One Dead Seagull (17 page)

‘He
played
footy
because
his
mum,
my
grandmothe
r
, said
he
couldn
’
t
do
it.’

I
finished
my
cup
and
told
him
I
had
to
go.
On
the
fron
t
doorste
p I
aske
d
hi
m
ho
w
h
e
wa
s
going
.
He
shrugged.

‘I’m oka
y
.
Still
a
bit
up
in
the
ai
r
.
How
are
things
with you
at
school?’

He
offered
his
assistance
in
any
wa
y
.
I
told
him that things
were
going
fine, that
the
accident
hadn
’
t
been
a
big setback.
I
don
’
t
know
why
I
bullshit
like
that.

I
was
awake
before
Mum
on
Monda
y
.
I
told
her
I
was
going
to
school.

‘I
don
’
t kno
w
,
W
ayne. I
think it
’
s still a
little earl
y
.
Y
ou’re
probably
not
ready
for
it
yet.’

‘
Y
eah,
I’ll
be
right.
I
can
walk
home
if
my
stump
gets
sore.’

I’d
made
up
my
mind.

It
wasn
’
t
until I
made
it
into the
breezeway
near
the
lockers
that
I
felt
like
I’d
made
a
mistake.
At
first
I
thought
it was going
to
be
like
when
I
went
to
Game
Zone—
eve
r
yone
just
going
about
his
or her
business—but
at school
eve
r
ybody
knew
me.
I
almost
kept
walking.
Right across
the
faded
paint
on
the
quadrangle.
Right
down
past the
science
wing
and
the
woodwork
room
and
through the
back
gate.

‘What
the
hell
are
you
doing
here?
Y
ou
could
have
had the
rest
of
the
year
off
at
least. Dickhead,’
Den
said.
He’d
crept
up
behind
me
at
my
locke
r
.
He
was
smiling
and
he offered
me
his
hand.
I
think it
was
the
first
time
in
our
lives
that
we’d
shaken
hands.
Carlson
and
Shane
Lee
were
standing
behind
him
looking
up
and
down
the
breezeway like
they
were
in
trouble.
Ker
r
y
came
out
of
nowhere
and wrapped
herself
around
me, jumping
and
giggling.
I
felt
like
a
hero
and
it
only
got
bette
r
.

In the common room at
recess
I
was swamped
by people,
asking
stupid
stuff
like
‘What
happened
to
your
hand?’
for
the
thirtieth time
and
‘Did
it
hurt?’
I
made
up a
few
great
stories
and
Den
played
along
with
them
all.
Some
year
eight
girls
at
the
canteen
left
with
the
sure
knowledge
that
my
hand
had
been
bitten
off
by
a
crocodile
while
I
was
saving
a
Japanese
tourist.
Y
eah,
we
were holidaying
in
Cape
Y
ork.
Den
lost
the
plot
at
that
one
and
covered
his
laughter
with
a
fake
cough.

I
had
a
smoke
with
Den
at
lunchtime.
W
e’d
just
lit
up when
he
saw Griz
coming
and
stubbed
his
smoke
out before
running into
the
quadrangle.
Griz
came
straight up
to
me—like
he
was
going to
have a
go
at
me—and
said he
was
sor
r
y
to
hear
about
my
accident.

‘Hope
it
.
.
.
you
know
.
.
.
gets
better
and
all
that.
W
ell
..
.
you
kno
w..
.
not
get
bette
r
,
just
doesn
’
t
hurt
and
all
that,’
he
mumbled
at
his
boot.
Then
he
walked
off.

My
mouth
was
hanging
open
when Den
returned.
He grunted
and
called
Griz
a
wanke
r
.

At the end
of
lunchtime,
Fay
the
office
lady
announced that
Piggo
Johnson
wanted
me
in
his
office.
Den
sucked air
through
his
teeth
and
shook
his
head.

Mr
Johnson
was
on
the
phone
when
I
got
there
and there
was
an
electrician
in
his
office
playing
with
some wires
beside
his
desk.
Half the electrician
’
s bum was hanging
out
of
his
work
shorts
and
his
bum
crack
looked like
a
coin
slot.
Piggo
was
talking
quietly
on the
phone
but
he
invited
me
in
with
a
wave
of
his
hand.
I
looked
out
of
his
office
window
back
to the administration desk.
A
queue
of
kids
was
waiting
at
the
counter
for
Fa
y
.
She
was talking
on
the
phone,
her
head
bowed
and
her
bright
red hair hanging across
her
face.
She
hung up and Mr Johnson
’
s
phone
clattered
back
into
its
cradle.

‘
W
ayne.
Nice
to
see
you
up
and
around
again.
Sor
r
y
to hear
about
your
accident.
Eve
r
ything
okay?’

I
nodded
and
looked
at
my
stump.

