Table of Contents

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  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  About the Author

  I knew something was up when I saw the scrunched caramel wrappers scattered around Mum’s chair like used tissues. She only ate caramels when she was stressed about something, and she never left the wrappers lying around. She hated when I caught her eating sweets.

  Something was definitely up.

  I sat outside on the steps for a moment, listening for a clue. While I waited, I whistled to Roger and rolled some soggy sandwich crusts into balls for him. He dropped from his watchtower high up on the fence and skipped across the yard towards me, leaving a thin trail of dust.

  ‘Hi Rog,’ I said and tossed him a crust ball. He lunged skilfully and caught it in his beak on the full, then slid it down his throat. He babbled a happy little magpie song.

  ‘What’s the matter with her?’ I asked, nodding towards the front door.

  He tilted his head and fixed me with one of his reddy-brown eyes, then lifted his wings in a shrug. Something was up, he agreed, but he couldn’t tell what.

  ‘That’s okay fella,’ I said. ‘Thanks anyway.’ I tossed him the rest of the bread balls. He shovelled them up with one swift scoop then he flew back to his spot on the fence. ‘You know where I’ll be if you need me,’ he warbled.

  I found her at the kitchen table, staring with puffy red eyes at a letter. Her hair was still tied back for work, her hands still pink and wrinkled from a day spent washing dishes. One of her overall straps had fallen from her shoulder and a yellow sweat line stretched across her chest from one armpit to the other like a fading sunset.

  ‘Everything okay?’ I asked. She jumped in fright.

  ‘God Matthew,’ she said, holding her chest. ‘Where did you sneak up from?’

  ‘Um … the front door,’ I said, not meaning for it to sound smart.

  ‘Well, you were pretty quiet about it,’ she said, clearly thinking it was exactly how I meant it to sound. ‘Anyway, you’re home a bit later than usual, aren’t you?’

  ‘I waited outside for a bit.’

  ‘Talking to that bird again, I bet,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

  ‘His name’s Roger, and he’s my friend,’ I replied.

  She opened her mouth to say something. ‘Isn’t it time you got a few more human friends?’ probably. But she changed her mind and closed it again. Instead, she squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the top of her nose.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ I asked.

  When she opened her eyes again, her lashes were heavy with tears.

  ‘I don’t know what we’re going to do,’ she said and covered her face with her hands.

  ‘You don’t know what we’re going to do about what?’ I glared at the letter to let her know I’d seen it and she couldn’t pretend it wasn’t there.

  She looked at me for a long moment, her face sagging with a frown. ‘Come here darling,’ she said holding out her arms. ‘I could really use a cuddle right now.’ I let her pull me in close and rest her head on my shoulder. Her body soon shuddered with big sobs.

  ‘It’s okay, Mum,’ I said in the most soothing voice I could manage. ‘Whatever it is, you can tell me.’

  She let me go and I sat on the chair across from her. ‘They’re kicking us out,’ she said.

  ‘Kicking us out of where?’

  ‘Here. This place. We’ve gotta move.’

  The words made my ears hurt. It took a moment for my brain to make sense of them. They couldn’t just kick us out. It was our home. You couldn’t just take someone’s home away from them. ‘Why?’ I asked.

  ‘Because we’re two months behind on rent,’ Mum snapped. ‘I can’t afford it on my own, can I?’ She wiped a fresh batch of tears away with the heels of her hands and gave a sigh of defeat.

  The angry heat in her voice made me lean back in my chair.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she said when she saw that she’d startled me. ‘It’s just a lot to deal with.’

  I let the air settle, then asked, ‘When do we have to go?’

  ‘Two weeks,’ she read from the letter.

  My mind sloshed with so many questions it took a moment to pick one. ‘What are we going to do?’ I asked and instantly wished I hadn’t. It set her off crying again. Fat tears splashed down on the letter and made smudges of its terrible words.

  ‘I don’t know, Matthew, I don’t know,’ she whimpered. ‘I begged them for more time, but they wouldn’t listen.’

