Everything is Changed (3 page)

‘Nah. We'll question you properly when your lawyer arrives. Lay charges if that's the way it's going to play. And then you'll probably get to go home.'

‘Home?' I sound as alarmed as I feel. But how do I go home now? How do I see Mum? How do I walk into the flat like nothing's changed? How?

The policeman shrugs, edging closer to the door. I can tell he's done with me. His part of the job is over. ‘With kids they usually let you go home until your court date. But maybe not … I dunno.'

My hands are clammy and I swallow hard, my throat all gravelly and dry. I don't want him to lock the door. I don't want him to leave. Panicking, I hurry over to where he stands in the doorway, causing him to straighten, his hand finding the gun on his hip like I'm going to rush him or tackle him or try something stupid. But I just want him to stay. ‘Um, my mum … what if she turns up?' Because I know she will. As soon as she gets my note, she'll storm down here.

He nods. I wish he'd smile but he doesn't. ‘I'll let someone know.'

‘Thanks.'

Then he looks down at me and I see his eyes are blue. Like a faded version of Mum's. ‘You'll be right,' he says. He steps into the corridor, shutting the door quickly behind him. I hear the key turning on the outside and the clunk of the lock as it falls into place.

I try and breathe but no air's coming. It's stuck. I think I'm going to faint. I push the door. But it doesn't give. Rattle the handle but it's locked. I'm stuck in here. This is it.

alex

Apparently this is quiet for a Sunday but I've already counted thirty-two men in ridiculous-looking pants. At least Dad is just wearing grey ones that actually reach his ankles. I turned up in jeans and was almost not going to be permitted to play because there's a dress code Dad obviously didn't know about, because he didn't tell me. Apparently nobody golfs in jeans at Rivergum Golf Club. The worst thing was Tone's dad, Fraser, had to talk to the manager before I was allowed on. Now I feel like everyone is staring at me, and of course Tone is playing it all up because he loves it when someone else is out of place.

I've never been here before. Usually when I play golf it's with my uncle at this funny little course out near his place on the beach. It's not fancy. It's not full of men in three-quarter pants. And it's not at nine a.m. on a Sunday. But this place is all green and hilly and even though it's close to the city, it feels like we're in a tree-lined bubble far away from everything.

I watch Dad swing. Line his club up and swing again. Tone's dad is giving him shit. I see Dad's face redden with embarrassment that he hasn't fully mastered the art. I wonder if the others notice too.

‘Birthday lemonade?' says Tone, holding up a bottle and a can.

‘Big spender. Thanks,' I say as he tosses me the can.

‘So what else did you get, other than clubs?'

Tone doesn't try to hide how unimpressed he is that golf clubs were my number one present.

‘You know, books, clothes, vouchers.'

‘That all? I'm hoping for a car.'

I wait for him to laugh, but it doesn't happen. I look across at him, trying to assess the joke. He looks back. ‘What? If I'm going to learn how to drive, I may as well do it in my own car. Dad doesn't want me driving his. It cost half a mill.'

‘Yeah. Right,' I say feeling both stupid and shocked. I don't know anyone who gets a car for their birthday. Up until now I thought golf clubs were pretty generous. But Tone's different to everyone else. His path is so smooth. I wonder what he'd say if I told him what we did last year. I wonder if he'd just shrug it off like he does with everything else because he'd know if it happened to him, somehow he'd walk clear.

My phone rings and I slide it out of my pocket. It's Jake. I silence it and let it ring.

‘Lady friend?'

‘Yeah,' I say.

‘Well, this is boring,' says Tone, shaking his lemonade bottle. I step back, knowing what's coming. He twists the lid, causing the lemonade to spurt out, fizzing wildly. We both laugh as it drips down onto the green, and is swallowed up.

My phone vibrates in my back pocket. I check the message.

Happy 16th. What time's good for you?

I realise Tone's trying to read over my shoulder. I swing away but I'm too slow.

‘Who's Jake? Is he that guy from your old school?'

‘Yeah.'

