Alana Oakley (3 page)

Emma drove the way she lived life – straddling two lanes at the same time, as if she couldn't decide which direction to take until the last minute. When the chemical concoction began to take effect, passing cars seemed to slow down, while traffic lights rocketed into the air. Everything felt muddled. Psychedelic colours spun. Emma experienced a sudden rush of energy. She pushed her foot on the accelerator.
Wheeee!
She could fly!

Drivers were terrified by the ute's erratic behaviour.

“Watch out!” an ambulance driver yelled, when the ute overtook him.

“Maniac!” cried a Maserati driver as Emma flew past.

In answer, Emma gave a royal wave and smiled serenely. Through the hazy fog that was now pain-free, she sang: “Rubber ducky, you're the one. You make bath time so much fun. Rubber ducky, you're the one for meeeeeee!”

The ute jumped over a barrier and landed hard, jerking like a bucking bronco. “
Woh
, Nellie,” Emma responded. She stroked her ‘horse'. The steering wheel spun out of control. Now the ute was travelling 120km/hr, down a busy highway,
on the wrong side of the road
.

Drivers swore and swerved to avoid the car. Emma stared at them like they were wild steeds to be caught, her lips pulled back in a manic grin. She whipped her ‘horse' and urged it forward. The car wiggled all over the road. One by one, the ute attracted a string of police cars like iron files to a magnet. Sirens blared. Lights flashed. Emma reached for her lasso …

…

When the charge against Alana's mum, Emmalina Estafania Corazon Oakley, was read aloud for Emma to respond to, no one was more surprised than her.

“I have no memory of it, Your Honour … ess,” she added, because the judge was a woman. If the judge appreciated Emma's thoughtfulness, she did not show it. If anything, her expression became sterner. Judge Debnham's constant displeasure had worn grooves into the skin surrounding her mouth and between the two neatly, plucked auburn eyebrows that hovered over piercing, blue eyes. She did not suffer fools gladly. While the framed cross-stitch in her office warned: “Your sin will find you out”, a common addendum to the saying was that if your sin didn't find you out, Judge Debnham most certainly would. Such was her reputation around the courts.

Judge Debnham's voice rang clear. “Your poor judgment came at great expense to the local taxpayer, Ms Oakley. High-speed car chases do not come cheap. Thankfully, no one was hurt, but I cannot let this pass without some lesson to be learnt. According to your record, you have displayed several instances of misplaced judgment before. I hereby sentence you to a total of thirty hours Community Service, so the wealth of your … ‘expertise' … can be shared with others less fortunate.”

“Plead the Fifth!” came a voice from the back of the courtroom.

“We're not in America, you fool!” Katriona cried.

“America, Australia, same-same lah!”

“Who said that?” Judge Debnham demanded with a severe purse of her lips. A bout of angry whispering ensued.

After a few moments, Ling Ling stood up; resplendent in varying shades of orange. She was going through a ‘Buddhist phase' after a trip to Thailand. The saffron hues of the monks' robes had made an impression … though not of the spiritual kind. A slipper of iridescent gold pressed firmly into the toes of the woman beside her until she too, jumped up with a glare. The woman was just as tall as Ling Ling but shaped like a sitar – thin and flat on top while her backside ballooned. While today, Ling Ling favoured the rich, shimmering colours of the East, the other woman assumed the jungle print of a tiger. The fabric clung to her curves as if the pelt were her own. Black and orange striped nails gripped her waist as her not-so-sizeable chest leaned in one direction and her more sizeable rear took off in the other. She wasn't taking any chances – you never knew when someone might take a photo.

“Ahh yes, let me hazard a guess that one of you is Ms Katriona Karovsky and the other, Ms Ling Ling Shu. You seem, Ms Oakley, to persist with friends with whom you share a colourful past.” The judge eyed her speculatively. “Obviously you're the type of person who takes longer to learn their lesson. Perhaps
forty
hours of Community Service is more appropriate? Unless counsel suggests otherwise?” she said with a pointed glance at Emma's friends.

“But she didn't know what she was doing.” Alana burst out. “It was the drugs she took for her tooth ache!”

“And who may you be? Oh no, don't tell me. You must be Alana Oakley, the defendant's daughter. Thank you for your report cards, young lady, but I am afraid that straight A's do not change the fact that your mother broke several laws. And of course the charges only cover the infringements she was caught for. Who knows what else she might have done …”

“But she didn't mean to!” James said next, jumping up to stand next to Alana. James, back from his Ugandan photo-shoot, looked lean and sun-tanned. Katriona immediately struck a new pose.
Raar!
She miaowed, extending a claw to James. Surely he would be inspired to take a photo of her now? James's shocked eyes sought solace in the ceiling.

