One Dead Seagull (31 page)

W
ayne.’

I
smile
d
bu
t
I
thin
k I
migh
t
hav
e
looke
d
lik
e
a baboon—not
the
big
red
arse
and
that,
the
teeth.

She
looked
at
her
red
toenails.
‘Sor
r
y
about
..
.
you
kno
w
.
I
was
a
real
bitch.’

I
nodded.

‘It
was
just
..
.
oh,
it
’
s
hard
to
explain.
I
didn
’
t
mean
all that
stuff
.
.
.
I
was
just
.
.
.
you
kno
w
.’
She
shrugged.

I
stared
at
her
toenails
too.
They
were
cute
and
I
didn
’
t
know
what
to
sa
y
.
She
was
suffering.
Suffering
in
her jocks.

‘Anywa
y
,
I
just
wanted
to
tell
you
that.
Okay?’
I
nodded.
‘How
’
s
Phil?’

‘I
dunno.
I
haven
’
t
seen
him.
Mum
said
he
packed
his gear
without
saying
anything.’

She
took
my
hand.
‘
Y
ou’re
all
right,
W
ayne.
Thanks.
And
sor
r
y
about
all
that
stuff.’

I
looked
down
the
beach.
Straight
at Ker
r
y
. She
stared at
me,
stone
faced.

Mandy
hugged
me
and
kissed
me
on
the
lips.
‘See
you,’
she
said,
and
galloped
after
her
mates.

W
e
packe
d
u
p
an
d
wen
t
hom
e
o
n
Ne
w
Y
ear
’
s
Eve
.
Quittin
g
whil
e
w
e
wer
e
ahead
.
Ha
!
Ba
z
an
d
Graci
e
wer
e
grump
y
as hell
.
Ther
e
wa
s
a
lon
g
lin
e
o
f
car
s
comin
g
int
o
th
e
par
k
as w
e
wer
e
leaving
.
Lot
s
o
f
‘P
’
plate
s
an
d
su
r
fboard
s
strapped
t
o
th
e
roof
.
I
t
wa
s
goin
g
t
o
b
e
on
e
hec
k
o
f
a
part
y
o
n
the
beach
.
Ke
z
wouldn
’
t
hol
d
m
y
han
d
i
n
th
e
ca
r
.
W
ouldn
’
t
eve
n
tal
k
t
o
me
.
De
n
jus
t
stare
d
ou
t
th
e
windo
w
.
Driving pas
t
th
e
bi
g
churc
h
i
n
Bairnsdale
,
I
though
t
abou
t
nipping insid
e
t
o
chee
r
mysel
f
up
.
I’
m
goin
g
t
o
writ
e
a
sto
r
y
about th
e
ca
r
tri
p
an
d
sen
d
i
t
i
n
t
o
That
’
s
Lif
e
magazine
:
‘
I
was trappe
d
i
n
a
ca
r
ful
l
o
f
happy-heads’.

It was
four o’clock
when
I
got
home.
Den
said
he’d meet
me
at
Game
Zone
at
eight
but
he
didn
’
t
seem
too excited
about
it.
Mum and
Dad
were
both at
the
flat.
Under
the
same
roof
and
there
was
no
blood.

‘G’day
W
ayne.
How
was
your
trip?’
Dad
asked,

‘Good.’

Mum
got
up
from
the
couch
and
gave
me
a
hug.
‘
Y
ou
look
tired.
Why
don
’
t
you
go
and
have
a
lie
down.
T
ea
won
’
t
be
ready
for
a
little
while.
Mick,
you
staying?’

‘Umm.
Y
eah.
That
would
be
nice,
thanks
Sylvie.’

Mum
and
Dad
were
like
best
mates
and
that
made
me
feel
uneas
y
.
It
’
s
not
that
I
don
’
t
like
my
old
man,
just
that
he
doesn
’
t
fit
in
here
any
more.
It
’
s
been
just
Mum
and
me
at
the
flat
for
years.
He
used
to
live
in
another
world and
when
things
got
shitty
at
the
flat
I
could
go
and
see
him and
let
off some
steam.
That
doesn
’
t
work
when you’re
practically
living
under
the
same
roof.

