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  Dickheads! It was obvious Shaun didn’t really give a shit about what they were saying, but they were too bloody pissed to notice.

  While Shaun kept fiddling with the alternator, Jase rambled on about all the wild shit they did on their last day of high school. Ajax in the staffroom fish tank. Egging Principal Carroll’s new Accord, and shoving a spud up its exhaust pipe. Setting fire to a table in the bottom playground, hauling out the fire hose, putting the fire out and then turning the hose on the crowd of kids and teachers who’d gathered to watch the spectacle.

  I’d heard all those stories round the school tons of times. I didn’t need to hear them again, and I didn’t know why the boys thought Shaun would. He wasn’t even there. While they were doing all that shit he was already in the RAR.

  ‘Shaun!’ I spoke as loud as I could, close to a bellow, to make sure I’d be heard over Acker’s snorting laughter. ‘Why don’t you tell us again about that contact you had when you were patrolling?’

  Shaun’s head lifted slightly. He was definitely listening now. I waited for him to turn to me with a big smile of thanks for steering the boys away from their babbling. But instead he put his head back down, turned the alternator over in his hands. ‘Nah, bit busy now, hey. Maybe another time.’

  Quiet fell for a few seconds, then brrruuuuggghhh. Jase let out a burp that sounded like a rumbling storm cloud, then ambled over to the second bay of the shed, calling over his shoulder, ‘Ah, well, Shaun. We’re all bloody proud of ya, mate. Bloody proud.’

  ‘Yeah, Shaun—fucken onya, mate!’

  Jase returned with three cans of beer.

  Shaun grabbed one with a nod of thanks and then moved under the bonnet with his spanner. ‘Cheers!’

  ‘Not cheers to me,’ Jase said, raising his can. ‘Cheers to you. Cheers to—’

  Clang! Shaun’s spanner fell from his hand and landed on the concrete. ‘Shit! FUCK! You fucken cunt of a fucken thing.’

  ‘Woo-hey, steady on! Thought you were in the army, Shaun! Not the fucken navy! Hear that, Acker? Swearing like a bloody sailor, he was.’

  ‘Yeah. He was, wasn’t he?’ Acker sow-snorted. ‘Ya sound a bit tense, hey, Shaun. Maybe you shouldn’t be trying to retune an old motor—maybe you should be trying to retune your missus instead!’

  Shaun shook his head. I thought he might turn and rip Acker to shreds, ram his boot right into his big saggy gut. But he just went back to acting like he wasn’t too bothered. ‘Mate, I been trying. I don’t get why she doesn’t want to make the move. We’d see more of each other. Heaps more. It’s almost like she’s put this out there to make me choose between the army or her. Well, I want both. Reckon I’ll be able to convince her that a move will be for the best. I just need to get some time with her.’

  Some time with her. That gave me another selling point.

  ‘Hey, Shaun,’ I said. ‘Why don’t ya just catch Ames at the party?’

  ‘Huh? Party? What party?’

  ‘Yeah!’ Jase reared his head back so I could see right up his nostrils, wide and dark like caves. ‘What party? What party do you know about, little fella?’

  Acker answered for me, and I was glad. Jase looked like he wanted to thump me for knowing something he didn’t.

  ‘Oh yeah, that’s right,’ Acker said. ‘Forgot to tell you, Jase. Trace is having a party at her little cousin’s house. A New Year’s Eve bash.’

  Jase swirled the dregs of beer in his can round and round. ‘Yeah? Sweet. I’m down for that. What about you, Shaun? Amy’ll probably be there if Trace’s putting the party on. Might be some other hotties from school there too. I’ve had me eye on this senior—Vanessa Sharp. Woo-fucken-wee! Fucken legs on her stretch right right right fucken up and I want to get right up to the end of those legs.’

  ‘Where?’ said Acker, looking confused. ‘To her feet?’

  ‘Nah, Acker, you fucken dumb cunt. I said up those legs! UP!’

  Shaun turned to me. ‘How do you know about all this anyway, Little Man?’

  ‘Oh, y’know—I know people who know people. Got an invite myself, I did!’

  ‘True?’

  ‘Yep!’

  ‘Big man on campus, hey?’

  ‘Yep!’

  ‘Ha!’ Jase slapped Acker on the back. ‘Sounds like Shaun should watch out, hey, Acker? Trysten’s coming up in the world. Shaun, you’d better go to the party lest this little fella tries to put the moves on Amy himself!’