The judge leaned back in surprise and banged her gavel. “Enough! I will not have my court made a mockery of! I hereby sentence Emmalina Estafania Corazon Oakley to a total of
sixty
hours Community Service at the Police Boys' Club in Newtown. Perhaps
they
can have a positive influence on your life. And if I hear another word, I will make it eighty! IS. THAT. CLEAR?”

The sound of the gavel was loud and sharp. Any further protests died a quick death on people's lips. Judge Debnham paused and peered over her glasses.

“Have you seen to that tooth of yours yet, Ms Oakley?”

Emma gulped. The air rushed from her lungs. “Kind of …” she managed to choke out.

“May I remind you, you are under oath, Ms Oakley. Either you have, or you haven't.”

“Not yet, Your Supreme Highness.”

“The court, therefore, also orders you to visit a dentist immediately. Well,” she barked, “what are you waiting for?”

Emma stepped down from the witness stand and scrambled for her belongings before stumbling into the sun.

The dentist.

Emma's worst nightmare.

CHAPTER 3

A fall from grace

Alana sighed as she waited in line. She was stuck at Boot Camp (their new name for the gym) for another P.E. lesson filled with pain and suffering. Any hope that Coach Kusmuk had mellowed over the summer holidays, faded as her yells bounced off the echoey walls. If anything, Coach Kusmuk had got worse. The rumour that she was transferring schools next year was all Alana's class could talk about.

“I heard she's being sent as a special consultant to deal with Childhood Obesity,” Maddie huffed. ‘Childhood Obesity' was one of Coach Kusmuk's pet projects, as well as finding and seizing Inappropriate Items for her Confiscation Cupboard. Alana had seen first-hand the impressive collection of deviance accumulated over several generations.

“Yeah, that's all an overweight kid needs – Coach Kusmuk yelling at them to go faster,” Khalilah moaned in sympathy. Khalilah Madzaini fought with her weight the way you might fight with a phantom – with lots of useless punches at the air – but the ‘baby fat' remained stubbornly attached.

“Faster!” Coach Kusmuk yelled across the room.

Khalilah rolled her eyes. “See what I mean?”

“Just (
pant
) one (
pant
) more (
pant
) year,” Alana promised, as she finished off her push-ups.

Everybody was engaged in a different training activity. Some were running a 60-metre sprint. Some were hanging from monkey bars on twisted towels slung over thin bars of steel. Others were doing flexed arm hangs, bench dips, push-ups or balancing on a beam. “We're all going to die,” Alana could hear Miller whimper as he looked at the set of tyres he had to ‘tiptoe' through in under ten seconds. Students all over the gym dropped like flies.

The final activity was a wall climb. For Khalilah it felt like Mount Kinabalu. After only halfway up, she was struggling to go any further. The monkey bar exercise had ripped her arms from their sockets, and now the cargo net was biting into her skin. She began to regret the extra donut for breakfast. She pulled upwards with sweaty palms, then slipped back with a cry. Even though it was not yet her turn, Alana vaulted up the wall to whisper words of encouragement and lend a helping hand. But Coach Kusmuk's eyes in the back of her head did not appreciate the interference.

“If you think Khalilah can't complete the task, Alana, please don't let me stop you from helping her. In fact,” she added with a nasty gleam in her expression, “since you and your friends like experimenting, let's conduct a little experiment of our own and see you
carry
Khalilah over the wall.” Alana's face fell. One look at the coach's face told her she was not joking.

Alana squeezed under Khalilah until she had positioned her on her back. Khalilah did her best to help by alternately pulling and pushing off the cargo net with her hands and feet. That was until Coach Kusmuk shouted out the order to let go. Alana adjusted her body to shoulder the extra weight, and gripped the netting as she heaved. They inched towards their goal. Soon, Khalilah was not the only one regretting the extra donut. The class stopped to watch the girls' progress. Alana's back and calf muscles strained with each step. Her knees wobbled. Sweat collected on her forehead and dripped down her neck. Alana glanced at Coach Kusmuk who looked on in glee. She refused to give Coach Kusmuk the satisfaction of giving up. Alana gritted her teeth and pushed on. When they reached the top, there was a burst of applause. Khalilah raised Alana's hand in victory, but Khalilah's foot got stuck in the rope and she lost her balance, flinging Alana backwards. Before Alana could regain her grip, she found herself tumbling to the floor in an untidy heap. Khalilah, meanwhile, was left hanging upside down. Her long plait swayed from side to side as her arms dangled like a rag doll. Even that reprieve did not last long as, with a sharp yell, she plummeted to land on top of Alana with a bone-crunching thud.