  There was a flat, hopeless note in her voice that worried me. It sent me fumbling for a solution. ‘Can’t we just sell some stuff?’ I suggested.

  ‘Like what?’ she shot back. ‘There’s nothing left to sell.’

  ‘I could sell my bike. Or you could sell some of your paintings.’

  She sat upright, leaned towards me and cradled my jaw in her palms. She forced a smile that only made her look sadder. ‘What sort of mother makes her son sell his bike?’ she said. ‘Not this one. No, that’s not going to happen.’ She bit down on her bottom lip and shook her head. ‘And no one’s going to pay money for my paintings.’

  ‘But they’re really good,’ I argued.

  ‘I’m glad you think so, sweetheart,’ she said with a you’ll-understand-when-you’re-older grimace.

  ‘I don’t know what else to do,’ she said again. ‘I’ve asked for more shifts at work, but Neil reckons there’s barely enough to go around as it is. We’ve got no savings left, and I can’t borrow any more money off Uncle Brendon. Not again, especially with Jean’s operation coming up.’

  Mum hated asking Uncle Brendon for help. She told me he only did someone a favour when there was something in it for him. Even if it was just the chance to look down his nose at you.

  She kneaded the edges of her forehead like she was trying to shape an idea from them, giving up after a few moments and letting her arms fall to her sides.

  ‘I guess we’ll just have to swallow our pride and go up to Queensland and stay with Uncle Brendon for a bit,’ she said, sounding more tired than I’d ever heard her. ‘Even if it means we won’t get to see your father for a while.’

  ‘And what’s so bad about that?’ I wanted to say, but that would only have upset her even more. Anyway, I didn’t like staying with Uncle Brendon. He always knew a better way of doing everything and felt like it was his job to tell you.

  We sat and stared silently at the letter for a long minute. After a while she leaned towards me and put her hand on mine. ‘Look at me, Matthew,’ she ordered. ‘I know things haven’t been right this last little while. And I haven’t been much fun to be around. I feel awful about that, I really do. But I can promise you this.’ Her eyes grew wide. ‘I’ll always keep you safe. And I’ll always make sure you have a place to call home.’

  I nodded, a little confused at where it was all coming from.

  ‘I mean it, Matthew,’ she said, squeezing my hand so hard it started to ache.

  ‘Okay, Mum. I get it,’ I said. ‘Everything’s going to be fine. Don’t worry so much.’

  Her expression softened a little. ‘Well, I don’t know what makes you so sure, but I sure hope you’re right.’

  ‘It’s our turn for something to go right for a change.’ I said. ‘We deserve a bit of luck.’

  It drew a doubtful smirk. ‘You make your own luck, I reckon,’ she said. ‘It’s up to you and me to find a solution.’

  The problem followed me around the next day, like a dark cloud that wouldn’t let my mood brighten. It hovered behind me as I waited for the bus.

  Asha was sitting in our usual seat, third from the front. We’d learned the hard way it was the safest place to sit. If you sat at the front everyone called you a nerd, and if you sat too far back, you risked catching the eye of the Year 6 boys. Most of the time no one even noticed you were there if you sat in the third seat and that was exactly how we liked it.

  ‘Did you know the Bassian thrush sometimes finds its food by farting,’ Asha said before I’d even sat.

  ‘Huh?’ I said, struggling to untangle her strange sentence.

  ‘Yeah, I saw it on this show last night called Incredible World of Birds,’ she continued. ‘You would have loved it. Apparently, thrushes release gas, which stinks the worms out of their holes and makes them easier to catch.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, but I was too distracted to add anything else so I went quiet and glared out the front window. After a moment I felt the heat of her glare on my cheek.

  ‘What’s up with you, sad sack?’ she said.

  ‘Nothing.’

  ‘I just told you about a farting bird and you didn’t even smile,’ she said. ‘Something’s up.’

  ‘Nothing’s up, okay. Drop it,’ I snapped. I couldn’t possibly have made it more obvious that something was up if I tried.