  ‘Ha! Doubt he’d be game.’ Shaun smirked and mumbled, ‘Not after the first time.’

  ‘What’s that?’ said Jase. ‘First what?’

  I locked my gaze on Shaun’s. Don’t, Shaun. Don’t tell ’em about the time when ya caught me under the house peeking up through the cracks between the bathroom floorboards at Amy’s arse after she got out of the shower. Please don’t tell ’em!

  ‘Ah,’ Shaun said to Jase, ‘it’s nothing. Anyway, Trysten here might’ve got an invite, but that doesn’t mean he’s going.’

  ‘Piss off!’

  ‘Woo-hey! Hear that, Acker? Little Twisted Trysten told his big brother—Shaun William Black, special forces trooper, trained Taliban hunter—to piss off.’

  Acker pig-snorted. ‘Yeah, I heard ’im. He told you to piss off, Shaun. He did!’

  Shaun grinned and shot me a quick wink. I reckon he was proud of me, proud that I had the balls to give him shit in front of the boys.

  ‘Okay then,’ he said. ‘What makes you think you’re going to be able to get it past Mum?’

  ‘The fact that I’m going to be escorted there by a responsible adult.’

  ‘Oh. Is that so? Hazard a guess I’m that adult.’

  ‘Yep!’ I motioned to Jase and Acker. ‘Most responsible adult I know, anyway!’

  ‘Ha!’ said Jase, leaning over and clunking his can against Acker’s. ‘Fucken cheers to irresponsibility!’

  Shaun narrowed his eyes. ‘Mmm?’

  ‘Ah, c’mon. Can ya? Please? Ricky’s going. And Jade. And Jessica.’

  ‘Yeah, alright, okay. Sounds like a plan. I’ll take ya.’

  ‘Really? Jeez, thanks!’

  ‘On one condition, though.’

  ‘Sure. What?’

  ‘You’re the designated driver.’

  ‘What? Yer gonna let me drive the SS?’

  ‘What?’ echoed Jase. ‘Ya never let me drive the SS!’

  ‘Calm the fuck down, Jase. Course he’s not driving that.’ Shaun shut the bonnet of the Tank and ran his hand over it. ‘You’re taking this. Just got to fix the alternator and do the timing belt, and she’ll be good to go. Ready for your first lesson.’

  ‘First lesson? Why? I know how to drive already.’

  ‘Ha! Backing the Corolla out for Mum and rolling down to the front gate in first doesn’t count as driving, Little Man. We’re going along Findle Creek Road to the end of the valley. In the Tank!’

  ‘Right. When?’

  ‘When’s your last day of school?’

  ‘Friday. Tomorrow.’

  ‘Sweet. Let’s make it Saturday.’

  ‘Nice one,’ Jase said.

  ‘Yeah,’ added Acker. ‘Nice one, Trysten. Nice one.’

  13

  Jase and Acker and all those other loose cannons in Shaun’s year may have thought they went pretty wild at their muck-up day but I reckon this year’s seniors took it to a whole other level on our last day of school.

  Each day of the last week was a degree or two hotter than the day before it, the heavy air clinging to your skin like a warm rag. Afternoon storm clouds hung round the southwestern hills, threatening rain but never delivering. Instead they’d skirt the edge of town and head northeast, tossing a cool rain-laced breeze our way. Nothing more than a tease, really. Nowhere near enough to cool you properly. A solid downpour was what everyone was hanging out for. Friday was the worst. Forty-one degrees! Dad always reckoned that the suffocating feeling that comes with those forty-plus days can send people mad. That’s what it felt lik
e—suffocating. So maybe that’s why the seniors took it as far as they did.

  All day they roamed round the school in gangs, armed with Super Soakers and water bombs, drenching each other and every kid they came across. The gang of three in superhero masks—Batman, the Joker and Two-Face—were the wildest of all. They’d ambush groups of students, soak them (sometimes at point-blank range) and hang shit on them while they did. Take that, ya geeks! Suck on this, poofter! Eat shit and die!

  It was only Jessica and me at school that day. Jade and Ricky couldn’t wait till the party to take things further, so they’d decided to wag. After Josie’d dropped us at the front gates they’d scooted off down the side footpath towards the bottom oval. From there they were planning on cutting through the bush that bordered the oval and slipping down to the river.

  At lunch Jessica and I sat at our table opposite each other, arms outstretched holding hands. I was rattling on, but I must’ve been boring her or something, because she kept fiddling with the red flower in her hair and looking over my shoulder at something behind me—just like she’d been doing at morning recess.

