Bro Page 11

  It’s hard pretending to be tough when your body won’t follow through. My legs feel weak and I’m worried they’ll start shaking. The dizziness doesn’t help either. I rest against my locker and wait for it to pass.

  ‘You okay?’ Diz asks.

  I nod. ‘Head spin, that’s all.’

  We make our way to the grass area by the science labs. Zac, Ants, Robbie, Chris and a few others are waiting there for us. They cheer when Diz and I arrive. The noise makes me even more uneasy. I want to tell them to keep it down.

  ‘Romes, Diz,’ Zac says, approaching us. We exchange split-second hugs. The others walk up to us. Dice us. Hug us. Slap our backs.

  ‘Drop your bags here, boys,’ Ants says. ‘We’re walking in like men, not schoolkids.’

  But we are schoolkids. God, what am I doing? This is so messed up.

  ‘You ready, Romes?’ Robbie asks, massaging my shoulders. ‘You fired up or what?’

  ‘You’re too quiet,’ says Ants, slapping my face lightly. ‘You cool?’

  ‘Yeah, he’s cool,’ says Robbie, throwing his arm around me. ‘He’s saving his energy.’

  ‘Let’s go,’ Zac says, leading the way.

  Like ducklings we follow our Mother Duck to a field behind the toilet block. It’s a secluded area that the school plans to turn into a second footy field one day. The patches of grass are dry and the ground is hard. As we round the corner, I see about thirty Lebs waiting, and more arriving. I gasp. This has to be a joke. There have to be TV cameras hidden somewhere. There are boys from other schools too. Boys I don’t know. Then there’s the Rez, ten or fifteen of them, chatting and laughing. I can’t believe they’ve all come to watch the fight.

  The crowd notices our arrival. Cheers erupt and there’s clapping. Chanting. ‘We are the Leb boys, mighty, mighty Leb boys …’

  The atmosphere is exciting, electrifying, like a sports carnival or a backyard party. It’s weird to watch. It’s even weirder to be the reason for the turnout.

  ‘This is awesome!’ Robbie says, bouncing on his feet. He looks like a child at his first circus.

  ‘This, boys,’ Zac says, raising his arms to indicate the crowd, ‘this is what it’s gonna be like at my first professional boxing match.’

  I wish this was his first professional boxing match.

  We merge with the mob. Zac seems to know most of them. There’s a lot of dicing and quick hugs going on. I fake smile and pretend to be revved up, which makes them happy. Diz stays close, checking everyone out.

  Jarrod rocks up with about twenty Fobs behind him. He swaggers towards us like he’s some gangsta. I can’t even see Dane among them.

  ‘Hey, fellas,’ Jarrod says. ‘Are we pumped or what?’

  ‘Bloody oath!’ Zac says, throwing his arm around me. ‘My man’s ready to go.’

  Minutes later the Ozzies show, with about the same number as us Lebs. My stomach sinks when I see Palmer. This fight is really happening. They have boys from other schools with them too. Big, musclebound boys who look older than us. With bodies like that, they have to be members of Luke’s dad’s gym.

  Silence falls over the crowd and the carnival atmosphere dies. Lebs pull to one side, allowing the Ozzies to occupy the other half.

  Jarrod steps into the open area. He rubs his hands together and grins as he takes in the faces.

  ‘Okay, boys,’ he says, ‘thanks for coming to my fight club. Awesome turnout.’

  Everyone claps.

  ‘Today we have Luke Palmer and Romeo Makhlouf.’

  Lebs and Ozzies explode in a storm of cheers and chanting, each trying to outdo the other.

  ‘Settle down,’ Jarrod says. As he scans the crowd, his eyes lock on to a Rez who’s using his phone to record. ‘Hey! Stop taping!’ Jarrod shouts. ‘No-one can tape. If you wanna see a fight, you gotta show up. This is my show. So put that down or I’ll break your arm.’

  The dizziness is back. My head spins and throbs at the same time. There’s an ache in my stomach. I grab Diz by the arm and stagger to an open corner at the back of the crowd. I try to fight it but it’s useless – vomit spurts from my mouth, thick and fast.

  ‘Crap, bro. You all right?’ Diz asks.

  I shake my head at him, staying bent over. I vomit some more.

  ‘Here,’ he says, passing me his bottle of water. I snatch it from his hand and take a swig. It’s warm but I swish water around in my mouth and spit it out.

