘I’m starting to know the feeling.’
‘It’s peaceful out bush. Heaps of my mates are into bikes so I help ’em out fixing up old bikes and get a free bed.’
‘I’ve never even been out of New South Wales,’ I admitted.
‘If you wanted to come . . .’
I looked up at him, surprised. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Sure.’ Cash shrugged. ‘Why not?’
‘I don’t have any money,’ I pointed out. ‘And my mum would kill me. And school starts again in February.’
‘Yeah, true.’ Cash propped himself up on his elbows and ran his hand through his tangled hair. ‘But if you really wanted to, you’d just do it.’
‘I s’pose . . .’
‘It’d be fun travelling with somebody, too. Gets kinda boring being out on your own. I mean, I’ve met heaps of people from all over, but it’d be cool to travel with somebody.’
‘Yeah?’
‘The first time I took off my mate Jeremy came with me.’
‘Jeremy who works at the club?’
‘You know him?’
‘My mum still works there.’
‘Yeah. We got to Albury and he freaked out that he’d get in heaps of trouble. Caught the bus back home.’
‘Did you get in much trouble? That time you took your dad’s car?’
‘Dad didn’t press charges, if that’s what you mean.’
‘But didn’t you end up in jail? That’s what Casey told me.’
Cash laughed. ‘Don’t stand between Casey and a good story.’
‘So you didn’t?’
‘I’ve spent nights in holding cells here and there.’
‘What’s it like?’
‘Alright. Just a bed. Blanket. Toilet in the corner. They take your shoes and all of your shit, even take the earrings out of your ears, I dunno why, but you get it all back in the morning.’
‘Fuck . . .’ I exhaled, a little awed. ‘I don’t think I’ve met anyone besides you who’s actually been to jail.’
‘That’s a bit weird, coming from Kambah, isn’t it?’
‘Actually, Lukey’s brother . . .’ I admitted.
‘See, I’m not the only bad boy.’
‘You’re not that bad.’
Cash got up and sat next to me on the rock. ‘You know, Jez, even when you were younger you were always different to Casey.’
I laughed. ‘Me and Casey are both girls . . . that’s where it ends.’
‘I dig it.’
I nodded, holding my breath. ‘Thanks.’
‘Can I kiss you?’ Cash asked, picking up my hand and holding it in his.
I nodded again and turned my face towards his, my eyes closed. I could feel his breath, warm on my neck, as he kissed beneath my ear, and then along my cheek, then down to my mouth while his arm slid around my waist.
Whooooah! This is AWESOME!
This was a totally different feeling to kissing Lukey under the clothesline a few days earlier. With Lukey it had been sweet, tender and gentle. Cash’s kisses were hot and wet and urgent and made me feel dizzy and euphoric and blazingly turned on.
So this is what it feels like . . .
Cash pulled back.
‘You okay?’ he whispered, leaning in and sort of giving me a little hug.
‘Of course!’ I squeezed him back, and buried my face in his chest so I could catch my breath.
His armpit, close to my face, smelled like strong body odour, but not the gross type where you feel like you want to vom, but that intoxicating sweat smell. We kissed again. Cash slid his hand along the outside of my breast and I nearly fucking lost it.
Cash and I were still kissing when something caught the corner of my eye. A flash of white gleamed in the sun from across the river.
Oh. My. God.
I scrambled to my feet and ran to the water’s edge. There was another flash of chalk-coloured flabby skin as the old man ducked behind a cluster of boulders and scraggly tree roots.
‘I can see you, you fucking pervert!’ I screamed across the river.
‘What the fuck?!’ Cash exclaimed. ‘Who is it?’
‘Some old pervert with his hand on his cock!’ I muttered, trying to pinpoint where the old man was exactly.
Cash covered his face, trying to smother a laugh, unsuccessfully.
‘It’s not funny!’ I seethed. ‘It’s disgusting.’
‘You want me to go bash him?’ Cash grinned, putting his arm around my shoulders.
‘I want to go bash him.’
‘Don’t worry about him, hey. Just a dirty old man getting his rocks off.’
