The Ice-cream Man (3 page)

3

Aaron was still struggling to squeeze his damp body into his clothes when Rick sprinted into the bush. A minute later Marty headed out too, loping on all fours. Fumbling with his laces, Aaron hopped after them. ‘Wait for me!’ he called.

He’d known it was too good to be true. They were going to leave him behind, just as his step-brother had done during the Christmas holidays two years ago. His mother had insisted that Aaron go camping in the Blue Mountains with Steve and Roger, his new step-father, as a bonding exercise. What a joke! At the first opportunity Steve had led him away from the campsite, saying he’d found a wombat that Aaron really had to see, and then left him in the middle of nowhere to fend for himself. Afterwards, Aaron learned that Steve had told his father Aaron had run off. Roger was less than happy when he finally found Aaron hours later heading in the wrong direction. No matter what Aaron said, no one believed him – not even his own mother.

The bush was so thick around the billabong a person could end up anywhere. Even the sounds from the lagoon were deceiving. One second they were coming from behind, the next they seemed to be somewhere ahead. He didn’t seriously think Marty would leave him behind, but he wouldn’t put anything past Rick.

Aaron hopped and stumbled across the uneven ground after the others. Despite his disability, Marty was already well ahead. It was all Steve’s fault Aaron was even here, he realised. If his step-brother hadn’t been on his case, Aaron wouldn’t have bothered coming to the billabong today. It seemed most of the past two years had been spent avoiding Steve. As long as Roger was married to Aaron’s mum, Steve wouldn’t let up. Why his aggression had become worse rather than better with time, Aaron could only wonder. Perhaps the bullying had simply become a habit that Steve couldn’t break.

With his laces tied at last, Aaron jogged into the undergrowth, slapping away branches as he went. After a moment’s panic he spotted Marty’s dark head bobbing from tree to tree. He was barely staying on his feet, relying instead on his well-muscled arms to carry his weight. Aaron considered grabbing him by the arm and giving him a hand, but that seemed a bit personal, the sort of thing a good friend should do. The sort of thing Rick should do. Wherever he was right now, he obviously didn’t care about Marty.

Marty reached his wheelchair and fell into it.

‘Want me to give you a push?’ The words were out of Aaron’s mouth before he could stop them. Marty gave him a scathing look and Aaron realised, too late, that he’d offended him.

Wrapping his fingers around the wheel rims, Marty propelled himself up the track before Aaron had a chance to apologise.

The ice-cream van had been silent for some time. As Aaron and Marty neared the lagoon, the machine suddenly came to life with a blast of jangling music that sent a flock of cockatoos screeching from the trees.

‘There he is,’ Marty said, pointing to the top of the sandstone wall.

Shading his eyes, Aaron glanced up. Rick stood at the top of the ramp that led to the street above, punching the air above his head. ‘Who’s he yelling at?’ Aaron said.

‘Let’s find out.’ Marty aimed his chair at the ramp and flexed his muscles.

‘Hang on,’ Aaron said, ‘you’re not going to try and get up there, are you? It’s pretty steep.’

Marty regarded him with a smirk. ‘Getting up is the easy part. Coming down without braining myself is the problem.’

Aaron shook his head in confusion. ‘Why? Haven’t you got brakes?’

‘Course, but they’re no good for this. Best to use my hands on the wheels to slow down, but the tricky part is figuring out just when to do it.’ Marty launched himself at the slope. The cords in his neck stood out like guitar strings; the muscles in his arms pulled the tanned skin so tight it shone. Aaron ran up behind him, sure he wouldn’t make it, convinced Marty would end up flipping the chair. Incredibly he got to the top of the rise without incident.

Rick turned to them, his face blazing. ‘You’d think that ball-suck would wait another few seconds. But oh no. He must’ve seen me, too. I know he did, and he took off anyway.’

A group of kids with ice-cream dripping off their chins pushed past Rick and pounded down the ramp. Rick bared his teeth as they passed.

‘Don’t worry about it,’ Marty said, wiping the sweat out of his eyes with the back of a hand. ‘If you’re that desperate for ice-cream you can get something at the 7-Eleven.’

‘That’s so weird,’ Aaron said, almost to himself. Marty and Rick both looked in his direction.

‘Dunno about weird, but it’s pretty rude,’ Marty said.

‘No one has the right to ignore me, especially that loser,’ Rick said.

‘Yeah, he should have stopped but, hey, what can you do?’ Marty said.

‘I can do plenty,’ Rick fumed.

Marty rolled across the gravel to the curb. He looked back over his shoulder. His mouth twisted into a grin. ‘Wanna have a bit of fun?’

Rick’s scowl turned feral. ‘You bet.’

Something was happening and whatever it was Aaron didn’t like it one bit. ‘H-hey, what are you going to do? My mum will kill me if I get into any trouble.’