  In the background, the Ozzies laugh. I can’t make out what they’re saying but I can tell they’re mocking me.

  ‘This is embarrassing,’ I tell Diz.

  ‘Don’t worry about them. Are you okay?’

  I straighten up and nod, even though I’m not. Vomiting has drained me and I feel pathetic. I splash my face with the water. Thoughts race through my mind. I’m thinking of ways to end this. Ways to change what’s about to happen. I imagine giving a speech about how we should all be cool with each other. I imagine Palmer walking over to me, shaking my hand and telling me he feels the same way. I imagine Zac hugging me and telling me he respects me. I imagine Dad saying he’s proud.

  But when my eyes focus, I see everyone waiting for a fight.

  ‘Bro, you’ve gone white. You sure you’re gonna be okay?’

  ‘I’ll be fine.’

  ‘You want me to fight for you?’

  ‘No way, bro. I have to do this,’ I say.

  33

  Diz and I walk back to our spot. I get a few pats on the way and the odd muffled comment like, ‘You’ll be right, bro’. But mostly people just tell me to get on with it.

  ‘Is little Romey sick?’ sings Palmer, pouting his lips. ‘Need mummy to rub your tummy, matey?’

  The Ozzies break into fits of laughter.

  ‘That’s hilarious, Palmer,’ Diz calls. You’re a real comedian.’

  I can’t let everyone think I’m a wuss. And I can’t let Diz speak for me again. I swallow. Take a step forward.

  ‘Nah, man,’ I pipe up. ‘It was that Ozzie meat pie I had for lunch. Chucked it up and left it for the dogs.’

  The Lebs cheer and clap my comeback.

  ‘We’re here to fight, boys, not talk,’ Jarrod cuts in. ‘Let’s do this, all right!’

  Palmer steps into the middle, bouncing on his feet and rolling his shoulders. I jump in with him and lift my fists to my face. Palmer copies and we circle each other, dancing like boxers.

  ‘You’re going down, Leb,’ he says, voice cracking. Sweat beads line his top lip. He wipes them on his shoulder.

  My mouth’s too dry to say anything. I swallow.

  The crowd taunts us. Shouts come from all directions.

  ‘Get on with it!’

  ‘You suck!’

  ‘Smash him.’

  ‘Hit him, bro. Whatta you waiting for?’

  ‘Go for the face, dude.’

  My hands automatically rise higher, protecting my face, stupidly leaving my body open.

  BANG!

  He punches me straight in the gut, knocking the wind out of me. It forces me to bend over. I clutch my stomach. Stumble backwards.

  BANG!

  He kicks me in the face, cutting my lip and knocking me to the ground.

  ‘Get up, Leb,’ he snorts, bouncing on his feet. ‘Get up!’

  Something snaps inside me. A rush of adrenalin rips through me. I get up. Spit the blood from my mouth and charge at him, roaring.

  ‘Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!’

  I tackle him to the ground and hammer him with punches. I belt him, whack him, smash him. We’re grabbing each other, dragging each other, hitting each other. Like feral animals, we claw each other.

  BANG!

  He punches me in the chest.

  BANG!

  I strike him in the face.

  BANG!

  He knocks me down, dives on top and wrestles me.

  BANG! BANG! BANG!

  I’m copping kicks to my thighs, my waist and my head. But hang on, how? Palmer is o
n top of me.

  BANG!

  Another kick to my body.

  I thrash my legs, flail my arms and buck my body. I manage to flip him off. A Leb grabs Palmer by his collar and drags him away. Around me, hits, kicks and punches fly from every direction. Everyone has jumped in! Everyone is fighting. Lebs, Ozzies, Fobs and Rez. But who’s fighting who? It’s out of control. Our fight has turned into a massive brawl.

  I struggle to my knees and look wildly around me. I search for Diz. For Zac. Ants. Robbie. Anyone!

  BANG!

  A punch to the side of my head knocks me back down. I wrap my arms tight around my head and lie there, trembling. I listen to the thumps, the whacks and the deep guttural groans. Dirt sprays me as it’s kicked and scraped around.

  I shake my head and my vision clears a little. I catch sight of Zac boxing. He throws a right jab then a left hook. One of the Ozzies drops on the ground next to me. A foot follows, kicking him in the guts. Someone trips over me, rolls and flops on his stomach. It’s Ata. I try to crawl over to him but I hear the sound of chains. Nunchaku? It’s Quang. He’s thrashing them all over the place, striking anyone who comes near him. Rez, Fob, Leb, Ozzie. He’s a lunatic.