‘I’ve
asked
you
in
to
check
up
on
what
we
can
do
from
here.
Y
ou’ve
missed
quite
a
bit
of
work
and
you’ll
have
a bit
of
catching
up
to
do
if
you
want
to
keep
on
into
next yea
r
.’

W
e’d
had
maths
in
between
recess
and
lunch
and
I
had had
to
ask
Mr
Dobson
to
help
me
half
a
dozen
times
and I
still
ended
up
with
brain
pain.

‘I’ll
be
having
a
word
with your
teachers
tomorrow morning and
we’ll
see
if
we
can
work
out
some
sort
of
program
to
help
you
through—a
sort
of
condensed
version
of
the
term
’
s
work.’

This
losing
a
hand
isn
’
t
altogether
a
bad
thing.

Mandy
was
in
the
libra
r
y
when
I
got
there
and
my
gut flip-flopped.
Maybe
she
wouldn
’
t
notice
me.
Maybe
she
hadn
’
t noticed
I’d
missed
school.

‘
W
ayne!’
she
shouted,
way
too
loud
for
the
libra
r
y
.
Mrs Kneebone
told her to get
on
with her work.
She
was waving
and
patting
the
table
in
the
stall
next
to
he
r
.
Mrs
Kneebone
was sitting with Ga
r
y
Reardon,
engaged
in some
important discussion
so
I
sat
next
to
Mand
y
.
All
vanilla
and
smiles
and
flowing
hai
r
,
she
whispered
that
it
was
nice
to
see
me
and
asked
me
how
I
was
going.
She asked
about
my
mum,
staring
me
in
the
eyes.
She
’
s
never
met
my
mum.
She
lifted
her
arm
to
push
her
hair
back
and
I
saw
her
armpit—smooth
and
clean
like
the
rest
of
her
skin.
And
the
cu
r
ve
of
her
bra-covered
breast
down the
sleeve
of
her
T
-shirt.
She
told
me
that
Kylie
Simpson had
had
a
girl
on
the 23rd
of
Septembe
r
,
the
day after
her birthda
y
,
and
that
she’d
got
a
job
working
in
Coles
after school
and
on
the
weekends.
I apologised
for
forgetting her
birthday
and
she
laughed.
Che
r
yl
and
Emma
came over
to
Mandy
’
s
stall
and
started
chatting.
T
ook
it
in
turns to
ask
me
how
I
was
going
and
if
I
was
feeling
all
right.

‘Good
on
you
for
coming
back
to
school,
W
ayne.
When Mandy
told
us
what
happened
we
thought
you
would
have to
go
to,
like,
a
special
school
or
something,’
Che
r
yl
said.

‘
Y
eah.
W
e
thought
you
wouldn
’
t be
able
to
do
school stuff
like
normal
.
.
.
well,
you
kno
w
,
like
people
that
.
.
.’ Emma
said.

Mrs
Kneebone
interrupted
us
and
told
me
to
find
a
seat
with
my
own
form group.
I
found
one—a
seat
where
I
could
watch
the
back
of
Mandy
’
s
head.

The
miracles
continued
that
da
y
.
Dad
rolled
up
in
the
ute at
about four
o’clock.
Back
from
Bermagui
already?
That didn
’
t
last
long.
He
didn
’
t
say
anything
and
I
wasn
’
t going to
ask
him
about
it.
He
had
my
bike
in
the
back.
He’d taken
it
up
to
Pat
’
s
shed
and
modified
it.
He’d
taken
the
brake
lever
off
the
left
side
of
the
handlebar
and
put
it
on
the
right.
He’d
also
mounted
a
road-racing
armrest
on
the handle
where
he’d
removed
the
brake.
It
was
a
padded rest and
I
could
comfortably
sit
my
stump
on
top
of
it
and
steady
the
handleba
r
.
Probably
wouldn
’
t
be
able
to
do
a mono
or
bunny-hops
up
the
gutter
but
I
would
be
able
to ride.
Without thinking, I
hugged
him. He
hugged
me
back—well,
punched
me
in
the
spine
like
he
was
t
r
ying
to burp
me.
He
watched
me
ride
until
Mum
came
home.

Didn
’
t
take
long
for
the
fact
that
I was
different
to
wear
off.
All
the
extra
attention
eventually
faded
and
my
mates got
cheek
y
.
Carlson
now
called
me
the
‘one-armed
bandit’
after
it
came out
that
I’d nicked
Henderson
’
s
porno videos.
I
must
have
watched
them
a
hundred
times
and they got
boring
so
I
had
stuffed
them
back
in
his
locke
r
. Hendo
laughed
and
said
that
he
knew
I’d
nicked
them. He
fessed
up
to
being
the
one
that
had
lit
the
pile
of
shit and
paper
on
the
front
porch
as
revenge.
I
told
him
he
was
a
sick
bastard.