  ‘Don’t be such a boy,’ she said, jabbing me in the ribs with her elbow. ‘Just tell me.’

  It was pointless arguing with her. She knew how my brain wo rked better than I did. One way or another she always got what she wanted out of me, so I gave in. ‘All right then Nosey, we’re getting kicked out of our house.’

  Her big lips curved in a frown. ‘That’s actually really crappy, Matthew,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’ She hung an arm around my neck and tipped her head against mine. Through our touching skulls I could already hear the whirr of her brain working on a solution.

  ‘Mum said I’ve got to come up with a plan,’ I said.

  ‘Well, you are the man of the house,’ she said, like everyone else had since Dad went to prison.

  ‘Nobody’s ever told me that before,’ I said.

  ‘Well, how far along is it then?’ she said, choosing to ignore my sarcasm. ‘Your plan?’

  ‘Not very,’ I sighed. ‘It’s pretty tricky when there’s no money, no house and nowhere to go.’

  ‘It’s not an ideal situation,’ she agreed. Her eyes began to dart around as she chased ideas that fluttered in front of her like invisible butterflies. ‘But no problem worth solving is easy.’

  ‘It’s not a brain teaser, Ash,’ I said, annoyed she was making a game of it. ‘This is our life.’

  ‘Okay, how about this?’ she said after a few moments, as if she hadn’t heard me. ‘You and your mum could stay out the back in my cubby for a while. Just until you find somewhere else to go.’ She was staring at the back of the seat in front of us, as if the details of her plan were scrolling across it.

  ‘That’s not funny,’ I said.

  ‘It’s not supposed to be,’ she said, looking confused at why I couldn’t understand the brilliance of her plan. ‘I’m deadly serious. It’s actually really comfy out there. There’s a mattress, and blankets if you get cold. I’ve slept out there heaps of times.’

  ‘And how would we cook?’ I asked.

  ‘You could come and eat with us in the house,’ she said. ‘I’m sure Stuart and Robyn won’t mind. Once I explain the situation to them.’

  Asha always referred to her parents by their first names. I couldn't imagine calling Mum and Dad ‘Skye’ or ‘Gary’.

  ‘What do you mean, the situation?’ I didn’t like the way she said it.

  ‘You know what they’re like, Matthew,’ she said. ‘They get funny about stuff like that.’

  She was right. Her parents were funny about a lot of things. I never really felt comfortable at Asha’s house. The whole place felt like an enormous maze. The high ceilings, empty walls and shiny floors were all sparkling white, which made the place feel cold and empty, like no one really lived there. And Asha’s mum Robyn was the worst neat-freak I’d ever met. She was always hovering behind you with a spray bottle and cloth, ready to disinfect whatever you touched.

  ‘Thank you, Ash,’ I said. The idea might have been ridiculous, but behind it was a kind thought and I appreciated it. ‘I’ll keep it in mind.’

  After a few moments, she dug a fistful of coins from her pocket, jiggled them a few times, then held them out to me. ‘You can have my lunch money, too. To buy some supplies.’

  I stared at the coins for a moment and weighed up whether to take them or not. In the end I smiled, closed her fingers around the money and gently pushed it back to her. ‘Thank you, but you don’t have to do that. We’ll be fine. Really. It’s just come at a bad time, with Dad not around and everything.’

  She couldn’t hide a little sigh of relief as she dropped the coins back in her pocket.

  ‘Besides,’ I said with a grin. ‘You’d never make it through the day without a sausage roll.’

  Her chubby cheeks bulged with a grin. ‘But I would have gone without it for you. For today anyway. That’s the sort of friend I am. I hope you realise how lucky you are.’

  ‘I do, Ash. Thanks.’ I shuffled closer, so our shoulders brushed.

  We spent a few quiet moments looking out the window and watching the red brick houses sliding past.

  ‘You missing him then?’ she asked after a while.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Your dad, Dufus.’

  ‘No’ would have been the truthful answer, but it felt wrong to say it out loud, so instead I said, ‘life’s much less crazy without him around.’

