She stood at Webb’s door: Tate, with the wild hair and the grin that went on forever. Sometimes Webb believed that he would never experience a better feeling than when he was looking at her, would never see anything or anybody bursting with more life and spirit. Sometimes he felt he needed to inhale it and place it in a storage area in his soul. Just in case.
When he said that to Tate she’d be perplexed. “But Webb, I’m like this because of you. You’re everything to me.”
On Narnie’s sad days, he wished he could be all that to her, too.
“Is that what you want?” his sister had asked once while they sat dangling their feet in the river.
“In a different way because you’re my sister but
yeah. If it keeps you happy…or wanting to live, yeah, I’d want to be everything to you.”
“You do all the work, Webb,” she said tiredly. “Don’t you get sick of that?”
He shook his head. “Not if you and Tate are okay.”
“But what happens to all of us when you’re not okay? What then? We’ll become pathetic. Even more than I am now. So why would I want someone to be my everything when one day they might not be around? What will be left of me then?”
“I’ll never ever leave you, Narnie. You’re my sister. You’re all I’ve got.”
And Tate, standing at his door now, smiling her hypnotic smile. “The Cadets are here,” she said. “This is going to be our last year doing this. Let’s go get Narnie and make some trouble.”
The three of them stood their ground on the Jellicoe Road, directly in front of a bus-load of Cadets. In the distance the sound of a shotgun rang out and a cloud of dust hovered just above the trees in front of them.
“Townies,” Tate said. “At full throttle, by the looks of things.”
The bus driver kept his hand on the horn, lazily.
“Surrender,” Webb yelled. “Send out your leader!”
“You get off this road or you’ll be the ones surrendering your little arses,” the driver yelled back.
The doors opened and after a moment a boot appeared on the road and then another.
Tate and Webb exchanged looks. Narnie felt her heart knock against her chest.
A Cadet stepped out from behind the bus door, dressed in full military school uniform. He strode towards them, only looking back once when he realised that the car that had been making the ruckus up the dirt road was almost upon them. He reached the trio and searched their faces.
“I’ve never understood the strap across the chin,” Webb said. “It has to be the most moronic thing I’ve ever seen.”
“How can we take you seriously?” Tate said.
“Bloody uncomfortable, too,” Jude agreed, taking it off.
When the shooting got louder they all turned in the direction of the on-coming car.
“Fitz?”
“Psychotic as ever. He got expelled from his school about three times this year.”
“And you know how excited he gets when you come a-calling.” Tate grinned.
Jude grinned back. He punched Webb in the shoulder and Webb punched him back.
“Where are the others?” one of the Cadets called from the bus window.
“
Parent weekend,” Webb called back. “We’re the only ones around.”
As the bus drove off, a car swerved around it, twisting to a halt. Then Fitz was out of the car, jumping on Jude’s back with the feverish madness they were all used to.
“Why haven’t they arrested you yet?” Jude said, throwing him off and diving on top of him. They wrestled until Fitz victoriously had Jude straddled.
“Loving that position, are we?” Tate laughed.
Webb helped them both up and the five of them made their way down the Jellicoe Road towards the school.
“Guess what?” Fitz said.
“I don’t know,” Jude said. “What? Narnie smiled?”
He glanced at her for the first time.
“When you guys see a Narnie smile, it’s like a revelation,” Webb said, gathering her towards him.
Jude stopped in front of her and, with both hands cupping her face, tried to make a smile. Narnie flinched.
“Leave her alone,” Tate said.
“I need a revelation,” Jude said. “And you’re the only one that can give me one, Narns.”
“Let’s get back to ‘Guess what?’” Fitz said, hyped beyond control.
“What?”
“Phase one of the tunnel,” Webb said in a low voice. “It’s finished.”
Every year the town puts on a welcome for the Cadets and invites us along for the gala event, if one can give a sausage sizzle and rugby league game such a title. I get word halfway through the day that a meeting is to take place between the three factions after the official part of the ceremony. I send Ben around to gather the other House leaders and we work out our strategy, which none of us can agree on. In the end we decide that a rental of the river may be allowed;
however, the numbers of Cadets using it at any one time is to be no more than twelve.
