Inbetween Days (14 page)

‘This is the smallest car in the universe. My knees are touching my ears,' I whined, inching the car away from the kerb. Jeremiah had stuck oversized pink L-plates on the car because his mother's printer cartridge only had magenta ink. ‘Will they give me a real licence or a Barbie one?' I braked and parked again.

‘The manual says it qualifies as a car.'

‘Does it say anything about co-drivers?' I asked, jabbing my thumb at Roly, who was in the back seat. ‘He's making me nervous.'

‘That's ripe,' Roly said. ‘I'm shitting my pants back here.'

‘You mean rich,' Jeremiah intoned. ‘Unless you're talking about your pants. This thing won't go over a hundred, so unless we hit a tree sideways, you're probably going to survive. And they'll turn the plastic surgeon away because the impact will accidentally fix your face.'

‘
Bwahaha
. What's the last thing to go through a bug's mind when it hits your windscreen? Its arse.
Bwahaha
,' Roly snorted.

‘Your pants will be the first thing to go through the back of my head when we hit a tree. Stink it up, Roly, you'll have the last laugh.'

‘Shut up! Everybody just shut up.' I tried to concentrate on coordinating my hands and feet. Everything was backwards. On my bike, I was used to changing gear with my left foot and accelerating with my right hand. It was the complete opposite in Meredith Jolley's car. ‘I need somewhere to practise without getting in the way of traffic.' What I really wanted was to get out of my old street before I ran into Ma or Dad.

‘Find a dirt road,' Roly suggested.

‘They all go uphill. She'll drop the clutch and we'll end up in the front bar.'

‘So, you drive it up and she drives down.'

‘Different action, same result.'

‘I have an idea,' I said. ‘Here, you drive.' I started to climb across to the passenger seat and realised Jeremiah was so tightly packed in he'd have no chance of switching places without peeling back the roof. We got out and changed spots. ‘Let's go to the old drive-in,' I directed. ‘You remember where it is?'

‘That could work.' Jeremiah nodded to himself. ‘Okay.' He put the car into gear and drove off.

‘Is that still there?' Roly asked. ‘I thought they were going to bulldoze it.'

‘It is,' I said, without elaborating. When we reached the road Mr Broadbent had led me to, I pointed. ‘Turn. Turn here.'

‘It's not this turn-off, it's the next one.' Jeremiah seemed to know where he was going. He pulled into what looked like an entrance to a farm property—just a cattle grid and a rusted swing-gate. ‘I've always suspected I was conceived here,' he said.

‘How could you possibly know that?' Roly scoffed. ‘Were you there? Anyway, I can't imagine Meredith sharing details. Legend has it you were an immaculate conception.'

‘It's true,' I agreed, remembering what Trudy had said about Meredith Jolley never having seen a penis.

‘It was my conception. Of course I was there.' Jeremiah shrugged. ‘Mum always cries when she hears “Arthur's Theme”,' he added mysteriously.

‘Do you ever wonder…?' I asked and stopped. ‘Sorry. I just can't imagine not knowing who my father is.'

‘No, it's okay,' Jeremiah said calmly. ‘It's comforting enough that I don't resemble anybody in Mobius and nobody has come forward to claim paternity. That's all I need to know.'

‘There's no sign,' I said, to change the subject. ‘Why the cattle grid? This doesn't even look like the right place.'

We climbed out and surveyed the padlocked gate. Weeds had woven through the mesh and the grid was useless, packed with dirt and more weeds. The gate looked as if it hadn't been opened in a long time.

‘I assume the cattle grid was to keep the cows out because cow shit would be unwelcome at the drive-in.'

Roly and I groaned. Jeremiah took everything so seriously. Even when he was being funny, I wasn't sure whether it was intentional. I certainly didn't expect it when he kicked the gate, violently, explosively. Roly and I took a step back.

‘Ease up, J. That's vandalism.'

‘It's some kind of felony,' I agreed.

‘It's abandoned,' Jeremiah said, panting. ‘It doesn't count.'

‘I've got an idea,' I offered. ‘Between us we could probably lift the Barbie car over the gate.'

‘Or we could go cross-country,' Roly said. ‘Ram a couple of fence posts.'

