Bro Page 6

  ‘Leave it alone, Nat.’

  ‘Okay, okay,’ she chuckles, wriggling her fingers into a pair of woollen gloves. ‘It’s cold this morning, isn’t it?’

  We merge with the crowd of students headed for school two blocks away. Everyone is talking, shouting or laughing. I get a push from someone trying to pass me in a hurry and Nat dodges the metal point of someone’s umbrella. Buses jam the roads, the drone of their engines adding to the noise as they hiss by in the wet. Then there’s the odd P-plater gunning his engine as he speeds past. It’s more crowded out here than the takeaway shop.

  ‘What’ve you been up to?’ I ask, biting into my hot sausage roll.

  ‘Study, study and more study. We’ve got trial exams coming up, you know.’

  Damn! We do too. How could I have forgotten the trial exams?

  ‘Need help with any of your subjects?’ she asks.

  ‘Why? You offering?’

  ‘If you need it.’

  ‘Okay. You good at woodwork?’

  ‘Woodwork?’ She panics.

  ‘Just joking.’ I laugh. She’s so easy to trick. I don’t even do woodwork. ‘Is maths cool?’

  ‘Maths is no problem. We’ll go to the library. Is Friday after school all right?’

  ‘Yeah, sounds good. I’ll text Zac,’ I say, fiddling in my pocket for my phone. ‘I’ll let him know in case he wants to come. You guys can hang out afterwards.’

  Nat laughs. ‘Zac, study? I don’t think so. He’s not the studying type.’

  ‘He’s not that bad,’ I say.

  ‘Yeah, he is. He’s distracting. I won’t be able to study while he’s around, so no, don’t tell him to come. He can be such a baby sometimes, and I don’t wanna be babysitting. Wish he was more like you.’

  More like me? I’m sensing a deep and meaningful coming.

  ‘He’s not into school,’ she continues. ‘He’s leaving at the end of the year, you know. He’s not doing year eleven and twelve.’

  Talking with Nat about Zac is making me uneasy. I concentrate on eating my sausage roll.

  ‘I mean, what’s he gonna do, Romeo?’

  I shrug. ‘I don’t know. Whatever makes him happy, I suppose.’

  ‘He’s not the same these days. We’re not the same.’ She sighs. ‘I hate the way he goes crazy when guys talk to me. It’s embarrassing.’

  ‘He likes you heaps, Nat.’

  ‘Sally reckons she’s seen him with other girls.’

  This D and M just went into territory I don’t want to – I can’t – go! I cram the last bit of sausage roll into my mouth. Chew fast. Swallow hard. Nat stares at me, her gaze boring into my face.

  ‘Just because I’m not allowed out much doesn’t mean I don’t know what’s going on. I’m not stupid, you know.’

  We walk in silence for a while. I stare dead ahead. It’s the first time I’ve ever felt uncomfortable with Nat. She’s my friend, but Zac’s my bro, and I don’t want to see either of them hurt.

  ‘So,’ she says finally. ‘The fight. Were you hurt?’

  ‘Nah, but Diz got a black eye. It’s a nice shade of purple and blue.’ I fake laugh. Getting beat up isn’t funny, but I pretend to be tough about it.

  ‘Was it over Stefanie?’

  ‘Not really. It was about her but not over her, if you know what I mean. Palmer was looking for a fight; she was the excuse. It didn’t take him long before he started knocking Lebs.’

  ‘That’s so stupid, Romeo. You boys need to seriously get over that stuff.’

  ‘I know …’

  ‘I mean, it’s pathetic. You’re all Australian. You put each other down for having different backgrounds but your different backgrounds are what make Australia today.’

  ‘I guess …’

  ‘Think about it. Besides the First Peoples, who in Australia doesn’t come from another country?’

  ‘Good point.’

  ‘It’s a brilliant point. I’m doing society and culture next year for my year-eleven elective. My topic is going to be “What constitutes an Australian?”’

  ‘Yeah? That’s a pretty cool topic.’

  ‘Inspired by you boys.’ She smiles.

  We reach the gates of Saint Adele as the bell rings. Nat runs for class but I stroll, even though my school is another twenty metres down the road. I could cut through. There’s no fence between our two schools, only overgrown native gardens and a shared library. But I’m in no hurry. I know what I’m about to face.

