Bro Page 4

  I’m done waiting so I butt in, breaking her secret transmission.

  ‘Wanna go someplace else, Stef?’

  ‘Huh,’ she says, startled by my interruption. ‘Oh yeah, sorry, Romeo. Let’s go.’

  Sally death-stares me. But I don’t look away. I stare back.

  We walk in silence to the car park next to the train station – the official spot for talks, fights, even hook-ups. Usually there are heaps of kids from school but today it seems quiet. There’s only one couple behind a red Mazda, holding hands and talking.

  Stef’s not looking at me. She’s not even peeking. Her eyes are down. We stand about a metre apart in an empty car space.

  ‘So what’s up?’ I ask.

  ‘I spoke to Luke last night.’

  ‘Luke? Why?’

  ‘He called me.’

  ‘What for?’

  ‘Dane told him he saw us hook up …’

  ‘That dog!’ I belt out, kicking the ground. He played me. I want to smash his face. I want to hold his head and rub it in dirt. I want to thump him.

  ‘What’s wrong?’

  I take a breath, calm myself. ‘Nothing. Sorry, Stef, keep going.’

  She stares at me for a minute, searching my face. ‘Okay then. Anyway, Luke’s upset about it.’

  ‘Why? You said you weren’t with him any more.’

  ‘I’m not! He just reckons it was dog of me to get with someone so soon after we broke up.’

  ‘I don’t think you’re dog, Stef.’

  She smiles. Those pretty brown eyes. ‘Thanks, Romeo. But maybe … he’s right.’

  ‘What? No way. Luke’s an idiot. He hasn’t got a clue about anything.’

  ‘But people are talking.’

  ‘Who cares about people?’

  ‘Romeo, when girls gossip it’s nasty. Believe me, I know, it happened to me before at my last school.’

  ‘But I like you, Stef. I like you heaps.’

  ‘Me too, that’s why I want to do this properly. I want it to be special.’

  ‘It is special. Don’t worry about what anyone says, they’re just jealous – and don’t worry about what Luke thinks.’

  ‘You don’t know Luke; he can get a bit …’

  ‘Get a bit what? I can take care of him.’

  ‘No! That’s not what I meant. I don’t want any trouble, Romeo, please.’

  ‘Come on, Stef. Why are you so worried about him? I mean, the guy’s an Ozzie loser.’

  ‘Romeo Makhlouf!’ she says, staring me down with wide eyes. ‘Your mother was Australian!’

  ‘So what?’

  ‘What do you mean, so what?’

  ‘It’s different,’ I say, dodging her glare.

  ‘No, it’s not!’

  ‘Yeah, it is. Listen,’ I say, counting the points off on my fingers. ‘I speak Leb, eat Leb and live Leb. That makes me Leb.’

  ‘Yeah, but you also speak Australian, eat Australian and live Australian. Jesus, Romeo, you were born here.’

  ‘Look, forget all that,’ I say, trying to get back on track. ‘I’m just saying the guy never treated you right, that’s all.’

  ‘He wasn’t that bad.’

  Who’s she kidding? Has she forgotten what he did to her at the cinema? Now I stare her down with wide eyes. ‘Come on, Stef. You serious?’

  ‘How would you know, Romeo?’ She folds her arms. Turns away.

  Silence.

  We’re having our first fight already?

  ‘Look, I don’t know what I’m saying,’ I mumble, exhaling a deep breath. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘No, really. I didn’t mean to upset you. I’m being an idiot.’

  ‘It’s all right. I’m sorry too. Look, Romeo, I’m glad I ended it with Luke because otherwise Friday night would never have happened. We just … maybe we just need to wait a bit, that’s all.’

  ‘Until when?’

  She shrugs. ‘I don’t know. It’s just too hard right now.’ My gut says she’s dropping me but my head hopes my gut’s wrong. And I’m too scared to push for more answers because it might upset her more and I’ve done enough of that this morning. I’m cut and I’m confused.

  ‘I had a great time on Friday night too, and I think we’d be good together, but if it’s too hard for you … I mean, I don’t want you to be upset or anything. Look … I don’t know. I gotta get to school.’

  ‘Romeo? Are you okay?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say, faking a smile. I kiss Stef’s cheek and walk away. But honestly, I have no idea. I thought I had her. I thought we were sweet.