  She frowned in a way that made it seem like she was disappointed in me. ‘I’d take a crazy dad over no dad.’

  ‘But what about Stuart?’ I said.

  ‘It’s not the same, Matthew.’ I could tell she was tired of explaining the difference to people. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Stuart’s great. Well, most of the time anyway. But he’s not my real dad. Never will be.’

  Asha had been born in Sri Lanka and adopted out as a baby. She’d come to live in Australia before she could even walk or speak, and remembered nothing of the county that she was born in. She didn’t know anything about her real parents, not even their names. Robyn and Stuart had kept all that a secret. They said they were doing it to protect her. But the older she got, those secrets seemed to trouble her more and more, like a hole she needed to fill.

  We both sat quietly with our thoughts for a while. I started imagining all the ways my life would be better if I’d been adopted by another family. No more of Dad’s sour moods or crazy plans. No more chaos when his plans fell through. And no getting kicked out of our home. With my mind somewhere else, my head fell gently on Asha’s shoulder. A fist thump to my shoulder dragged me back into the moment.

  ‘Get a room why don’t youse.’ I looked up at Andrew Noonan looming over me. A greasy curtain of fringe hid half his nasty sneer.

  Noonan had had it in for me since the time in term three when Mrs Challenor had asked him in front of the whole class what six times seven was.

  ‘I dunno, 76,’ he said.

  A ripple of laughter went around the room. Even Mrs Challenor smirked. ‘Can anybody help Andrew?’ she asked.

  For some stupid reason, I put my hand up. ‘It’s 42 Miss,’ I said.

  ‘Good boy, Matthew,’ Mrs Challenor said, coming to my table and putting a hand on my shoulder. ‘Nice to see that someone is paying attention.’

  ‘Good boy, Matthew,’ Noonan mocked when she’d gone. ‘You’re dead.’

  He was waiting for me that afternoon near the school gate. He shoved me in the back, right between the shoulders, then dragged me behind the library by the sleeve. He gave me a sharp blow to the tummy, which knocked the air out of me and made me double over. ‘Don’t ever make me look stupid like that again,’ he warned. ‘Understand?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I whispered with the little breath I had left.

  ‘I can’t hear ya,’ he said, jerking me upright by my collar.

  ‘I understand,’ I said, louder.

  ‘Good,’ he said, spinning me around and helping me on my way with another shove.

  My throbbing shoulder punctured the memory. I couldn’t stop a few tears leaking from the corners of my eyes.

  Noonan noticed them. He threw his head back and faked a laugh that made him sound like a donkey. ‘What’s the matter? Your girlfriend break up with ya?’ He angled himself so the rest of the Year 6 boys on the back seat could hear his little performance. They wheezed and snickered like a pack of asthmatic dogs.

  Asha stood and glared at him. ‘Nick off, Andrew,’ she said, her voice somehow sounding calm even though I could feel her trembling.

  Noonan stood tall and pushed his chest out. ‘It speaks,’ he said, pretending to be surprised. ‘Well, that’s too bad ’cause I’m not talking to you, am I?’ He shoved her back to her seat then turned to me. ‘I’m talking to him.’ He jabbed a finger at my nose, as if no one knew who he was talking about. ‘I asked you a question,’ he said to me. ‘Why you blubbin’ like a little girl?’

  I looked down at my shoes, wishing I had the power to cut a hole with my eyes in the floor of the bus and disappear through it.

  ‘Oi. Noonan. Sit down or you can get off my bus.’ I’d never been so relieved to hear Frank’s voice. The driver’s eyes smouldered in the rear view mirror.

  Noonan steadied himself using the handrails and glared back at Frank, daring the driver to repeat his threat.

  ‘I’m serious,’ Frank said. ‘Put your bum in a seat now or you can walk to school for the rest of the year.’

  Noonan took his time. He turned then drew his face so close to mine that I could smell the oil and chicken salt on his breath. ‘We’ll finish this another time,’ he hissed. ‘When there are no adults for you to hide behind.’ He then walked slowly backwards to his seat, eyeballing me the whole way.

 

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