Dreamrider (16 page)

‘I do,' said Miss Palmer. ‘I respect anyone who is prepared to stand up against cowards by giving the authorities the means to deal with them.'

‘Not in this life,' said Dad. ‘Not my son.'

‘So what do you expect us to do, then, Mr Terny? Punish everyone just on the off-chance?'

Dad leaned forward. He pointed a dirty finger at Miss Palmer.

‘Don't get smart,' he said. ‘Just do your job. Is that too much to ask?'

Mr Atkins suddenly spoke. I'd almost forgotten he was there. I think I even jumped a little.

‘Mr Terny. It's not just about bullying. We are concerned for Michael in other ways and we would appreciate your assistance in getting to the bottom of his troubles.'

Dad leaned back and considered Mr Atkins. He didn't give the impression of being much impressed with what he saw.

‘Oh, yeah? So what's the problem?'

Mr Atkins glanced at Miss Palmer.

‘I think it might be better if we had this part of the conversation in private. Michael, would you mind waiting outside for a few minutes?'

Dad shook his head and clamped his hand onto my arm.

‘No way,' he said. ‘You got something to say, you say it in front of Michael.'

‘We really don't think that would be wise.'

‘It doesn't much matter what you think, does it? Michael goes, I go. Then you can talk among yourselves. Maybe that'd be better.'

Miss Palmer and Mr Atkins exchanged glances again. This wasn't going the way they wanted. Still, they seemed to reach a silent agreement. Mr Atkins did the talking.

‘Michael is behaving in ways that are causing grave concern. He is remote from other students. He retreats into worlds of his own. He talks to himself. At lunchtime he was found standing by himself in the full sun, dehydrated. We rang his previous school in Queensland. What they reported gives us even more cause for concern. They said—'

Dad got to his feet.

‘C'mon, Son,' he said. ‘We're outta here.'

Mr Atkins rose as well.

‘Mr Terny, you don't understand—'

Dad raised his voice then.

‘No.
You
don't understand. He's a loner. What the hell do you expect? He's bullied, he's picked on, he doesn't have friends. Jesus Christ. You are too much. And now
he's
got a problem? Let me give you some advice. Stop the bullying. That's the “issue” here. Not what some crazed old bag in Far North Queensland says. I'm warning you. Do your job properly when he comes in tomorrow or I am going to make a whole heap of shit about this school. Do you follow me?'

‘Michael will not be coming to school tomorrow.' Miss Palmer's voice was firm. Dad eyed her suspiciously.

‘Why not?'

‘Michael was involved in a fight this afternoon, Mr Terny,' said Mr Atkins.

Dad turned towards him.

‘I saw the swollen nose,' he said. ‘Figured he must have taken a smack. Don't tell me – no one saw who did it.'

‘No,' said Mr Atkins. ‘That's not true. One of our staff did see what happened. He saw your son with another student. Mr Williams said Michael was behaving very violently, and he intervened because he feared for the other student's safety.'

I think it was the first time Dad had looked at me since he'd entered the room. He whistled.

‘You're kiddin',' he said.

‘I'm afraid not. Michael has since admitted that he threatened to kill this boy. And he has shown no remorse.'

Dad whistled again and then smiled broadly.

‘Well, that just about beats everything,' he said. ‘Good on yer, Son. Bloody oath. Good on yer.'

‘Mr Terny, this is a serious matter,' said Miss Palmer. ‘We cannot allow threatening behaviour in this school, regardless of provocation.'

‘No. You listen to me,' said Dad. He pointed his finger straight at her face. ‘Because you don't know Michael. I do. This shit's gone on for years. Every school the same. Black eyes, cut lips. And he never stood up for himself. I told him there's only one language these bastards understand. And now you want me to be sorry he's fought back? Well, I'm not. I'm proud of him.'

‘The school is not proud of his actions, Mr Terny,' said Miss Palmer. ‘The school will not tolerate such behaviour. Michael is suspended for five days. He will return only after a further interview with me, in the presence of yourself and the school counsellor.'

For a moment I thought Dad was going to lose it big time. In the end, he decided on contempt.

‘Come on, Son,' he said. ‘Let's get the fuck out of here.'