It took three kicks for Jeremiah to loosen a rotting fence post and pluck it out of the damp soil. He coiled the fence wire around it and set the post aside in a tidy roll. And that's how we ended up driving Meredith Jolley's miniature car down an embankment and up the other side, Jeremiah shoving the rear bumper like a draught horse and Roly steering the car through the gap in the fence. Once we were through, Jeremiah hopped back in and followed the driveway, dodging potholes and fallen branches.

‘All we need is beer and popcorn,' I said, as we caught the first glimpse of the screen. In daylight, it was wide and grey, taller than I'd thought. The asphalt was crumbly, broken into a thousand puzzle pieces. Automatically, I began counting the robot speakers, but I had to start over each time somebody spoke.

‘I don't think this is a good idea,' Jeremiah said, as the car rocked over the destroyed asphalt. ‘I mean, in theory it was, but this place is a wreck. We're going to split a tyre.' He parked next to the decrepit brick building in the middle of the drive-in. ‘One hundred and twelve.'

Roly got out first. ‘Hey, look at this!'

‘One hundred and twelve what?' I asked.

‘Speakers.' Jeremiah yanked on the handbrake. ‘I can see your mouth moving. One hundred and twelve speakers, if that's what you're counting. You can double-check, but I already did, twice.'

I blushed and bit back something nasty he didn't deserve. It's not like he hadn't witnessed my craziness before, and been a part of it, but acknowledging it so…
offhandedly
…made me cringe.

‘Are you getting out?'

I did, ungracefully, with my chin in the air.

‘Check it out. Hey, J, come here.' Roly had swept an arc of dirt from a high window. ‘Boost me,' he said, and bent his leg.

Jeremiah lifted him, one-handed.

‘You've got to see this!'

Roly had always been excitable. In junior primary it was endearing, in high school, not so much. He had no boundaries. In an area school that big—over twelve hundred students—it was dangerous. Nobody could stand his habit of butting into conversations or venturing into areas of the school grounds that had been appropriated by a particular group. Eventually, people turned on him. He started walking behind Jeremiah Jolley, which spared him the brunt since Jeremiah was a far bigger target. He took the seat behind the school bus driver, which amounted to voluntary exile, and Jeremiah went with him. They'd seemed okay to me. They were always together, so it wasn't
dire
. When Jeremiah left, Roly was on his own. He became reserved, but in an odd way, as if somebody had screwed his lid on too tight.

Jeremiah hoisted me up next.

I peered through the grime. I could just make out a few tattered boxes on the floor and a cobwebby contraption with spools and reels and levers.

‘You're stuck here for a few more weeks, J,' Roly said from below, ‘until your mum gets her head right. I've got nothing better to do. Jack's been sacked…'

Jeremiah lowered me down.

I dusted off my hands. ‘I was let go. That's different.'

‘Whatever you want to call it, you've got some time on your hands. You might as well spend it up here with me and J, watching porn on the big screen.'

I didn't answer right away. I was thinking about that screen and how it might look if it was white again.

‘Yeah, maybe,' I said. ‘I've got other things I should be doing.' I needed another job. I had to figure out a way to pay Trudy back.

Roly squinted through the rectangle he'd shaped with his fingers. Suddenly he let go and slapped his thigh. ‘Sorry. I forgot. You've probably got better things to do with the rest of summer than hang out with the bottom feeders. But then again, maybe things have changed now you need a driving instructor and a
car
.'

‘Bottom feeders? What does that even mean?' I turned to Jeremiah for support but he seemed familiar with the sentiment behind Roly's attack. He looked uncomfortable, not confused. ‘Tell me. I don't get it.' But I did. Kind of. I was starting to. Small towns have long memories, narrow shoulders and big chips on them. ‘Oh, wait. What, are we still in high school?'

Roly stood up and shoved his hands deep in his pockets. ‘What do you think, J? How's the water flowing under
your
bridge? '

Jeremiah wasn't listening. He stared up at the screen.

Roly jabbed a thumb in Jeremiah's direction. ‘He doesn't want to ruin his chances of spending time with a real live girl, especially one with tight jeans and big…
you
know.' He stalked off with his hands in his pockets.

‘You don't know me by how tight my jeans are!' I yelled. I stopped myself from picking up a clump of asphalt and firing it at him.