  ‘Quang!’ I shout. ‘Put them down!’

  He ignores me and moves through the crowd, flogging them.

  Then I hear sirens. Police sirens?

  I need to find Diz. We have to get out of here. Diz! Where’s Diz?

  ‘Cops are here!’ someone shouts.

  ‘Get the hell outta here!’ another person calls.

  More warnings echo across the war zone. The fight breaks apart. I’m shoved and knocked and thumped as they race past me. Blokes run in every direction, their mouths bloodied and shirts ripped. I stagger to my feet, nursing my head. It feels heavy and the dizziness is worse. My vision is blurry and there’s a ringing in my ears.

  I spot Zac running towards Ants and Robbie. They’re crouched over Diz, who’s lying on his back. He looks like he’s out cold.

  I bolt over.

  ‘Diz,’ I call, dropping to my knees, pushing Robbie out of my way. ‘You all right, bro? Talk to me.’

  No response.

  I grab his arms and shake him. ‘Diz!’

  No response.

  ‘This is not funny, bro. Say something!’

  ‘Why isn’t he talking?’ Robbie says.

  I try again, louder. ‘Diz! Get up, bro!’

  ‘Check if he’s breathing,’ Zac says. ‘Feel his pulse.’

  I place my quivering hand on the side of his neck. I have no idea what I’m doing. I can’t feel a thing but I’m not sure if my fingers are in the right place.

  ‘Well? Did you feel it?’ Robbie asks.

  I don’t answer.

  ‘He’s got no pulse, has he?’

  ‘Stuff this, I’m calling an ambulance,’ Zac says, pulling out his phone.

  I rest my ear against Diz’s chest, listening for a heartbeat. I hold my hand over his mouth, feeling for air. I clutch his wrist. I slap his face. My ears are ringing.

  ‘Let’s do mouth-to-mouth,’ Robbie says, his voice cracking.

  ‘Do you know how?’ Zac asks.

  ‘We gotta do something!’ I snap.

  Robbie moves quickly to the other side of Diz. ‘You blow, Romes, and I’ll pump his chest.’

  As I grab his jaw, a firm hand grips my arm and yanks me away from Diz. Impulsively I swing my fist. It’s seized and I’m forced on my stomach, my arm secured behind my back.

  ‘Settle down, mate,’ the cop orders.

  I’d forgotten about the cops. Didn’t even hear them approaching. My focus was all on Diz.

  ‘He needs help,’ I cry.

  The cop thrusts his knee into my back. He grabs my head and turns it away from the scene, holding it against the ground.

  ‘But my friend needs help. Please help him!’ I yell.

  ‘Keep it quiet, mate,’ he says, driving his knee harder into my spine.

  I hear Zac protesting. ‘Don’t touch me! Get your hands off me!’ he shouts.

  ‘Help our friend,’ Ants cries. ‘Please help our friend.’

  Robbie doesn’t say a word.

  There’s a lot of movement and a lot of male and female voices, all talking on top of one another.

  ‘Don’t move him.’

  ‘Is the ambulance on its way?’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Diz!’ I cry out. ‘His name is Diz.’

  ‘Can you hear me, Diz?’

  ‘There’s no pulse.’

  ‘Starting CPR.’

  ‘One, two, three …’

  Come on, Diz, I pray. Breathe, bro, please breathe.

  ‘Four, five, six …’

  ‘Ambulance has arrived,’ calls a voice. ‘Any luck?’

  ‘Still working …’

  My head spins again, faster this time. Sounds fade. My view begins to slip in and out of focus and the ground drops beneath me. I’m falling. Seconds later, I black out.

  34

  I can tell from the sounds that I’m lying in a hospital bed. Beepers are going off, lots of rubber footsteps are squeaking on the clean floor and ‘Doctor Tan’ is constantly being paged. I think I hear Dad’s voice at some point. There’s talk about patients too. Including me. They’re calling me the ‘sleeper’. But I’m awake … sort of. My eyes are just too heavy to open and my body too sore to move. I think about Diz and wonder where they’ve put him. I want to send him a text but I can’t even lift my arms.

  ‘Anne, can you give this to the teachers, please?’

  It’s the same voice I’ve been hearing. I think she’s the head nurse because she seems to give the orders.

  ‘They’re in the waiting room,’ she says. ‘Two of them. A Brother David and … let me just check this … a Mr Gibson.’