‘Don’t worry?! It’s sick. Why do they have a nude bathing area here anyway?’
‘A place for the perverts to go, I guess.’
‘Right near where kids are having picnics.’
‘Yeah.’ Cash shrugged. ‘Should we write a letter?’
‘It’s not funny! It’s really fucked up!’
‘Sorry, Jez,’ Cash said, but his eyes were shining with laughter.
‘We should probably get back to Casey, hey,’ I said, suddenly feeling awkward, my cheeks burning.
Cash slid his hand to my lower back while he studied my face. ‘Yeah, if you want. Hey, cheer up.’
Cash leaned in as though he was going to kiss me again, but I stepped away from him towards the water. ‘Let’s go, then.’
I felt so hot all over that I was almost surprised the water didn’t make a hissing noise as I waded in; the muscles in my legs had liquefied.
It was sort of the same way I felt the first time I got really stoned. It was seventh grade, and Lukey and I were about to walk home when Martin Carroll called out to us, Hey, Jez, Lukey! Wanna go for a smoke?, and held up a little brass-coloured tin. We walked across the oval and then sat in some of the long grass that separated the school from the residential area. Martin pulled a dirty sock out of his backpack, from inside the sock a plastic bag, and then unwrapped a homemade bong—a metal stem forced into a melted hole in the side of a Clearasil bottle. He filled the Clearasil bong with water from his drink bottle and then packed the cone piece with chopped up weed spun with tobacco and handed it to me. Just cover the shotty, here, with your thumb and suck on the top, here, while you light the cone. I got giggly with excited anticipation; it took me a minute or two before I could compose myself enough to light the bong. I sucked as hard as I could and the lit weed fell through the funnel of the cone piece. I could feel my chest expand with the large lungful of smoke. It tickled my throat so I had to splutter it out, coughing. Lukey and Martin laughed and high-fived me. You took it in one toke, dude . . . Awesome.
Cash made me feel the same giddiness that being stoned did. My limbs were getting all spaz and unco and my head felt like it had filled wit
h helium. I dived underwater and held my breath, opening my eyes so I could see. A couple of metres below, some small fish flitted past. I let out a lungful of air and watched the bubbles rise to the surface.
As I emerged Cash ran into the river after me and belly-flopped, splashing me with water. I grinned and pushed both of my hands along the water’s surface, spraying him in the face. It is so much better, I thought, just mucking around like this. I felt like things were moving too quickly.
We slid down the little rapids on our butts, pushing ourselves along with our hands, helped by the weight of the current, Cash yelling, ‘Yeeeeew!’ as we skidded over the last of the rapids, into waist-deep water, one after the other.
Casey stood up as we paddled over to where she was on the beach.
‘Where have you guys been?!’ she moaned. ‘I’m so over this shithole.’
‘We haven’t been here that long, Case,’ Cash pointed out, as we waded out of the water and grabbed our towels.
Casey had the attention span of a ferret, never satisfied with what she was currently doing, always looking for the next excitement. I guess I could kind of relate. When I was at home it wasn’t uncommon for me to be found on the couch, laptop on with several browser windows open, listening to music, watching telly, drinking a cup of tea and distractedly gasbagging to Lukey on my mobile, usually saying something like, God, I’m sooo fuckin’ bored . . .
‘Let’s go see if Stu’s home!’ Casey said.
‘Who’s Stu?’ I wanted to know.
‘An old mate of mine who Casey has the hots for.’ Cash rolled his eyes. ‘He’s a bit of a derro, I gotta warn you.’
‘He is hot!’ Casey said, her eyes gleaming. ‘And he has a pool! Which is better than swimming in this stinking cesspool. Seriously, you guys smell, and I don’t want river smell in my new bikini.’
‘What do you reckon, Jez?’ Cash asked.
‘Sure.’ I shrugged. ‘Whatever.’
‘Oh, my God, Jez!’ Casey started giggling. ‘You look like you’ve shat yourself! You’ve got mud and crap all over your butt!’
‘Where?’ I twisted around, stupidly trying to see the back of my bikini bottom.
