Authors: Margaret Clark
Where the hell was she?
Standing on tiptoe she peered out of the window. She could see even through the darkness that the building was old and crumbling. It had probably been a hotel in its past life: now it looked like it should be condemned. Rusty guttering sagged from the roof and the window frames of more rooms that she could see from the bathroom were rotten. Some windows had boards instead of glass. She figured by looking down that it was two-storeyed, which meant that she was on the top.
It had to be somewhere in St Kilda near the beach, because she could vaguely remember walking through the rain supported by Frantik on one side and Lynx on the other. She wondered where Sal and Lisa, the occupants of their room, had gone on such a cold, wet, miserable day and night.
Walking back along the passage she could hear sounds of life behind the thin walls. Someone snored, someone else groaned as if in pain, and a child whimpered. It was a dump. But then it suited her: she was dump material.
Larceny found Sal and Lisa’s room by following the smell of burnt toast. The door was still open. She went in.
‘Don’t close the door,’ said Comma. ‘This place stinks.’
Smoke swirled through the room, but at least it overpowered the other stale, musty smells. She didn’t feel like arguing right now, so she left the door ajar.
Comma was still sitting at the table in her outsize t-shirt, staring vacantly at an ad on the tv. Larceny pulled out the other chair and sat down opposite her. The mug of soup was half cold and so was the toast. Blobs of margarine had coagulated on it, but the toast tasted okay when it was washed down with the lukewarm tomato soup. Comma turned to watch her
eat: maybe it was more fascinating than tv, but it was unnerving having someone stare at you while you chewed and swallowed.
‘So. What’s your story?’ asked Larceny, although she didn’t really care one way or the other. The stories were always the same — bashed kids, drunken parents, dead parents, the occasional rich spoilt little shit, parents who’d lost the plot, kids who’d lost the plot.
Comma regarded her with sad, dog-like eyes. ‘My mum died and Dad got married again to this other woman.’
‘You didn’t like her?’
‘She didn’t like me. I was a drag in her life. She liked partying and swanning about all the time.’
It figured. Comma wasn’t exactly ideal step-daughter material if you wanted an attractive, slim person to play stepmum to, dress up in designer gear, get identical hairdos and have girlie chats with. On the other hand, Larceny had known some stepmums who were jealous of their stepdaughters because they were young and pretty. Pity Comma’s dad hadn’t picked one of those to marry. There had to be
some
good ones, but Larceny hadn’t met any.
‘When did you clear out?’
‘When I was fourteen. I hated home and I hated school.’
‘Ah!’ Larceny leaned forward. ‘Or did school hate
you
?’
Comma blinked. She’d never really thought about it in that way. Her mind flashed back like a video player on rewind: primary school, teachers who thought she was dumb, a nuisance, an annoyance because they thought
they
would be the one to get through to her. She still couldn’t read: she bought the magazines to look at the pictures. She fast-forwarded to secondary school and was hit with detentions for smoking, for being rude to teachers, for failing to hand in assignments. Yeah, when she thought about it she wasn’t exactly the most popular kid in school.
‘Schools hated
me
,’ said Larceny, when Comma didn’t answer.
‘Why? Couldn’t you read either?’ Comma blurted out.
‘Course I could read. I got bored shitless, that’s all, so I gave them major aggro. Schools are stupid. Teachers are stupid. The whole idea of shoving kids in schools is
stupid
!’
Larceny banged her mug down on the table to emphasise the point.
‘But school’s somewhere to go, to fill in time,’ said Comma, shrugging.
‘Yeah? I’ve got better things to do with my time than sit in some dumb school hearing some dumb teacher wank on and on.’
‘Like what things?’
Larceny shrugged. ‘Shoplifting, hanging about, sussing out stuff. I like looking at people, you know? Wondering where they come from, what they’re doing, if they’re happy, that sort of shit. Not that I ever see too many happy ones unless they’re off their faces on something. I guess I’m a sort of roving perv.’
Larceny smiled, pleased with her analysis of herself. Comma looked down at her mug. She’d never really thought about what she did and why she did it. She just chugged through each day, her main concerns being to get food, shelter, drugs, and have Bex in her life.
‘How did you end up with Bex?’ Larceny asked through her last mouthful of toast, looking at Comma’s dull, deadpan face. She was such a boring babe. Bex was attractive in a tough sort of way. It had to be a case of opposites attracting each other: a large lifeless lump, and a skinny little spitfire.
‘End up?’ Comma looked puzzled.
‘Well —
start
up. You know, click onto each other.’
‘I dunno. We just sort of drifted together.’
‘When did you — how did you know you were gay?’