Coach Kusmuk tutted and placed doll-like hands on her narrow hips. “Hey, Flynn,” she called out to the new boy, “take these two to The Clinic, will you? They're done for now.”

Flynn ambled over. He, of course, had had no difficulty with any of the activities. Alana shook off his helping hand with an impatient shrug, still smarting from her mum's embarrassing TV appearance. Khalilah, however, wrapped an eager arm around the boy's waist.

“I'll see you at kickboxing later. Don't be late this time,” Coach Kusmuk warned Flynn as he helped Khalilah limp towards the door, Alana stubbornly hopping behind. It was only later, when the shock of being squashed had faded, that Alana realised what Coach Kusmuk had said.
Why was Flynn doing kickboxing, when it was only for Troubled Teens? Was New Boy a Troubled Teen, and if so, what was his crime …?

…

“Snap! I win again!” Nurse Cathy put down her hand of playing cards when Alana and Khalilah hobbled in. “Ooh goodie, we've got company,” she exclaimed.

Alana looked at the patients and shuddered. Last year there had been
one
patient wrapped in bandages from head-to-toe, like an Egyptian mummy. Now there were
two
! Patient Y sat next to a new Patient X, a pile of cards in front of each of them – the latest pair looked to be the victims of Nurse Cathy's well-thumbed volume of “A step-by-step guide to orthopaedic care.” Patient Y's body shape was shorter and rounder than its companion's. No-one knew how long the new mystery patient had been in the clinic, although the lines scratched into the wall in groups of five gave some clue. Alana suppressed a tiny shudder.

The sight of them made Alana even more determined to play down her injury. It didn't pay to be sick at Gibson High.

It was only through some slick double-talking that Alana and Khalilah escaped the nurse's clutches with just a small bandage, a packet of painkillers, and an ice-pack for swelling. They knew without looking that Nurse Cathy was gazing hungrily after them.

“Make sure you follow the dosage carefully, now,” Flynn said to Alana with barely concealed mirth. “Wouldn't want to see your bike on
Speedsters
.” With a wink he slouched away, hands in pockets, whistling.

Khalilah gave an appreciative chuckle, and then shrugged her shoulders at Alana's outraged expression. “What?” she said. “That was funny.”

Alana gave an impatient growl and took off … with as much speed and dignity as hopping allowed.

CHAPTER 4

Say,
Ahhh
not
Arghhh

The dental clinic was deserted. A receptionist in gloomy, tie-dyed satin and violet lace sat at the front desk. Dark, ghoulish make-up accentuated her pallid skin. Spots of funereal nail polish tripped over the keys of a computer in staccato. At Alana and Emma's approach, the young woman paused.

“Can I help you?” she said in a bored voice.

Emma moved forward reluctantly. “Ummm, Oakley. O-a-k-l-e-y. We have an appointment for 9 o'clock. But if you're busy, we're happy to reschedule.”

Joy, the receptionist, looked up from her computer with dull eyes. She glanced around the still-empty room. “A joker, huh?” she said in a monotone. “Fill out the registration form. I'll need your contact details and medical insurance information.”

“It was worth a try,” Emma muttered as Alana complied with Joy's request and filled in the forms. Emma perched on the edge of a black leather lounge, one foot tapping nervously. She gazed around at the décor. The walls, furniture and flooring made up a monochromatic palette of blacks, whites and greys. It was like walking into a newspaper comic strip. But Emma found nothing funny in what she saw. The only splash of colour came from tiny, red fish housed in individual bowls, dotting stark white walls.
Why is it always fish?
Emma thought to herself, thinking of all the dental surgeries she'd been to … and run away from. Some had had big posters of ‘before' and ‘after' teeth; blackened with decay (before) and a disconcerting fluorescent white (after). Others had pictures of smiling toothbrushes telling jokes …
Q: Why do dentists like potatoes? A: Because they are so filling. Q: What's the best time to go to the dentist? A: Two thurty. Q: What does a dentist call her X-rays? A: Tooth-pics.
However, the one thing the dental clinics had in common was a fish tank. As if the imprisoned creatures did nothing except remind her of how trapped she felt … Emma found these particular modern furnishings cold and unwelcoming, and the fish, in their solitary confinement –
circling, circling, circling –
disturbing.