  ‘Jeez,’ I said. ‘I can’t wait for you to meet Shaun at the party.’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said, glancing into the distance again. ‘Me too.’

  ‘It’s going to be awesome. Still can’t believe Mum said yes. And she’s letting me drive with Shaun. I’m pumped!’

  ‘Yeah, me too.’

  ‘I just can’t wait.’

  ‘You know what, Trysten? I don’t think I can either.’ Again Jessica was focusing somewhere over my shoulder.

  I turned to see where her gaze kept drifting: the gap between C and D Blocks.

  I turned back round. Her face was full of mischief.

  She stood, reefed me up with her and said, ‘Actually, I know I can’t.’

  I felt dizzy, walking along the shadowy narrow path between the buildings. I was glad of the walls being close. Least if I fainted they might break my fall.

  As we rounded the corner, the jacaranda tree just in sight, she stopped and squeezed my hand.

  I looked to the left of the tree. We had company.

  Shit!

  Just past the tree, behind the demountable woodwork room, the gang of three seniors sat with their backs resting on the sagging chain-wire of the school fence. One of them, Henry King, was swigging from a bottle of Old Crow. I recognised the other two as well—Isaiah Day and Noah Ellis. Three wild fellas who I heard spent more time down the river drinking tallies of beer and smoking bongs than they spent in class.

  Before I could tug Jessica’s hand and get us out of there, back down the path and into the playground, Noah spotted us. He tapped Henry on the shoulder.

  Henry locked his eyes on mine. Standing, he screwed the lid back on the bottle of bourbon, and twisted his face into a snarl. ‘What the fuck are you looking at?’

  ‘Umm…excuuuse me?’ said Jessica.

  ‘Wasn’t talking to you,’ Henry snapped, jutting his chin out, looking down at Jessica.

  ‘Hey, whoa,’ I said, then squeezed Jessica’s hand and whispered to her, ‘It’s cool. I got it.’

  ‘Hey.’ I stepped forward and put on as tough a voice as I could muster. ‘Hey, fellas, we aren’t after any trouble and don’t care what youse are getting up to back here. And rest assured, your secret’s safe with us. We won’t give your identities away.’

  Isaiah and Noah cacked themselves, buckling over, rolling round on the grass. Henry didn’t even crack a smile. He snarled, fiercer than before. Then, as he rose to his feet and raised his water pistol to his hip, I saw that the plastic chamber wasn’t filled with water. The liquid inside was a yellowy-brown.

  He took a few steps towards us. ‘Ha! Nice joke, fucktard. Bet you think you’re shit hot, don’t ya? Maybe you need a soaking. Got a special mix here. Cool you down, and your little girly there.’

  ‘Hey!’ Jessica let go of my hand and stepped in front of me. ‘Don’t fucken call me girly!’

  ‘Ooooo,’ said Henry, pointing the pistol at Jessica. ‘What ya gonna do about it?’

  ‘Mmm,’ Jessica said, holding her chin high. ‘I dunno. Rush over there and knee you in the balls? Maybe not, though—don’t know if it’d be worth it. Probably so small they’re tucked up inside ya!’

  Isaiah and Noah started cacking again, but Henry shot them a look that shut ’em up quick smart.

  He turned and glared at Jessica, finger on the trigger. ‘Wha—’

  ‘Or,’ she said, her voice loud and fierce as she took a step forward, ‘or I could go and tell Carroll about your drinking. And the dope-smoking you’ve been doing, ’cause you’re obviously well-baked. Well, those two are anyways.’

  ‘Carroll?’ said Henry, lowering his pistol, nodding and then grinning wryly. ‘Now, that’s not a bad idea. Yeah, go on then, go tell Carroll. Send him to us. You’d be doing us a favour. We’ve been looking for the shaggy-haired cunt all day but we can’t find him anywhere. Keen to say our goodbyes properly, y’know?’

  ‘Oi…Henry.’ Isaiah pointed to the footpath in front of D Block. ‘Quick! Come over here, look.’

  The side of the building blocked my view, but it looked like he was watching someone coming down the main steps.

  Henry followed Isaiah’s gaze. ‘Yeah!’ He nodded to the others. ‘Let’s do it.’

  They slung their bags on their backs and pumped their Super Soakers. Staying low, creeping past Jessica and me, they traced the inside of the fence, and passed by us on the other side of the tree. On Henry’s whispered count of ‘one, two, three’, they leapt over the fence and crept low along the footpath, waddling like ducks.