‘Oh, wishing you happy birthday … nice …' Tone's voice suggests it's anything but. He's been pretty clear on where he stands with my old friends.

I have to make a choice. I wish Jake would understand. I text him back.

Can't today. Family stuff. Soon.

I know it's a risk. He made me promise. And I did. But he was threatening me and it's not fair that he guilted me into hanging out. My phone beeps again.

‘Pushy little fella, isn't he?'

Ignoring Tone, I read the text.

You promised!

I don't know what to say to Jake. I can't be who he wants me to be anymore.

‘Told Lucy about your party. She said she'll bring chicks.'

I realise Tone's watching me, waiting for something. Instead of texting back, I turn off my phone, knowing it's the wrong thing to do, but not wanting Jake to ruin everything either.

‘What?' I say.

‘I fucking hate golf,' says Tone, watching my dad trying to connect with the ball.

‘I love it.'

He shoots me a look to see if I'm joking. I'm not.

‘No wonder my dad approves of you,' he says before finishing the dregs of his lemonade and then grabbing my can and drinking that too.

‘Your dad isn't much good, though,' he says as Dad finally connects and sends the ball puttering down the course only about 100 metres. I hear him start to make an excuse and smile.

‘He's tired, Tone,' I say, echoing Dad's excuse and making Tone raise an eyebrow.

‘Well, my dad is about to smash yours,' he says. We watch Fraser pick out a club and send the ball flying hundreds of metres into the air. ‘Told ya.'

Dad walks back towards me, his face still pink. I try to smile but it's pointless because I can't make him feel better. This whole day is just going to be about Dad pretending there's a reason for his bad playing. I wish he'd just cop it and admit how crap he is and move on. Then at least we could maybe have fun.

‘Nice shot, James,' says Tone in his drawl.

Dad can't work out if it's a joke or not so instead of responding he reaches for his phone like he has urgent business on a Sunday morning. Tone winks at me and I feel a bit sick.

‘I'm up,' I say, walking over to where Tone's dad is waiting. We're playing in fours. I'm about to use my new birthday clubs for the first time. I'm sure they're expensive because Tone looked impressed when he saw them. Even picked one out and handled it, like he could judge just from the feel.

‘You as good as your dad?' says Fraser with a straight face.

I've only met Tone's father a couple of times. He's interstate a lot for work, and so he's rarely home when I go to Tone's house after school. All I know is that he's rich and powerful, and my dad spends half his week wishing he were more like him. But Fraser doesn't look much like Tone. He's really tall. Tone's short. He's portly. Tone's as skinny as they come. In fact, they look nothing alike, except for the flash of mean that surfaces in their eyes every now and again. Like it did just then.

I shrug in reply and don't look at him as I take my club out. The leather feels smooth under my hands. I don't wear gloves. Not like the others. I like to feel the club, sense what it's going to do.

I stand on the tee and look down the fairway. It's all there. Waiting. This is not what I thought my sixteenth birthday would be. Jake and I had plans once for this day. We were going to train-hop, to find skate parks we'd never been to and ride them all until we had a favourite. Golf wasn't part of the equation. And for a second, I long for something different. But it's too late for all that now.

I position my lucky green golf ball my uncle bought me last summer. Line it up. And swing.

Thwack.

It's one of my favourite sounds.

Tone's dad whistles as the ball flies high, until it is soaring up in line with the spruce trees. And then curves perfectly down, landing right near the final green.

‘Nice shot, kid,' says Tone's dad, clapping me on the back. I wait for my dad to say something but he's still fiddling with his phone. I look at him, but there's nothing. He doesn't even smile congratulations. And that hurts more than anything. I have to find my game face. If Dad's going to play like this, then so am I.

‘Thanks, Mr A,' I say with my most winning smile.

‘Fraser. Call me Fraser.'

Couldn't be more clichéd if he tried. But I nod like I'd be honoured and I turn just in time to hear Tone swear loudly as he misses the ball several times before whacking it off course even worse than Dad did.

