Authors: Scot Gardner
W
e
had
to
keep
topping
up
the
sunscreen
and
Gracie made
a
running
joke
about
having
to
put
lots
and
lots
of sunscreen
on
the
bits
that
didn
’
t
normally
hang
out
in
the
sun.
She
offered
to
rub
it
into
my
bum
for
me
with
a
little
smile.
So
I
let
he
r
.
She
got
embarrassed
and
did
a
botchy
job
of
it—slapping
me
on
the
cheek
when
she’d
finished.
W
e
were
making
a
sculpture
on
the
beach;
it
turned
out to
be
half
man,
half
woman.
Den was
hell-bent
on
making breasts
and
Kez
was
determined
to
form a
dick
in the sand.
Kez
went
hunting through the
high-tide
line for some
seaweed
pubic hair and
came
back
with
a
dead seagull
pinched
at
arm
’
s
length.
It
had
all
its
feathers
and there
was
still
colour
in
its
beak
but
its
eyes
were
just
holes.
‘
W
e
can
call him
Brutus,’
she
said.
‘Brutus
the
budgie.’
She
threw
it
down
near
the
sculpture
’
s
bulky
shoulder
and
I
started
to
arrange
it
like
a
pirate
’
s
parrot.
The
bird
only
had
one
foot.
I
dropped
it
and
sat
back.
‘Phwoar.
It
stinks,’
Den
said.
‘Get
a
grip.
Y
ou
can
hardly
smell
anything,’
I
said
and started
digging
a
hole.
‘What
are
you
doing,
W
ayne?
Don
’
t
bu
r
y
it!
It
’
s
part
of
the
sculpture.’
‘Nah.
It
’
s
my
brothe
r
. I’ve
got
to
give
him a
proper
burial.’
‘
Y
our
brother?’ Ker
r
y
poked
the bird with her toe.
‘Poor
thing.’
She
danced
back
up
to
the
high-tide
line
and
came back
with two
sticks
bound with a
ratty
piece
of blue plastic
rope
to
make
a
cross.
W
e
had
a
short
ceremony
where
Dennis
wished
the
bird
well
in
its
next
life.
He
said
he
hoped
it
came
back
as
a
real
chicken
that
laid
eggs
and
ate ea
r
wigs
on
a
farm
instead
of
a
coastal
chicken
that
had to
eat
rubbish
and
be
bossed
around
its
whole
life.
It
was a
touching
ceremony
and
Kez
managed
to
contain
her laughte
r
.
‘Do
you
guys
ever
think about
what
happens
after
you
die?’
Ker
r
y
asked as
we
walked
along
the
beach
back to camp,
with
our
clothes
on.
(It
was
a
horrible experience getting
dressed,
feeling
the
clothes
sticking
to
my
salty skin
made
me
want
to
rip
them
off
again
and
go
crashing
into
the
su
r
f.)
‘
Y
eah.
Y
ou
die
and
then
you
rot,’
Den
said
flatl
y
.
‘
Y
ou
reckon?’
‘I’ve
been
dead,’
I
said.
‘
Y
eah
and
he
came
back
as
a
coastal
chicken.’ Den added.
‘Nah.
Seriousl
y
.
When
I
had
my
accident.
Mum
said that
I
died.
Beeeeeeep.’
‘No
shit?’
‘What
was
it
like?’
Ker
r
y
asked.
‘I
don
’
t
kno
w
.
I
was
dead
at
the
time.
I
don
’
t
remember
much.’
Den
laughed.
‘But I
did have
a
few
freaky
dreams
while
I
was in hospital.’
I
told them
about
the
blackness
and
yelling
out
for
Mum
and
not
making
a
sound.
And
being
scared—that horrible scratching,
moaning
and
the
girl
with
the
voice
of
little
bells.
‘Freaky!
They
weren
’
t
dreams.
Y
ou
were
dead
and doing
stuff
out
of
your
bod
y
,’
Ker
r
y
said.
I
looked
at
her and
the softness
in her eyes
was
amazing.
She
really believed
it.
‘Bullshit
Kez.
Y
ou
listen
to
too
much
drug
music,’
Den
said.
‘That
’
s
a
bit
harsh,’
I
said.
Den
flashed
a
glance
at
me
that
was filled with
ice, shrugged
and
trotted
off
to
catch
up
with
his
mum
and
dad.
‘What
was
that
about?’
‘He
’
s
a
bit
undecided
about
the
death
thing.
Listens
to
all
this devil worship,
“kill,
kill,
kill”
music
and
it
confuses
him,’ she said,
and
I
thought
she sounded
like
Gracie.
‘Mum
and
Dad
both
believe
that
our
soul
lives
on
after
we
die.
I
think
it
is
true.’
‘My
mum
thinks
that
God
is
a
game
show
host
and
my
dad
.
.
.
my
dad
thinks
God
is
a
beer
additive.
Or
maybe living
on
the
ocean
floor
somewhere.’
‘That
’
s
sad.’
‘It
’
s
true.
No
wonder
your
family
gets
on
so
well.