  Jessica watched them disappear round the corner, eyes searing. ‘Dickheads!’

  ‘You weren’t really gonna dob ’em in, were ya?’

  ‘Nah!’

  ‘Yeah, thought not. Wonder what was in that thing any—’

  ‘YEW YEW YEW!’ The gang of three’s voices bellowed, ‘TAKE THAT!’

  ‘Sounds like someone just found out,’ said Jessica.

  ‘Ah! What the—’ I recognised that voice straight away: Old Mop-head Carroll.

  ‘Hey, you three,’ Carroll yelled. ‘Get back…aw, what was in that? Oh god…Hey, you three! Get back here! GET BACK HERE NOW!’

  Jessica and I both cracked up and the sound of her laugh made my neck tickle. Then she held my hand, stepped in front of me, tilted her head back, closed her eyes and parted her lips.

  I moved my face towards hers, keeping my eyes open as I did, looking down at her mouth, making sure I was on target.

  Our lips met. We pashed for the first time. And even though it only lasted about ten seconds, it blew my fucken mind.

  I reckon it must’ve been something real bad in that pistol of Henry’s—bourbon? His own piss?—because at the start of fifth period as I stared out the window, already bored with Finkle Dinkle’s ramblings, I spied Carroll on the front footpath wearing a fresh change of clothes. Then, after a few minutes standing with his arms folded, two local coppers pulled up in their paddy wagon and had a chat with him. Carroll pointed over to the laneway on the other side of the road and the coppers nodded, hopped back in the wagon and drove off. Poor Old Mop-head, he couldn’t find the gang of three himself so he had to bring in the big guns. Those boys must’ve been pretty cluey, but. They must’ve known all the good hiding spots, because at the end of Maths I saw the coppers pull back up and shake their heads at Carroll who nodded and then slunk back into school like a beaten dog. Much as that Henry dickhead had given me the shits when he’d had a go at Jessica, I was glad the cops didn’t nab those boys because the show they put on during sixth period was well worth watching.

  Jessica and I were sitting next to each other, our hands under the table, fingers locked. Leckie’d just loaded the DVD (Gandhi, which we’d got halfway through the day before, about a bald-headed fella who stopped wars by sitting on his arse and refusing to eat) when a fist-sized water balloon flew throug
h the open window and knocked the remote control from his hand.

  Booooossh—the water bomb exploded on the carpet by Leckie’s feet.

  Leckie studied the carpet curiously and then, when he worked out what had happened, started for the windows. ‘Hey! Who was that?’

  Three more water bombs shot in through the window. Splat, splat, splat.

  Direct hits! Upper arm, chest and stomach.

  Ha, take that, ya old hippy!

  Whispers and sniggers filled the air. But Jessica didn’t hold back, pointing at Leckie and cacking her guts up.

  Then, when I saw Leckie pinching at his shirt, prising it off his flabby man boobs and Christmas pudding gut, I started cacking up too. And when Noah, wearing the Batman mask, stuck his head in the window and yelled ‘That’s for the borderline pass, ya dickhead,’ the rest of the class joined in.

  Noah’s head disappeared and Leckie cast his eyes over the class, gritting his teeth and smiling at the same time. Trying to play it cool, like he thought it was a big joke he was in on.

  ‘How about we call it a year and spend the rest of the afternoon in the quad?’

  Early mark. Yee-fucken-ha!

  I stood at the edge of the quad waiting for Jessica who’d ducked off to the toilets as soon as we got let out. The place was crammed with four classes’ worth of year nine and ten students, along with Leckie and three teachers: crow-nosed Mrs Brown, dartyeyed Mr Collins, and the young Miss ‘Melon-Boob’ Parks (like fucken watermelons they were, I swear!). Kids swarmed the tables, mingling with their mates, laughing, and talking excitedly. The teachers stood in a huddle: chatting, rolling their eyes and shaking their heads, looking resigned, defeated, like they were wondering if they might make this their last day at high school too. As I looked round I noticed that all the classes were from the lower level of D Block. It was almost as if the gang of three had wanted us all in the quad, like they were rounding us up like sheep or…

  ‘Shit!’ I craned my head to look up to the third floor of D Block.

  All the corridor windows that overlooked the quad were open. Then, in a flash, as if a signal had been given, every window on the third floor of D Block framed a masked figure.