  16

  Palmer, Smitty, Diz and me.

  We sit in the corridor outside the principal’s office in silence. Smitty’s face is clean but Palmer’s cheek is bruised and swollen. He sits, unmoving, staring at the floor. I can tell by the way his lips are scrunched that he’s pissed off. I don’t feel sorry for him, though. He started this.

  We’ve been told to see Brother David first period, first day back. Don’t know why. Mr Gibson has already told us off. He expressed his disappointment, reminded us of school rules, explained the consequences then hit us with that two-day suspension. What more is there?

  ‘Romeo.’ Brother David calls me first.

  Diz grabs my arm and whispers, ‘Don’t take crap from him, bro. We’ve already done two days.’

  ‘It’ll be okay, Diz, just chill,’ I say, hoping to calm him before he gets worked up. Diz is all about fairness. If he does the wrong thing, he accepts punishment. But if you take it too far, he goes crazy and strikes back. But he’s right. We’ve done our suspension. What do they want now?

  I step into Brother David’s office. He sits behind a caramel-coloured timber desk. The dark brown swirls on the top make it look like the cross-section of a tree trunk. A modest cross hangs on the wall behind him.

  ‘Sit down, Romeo,’ he says in his croaky voice. Brother David speaks like he has phlegm in his throat. It makes you want to clear your own throat, or tell him to clear his. But I don’t think he can, it’s just the sound of his voice.

  His mellowness has a calming effect on me and I sit willingly, rest my elbows on the arms of the chair and interlock my fingers.

  ‘I see you have your tie on.’

  I straighten it. Smile.

  ‘I’m pleased to see that,’ he says with a slight nod.

  I can’t believe he remembers. He gave me lunchtime detention last year for not wearing a tie. I hate wearing it. It chokes me. I wonder if he likes wearing his collar. There’s a rumour Brother David used to be a bikie. They reckon he belonged to some Christian gang called God’s Squad. No-one knows for sure but apparently there’s a crucifix tattoo on his ankle. Some kid said he’d seen it when Brother David changed into his joggers at our school walkathon. I can’t imagine Brother David as a bikie. There’s nothing tough about him. He has a round, pinkish face with a bulbous nose and huge fleshy earlobes. He looks more like a cartoon character than a bikie.

  ‘It goes without saying, Romeo, that I am very disappointed in Monday’s events. You know this, don’t you?’

  I clear my throat and quickly erase the cartoon image from my mind before I crack up laughing. ‘Yeah, I do, sir.’

  ‘Yes,’ he emphasises.

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘Yes, Romeo. The word is yes, not yeah.’

  ‘Sorry, sir. Yes.’

  ‘Fighting is never the answer. Differences can be settled in civilised ways.’

  The boys would laugh at me if I told them that. How can I make him understand I had no choice?

  ‘And fighting should never be used to prove anything or as a means of pleasure. Do you agree, Romeo?’

  ‘Yeah, I do, sir – I mean, yes, I do, sir. Who’d wanna fight for pleasure?’

  ‘Good. We’re on the same page then.’ He leans back in his black leather chair and rests his hands on his big stomach. ‘Tell me what you know about a fight club at school.’

  Fight club? I thought we were talking about me and Palmer’s punch-up. He’s caught me off guard. How sneaky – no, how smart. That’s why he’
s the principal. I dodge his gaze. Twist my lips. Fight the urge to scratch my face.

  ‘Romeo?’

  ‘Um … I don’t know anything.’

  ‘Romeo?’ He raises a brow and stares at me, waiting to see if I offer a different answer.

  ‘Seriously, sir, I don’t know anything.’

  ‘Are you certain?’

  I nod.

  He exhales. A whistle escapes his nose. ‘Romeo,’ he says, leaning forward onto his desk again. ‘Did the fight between you and Luke have anything to do with a fight club?’

  ‘No, sir! I swear to you it didn’t,’ I say firmly. At least I’m telling the truth about that.

  ‘Fighting is dangerous. So if there is anything you know or have heard, it’s very important that you tell me. Do you understand?’

  I can’t look at him. My eyes dart around the room. My palms sweat. All I manage is a weak half-nod.

  I suck at lying.

  17

  I head down the corridor towards the year-ten lockers. My mind is ticking over all the things I should’ve said, could’ve said and didn’t say to Brother David. I hate that I lied to him. But there’s no way I can say anything now that Zac is involved. I’d be dogging him.