I
la
y
o
n
m
y
be
d
an
d
trie
d
t
o
reliv
e
th
e
goo
d
bit
s
o
f
the holida
y
bu
t
the
y
wer
e
al
l
mixe
d
u
p
wit
h
th
e
othe
r
stuff.
Mand
y
fel
t
lik
e
a
ho
t
chocolat
e
wit
h
broke
n
glas
s
i
n
it—
swee
t
bu
t
loaded
.
An
d
Ker
r
y
,
th
e
ange
l
tha
t
I’
d
foun
d
when
I
wasn
’
t
looking
,
ha
d
flow
n
off.

I
felt
like
that
bloody
seagull
we
buried.
All
washed
up and
parched.

‘
Y
ou
oka
y
,
love?’
Mum
asked
through a
mouthful of lamb
chop
and
peas.
I
nodded
and
she
turned up
the volume
on
Sale
of
the
Centu
r
y
.
Dad
leant
fo
r
ward
in
his
chair
as
a
chick
with
a
cleavage
like
the
Grand
Canyon introduced
the
contestants.
I
put
my
plate
on
the
sink
and
grabbed
my
bag.
It still
had
all
my
shit
in it from the holida
y
.

I’m
not
sure
where
the
feeling
came
from,
the
feeling
of
wanting
to
run.
Run
away
from
Mum
and
Dad,
from Mandy
and
Ker
r
y
,
from
the
world.
I’m
not
sure
where
it
came
from but
it
stuck
like
a
hat
that
’
s half
a
size
too small,
squeezing
my
brain
into unusual
shapes,
making me
think
strange
thoughts.
Do
strange
things.

I
nicked
an
unopened
pack
of
Holiday
Extras
and
saw Mum
’
s
purse
on
the kitchen
bench.
I
picked it
up
and
felt a
hot
rush
up
my
back
and
neck.
Before
I’d
had
enough
time
to
get
my
head
around
what
I
was
doing
I’d
opened
the
purse
and
unfolded three
fifty-dollar notes.
Stuffed them
into
my
pocket
just
as
the
television
exploded
into the
adverts.
My
heart
was
thumping
like
a
bass
drum
in
my
throat.
There
was
no
going
back.

‘I’m
going
down
to
Game
Zone.
See
you
late
r
.’

‘Oh.
Oka
y
,
love.
Don
’
t
be
too
late.’

‘
Y
ep.’

I
walked
to
Game
Zone.
I
felt
the
money
in
my
pocket, slippe
r
y
notes
folding over
each
other until they
were slimy
with
sweat.
I
had
a
smoke
next
to
the
stone
soldie
r
.
I found
my
wallet
in
the
front
of
my
bag
and
ripped
it
open
to
stash
the
notes
and a
little
dude
inside
me
said:
‘Don
’
t do
it
.
.
.
you’ll
regret
it.
Y
ou’ll
get
a
caning’.
I
didn
’
t
listen. I
felt
free.
What
a
buzz.

Den
burst
from
the
door
of
Game
Zone
and
tripped over
the
bikes
that
were
piled
on
the
edge
of the
footpath, pulled
himself
clear
and
ran.
I
watched
from
down
the
hill
on
the
other
side
of
the
road.
Otto
and
Griz
slammed
through the
door
togethe
r
.
Den
can
run.
He
was
going
like
Carl
Lewis
with
diar
r
hoea.
There
was
no
way
those guys
would
have
caught
him,
that
is
if
Pic
hadn
’
t been coming
up the
hill
on his
bike.
Den
’
s
watching
out
behind and
Pic
stepped
off
his
bike
and
coat-hangered
him.
Den hit
the
deck
like
his
parachute
had
failed.
Then
Pic
had him
by
the
hair
and
held
his
arm
up
his
back.

‘
Y
es!
W
ell
done
Picko,’
Otto
roared,
and
they
slowed
to a
trot.

‘Hey!
Let
him
go!’
I
shouted and
started
sprinting
up the
hill.

Pic
dragged
Den to
his
feet.
Otto
was
thumping
him
in the
guts.
Griz
stood
on
the
nature
strip
watching
me.