As usual, the Cadets are in their fatigues and the bulky frame of Jonah Griggs stands out among them. He surveys the field and beyond, handling his team as he would his troops. I can tell that his team is first-class. Santangelo is tenacious and what his team lacks in skill, they make up for in endurance and speed. Our league team is abysmal and, halfway through the round robin, I realise that we are not even players in this whole territory war.
When the games are over, the official part of the ceremony begins. Behind the microphones, a band sets up and I see the Mullet Brothers tuning their guitars alongside a girl with dreadlocks and heaps of piercings.
Santangelo’s mother is the mayor and I hear her whisper, “Behave,” to her son as she lines us up for a school captain photo. She’s indigenous, which makes sense when I think of his colouring. Even for an Italian, his skin seemed dark. We have photos taken with her and then they place the three of us in front of the stage and take more photos.
“Chaz!” Santangelo’s mum is trying to get his
attention from where she’s standing with some of the school officials. She mouths
smile
, waving her fingers under her mouth.
“Chaz,” Jonah Griggs says snidely. “Your mum wants you to smile.”
“And yours wants you to eat shit and die.”
I’m standing between these two intellectuals while the local photographer snaps away, asking us to say words like
holidays
and
pornography
.
“Yours thinks you should loosen up,” Griggs continues to bait.
“Really?”
“Yeah. She told me last night.”
The first strains of the national anthem screech across the stage, causing everyone to wince.
“What did you say?” Santangelo asks quietly.
“Your mum. Nice lady.
Really nice
.”
Santangelo flies into it first. Fist straight into Jonah Griggs’s stomach and next minute they’re both rolling on the ground pounding each other. Then there’s a war cry and it’s a free for all, present company excluded, of course, and believe me, I do feel excluded but there is no way I’m joining in. The leader of Murray House goes flying through the air
and lands at my feet, groaning. I try to help him up but then I realise he’s getting off on this. They all are. It’s like some Neanderthal skirmish for the pathetic. Some of the Townie teachers try to stop it. Big mistake. It gets boring for at least four more minutes and even the girls from Jellicoe High acknowledge me with a roll of the eyes. Judging by Santangelo’s mum’s expression, I wouldn’t want to be at her dinner table tonight.
Then the police arrive. I recognise Santangelo’s dad, who saves police brutality for when he gets to his son. Then I see Ben disappear under a heap of bodies and I go in to assist because the Mullet Brothers have fallen into the body jam with their guitars still attached to them, causing more pain than is necessary. Except just as I’m about to pull Ben’s head out of the scrum, a whistle shrills in my ear and this cop is grabbing me by the arm. And then it’s over.
They separate us into groups. The Ringleaders and the Others. I belong to the Ringleaders because my weak, pathetic, traitorous, fundamentally base peers point to me when someone asks them who is in charge. The only positive thing in this whole situation is that because this stupid town is so small, you
don’t have to actually get into the paddy wagon to be taken to gaol. They march you there. The worst thing is I’m placed in the same cell as Jonah Griggs and Chaz Santangelo and they are still so filthy with each other that I know it’s not over and somehow I’m going to be caught up in it. In the cell next to ours there are about thirty other kids, combinations of all three factions. I look for Ben but can see only some of the other House leaders, who are proudly comparing scars.
In my cell I don’t even seem to exist. The dust and grime begin to get to me and I feel a shortness of breath that I know spells trouble. On the other side of the cell Jonah Griggs and Santangelo are too busy sizing each other up like two demented pit bulls who have to prove who’s got the biggest…attitude.
I lean against the bars that separate us from the others. “So let me get this right,” I say to one of the Townie girls. “All it takes is to insult someone’s mother?”
“No,” she explains. “That’s the beauty of it. They don’t actually have to insult. The words
Your mother
are enough.”