Larceny was surprised to hear herself asking these questions. She usually didn’t care two stuffs about other people or their lives. But part of her wondered what it would be like to have sex with a girl. What did they
do
?’
‘I dunno. I just didn’t like doing it with guys and then I did it with Bex and it was okay.’
‘How old are you?’ asked Larceny.
‘Seventeen.’
‘You don’t look seventeen,’ Larceny blurted out. Then, seeing the annoyed look on Comma’s face, she changed tactics. ‘I mean, you’ve got a young face. How old’s Bex?’
‘Same as me.’
‘So what’s her story?’
‘I dunno. I know she comes from a posh family and she’s got a twin sister.’
‘I’ve got the picture. The twin sister’s a goody, right?’
‘Dunno. She never talks about her family.’
‘When did you first — I mean, if you’ve only been with Bex, how do you know you’re gay?’
‘I dunno. Who said I’ve only been with Bex?’
‘
You
did!’
Comma rolled her eyes, looked at the ceiling, then got up and rinsed out the two mugs at the sink. She turned on the jug, spooned Nescafe into the mugs, added boiling water, stirred vigorously, then brought the mugs to the table. She plonked them down, slopping coffee onto the red laminex. Then she sat down heavily and looked Larceny over thoughtfully.
‘You ever had sex with a girl?’
‘No.’ Larceny wriggled in her chair, feeling embarrassed. Somehow Comma had turned the conversation round and now seemed to be very much in control. Larceny didn’t like it: she wished she hadn’t started this in the first place.
‘Have you had sex with
anyone
?’
‘Of course. Heaps of times,’ lied Larceny, staring into her coffee cup.
‘Was it good?’
‘Of course. Otherwise I wouldn’t have done it, would I?’
Larceny sipped at her coffee. It was weak, watery and tasted foul. She debated whether to get up, pour it down the sink and make another, but she couldn’t be bothered. Comma reached behind her into her
bag, dragged out a comb and started tugging it through her lank brown hair. Larceny drew back from the table in disgust.
‘Do you have to do your hair all over the table?’
‘Huh?’ Comma stared at her. Then with a defiant look she put the comb back in her bag and pulled out a magazine. She flipped it open and started flicking through it.
‘I thought you said you couldn’t read!’
Comma kept flicking.
‘Hey! I want to talk to you!’ Larceny’s hand shot out and grabbed the magazine. She tossed it onto the floor.
‘I said I WANT TO TALK TO YOU!’
‘What about?’
Comma looked nervous. Her power base was shot to shit. Larceny was laying the calls.
‘Sex. I want to know when you first did it. Was it with a girl or a guy? What was it like?’
Comma’s eyes narrowed with a native cunning. ‘Why do you want to know?’
‘
Just tell me
!’ hissed Larceny, her anger beginning to grow. Why did Comma have to be so thick, stupid and stubborn? Why couldn’t she just have a normal conversation without all the crap?
‘Okay. Okay. If it’s that important I’ll tell you,’ said Comma, pausing to reach back in the bag for her cigarettes. She took her time lighting up. Larceny drummed her fingers impatiently on the table. Getting information about Comma’s sex life was hard work.
‘My first time — I was twelve, and this guy talked me into it, you know. He was fifteen. He kissed me and he tasted of garlic. Yuck. Then we had sex. We did it in a concrete pipe in the playground at the Seventh Day Adventist school one Saturday afternoon. All this gravel was sticking into my bum, and it hurt.’
‘You mean the gravel, or —?’
‘Both. I hated it. I wouldn’t do it with him again. Nor anybody else, for ages. Then the next time I had sex I was fifteen.’
‘How old was the guy?’
‘I dunno. Sixteen, seventeen. Why do you want to know?’
‘Just curious.’
‘I was on the run, staying on this farm in a hay shed. This guy Dean lived on the neighbouring farm. Anyway he found me there and I was scared he was gunna dob. But he brought me food and a blanket, so I did it with him.’
‘Go on. What was it like?’
‘I dunno. Just — this guy sweatin’ all over me and rammin’ into me. That hay, though, it was friggin’ prickly.’
Comma looked thoughtfully into her coffee cup.
‘Go on.’
‘Then when I was sixteen I tried it with a few guys in the back of cars and stuff, but —’ she shrugged.
‘The earth didn’t move for you,’ said Larceny drily.
‘Huh?’
‘Never mind. So Bex is the first partner you’ve
liked
having sex with?’
‘I guess so. Last year I met this girl at a party and we both got drunk. We slept together on the floor. She wanted to kiss me but I just rolled over on my side and pretended I was asleep when she tried to feel me up. I didn’t really fancy her. But I like Bex.’
‘But do you like sex with Bex?’ said Larceny, her patience beginning to fray at the edges.