‘Jesus, Tone, you need some more lessons,' says his dad as the four of us start our walk down the hill to find our balls. Within a couple of paces, I find myself out in front with Fraser as the other two trail behind on this sunny birthday morning.

jake

I'm waiting like a freak outside Alex's house. I've been here for an hour, sitting on the hot concrete and leaning against the timber fence. While I've been waiting, about a hundred SUVs have driven past. Everyone must drive the same car around here. Luckily none of them have belonged to Alex's mum.

I can't believe this is where he lives now. This mansion. The front yard would fit my whole block of flats in it. It's one of those streets that look like it knows where it is. There's nothing out of place. No bins knocked over. No old cars parked on the kerb. No mailboxes full of catalogues. No cats balancing on fences waiting for someone to let them in. Even the front gardens are neat. I'm surprised nobody has called the police about me lurking here in my blacks with my shaved head.

I see Alex cross the main road at the bottom of the street. He's in his fancy school uniform and he seems to be alone. I don't get up. Not yet. I'm going to stay down here for as long as I can. I don't want to seem too eager. I wait for him to look up, to notice me. But before he can, some other guy runs up behind him and jumps on his back, landing half on his shoulder and laughing. Alex doesn't laugh but the other kid doesn't seem to notice. This was a bad idea. There's no way we can talk in front of his friend.

I hear the short guy saying something about some girl call Lucy, and then, before he can answer, Alex sees me. And the first thing he does is look at his friend, like he's worried we'll be seen together, and somehow that's shameful. I hate him for that. ‘Whatcha doing here?' he says, stopping about a metre away.

The other guy looks from me to Alex and a broad smile works its way across his face. ‘You crashed that party,' he says to me in a voice that's slow and measured. Now I remember him. He was the smug one.

‘Tone, go inside and see if you can find something to eat. I'll just be a minute,' says Alex, holding out a bunch of keys, but keeping his eyes on me like I'm going to do something stupid, like he needs to watch me all the time just in case.

‘You trying to get rid of me, Alex?' Tone laughs.

Alex doesn't answer and it's pretty clear he is. And eventually Tone snatches the keys and walks down the path towards the house.

Alex steps closer, his eyes locked on mine. But I'm not scared of him. ‘We need to talk.'

He drops his bag on the ground, as if he's preparing to fight me. I wonder how it came to this.

‘I'm going to the police,' I say quietly, just in case his friend can hear.

He looks down. Maybe he's avoiding me.

‘I just can't feel like this anymore,' I say.

He nods then and looks up from under his fringe. I see the brown of his eyes, but the warmth's gone. I wonder if it reappears when I'm not around.

‘You planning on telling them about me too?'

‘I don't know … maybe …'

He clenches a fist and I imagine him wishing he could smash me senseless so I'd forget everything.

‘Why?'

‘I just can't let it be. We killed someone,' I say, fighting back tears.

‘Yeah, I know. Every time I try and forget it, you're right there to remind me.' His voice is colder than I've ever heard it.

‘But how can you forget it, Alex?'

He shrugs. ‘Why do you need to hand yourself in? It's not going to make any difference. He's dead. But if you go to jail, your life will be over too. Just like your dad's.'

I feel like he's hit me right in the gut. Swung a punch that will hurt far longer than if he'd slammed his fist into my skin. ‘I'm nothing like my dad.'

‘Maybe you're more alike than you think.'

I don't know what to say. He's never used my secrets against me before. ‘You've really changed, Alex.'

‘I'm just trying to look forward. Like you can.'

‘Yeah? And make something of myself?' I say as sarcastically as I can.

Alex shuffles, leaning back against the fence like he needs the timber to keep him up. ‘Didn't mean it like that …'

‘Yeah, you did. You sound just like your dad. He must be so proud.'

‘Fuck off, Jake.'

‘You can't escape what we did.'

‘You aren't my conscience. Go to the police if you want, but leave me out of it. Understand?'

No. I shake my head. I don't understand. Not at all.

‘This isn't just on me,' I say, hating that he's happy for me to take all the blame.