“So if I said to you, ‘Your mother is a…?’” I shrug.
“Just ‘Your mother.’” But it doesn’t work if girls say it to each other,” she continues. “You have to have a penis for it to affect you in such a way.”
“Oh funny, funny,” Santangelo says.
The bonding with the Townie girls is a highlight. I spend my first hour of incarceration in conversation with one of them—who happens to be the girlfriend of one of the Mullet Brothers—about the myths around eyebrow piercing. When I have the courage, I ask her the burning question about why the Mullets but I’m short of breath and I can recognise the tell-tale signs of an asthma attack coming on, so I have to go and sit down and don’t get to hear the answer.
The first lot of parents come in at around five
P.M.
, including the House master of Murray House, so within half an hour the cell next door is empty and it’s just Griggs, Santangelo, and me. They put me in the cell next door on my own and we get to order takeaway for dinner.
“You promised us a negotiation about the Club House,” Santangelo says, still eyeing Jonah Griggs, but speaking to me.
“Negotiations are over,” I say flatly.
“You can’t do that.”
“Any which way, we’ve got the Club House and you can’t stop us from getting there,” Jonah Griggs says arrogantly.
“Watch me.”
“If we make a deal over the Club House, it will be profitable for all of us,” Santangelo says.
“Come within an inch of our property…”
“And what?” Jonah Griggs calls over to me.
“Unfortunately the state persists in using our school as a juvie centre when it suits them. We have arsonists.”
“So you’ll burn us down?” he says, feigning fear.
“No, but we will burn down every single building you own on our property. Beginning with the Club House.”
Now I have their attention.
Raffaela is allowed to see me based on the fact that she knows how to sweet-talk Santangelo’s father, who I find out is her godfather.
“We’ve called Mr. Palmer but he’s at some Rotary Club do and Mr. Grace from Murray House says he’s not authorised to bail you out so we have to
wait until Sal—sorry, Constable Santangelo,” she says, looking up at him and smiling, “speaks to Mr. Palmer…which could be after midnight.”
“Where’s Ben?” I ask.
“I think I saw him go after the Mullet Brothers.”
“As if he can take on the Mullet Brothers. Is he insane? Find him, Raffaela. He could be hurt.”
“I’m staying with my parents tonight so he can bunk at my place.”
I hear the sound of heavy boots enter the station and the next minute Jonah Griggs jumps to his feet saluting, a shocked look on his face. Santangelo mocks the salute behind his back.
“Hey!” his father bellows, and Santangelo sits back down, sulking.
I strain my neck to see what has surprised Jonah Griggs so much and my heart begins racing wildly.
It’s the first time I’ve seen the Brigadier this close since he delivered me back to Hannah’s place three years ago. In my memory he has always been a giant but today I notice that Griggs towers over him. I slouch against the gates, watching the interaction between him and Griggs.
“I don’t think it will kill you if you stay the
night,” he says to Griggs in a tone that isn’t open for negotiation.
I don’t know how it is that a voice I’ve only heard once can stay in my mind, but it’s as recognisable to me as Hannah’s.
I see a flicker of shittiness on Jonah Griggs’s face but he holds the salute. “Yes, sir.”
“You, too,” Santangelo’s dad says, pointing at his son. Santangelo swears under his breath.
“Sorry, what was that?” his father asks loudly.
“Nothing,” Santangelo mutters.
And then the Brigadier is looking at me and I hold his stare, despite the fact that a part of me feels sick. He looks younger than I’ve remembered him to be all this time. Younger than Santangelo’s dad, anyway.
“Do you want me to take her back to the school?” he asks Santangelo’s dad.
“No!” I almost yell.
Santangelo’s dad shakes his head. “John Palmer’s coming down soon. She’ll be fine.”
The Brigadier continues to hold my stare, like he’s taking in every detail of me and it seems like a million years later that he turns to go.
“I hear you’re going to be sticking around for a couple of weeks,” Santangelo’s dad says to him as they both leave. Only then does Jonah Griggs relax.