  •

  I dash past Diz and a few other Lebs hanging by the school gates, my eyes searching for Dane. I spot him walking across the grass at the front of the school.

  ‘Dano!’ I shout, picking up pace.

  He stops, turns, sees the expression on my face and bolts.

  ‘Yeah, you run, you loser! And don’t stop running because if I catch you, you’re gone!’

  Stupid Dano. Stupid, stupid Dano!

  ‘What’s going on?’ Diz asks, rushing to my side.

  ‘Dano told Palmer me and Stef hooked up.’

  ‘What a dog.’

  ‘I know. He made out like someone else did it.’

  ‘So what happened with Stef?’

  I shrug. Shake my head.

  ‘That sucks, bro,’ he says, throwing his arm around my shoulder.

  It sucks, all right.

  11

  Economics.

  I hate this class. I hate everything about it. The teacher. The subject. And Luke Palmer.

  I’m eyeing him. He’s been eyeing me too, and whispering things to the Rez sitting in front of him. For sure it’s about me. I can’t work out what Stef saw in Palmer. First, he’s ugly. His hair is clipped and spiky, no style. Second, the bloke gets around like he’s better than everyone. He’s constantly flaunting his abs, especially in summer. He actually takes off his shirt, hangs it off the back of his pants and walks around the train station half-naked, thinking he’s hot. What a loser.

  ‘Romes,’ Diz says. ‘Forget about him, will you.’

  ‘He’s an idiot. Look at him.’

  ‘He’s always been an idiot.’ Diz says it like it’s a fact straight from Google.

  ‘Reckon he threatened her or something?’

  ‘Come on, bro. Rebound guy, remember?’

  ‘Don’t say that.’

  ‘But it’s true.’

  I sense a shadow behind us.

  Mr Osprey. He likes to strut up and down the classroom when he teaches. He’s a suit man – vests, cufflinks, ties, the whole package. There’s a sign in his home room that reads, ‘Clothes maketh the man’. He told us once we should carry briefcases to school because our backpacks made us look like camels.

  ‘Romeo and Aziz,’ he says loudly.

  Diz rolls his eyes. He hates being called by his real name. No-one except his parents and a few older relatives call him Aziz. At home! And Mr Osprey knows it.

  ‘Stay cool,’ I whisper.

  ‘Would you two like to share the conversation you’re having with the rest of the class?’ he asks, stepping in front of our desk and peering over his frameless glasses.

  ‘Not really, it’s no-one’s business,’ Diz says.

  Mr Osprey bends forward and places his hands on our desk. He lowers his head so close I can see that he trims his eyebrows.

  ‘You being a smarty, Aziz? I have a vacancy in the Saturday morning detention group if you like.’

  ‘No, I’m not. I’m just saying that I don’t want to tell the class. I’m answering your question.’

  Mr Osprey looks hard at Diz. ‘Really, Aziz. Well, I’d like you to share it. It must be very interesting if it can’t wait until after my lesson.’

  Is he for real? The dust in the corner is more exciting than his boring lesson. But hey, whatever turns him on.

  Diz folds his arms and sucks in a deep breath. And just as he’s abou
t to tell Mr Osprey what he really thinks of his lesson, I jump in quickly before we get a detention. ‘Yeah, nah, it’s all good, sir. It’s nowhere near as interesting as your lesson. Seriously, sir, we’re sorry for disrupting.’

  Mr Osprey purses his lips, his eyes flicking from me to Diz.

  ‘By the way, sir,’ I say, ‘that tie is a great colour.’

  It’s common knowledge at school that compliments are Mr Osprey’s weakness. You can get away with anything if you give him a compliment, especially if it’s about his clothes.

  Mr Osprey’s eyes soften. He straightens up and adjusts his tie. So far, so good. The classroom is quiet. We wait to see if he’s taken the bait.

  He clears his throat. ‘Yes, well …’

  But a voice cuts him off and spoils everything.

  ‘Romeo got his heart broke today, sir,’ Palmer shouts across the room.

  ‘Shut up, Palmer!’ I call back.

  ‘You’re just not man enough for her, dude,’ he says, laughing and dicing the Ozzie sitting next to him.

  ‘I said, shut your mouth!’

  At the same time, Diz stands up, knocking over the chair behind him. ‘Come here and say that, Skip.’