‘Michael,' said Mr Atkins. He looked at me kindly and his voice was soft. ‘Before you go. Is there anything you want to say?'

‘Can I still come to the Social?' I said. ‘I mean, I know I'm suspended. But you also said I'm remote from other students and . . . well, I'd like to go. If that's all right.'

Miss Palmer and Mr Atkins exchanged another glance. I thought I'd been pretty clever. There wasn't really anywhere for them to go. Their eyes held a conversation, a question asked and a reply received.

‘Is it important to you, Michael?' asked Miss Palmer.

‘Yes,' I said.

I knew she understood.

‘On one condition,' she said, finally. ‘That when you return to school, you co-operate fully with the school counsellor. Do you promise to do that, Michael?'

‘Of course,' I said.

By that time none of this would matter at all.

6
.

Leah was waiting in the foyer. Dad looked straight through her. She trailed a few steps behind as Dad and I went to his ute in the front car park. He was in a good mood. The best in a very long time.

‘Good on yer, Son,' he said for the twentieth time as he opened the door of the ute. ‘You mark my words, those bastards won't be coming after you again in a hurry. You'll see. The hardest part is standing up to them. It'll be a lot easier from here on in.'

He said other things, but I wasn't paying much attention. There was a storm blowing in from the east. The sky was darkening by the second. Clouds boiled overhead. There was a pink tinge to the air, the sun's struggle to pierce the gathering gloom. It was beautiful. I stood with my face turned to the sky, watching.

‘It's that session we had last night. Reckon that was it. Power from the shoulder, eh? Keep moving, did you?'

I smiled, but I didn't say anything. Dad reached into his pocket and took out his wallet. He peeled out a twenty dollar note.

‘I can't give you a lift home, son. Every minute here is money lost. Not like those bludgers in there.' He pointed back towards the school. ‘But get yourself a takeaway, all right? Reckon ya deserve it.'

I took the money and he drove off. I watched the smoke from the ute's exhaust as it drifted and died, then tilted my head back and drank in the sky. Leah put her hand on my shoulder.

‘Can I come home with you?' she asked. ‘You can tell me what happened in there.'

I nodded. We could stop off to eat somewhere on the way home. A place that sold good fish.

‘Tell me something, Leah,' I said. ‘The clouds. The storm.'

She stood next to me and we watched the sky together. There was something about the way the clouds were boiling, the sense of huge energy building. It was like a window into myself.

‘Am I making that, or is it real?' I said.

She gripped my arm.

‘Do you know, Michael? I'm not sure anymore.'

‘Neither am I,' I said. ‘Neither am I.'

Mary didn't stop talking for half an hour. She went into instant panic as soon as she saw Leah on the doorstep. I told her we'd eaten on the way home, but she didn't listen. She bustled around the kitchen, getting crackers and dips, potato chips and a jug of cordial. And talked all the while. Finally, exhausted perhaps, she went into the back garden for a cigarette.

Leah and I sat at the table, picking at the crackers and dips and not saying much. I didn't feel like talking. I felt on the edge of something. I could feel it inside me. I watched Leah, her head angled down towards the table, nibbling at a biscuit. There was beauty in the sweep of her hair, the curve of her nose, a small mole, close to her right eye, that I hadn't noticed before. All of it filled me with wonder.

She held my gaze for a few moments and then smiled.

‘Where are you going tonight, Michael?' she said.

The kitchen suddenly flared with lightning. Shadows fled from Leah's face. For an instant her skin was bathed in a pure light. Then darkness crashed down as thunder shook the house. Immediately there was rain, a regular drumming on the roof that built to a frenzy. All other noise was drowned. Through the kitchen window, through a haze of water, I saw Mary walk between dripping palm trees, a lit cigarette between her lips. She strolled back to the door and leaned up against its frame. I watched the end of the cigarette glow as she took another drag.

‘I'll take you with me, if you like,' I said.

‘Should we go to the hospital? You could do good work there.'

‘Sure. But I have some business to attend to first.'

The lightning flashed again. It made me feel strong.

‘How are you, Michael?'

‘Good. Yourself?'

‘Can't complain, mate. Can't complain.'