‘Cash!’ Casey doubled over, hooting. ‘Yours is even worse! Fuckin’ hell!’
‘Ah, fuck it!’ Cash laughed. ‘We had fun, hey Jez?’
I half nodded and pulled my jeans and t-shirt on over my wet, sandy swimmers, shifting uncomfortably at the grit stuck up my crotch.
The car park was swarming with people when we got back to the car, mostly teenagers competing for airtime with their bass speakers, blasting out extremely lame psy-trance and happy hardcore. So fucking nineties. They stood in clusters around souped-up Holdens, Fords and Mazdas, smoking cigarettes. The boys wore baseball caps, long shorts and brand-name tees; the girls denim miniskirts, short shorts and singlets, every colour of thong on their feet. It was blazingly hot and everybody seemed to move in slow motion, as though it were a struggle to move or talk. I couldn’t wait to find a toilet to rinse the river bed out of my bikini pants.
‘Britney!’ A guy with short brown hair and a bright yellow t-shirt yelled in our direction, his mates looking on, interested. He and a couple of his friends started walking towards us.
‘Oh, God,’ Casey swore under her breath and shot me an urgent look. ‘Let’s go!’
‘Are they talking to you, Case?’ Cash looked at her quizzically. ‘You want me to sort ’em out?’
‘I look like every blonde.’ Casey lowered her sunglasses over her eyes, flicking her hair. ‘They’ve got the wrong person.’
‘Hey, Britney!’ The guy came closer and grinned, nudging his mates. ‘It is you. Remember me? James? You gave me a lap dance the other night for my birthday.’
‘Not me, honey.’ Casey started the car. ‘You’ve got the wrong person.’ She stuck her tongue out at the boys as she put the car in reverse.
‘Wait a sec! We just wanna talk to ya!’ James leaned through the driver’s side window.
‘Get your fuckin’ hands off the car, dickhead,’ Cash warned. ‘Drive, Casey.’
‘Oi! Give us a free fuck, ya fucking whore!’ James slapped the hood of the jeep.
‘Drive, Casey!’ I urged her.
She nodded, dazed, and began backing out of the car park.
One of James’s mates ran alongside the driver’s side window of Casey’s jeep, screaming, ‘BRITNEY! I LOVE YOU!’
I could hear their shouts of of laughter fade behind us. Casey’s shoulders were hunched over the wheel. I reached out and touched her arm.
‘You okay, dude?’
She shook me off with a flick of her wrist. ‘Yeah. Fuckin’ idiots, that’s all.’
Cash glanced back at me and then to Casey.
‘You know those guys?’ he yelled over the rushing wind.
Casey moved one hand down, crunching the 4x4 into top gear. ‘Just leave it, Cash! Fuckin’ hell! Should we pick up some beer or what?’
Cash looked back at me one more time but said nothing.
THIRTEEN
Ten minutes later, Casey pulled the Suzuki onto the dirt out the front of a square grey brick house trimmed with dark-green gutter guards. A row of sparse lavender bushes and thirsty azaleas lined the dirt beds at the front of the concrete porch. I could see the white curtains in the front room part slightly. A face appeared briefly then disappeared again.
Casey bounded up the front steps and bashed her fist on the front door, then opened it and stepped inside, Cash and I following closely.
‘Helloooo? Stu?’
‘Stu’s outside.’
A bored-looking Goth girl sat on the floor, wedged between an old couch and the coffee table. Two similarly anguished-looking boys with greasy hair shaved at the sides sat on the couch behind her with Xbox controllers in hand playing UFC on a big boxy analogue television set. The room stank like stale cigarettes, bongs and Lynx deodorant. They each glanced briefly at us and looked back at their game.
‘I’m Casey, this is my friend Jez and brother, Cash. Cash is an old mate of Stu’s.’ Casey took a couple of steps inside the darkened room.
‘Stu’s outside,’ the Goth girl repeated.
‘Okaaay.’ Casey was pissed off. She wasn’t used to being ignored. She walked through the world as though she were in a Pussycat Dolls video clip.