  ‘Yeah?’ Palmer back-kicks the chair he’s sitting on and storms towards us. ‘I’ll take both you Lebs on.’

  The class erupts. Mr Osprey lunges in front of Palmer and spreads his arms out like a human barrier. ‘SIT DOWN NOW!’

  I pick up Diz’s chair, grab him by the tail of his shirt and pull him down. If we get done for this, Mr Osprey’s likely to make us sit with year-seven boys at lunchtime. Not cool.

  ‘Get back to your seat,’ Mr Osprey says to Palmer through clenched teeth.

  Palmer goes back, but only after mumbling something about me being a wuss. Stupid poser.

  12

  Diz is poking around in his locker, searching for the packet of chips he stashed there earlier.

  ‘Hurry up, bro,’ I say, while reading the text on my phone. ‘I wanna get a lasagne from the canteen before they’re all gone.’

  ‘Relax, will you. Who’s texting?’ Diz asks.

  ‘It’s Nat. She knows what happened with me and Stef.’

  ‘That was quick. Ask her how she found out.’

  I show Diz the text.

  ‘Yeah, but who’s everyone?’

  ‘It’s Dane, bro, who else? He started all this. He told Palmer me and Stef hooked up and now Palmer’s making out he was dogged,’ I say, reading another text from Nat.

  ‘See,’ I say, holding the phone up to Diz’s face.

  The problem with school is everybody wants drama. Everybody wants to get involved. You only have to say or do one small thing and, before you know it, everyone’s in on it. I wish people would mind their own business. I text Nat back.

  ‘They’re jealous,’ Diz says. ‘They just wanna make Stef look bad, so they make stuff up. Stef just broke up, ra ra ra, hooks up straight away, ra ra ra, know what I’m saying? I bet Sally had something to do with this, bro. That chick’s got a big mouth.’

  ‘Yeah, probably.’

  ‘Oh my God,’ Diz says, his jaw dropping. ‘Sally must be hot for you.’

  ‘What?’ I say, dropping my own jaw.

  ‘I’m joking, Romes.’ Diz laughs, patting my arm. ‘Don’t freak out.’

  ‘That’s not funny.’

  ‘Then why am I laughing?’

  ‘Shut up,’ I say, pushing him.

  ‘Listen, don’t worry about it, Romes. Karma will fix everything up. Let me tell you something,’ he says, gazing at the ceiling and stroking his chin as if he has a beard. ‘When you do something to someone, it’s gonna come back to you. That’s how it works. Know what I’m saying?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah.’ I roll my eyes. ‘I gotta eat, Diz. Come on, I’m starving.’

  ‘It’s true. I’m not making this stuff up.’

  ‘I get it, bro, but please …’ I say, grabbing his arm and dragging him away. ‘I gotta get food.’

  We walk across the yard on our way to the canteen. Chris and Zac are playing handball and I can tell by the grin on Chris’s face he’s winning. He loves to win – anything.

  Teasingly, Diz steps in the middle, disrupting the game and forcing it to end.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Chris shouts.

  Diz holds his arms out and shrugs, pretending he had no idea they were playing. But Chris and Zac know Diz better and they pelt him with the spare balls.

  ‘Anybody want anything from the canteen?’ I ask.

  ‘Yeah, get me a Coke,’ Ants says, tossing me a two-dollar coin.

  Anthony Saliba is another Leb in our group. He’s a chubby bloke with curly hair and a constant grin. It’s catching if you stare at him long enough. He comes from a huge family. Nine boys. There’s a brother in every grade at school, triplets in year eight.

  ‘Hey, listen,’ Zac says. ‘You want me to come with you to Boganville?’

  Looks like everyone knows what happened in economics, which means the Ozzies in Boganville, as Diz calls it, will be on alert. Texts travel fast around here.

  ‘Nah, it’s all good,’ I tell Zac. ‘Diz, want me to get you something?’

  ‘I’m coming with you, bro.’

  Within seconds of us approaching the canteen area, the Ozzies turn their attention our way. There are twelve, maybe fifteen of them. It’s a small number compared to our Leb group. We have double, at least.

  ‘Oh, Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?’

  Like I haven’t heard that one before. Ben Smith, Smitty, holds his hand against his heart, half-singing the line. Palmer stands next to him, fake laughing. I give them the finger and keep walking.

  ‘Makhlouf, you dog,’ Palmer starts. ‘It’s not cool to hook up with someone else’s girlfriend.’