Y
ou
believe
in
stuff.
My
folks
don
’
t
believe
in
anything.’
It
took
us
hours
to
get
back
to
the
camp.
The
others disappeared
up
the
hill
and
we
sat
in
the
warm
shade
and talked.
Some
of
it
was
heav
y
.
She
told
me
that
her
dad
had killed
someone
in
a
car
accident
when
he
was
at
universit
y
. He
was
drunk
but
the
other
bloke had
run
a
red
light
and slammed
into
the
side
of
his
panel
van.
It
was
in
the
days
before breath testing
so
the other bloke was seen
as completely
at
fault.
And
an
uncle had
sexually
abused
her mum.
I
couldn
’
t
believe
that.
How
come
some
parents
talk
about
that
stuff
all
the
time
and
others,
take
mine
as
a
fine
example,
are
flat-out discussing
the
weather
without
having
an
argument?
I
told
Ker
r
y
about
my
dad
’
s
little
secret:
my
dead
siste
r
.
She
clamped
her
hand
to
her
mouth and
moaned.
‘
Y
our
dream! When
you
were
dead
...
I
bet
that was
Carrie.
She
’
s
probabl
y
,
like,
your
guide
or
something.’
I
huffed
air
through
my
nose
and
shrugged.
Whateve
r
.
‘That
’
s
so
sad,
W
ayne,’
she
said.
‘
Y
ou
would
have
been such
a
good
brothe
r
.’
‘I
think
that
’
s
a
compliment.’
‘
Y
eah.
It
was
supposed to
be.’
She
looked
at
me
for
the
longest
time
and
I
had
to struggle
not to blush—think about
wate
r
,
think about dead
seagulls,
think
about
Den.
‘Den
’
s
an
all
right
brother
though,
isn
’
t
he?
He
’
s
like
a
brother
to
me.
I’d
never
say
that
to
him
though.’
‘He
’
s
great
most
of
the
time.
He
gets
PMT
though.
Really
moody
and
black
for
a
few
days
before
his
period.’
‘Get
off!
Y
ou’re
full
of
it.’
‘Fair
dinks.
W
ell,
he
does
get
moody
and
snapp
y
,’
she
sai
d
and
,
afte
r
a
momen
t
o
f
thought
,
added
,
‘Why
wouldn
’
t
you
tell
him
that
he
is
like
a
brother?’
‘I
dunno.
I
guess
it
sounds
a
bit
fake
or
something.’
‘
Y
ou
love
him
though,
don
’
t
you?’
‘Get
stuffed!
I’m
not
a
poof.’
I
think
it
was
the
‘
L
’
word
that
set
me
off,
and
reacting like
I
did
splashed
in
our
calm
puddle
of
conversation.
I wanted
to
apologise,
let
her
know
that
I
liked
Den
a
lot but
the
‘
L
’
word
was
rese
r
ved
for
other
people.
People
of the
opposite
sex.
People
like
he
r
.
The
words
didn
’
t
come
together
and
it
was
Ker
r
y
who
broke
the
silence.
‘Why
haven
’
t
you
got
a
girlfriend,
W
ayne?’
‘
W
ell,
I
did
have
but
she
doesn
’
t
like
the
fact
that
I
can
’
t clap
hands.’
‘Who?
Mandy?’
she
grunted.
‘She
’
s
twisted
and
I think she
’
s
been
hurt.’
I
went
quiet
as
those
feelings
of
being
absolutely
hated by
Mandy
washed
over
me
and
made
me
weak.
I
looked
across
Mars
Cove.
I
got
up
and
pulled
Ker
r
y
to
her
feet and
hopefully
changed
the
subject.
I
felt
hung
r
y
.
‘Mum
and
Den
are
making
burgers
for
tea,’
Kez
said
and
I
must
have
looked
at
her
a
bit
strangel
y
.
‘What?’
she asked.
‘Nothing.
I
was
just
thinking
about
food.’ She
laughed.
‘Get
used
to
it.
I’m
psychic.’
The
burgers
were
great.
Juicy
and
loaded
with
stuff— tomato, lettuce and
satay
sauce.
No meat,
again,
just mushed-up veggies
and
something
from
a
can
that
looked
like
dog
food.
T
asted
okay
to
me.
Hendo
came
over
after
dinner
and
Kez dragged
us
all,
Baz
and
Gracie
too,
to
the top
of
the
dune
to
watch
the
sun
go
down.
I
mean
sunsight.
Sunclipse.
Whateve
r
.
Hendo
nearly
died
getting
to
the
top
of
the
sandy
hill. He
and
Den
shared
a
smoke
discreetly
while
the
rest
of
us struggled
on
through
the
sand.
Baz
looked
around
and
smelled
the ai
r
. Maybe
it was wafting
up the track.
I couldn
’
t
smell
it
but
then
again
I
think
my
smell
glands
have
been
burnt out.
The
air
was
as
still
as
one
of
the
wombats we
saw
on
the
way
up.
Three
streaky
clouds
gave the
sun
something
to
reflect
off
as
it
set.