  ‘Romes, you animal!’ Zac calls, noticing me before I see him. He slams his locker shut, runs up and jumps on me. It’s a big manly embrace, a rare display of joy for Zac. ‘I’m proud of you, bro. You showed ’em what us Lebs are all about.’

  I shrug. Smile. Accept the compliment.

  ‘You got a good left hook. I swear you should spar with me and my brother.’

  ‘Listen, Brother David knows about fight club.’

  ‘Yeah, I know. He called me in yesterday. What’d he say to you?’

  ‘He asked if me and Palmer’s fight had something to do with it.’

  ‘You didn’t say anything, did you?’

  ‘As if, bro.’

  ‘Cool. All right, listen,’ he says. The smile is gone and serious Zac is back. ‘School did get suss about it so the fight’s not happening tomorrow. We’re gonna let it go quiet for a bit and do it next Friday instead.’

  ‘You serious?’

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘But what if you get busted?’

  SLAP! A stinging smack claims the back of my neck.

  ‘Faaaar out!’ I cry, cupping the nape of my neck and looking around.

  That’s Jarrod’s way of welcoming me back to school. There’s nothing gentle about this bloke. He’s a thug, rough and boorish.

  ‘Get lost, Jarrod. That hurt.’

  ‘You’ll live.’ He laughs, rubbing my neck with his huge hand and making it worse.

  ‘Get off,’ I say, shrugging away.

  ‘My man, Zac,’ Jarrod says, dicing him. ‘Did you tell Romes about Friday?’

  ‘Yeah, he knows.’

  ‘Listen, Romes, I gotta tell you I’m disappointed in you,’ he says, folding his arms and leaning against a locker. ‘Why didn’t you do Palmer through my fight club?’

  ‘It wasn’t a planned fight. It just happened.’

  ‘So have a rematch.’

  ‘Get lost.’

  ‘I know you can take him. I saw you on YouTube. Come on, don’t be a wuss.’

  ‘Oi!’ Zac raises his finger. ‘Don’t call him a wuss, bro. Lebs aren’t –’

  I cut in. ‘I’m not interested, Jarrod. We’ve settled our differences and it’s over.’

  ‘Just think about it, Romes. You’re not gonna get caught or anything.’

  ‘Like you care.’

  ‘I don’t but come on, do it for the Lebs.’

  I shake my head. I can’t stand this guy sometimes. ‘Just drop it, okay. I gotta go,’ I say, dicing them both and ending the conversation fast.

  I walk off, leaving them to discuss the details of their looming fight.

  18

  Okay, what’s the first word that comes into your head when I say library? Is it books? Most people say books. But if you came to our library you’d say Sexy Simone. She works here every Friday. Boys drool when they see her. I’m no different. I slobber, fantasise, stare with droopy eyes.

  ‘Romeo.’ Nat waves her hand in front of my face. ‘Earth to Romeo. What’s wrong with you?’

  I can’t tell her. It’s too embarrassing.

  ‘Romeo, you’re not concentrating.’

  But I am. I’m concentrating real hard on Simone’s pouty lips and sexy smile.

  ‘Romeo!’

  ‘Yeah?’

  ‘Concentrate. Please. We’ve almost finished this page. Now, if x is divided by …’

  Nat is in total control of our study session. She gets excited when she studies. She talks fast, gestures with her hands a lot and always says, ‘you with me?’ at the end of each sentence.

  ‘What we’ll do next,’ she lectures, ‘is read the problems from exercise 3B then –’

  ‘Nat?’ I cut her off. ‘Can we finish now, please? It’s four-thirty and I gotta get the train.’

  ‘Is it?’ She looks at her watch. ‘It is too. Okay.’ She sighs. ‘I suppose an hour of maths is enough.’

  ‘Trust me, it’s enough,’ I say, opening my buzzing phone.

  ‘I bet that’s Diz,’ she says, stretching her arms above her head. ‘You two are joined at the hip. Is he at the station waiting for you or something?’

  ‘Nah. He’s home already.’

  ‘Are you going home by yourself?’

  ‘Aren’t you coming?’ I ask, gathering my books.

  ‘I’ve gotta do my history homework. Dad’s picking me up later.’