‘Yeah.’
‘But how do you know if you’re
really
gay if you haven’t had real good sex with a guy?’
‘I
know
I’m gay. I’d rather be with Bex than
any
guy.’
‘What about me? Could you fancy
me
?’
Comma looked puzzled. ‘You want to do it with me?’
‘No,’ said Larceny, exasperated, ‘I’m just asking if
you could fancy me. I’m trying to find out if you’re gay, bi, or confused.’
Bex burst into the room. ‘I heard that,’ she snarled. ‘I knew it was a big mistake to leave Comma with you. You’re trouble.’ She yanked Larceny’s hair almost off her head. ‘Bitch! Leave her alone.’
Larceny drew back her feet and kicked out, hard. She caught Bex in the chest just as Lynx and Frantik came through the door.
‘That’s enough!’ roared Lynx, pulling Bex off Larceny as she was about to scratch out her eyes. ‘What’s up with you two?’
‘She’s tryin’ to spade Comma!’
‘Reality check,’ sneered Larceny. ‘I wouldn’t touch Comma with a ten metre pole. No offence meant, Comma.’
Comma just gaped stupidly from one girl to the other.
‘Come on, Comma, get on some gear. We’re goin’ out,’ snapped Bex.
‘But —’
‘
Do it
!’
Comma went over to the bed, searched among the untidy heap of bedclothes till she found her jeans and top. She dragged her top over her head and pulled on her jeans. Then she turned to face Bex.
‘Where’re we goin’, Bex?’
‘OUT! Get something on your feet, will ya, and hurry up!’
Comma rummaged under the bed and found her boots. She shoved her feet into them without bothering about socks.
‘Why are we —’
‘Move it!’
Bex flounced to the door and wrenched it open. Comma followed slowly. Bex grabbed her arm, yanked her through the door and slammed it shut, hard. There was silence.
‘Stay away from Comma,’ said Lynx, looking at Larceny.
‘Oh, man. Don’t you start!’
She looked at Frantik for support. He was leaning against the wall with a weird expression on his face. His jacket was saturated, and water dripped from it in a pool round his feet. He put his hand to his throat.
‘You okay, man?’
He didn’t look too good. His face was chalk-white and beaded with sweat. He tried to speak but his tongue seemed too big for his mouth. Larceny frowned. Something wasn’t right.
‘Look at him, Lynx.’
Lynx stared at Frantik.
‘What’s wrong, mate?’
Frantik mumbled something. Suddenly, Larceny jumped to her feet. She went up close to Frantik and peered at him.
‘Have you just scored?’ she asked.
‘He did,’ said Lynx. ‘I turned my back and he was gone. Then he came back looking spacey.’
‘Did you score from your regular dealer?’ said Larceny.
Frantik shook his head and mumbled something.
‘You’ve got a bad whack,’ said Larceny. ‘And you’re having something called an anaphylactic reaction. Your throat’s swelling up. We have to get you to a hospital. Some people die in minutes when they get one.’
Frantik looked worried, shaking his head from side to side and making guttural grunts.
‘No choice, man. You’ll die if we don’t. Come on.’
She looked at Lynx.
‘Got any money? We haven’t got time for an ambulance. We’ll have to get a taxi.’
‘Yeah,’ said Lynx, searching his pockets. ‘I’ve got about fifteen bucks.’
‘That’ll do it.’
Frantik was sagging against the wall, gasping. Together Larceny and Lynx half carried, half dragged him between them down the stairs and into the street. Outside the rain lashed down, and the gutters were overflowing. It was a dirty night to be out. Larceny shivered. She hadn’t put on her running shoes and her feet felt like they were lumps of ice.
‘Where the hell’s a cab? There’s never one when you need it,’ she said angrily, as the rain plastered her hair flat to her head.
Finally a taxi slowed, then stopped. Lynx yanked the door open and they pulled Frantik in beside them, falling onto the rear seat in an untidy heap.
‘The Alfred,’ said Larceny to the driver. ‘Quick.’
He was young and cool. He didn’t ask questions. He whipped along the streets, tearing through the rain-swept night. Luckily he got all the green lights. In what must have been record time he screamed to a halt outside Emergency.
‘Thanks, mate.’ Lynx paid the driver and they dragged Frantik inside. Larceny raced up to Admissions.
‘He’s had a bad whack,’ she gasped.
The woman behind the desk looked blank.
‘Bad drugs,’ Lynx interjected as he supported
Frantik who was clutching at his throat and wheezing for breath. His eyes, the pupils dilated, looked agonised.
‘Has he been here before?’ asked the woman.
‘How the hell would I know?’ snapped Larceny. ‘Get a doctor. Fast.’