  ‘Sure, I’ll do that now.’

  ‘And the police will need that paperwork too.’

  ‘No problem. Did they say if they wanted to interview this one before he’s discharged?’

  Is she talking about me? Or is Diz nearby? I wonder if the police have spoken to any of the boys yet. Have they caught up with the ones that did the bolt? Like Jarrod, or Palmer? And where’s Zac? Ants and Robbie? My head throbs with questions.

  ‘Have Aziz Mansoor’s parents been contacted?’ the head nurse asks.

  ‘Troy phoned them. He got in touch with the father, I think.’

  ‘Sue,’ a new voice calls, ‘the teachers won’t stop asking about …’ there’s the sound of papers being shuffled, ‘Romeo Ma– Makhlouf?’

  I hear footsteps. Someone starts rubbing my hand.

  ‘Romeo. Romeo, can you hear me?’

  I open my eyes, squinting in the light.

  ‘There you are,’ she says, smiling.

  I blink at the nurse. She has deep blue eyes, large and round. Is she Sue or Anne? I wonder.

  ‘You’ve had a long nap, sweetie. Can you sit up for me?’ I struggle to lift myself. My body is like a slab of concrete, my head heavy enough to drop off.

  ‘Good boy,’ she says, pushing a pillow behind me. ‘Feeling okay?’

  I nod my sore head slowly.

  ‘You’ve been out for a while, but I’ve kept my eye on you. Are you feeling dizzy?’

  I shake my head, but it’s a lie.

  ‘Good. Here, drink this water,’ she says, guiding my hand around a small paper cup. ‘Now, we’ve smeared a little something over that cut on your lip. It will sting when you eat, but you’re a toughie, I can tell.’ She smiles, pats my hand. ‘Your father has just stepped out for a minute. I’ll let him know you’re awake now. Okay, sweetie?’

  My stomach sinks. How do I explain this to Dad? What will I say? It won’t make a difference anyway. He’s going to go crazy on me. He’ll tell me I’m an idiot, and a liar. And I don’t blame him. I’ve stuffed up big time. I mean, seriously, I’m lying in a hospital bed.

  ‘Excuse me,’ I say. My voice is hoarse, my throat dry. �
��Do you know where my friend Diz is? Aziz, I mean?’

  ‘You can ask Doctor Tan all the questions you want, sweetie. He’ll be here to see you in a minute.’

  I scan my surroundings. My bed is in the hospital hallway by the nurse’s desk. A large digital clock reads 7.23. The nurse was right. I’ve been out for ages! Over three hours. My school clothes are still on but my shoes are gone. I fumble inside my pockets for my phone but it’s gone too. I need to text Diz somehow and find out where he is.

  ‘Are you looking for this?’ Dad says, approaching the end of my bed and holding up my phone. ‘I’ve been minding it for you.’

  ‘Dad …’

  ‘How’re you feeling?’

  ‘Um … okay.’

  ‘You comfortable? You warm?’ he asks gently, stretching the sheet and plumping my pillow.

  ‘Err … yeah.’

  ‘Well, that’s good. That’s really good, son.’

  Did Dad just call me son? If my jaw wasn’t so tight, my mouth would’ve dropped open. He’s supposed to be angry but he’s being nice and I don’t know why.

  ‘Dad …’

  ‘The police have been waiting for you to wake up. Will you be right to talk to them?’ he says, looking down the corridor. ‘There they are now.’

  The two uniformed cops brush past hospital staff as they make their way to my bed. A tall, bald one with a thick moustache leads a younger-looking policeman.

  ‘Romeo Makhlouf? I’m Constable Graham. This is Constable Miller. We’d like to ask you a few questions,’ he says in a deep, well-rehearsed voice. ‘What can you tell us about the fight this afternoon?’

  I look at Dad, who’s gazing at me with a weird look on his face. He’s supposed to be pissed off – I mean, the cops are here. Isn’t that every parent’s nightmare? I must’ve missed something. First he calls me son, and now he’s staring at me.

  I get it. He’s obviously putting it on like he did for Brother David and Mr Gibson. Once we’re out of here, he’s going to kill me.

  ‘Romeo?’ Constable Graham calls for my attention. ‘Can you tell us what happened?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ I say, furrowing my brow. ‘It just got out of hand. Before I knew it, everyone was fighting. And I mean everyone. It was so bad. I just wanted to get out of there. But I couldn’t find Diz. And then someone called the cops …’