We stepped out into the backyard. The rectangular in-ground swimming pool that took up most of the yard was littered with floating debris, beer cans and leaves, and surrounded by a rusting pool fence. New School metal blared from a small three-walled shack constructed from wood and corrugated iron that stood at the end of the driveway at the side of the house. A huge muscled guy with tribal tattoos wearing a Nike singlet and Adidas tracksuit pants was seated on a plastic deckchair. A smaller dude was perched on a fold-out camp stool while the muscled guy hunched over him, tattoo gun in one hand, scrunched-up piece of paper towel in the other. As we approached, the bigger guy took his foot off the tattoo gun pedal and grinned.
‘Cash! Fuck me dead.’ Stu, the big dude, stood up and shook Cash’s hand. ‘Casey, how are ya, beautiful? Who’s your mate?’
Casey slipped under Stu’s arm. ‘This is Jez, our neighbour. She wants a tattoo, don’t ya, Jez?’
‘Well, yeah, but probably not today.’ I swallowed, looking at the spots of blood emerging from the line work on the skinny guy’s arm.
‘This is John,’ Stu introduced us. ‘What’d’ya reckon ’bout his tatt?’
I leaned closer to examine the picture through the smudges of blood and ink. It was a Celtic-style cross that took up most of his arm. I thought it was pretty tacky.
‘Love ya work, Stuey,’ John said, lighting a cigarette. ‘Finish this tomorrow, ya reckon?’
‘Yeah, come back tomorrow for sure.’ Stu nodded.
John left, pressing a wad of paper towels over his tattooed arm.
‘Pull up some chairs,’ Stu said to us, gesturing towards a stack of dirty white plasti
c chairs inside the pool gate.
‘Stu, you need to clean your pool. I sooo wanted a swim,’ Casey complained as Cash passed us each a chair. ‘I wore my new bikini and everything!’
‘I would love to have you lying around my pool in a bikini, babe,’ Stu said raising his eyebrows.
‘Oi!’ Cash interjected with a grin. ‘That’s my sister.’
‘Doesn’t mean she ain’t hot,’ Stu said, accepting the beer Cash handed to him.
Casey glowed, loving the attention. I narrowed my eyes a little and took a long sip of beer. I didn’t know what Casey saw in Stu. He looked like a big gorilla to me. His forehead sort of hung over his eyes, making them look like squashed sultanas. Gross.
‘So what can I do you for, Jez?’ Stu said, nodding towards his tattoo gun and inks. ‘Nice little heart or something?’
‘Ummm . . . nah, nothing . . .’ I mumbled.
‘Go on, Jez!’ Casey’s eyes gleamed. ‘It doesn’t hurt!’
‘You don’t have any tattoos, Case,’ I pointed out.
‘I’m still deciding what I want,’ Casey said.
‘Some other time, maybe?’ I said to Stu. ‘When I decide what I want?’
Stu shrugged. ‘Suit yourself.’
‘So, who’re the Children of the Corn?’ Casey asked Stu. ‘The little Goth brigade inside?’
‘Children of the Corn were blond, Case,’ I pointed out.
‘Whatever.’ Casey shrugged. ‘The freak kids.’
Stu laughed. ‘My cousin, Katie. Doesn’t get along with her parents so I let her hang around. She’s pretty cool.’
‘Meh.’ Casey sniffed. ‘It’s a beautiful sunny day and they’re sitting around like Marilyn Mason just died or something.’
‘Marilyn Manson,’ I said.
‘Seriously, Jez, if you don’t stop correcting me I’m gunna fucking bitchslap you!’ Casey shrieked. ‘This isn’t high school.’
I laughed. ‘Good, ’cos you would fail!’
‘Again,’ Cash noted, grinning.
‘I hate you guys sooo much,’ Casey said dramatically.
Casey had positioned herself so that she could poke out her tits to their best advantage, her arms wrapped around the back of the chair, legs folded luxuriously in front of her. Stu could barely keep his eyes off her and Casey knew it. Every now and then she would rake her nails through her hair and then let her hand fall ‘casually’ to her chest and run her fingers down the centre of her torso. I wondered how many times she’d practised that move in the mirror.
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