I switched the phone to my other ear.

‘Heard you had some trouble at school today,' Martin continued. ‘That Archer kid. No style, that guy. No style at all.'

‘There was no trouble.'

‘I heard you went mental, Michael. Feel like telling me about it?'

‘No.'

Martin chuckled.

‘Pity. You see, the way the story goes, you nearly killed the stupid bastard. Had him on the floor. Would have beaten the shit out of him if old Williams hadn't stopped you. I wish I'd been there, Michael. Must have been a sight to behold.'

I didn't say anything.

‘The worm's turned, has it, Michael? That's interesting. Can I tell you a secret? You remember that thing with the cake? You think I did that just because I'm a bastard. But it's more than that. I wanted to stir you up, Michael. Get you mad. To the point where you'd fight back. After today, it looks like you should be thanking me. What d'ya reckon?'

I didn't say anything.

‘So, how did it feel, Michael? When you had Archer on the floor, seeing the fear on his stupid face, knowing you had power over him? I bet it felt good. I bet you got a boner.'

‘I'm hanging up now, Martin.'

‘And you copped a five-day suspension. Bit rough, that. Sort of ironic, too. You go for, what, years having the shit kicked out of you and nothing happens to your tormentors. Am I right?'

‘Correct.'

‘And now you finally fight back and what happens? You get caught and punished. I tell you, it's enough to destroy your faith in the entire justice system.'

‘Life isn't fair, Martin.'

‘Exactly my point. You're learning, my fat friend. You're learning. So why don't we stop pretending? It's so much easier when you give up all those illusions and realise that the only justice you'll get in this life is the justice you dish out. It's a dogeat-dog world out there, mate. You need to sharpen your teeth. Don't get angry. Get even.'

‘Goodbye, Martin.'

I hung up.

I was in bed by ten o'clock. The storm had eased, but there were still occasional flashes of lightning that flickered white across my room. The thunder was a distant and occasional rumble. I needed to sleep. It was cooler now. The rain had washed some of the heat away. I pulled the blanket up to my neck.

Mary had been excited after Leah had left. She kept darting glances at me, but she didn't say much about Leah. It was like she worried that talking would cause everything to disappear. Like a dream. So she gabbled on, chain-smoking and wrestling with my costume.

I couldn't work out what it was supposed to be. She had layers of material spread out and was busy on the sewing machine, but the costume was a shapeless mess. I didn't ask. I didn't want to burst her bubble. I sat opposite and half-listened to the flow of words. It was a peaceful time and I wanted to enjoy it.

The image of Mary, happier than I'd ever seen her, enfolded me like a blanket. At the first signals of approaching sleep, my mind distanced itself from everything around. The flashes of lightning became pulses in my blood, drifting white into another world.

I stood at Leah's bedside. She held a battered teddy bear in her arms, hugged close to her body. I was glad I'd said I'd take her with me. Even though I'd have to describe it all to her in the morning. Well, some of it. I looked over my shoulder and Leah was standing at the foot of her bed, watching herself sleep. She turned her eyes on me.

‘Peaceful, aren't I?' she said.

‘You're beautiful,' I said.

I took her by the hand and led her outside. The night was dark and still. Overhead, clouds drifted apart and the moon gazed down on us. A dusting of stars appeared. An owl cried. We walked in silence. I wasn't in the mood for anything dramatic. I wanted to enjoy the peace. We went to a park. Leah showed me the way. The grass had been recently cut and the air was full of its scent. There was a bench by a lake. We sat and watched the moon's reflection in the water, the way it shuddered when the surface was disturbed by a fish or an insect. I took her hand in mine again and raised her fingers to my lips.

‘I have something to do,' I said.

‘I understand,' she replied. ‘Don't be long.'

‘Stay here. I'll be back before you know it.'

‘I'll always be here for you, Michael,' she said.

Jamie Archer's house was exactly as I had expected. The garden was overgrown and the flyscreens were ripped. Paint was peeling on the window frames. A dog was sleeping on the porch. As I got closer, it jumped up on quivering haunches and bared its teeth. I raised my hand and it slumped back. The front gates were padlocked but I passed through them. It was a singlestorey house. I walked straight through the front door.