  I stop. Turn. Frown.

  ‘I didn’t hook up with anyone’s girlfriend.’

  ‘You hooked up with mine.’

  What the hell? I march back to him. Diz tails me. The Ozzies close in.

  ‘What are you talking about, Palmer?’

  ‘I’m talking about Stef.’

  ‘You were broken up.’

  ‘No, we weren’t.’

  ‘Yes, you were. She told me you were broken up.’

  ‘You’re full of crap, Makhlouf!’

  ‘You’re an idiot, Palmer. You think I’d hook up with her if I knew you were still together?’

  ‘Yeah, I do. You Lebs can’t be trusted.’

  Diz steps forward. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘You heard me.’

  Like most fights at school, it turns racial. It doesn’t matter what it is, your background will always cop a hit.

  ‘You’re a wuss, Romeo,’ Smitty chimes in then. ‘You’re always getting Diz to take care of business for you. He’s like your little slave.’

  The Ozzies laugh. They clap and slap each other on the back as if what he said was genius.

  Diz pretends to laugh. ‘That’s real funny coming from a convict. Are you jealous, Smitty? Jealous because Lebs take care of each other?’

  I cut in. ‘What’s your problem, Palmer?’

  ‘You’re my problem.’

  ‘What the –’

  ‘Shut it, Makhlouf. You’re a dog, all right. Go near her again and I’ll knock your block off.’

  ‘She was broken up with you. And don’t call me a dog again or I’ll knock your block off.’

  ‘Then let’s settle it,’ he says, pushing his chest forward at me, and stepping closer so we’re face to face. His breath is so bad I think about spitting but I stay cool.

  From the corner of my eye I see a crowd forming, and phones recording. I’m wondering how it escalated so quickly. All I came for was a lasagne for me and a Coke for Ants. I don’t want to fight. There’s no way I’m doing detention for Luke Palmer.

  ‘Listen, Palmer,’ I say coolly, ‘you need to chill. I’m not gonna fight you over this. It’s stupid and you know it. You were broken
up with Stef.’

  ‘Okay,’ he says, holding his gaze. ‘Then you’re dog-shot.’

  ‘YES!’ Smitty shouts, slapping Luke’s back.

  I freeze as the Ozzies cheer and pump their fists above their heads. I didn’t see that coming. Dog-shot? It’s the lowest form of fighting. A sucker punch, basically. It’s done when you’re alone, when your mates aren’t around to help you. They hunt you down like prey then beat the crap out of you. Only cowards dog-shot.

  Diz throws his arms out. ‘What the hell, Palmer? You really are a dog, you know that? I swear you need a leash,’ he says.

  ‘Shut your mouth, Diz,’ Smitty snaps. ‘You Lebs think you can do whatever you want.’

  ‘We can. We got balls down here,’ Diz says, grabbing his crotch.

  ‘Why are you doing this, Palmer?’ I ask.

  ‘Awww, lover boy thinks I give a crap. What’s it gonna be, Makhlouf?’

  I eyeball him. I can’t think of anything else to say. Fight him or be dog-shot. The answer is obvious. Who wants to be dog-shot? I’m scared to call it. My heart races with fear. But I’m angry too. Fuming! I’m not a liar. I’m not a dog. I haven’t done anything wrong.

  I bite my lip. Clench my fist.

  Bang!

  I throw the first punch. Smash him in the face.

  Bang!

  He belts me on the side of my head.

  Bang!

  I punch him in the stomach.

  Bang!

  Bang!

  Bang!

  We fall to the ground. Wrestle. Hit. Grab. Shove. At one stage he’s on top of me. At another I have him by the collar. I get a taste of gravel. The noise of cheering is deafening. Then hands begin to grope us, trying to split us up.

  ‘Teacher’s coming! Teacher’s coming!’

  I hear the warning, then my name.

  ‘ROMEO MAKHLOUF!’

  That voice. Mrs Bankovic.

  I don’t care. My adrenalin is boiling.

  ‘ROMEO MAKHLOUF! STOP THIS RIGHT NOW!’

  Stop? No way!

  I swing another punch. Cop another hit.

  Hands again. Stronger this time. Pulling. Wrenching us apart. Blaring orders to stop. ‘STOP!’

  It’s the male teachers that split us up. They hold us back from each other.