  More work? She’s crazy.

  ‘Okay. Thanks, Nat. I really appreciate your help.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’

  ‘Sorry if I didn’t concentrate as much as I should have.’

  ‘It’s fine. You’re still better than Zac. He won’t even open a maths book.’

  ‘I know. He hates maths.’

  ‘Romeo, just so you know, I think I’m gonna end it with him.’

  What? Why is she telling me? Zac’s my mate. My face is burning. It must be turning red. I open my mouth to say something. But what? What can I say? ‘Ah …’

  ‘I know, I know,’ she says, raising her palm to stop me speaking. ‘I’m sorry. I know Zac’s your friend. I shouldn’t have said anything.’

  Now she’s going red. Her face starts to crumple and her eyes well up. She unzips her skirt pocket and pulls out a hanky.

  ‘Look, Nat, maybe you should talk to him, tell him how you’re feeling.’

  ‘I’ve tried.’ She sniffs, dabbing her eyes.

  ‘And?’

  ‘I don’t think he gets it.’

  ‘Try again. You know Zac, he needs to hear things a few times before they register,’ I joke, trying to lighten the moment.

  She nods. Smiles. ‘I will. You better go. You’ll miss the train.’

  I stand up and reach for my bag, stuff it with my books and papers. ‘Will you be all right, Nat?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s cool.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Uh-huh,’ she says, faking a smile.

  I get the feeling she won’t be talking to Zac about anything. It’s over already.

  19

  I can’t get Nat and Zac out of my mind. And Stef. And Brother David. And Dad.

  By the time I reach my block the streets are dark. People have disappeared indoors and the roads are quieter.

  ‘HEY, DOG!’

  THUMP!

  A blow hits me on the back of the head. I fall to my knees. My schoolbag is stripped off me and tossed aside.

  WHOP!

  A kick to my stomach and I’m gasping for air.

  WHOP!

  A kick in the back and I’m knocked down to the ground, curled up in pain. I cough, wheeze and grunt as more kicks hammer me.

  Someone grabs my shoulder and spins me onto my back, straddling me. He pins my arms with his knees.

  It’s Palmer.

 
THUMP!

  A punch to the side of my face.

  Thump!

  Thump!

  Thump!

  The hits come hard and fast. Blood seeps inside my mouth. I try to grab his shirt. Try to wrestle him. Try to push him off. But there are others. I can hear their grunts and their curses as they hold me down.

  Then I hear barking. They’ve brought a dog. They’re going to set it on me. It’s going to attack me, rip a chunk of meat from my body. The image of a pit bull freezes in my mind. My body goes numb and I pray to pass out before it happens.

  But they stop. They bolt. Except one – no, two. Palmer and Smitty. They stand over me, panting like hungry beasts. The spit on their lips glistens under the streetlight. Their faces are red, and their fists clenched.

  ‘You Lebs need to be taught a lesson,’ Smitty growls.

  What lesson? What’d I do? I keep quiet, too afraid to say anything.

  ‘You’re not so tough now, are you?’ Palmer snorts, licking his lips. ‘Thought you were a YouTube hero, did you? Well, who’s the hero now?’

  I hear a voice behind me. ‘I got it. Let’s get out of here, dude.’

  It’s Joel Adams. He’s a baby-faced Ozzie who looks like a mouse. He is a mouse. What’s he doing here?

  ‘You get enough?’ Palmer asks him.

  ‘Yep, got it all. It’s a beauty,’ he laughs.

  A phone clicks.

  ‘That’ll do, Luke. Let’s go.’ There’s another voice behind me. It’s MJ – Matthew Johnson. ‘I think you’ve made your point. Let’s just go,’ he says.

  I lie, shaking, too scared to move. I swallow the blood inside my mouth before it spills onto my school shirt. If Teta sees blood on me she’ll freak. I don’t know why I’m even having that thought right now. It’s crazy. Maybe those punches in the face have made my brain go weird.

  ‘Don’t screw with me again, bro,’ Palmer says, mocking the last word. He spits on me, stares for a few seconds then kicks me.

  A deep, guttural sound escapes my mouth as I roll over, hugging my stomach.

  All four take off.

  The dog is still barking but I can see it now. It’s behind an iron gate in the house across the road. It’s a small dog. A Maltese terrier. And it’s not barking, it’s yapping.