It would have been easy enough to walk back home. I didn't need the drama. Roly half-turned, his lip curled. Jeremiah was having a staring contest with the screen, and I was suddenly hyper-conscious of everything: the monotonous beat of a Mobius summer, a beat I used to know and move to without thinking about the steps, the loneliness, the money worry, the hate, the dragging ache of loving somebody who didn't love me back. I couldn't stop waiting for Luke, because waiting was all I knew. I'd let my world shrink down to that. It was an addiction, and everyone knew the only way to kick a habit was to replace it with something else.

I clapped my hands twice. ‘So, whoever gets the door open can choose the premiere.'

Roly whooped and took a ten-metre run-up to give the door a flying kick, only to land on his back. Jeremiah took two sideways steps and nudged the door with one enormous foot. It disintegrated.

Roly and Jeremiah bumped fists.

‘What do you think?' Roly asked.

Jeremiah considered the equipment and shook his head. ‘I think this could take a while,' he said.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

I flipped end over on the couch to let blood flow into my left side, which had gone numb. I wouldn't have been surprised if the sore spot on my hip was the start of a bedsore. Christmas was in two weeks. I couldn't have afforded a tree even if I'd wanted one. Astrid had set up a row of raggedy potted pines along the front of Bent Bowl Spoon. By the next morning they were all gone. Stolen. I could have told her it would happen and saved her the trouble, but it wasn't my problem anymore. I was resigned to letting this Christmas slip away; it was just another day with too many rules and traditions.

We'd spent last Christmas around Ma's table. Trudy's first Christmas home in years and we marked it as a family—not talking, barely eating, making volcanoes out of lumpy mashed potato and picking strings of pork from our teeth. I remembered Dad reaching for a newspaper and snapping it open. The crack sounded like a starter's gun, except this was a challenge to see how long we could all keep the hair-trigger balance between rudeness and civility.

After the table had been cleared I helped Ma with the dishes. Trudy was asleep, her feet up on the good couch. Ma slammed plates. She muttered to herself. She beseeched the ceiling and asked God what she had done to deserve such slovenly children, which, unfairly, included me. Ma was absurdly pleased that every complaint she'd ever made about Trudy was justified. Her fury built. The day ended with Trudy throwing the few things she'd unpacked back into her suitcase. This time she only made it down the road, and now here we were, supposedly living the dream.

‘
Roll me ooo-ver in the clooo-ver, roll me over, lay me down and do it again
,' Trudy sang, as she wiped dust from the bookshelf.

‘Shut
. Up
,' I called from the couch. There was a documentary on the TV about the migration of the Christmas Island crabs.

‘Nobody's gonna rain on my pa-
raaade
.'

‘I liked you more when you were mean,' I mumbled.

‘Have you done anything about getting a job?' she asked, leaning against the door frame. ‘Because I'm getting
jack
of paying your rent.' She smirked. ‘Get it? But seriously, you might have to move back with Ma.'

My heart bottomed out. ‘Serious?'

‘I'm just messing with you. As if I would send you back.'

I laughed, but not too hard.

‘Max has given me a pay rise. He says I pull more on the TAB than the others combined. I'm a lucky charm. I read the horses' names when they're placing bets and tell them which ones I like. By the way, we got the gas bill. It's on the fridge.' She flicked a casual wave behind her. Her hair had fresh blonde streaks. ‘Thom's taking me for Indian tonight. Hey, we should get a tree.'

Trudy had started bookending unpleasant news with chitchat. I knew to look for the sly pinch in the middle, but it was her comment about a tree that stung more than the gas bill. Trees were cheerful. Trees were meant to have gifts put under them. Gifts were meant to be returned. To return a gift I needed money, and to receive one I needed friends. Or family. This was going to be the worst Christmas ever.

‘I hope you don't mind Thom staying over so much. It's too hard to spend time together when he has to drive all the way home to Burt. My hours are crazier than usual.'

Lucky her, to have and to hold whenever she felt like it. I linked my fingers and twisted them until they hurt. We'd traded places, couldn't she see?

Ranger Thom had stayed over six nights in a row, ever since my forced entry into Trudy's bedroom. He was tall and thin with legs so bandy you could see acres of daylight between them. His fair hair was close-shaved and he touched his forehead whenever he answered Trudy, as if he was tipping an invisible hat. He reminded me of Goose, from
Top Gun
, minus the shades. I was too embarrassed to get to know him better, though I was well acquainted with his arse.