‘Some new friends his own age,’ Ian’s mum said, cupping her palm under her jam drop to catch the crumbs. ‘In his own grade.’
‘There’s a year between them,’ Mum said. ‘It’s hardly an age gap.’
‘Two years, actually,’ Ian’s mum said. ‘Ian skipped a grade. He was a clever boy, when he was younger.’
‘Well, I hardly think Cassie’s stopping Ian from having friends,’ Mum said. ‘And it’s nice that the boys get along so well.’
‘You’re right, you’re right,’ Ian’s dad said, raising his hands again. ‘We don’t want to stop them being mates.’
Ian’s mum took a sip of tea and her hand wobbled as she raised it to her mouth. ‘We just don’t want Ian being led astray.’
‘Led astray?’ Dad said. ‘Cassie would never have done a thing like this before your boy came along and started putting ideas in his head.’
‘Now hold on a minute,’ Ian’s dad said.
‘I think we all know why Ian’s taken such an interest in Cassie,’ Dad said, ‘and quite frankly I’ve had a gutful of him coming round here like we live in some sort of zoo.’
‘I’d appreciate it if you didn’t raise your voice at me, mate,’ Ian’s dad said.
‘Oh, piss off, mate,’ said Dad.
‘For God’s sake, Colin,’ Mum said. She sounded furious. ‘Why can’t you just accept that Cassie’s finally made a friend?’
I didn’t hear any more because Cassie appeared out of nowhere and told me to rack off to my room.
‘Shh,’ I said, taking my pen out of my mouth.
‘Go to your fucking room.’ Cassie grabbed the back of my neck and pushed me into the hall from the kitchen. I stood against the wall. My mouth tasted funny. When I looked into the mirror my pen had leaked all over my lips, as though I were dribbling blue blood.
On Saturday morning Cassie was already waiting for Ian on the verandah with his backpack. Dad was down at the pub watching the races, which he sometimes did on Saturday mornings when it was quiet. Ian and Cassie hadn’t seen each other for almost a week, not since Dad and Mum had the meeting at school.
‘What are you doing today?’ I asked Cassie.
Cassie was staring into space. ‘What?’ he said.
‘Is Ian coming over?’
‘Yeah.’
‘So you’re still friends then?’
‘Yeah,’ Cassie said. ‘So what?’
‘So nothing,’ I said. ‘It was just a question.’ I sat down next to Cassie, wrapped my arms around my knees. ‘I thought Ian’s mum and dad said you can’t be friends anymore.’
‘It’s my life,’ Cassie said. ‘I can do what want.’
When Ian came up the driveway Cassie got up without saying goodbye. I watched as they jangled the gate open and headed into the paddock together. I waited until their heads became specks in the distance, then pulled on my boots and went into the paddock after them.
The fog had cleared and the ground was crispy. I could smell the gums and the wheaty grass, dry in my nose. I stamped along the path. Cockatoos squawked from the knobbly gums that jutted from the paddock. I slowed down when I wound to the top of the hill, looking down at the knackery and, beyond that, gushes of mustardy-yellow fields that sprawled to the mountains. Ian and Cassie were slinking around the door, small as dolls. I waited until they went inside before heading down the hill.
I don’t know what I was hoping to see. I’d given up on getting Cassie to stop going to the knackery. I didn’t know how to make anyone do what I wanted. There were too many things I didn’t understand, too many things that people wouldn’t let me in on. It was the feeling of the secret world again, like there was so much I wasn’t allowed to be a part of. When Ian told me about Les I felt like I’d crossed over, but lately everything was going fuzzy again.
The doors were open. Cassie and Ian were on the mattress, their backs pressed against the wall. The collection of bottles had grown and they’d blu-tacked pictures on the walls: patterns done in black and blue biro, and lead-pencil drawings that were all smudgy and shaded in. On the ground around me, spreading out into the paddock, were bronze shards of broken bottles shattered on the rocks.
I got that familiar prickle under my skin, tried to block out what Les had done out here, tried to block out the throb in my head that said it was bad to be anywhere near here, bad for Cassie to be here. I stepped away from the door. There was a crow on the roof, still on the tin, but when I raised my hand it flew away. I waited for something to happen. Cassie and Ian’s voices were a murmur I couldn’t make out, but when they stopped talking I held my breath so they couldn’t hear me. The smell of smoke wafted through the timber. I pressed my ear to the gap in the wall.
‘I would’ve been so pissed if I got in shit for it,’ Cassie said after a while. ‘I didn’t even do anything.’
Ian let out a wet snort. ‘Standing guard is a big job,’ he said. ‘Don’t sell yourself short.’
‘Whatever,’ Cassie said.
‘We got lucky, though,’ Ian said. ‘You must have scared the shit out of her to make her change her story.’
‘She was pretty scared of me in the first place,’ Cassie said. ‘Everyone is.’
‘Stupid slut,’ Ian said. ‘She was gagging for it.’
My head swam and my legs began to throb. I squatted down on the grass and pressed my palms into the ground to keep my balance. I was still at the edge of something, seeing things through a murky window, and I couldn’t quite make out what was on the other side even though there were shapes and sounds and light. I reached up and with one hand picked furiously at my eyebrow with my fingernails until I could feel the skin swell; a smooth, calm patch when I stroked my finger there. After a minute I stood up, my legs wobbly. A sliver of glass had sliced into my other palm and welled up with crystals of blood right away. I hadn’t even felt it. I wiped my palm against the side of the pink wall, walked back up the hill.
8.
THE NEXT MONDAY AFTER DINNER Cassie told Dad he was quitting school for good.
‘Jesus Christ,’ said Dad. He started to laugh. ‘Who’d give you a bloody job?’
‘I’m old enough,’ Cassie said. ‘You didn’t finish school so why should I have to?’
‘You can do what you bloody well like,’ Dad said. ‘But don’t think for a minute anyone around here is going to give you work.’
Cassie looked down at his plate and took a breath through his nose. ‘I just don’t think school is for me. I think I’d be more useful in the real world.’ I could tell he’d practised what he was going to say, probably wrote it down and rehearsed it in the mirror.
‘You know I couldn’t find work for nearly a year after the twins were born?’ Dad said. ‘I had more jobs than I could keep up with until word got out about Les.’
‘I know,’ Cassie said quietly.
‘You know the number of jobs your mother has applied for over the years? Never been given a single interview—not one.’
Cassie seemed to worm inside his skin.
‘You know this will upset your mother, don’t you?’ Dad said.
Cassie shrugged, didn’t say anything.
‘No, you don’t. Because you only think about yourself. Always have.’
‘Ian said I could maybe get a job at his dad’s shop.’
Dad nodded slowly, stood up and went to the sink. He picked up a tin cup and filled it with water. ‘I wouldn’t count on that, mate.’
Cassie sat there for a moment, head down, with his eyes almost closed, like he was trying to remember the rest of his speech. Dad gulped the water. It made a wet, painful sound in his throat as though he was swallowing a goldfish.