Behind us the front door to Alex's house opens and Tone appears holding two packets of chips. ‘Zander? Barbecue or salt and vinegar?' he yells down the path.

‘Barbecue,' calls Alex.

‘There anything to drink?'

Alex closes his eyes for a second like he's frustrated at dealing with this bullshit on top of everything else. ‘Bottom cupboard under the sink. Should be some cans of Coke or something.'

‘Righto,' says Tone, going back inside.

‘Zander?' I say with a grin, remembering how we used to laugh about that name.

Alex looks at me with an expression I can't read. I realise he is Zander now. He's not Alex anymore.

‘Oh, right. Zander. Sorry,' I say.

He nods. ‘Yeah. Me too.'

I scuff my feet, not wanting him to go but not knowing what to say either.

‘I met her, you know … his daughter …' says Alex.

I look at him but he's looking down, his body tense.

‘I haven't forgotten, Jake. Just because I'm not like you doesn't mean it doesn't haunt me. Okay? I think about it every day.'

His words make me feel lighter. It's like he's taking some of it off me. I breathe in and my body starts to relax and before I can think about what I'm saying, I'm saying it. ‘Let's hang out one afternoon. Go to the skate park.'

He whips around and stares straight at me. ‘See, that's what I don't get, Jake. You go on like you give a shit. Like you're all tortured and stuff. But you're just using this to get to me. This is not about that man. This is about us.'

He picks up his bag and starts to walk away. I panic. He can't go. We need to be in this together.

‘Alex, we killed someone. What would your friend think of that?' I say, too loudly for the street, and it makes him wheel around with this face of anger and storm towards me and grab my shirt, get in so close I can smell his rage.

‘You're my best friend,' I say quietly, hating that I've come to this.

He lets go of me then and smiles a big radiant Alex smile I haven't seen for months. I grin back as he slides his arm around my shoulder and pulls me in close.

‘Best friends don't threaten each other, Jake. They look out for each other. Help each other.'

‘I'm not threatening you.'

‘Yeah you are.'

Am I?

‘Jake, we can't hang out together if we end up in jail. It's just the end of everything. That would suck. I don't want that to happen. It would kill your mum. My folks wouldn't care much. But your mum would. Especially because of your dad. Imagine how she'd feel. She'd blame herself.'

‘I know, but …'

‘We can't change anything. We can't bring him back. And it would just hurt more people.'

‘Yeah. I guess,' I say.

Alex's arm feels super heavy on my shoulders.

‘I think we just need to hang out more,' he says.

‘Yeah? Really?'

‘Yeah. I miss you.'

‘Me too,' I say, the emotion flooding through me.

‘Good. What about this weekend? You busy?'

‘What about now?'

He laughs and the sound is awesome.

‘Can't. Got to go deal with him,' he says, nodding towards the house.

‘Oh yeah. Right,' I say, liking how he doesn't seem to care about his new friend. ‘The weekend, then? Yeah, it's your birthday. Let's hang out on your birthday. Just you and me,' I say, turning to see his face, the shadows under his eyes, the dark glaze that was never there before.

He smiles and nods and I wish we were back at school messing around in one of our classes and hanging out for the skate park after dark.

‘Not sure I can on my birthday,' he says quietly.

And the anger rushes through me like I'm being electrocuted.

‘You have to,' I say with steel in my voice.

He looks surprised and then nods. ‘Okay.'

‘Promise?' I need to lock him in. I need to know we're in this together.

‘Promise. I'll call you, Jake,' he says, releasing my shoulder and stepping away. ‘I'd better go. We good?'

‘Yeah.'

He waves at me as he walks down the path to his house. I don't think I've ever seen Alex wave before. It's the strangest sight. I'm not sure what it means either, but it seems very final, like he's dismissing me, happy now we've sorted everything out. I want to believe that he misses me. I want to believe that we can go back to what we were. Because back then I didn't feel like this. Back then I felt hopeful and in control. But Alex isn't right about me. I'm not like my dad. My dad would never have considered handing himself in.