‘Take a chill pill,’ Rick said, slapping Aaron on the back. ‘Won’t be doing nothing illegal, eh Marty?’

Marty tipped back on his rear wheels and bounced over the curb onto the road. ‘Nah, nothing strictly illegal. We’ll just get in the ice-cream man’s face a bit.’

Aaron knew he should leave right then, but the thought of heading home, back to Steve’s taunts, not to mention working in the shop, was enough to make him follow Marty and Rick. Besides, for the first time in ages he felt he had friends.

Marty and Rick stopped at the end of the street and waited for Aaron.

‘See, he’s turning into Marigold Crescent,’ Rick said. ‘If we cut through the laneway we can catch him on the other side.’

‘And do what?’ Aaron said.

‘We’ll tail him for a bit, see what happens,’ Marty said.

That didn’t sound too dangerous, Aaron decided. Many of Mountain View’s streets ended in cul-de- sacs that were linked by pedestrian laneways. These lanes made it easy for the boys to stay one step ahead

of the ice-cream van.

They waited for the ice-cream man on Petunia Street, standing in the middle of the road, forcing him to slow down. As soon as he did they bolted into another laneway and then onto the next street, ready to lie in wait for him again. They continued in this way for several blocks, doing every stupid thing they could think of. Rick dropped his shorts at the end of Daffodil Court and flashed his bare backside, Marty hung onto the back of the van and was towed for the length of Wattle Road and all three pelted the van with palm seeds on Orchid Drive. Before long, the ice-cream man sped up rather than slowed down whenever he saw them.

‘Reckon we need a new plan,’ Rick said, crouching behind a brick fence. ‘Reckon you’re up for a slam- jump, Marty?’

‘You read my mind,’ Marty said.

‘What’s a slam-jump?’ Aaron said, knowing in his heart he wouldn’t like it.

‘You’ll see,’ Rick said. ‘Now, I reckon he’ll be heading along Sunflower Street before long. I’m pretty sure he’ll keep going till he gets to Wisteria.’

Marty nodded.

‘So, remember that lane that leads down to Sunflower? It’s pretty steep ’cause Sunflower’s on the other side of the hill.’ Rick added the last part for Aaron’s benefit.

A slow grin spread across Marty’s flushed face.

‘Yeah, real steep. And the way the path rises at the end where they cemented round that manhole cover will make a wicked launching pad.’

Steep hills and launching pads? What were they planning? They’d already done enough to the ice- cream man to get them into trouble. As soon as Aaron saw the lane he understood. ‘No way. You guys can’t be serious.’

‘Sure we are,’ Marty said. He centred his chair at the top of the lane. ‘Don’t worry, Aaron, I’ve done this before.’

‘You have?’

‘Yeah,’ Rick said, ‘nearly gave a bus driver a heart attack, eh Marty?’

Marty laughed. ‘Sure did. Almost rolled the bus.’

‘And remember the garbo?’ Rick said. Marty laughed harder.

‘Geez, it’s a miracle you didn’t kill yourself,’ Aaron said, feeling nauseous.

‘Nah. It was all under control. Timing’s the key, right Rick?’

‘Yup.’

‘But you said before at the ramp you couldn’t get the timing right,’ Aaron said.

‘That’s the ramp,’ Marty said. ‘It’s heaps steeper. This’ll be a piece of cake.’

Aaron swallowed. ‘Er, look, I think I’d better go.’

‘Sure. Whatever.’ Rick shrugged. ‘I’ll just go down the end of the lane and see where our target is, okay, Marty?’

Aaron watched him jog down the path. Judging by the noise, the ice-cream man was coming their way.

‘Look, thanks for letting me hang out with you guys and all,’ Aaron said, looking down at Marty.

‘No worries.’ Marty flexed his fingers, knuckles popping. ‘Hey, why don’t you hang a bit longer? No one’s going to get hurt. There won’t be any trouble, I promise. I’ll just give the ice-cream man a good scare, then we can get out of here.’

Aaron turned his attention to Rick standing at the end of the lane, staring into the street beyond. He wiped his slick cheeks. It was so hot. The sooner he let them have their fun the sooner they could all get out of here. Marty was going to do this whether Aaron hung around or not. So what would it hurt if he was there? He’d only be a bystander, right? He wouldn’t be doing anything wrong.

‘All right, I’ll hang around a bit longer.’

Marty punched Aaron’s arm. ‘Good man. Now get down there with Rick so you won’t miss anything. And stand back.’

Aaron jogged to the end of the lane and squatted with his back against the fence. Rick stood against the fence on the other side of the path, watching the road with one arm raised to alert Marty. The plan was simple: on Rick’s signal Marty would race down the lane as fast as he could and shoot onto the road, slam-jumping into the path of the ice-cream van. The ice-cream man would get the shock of his life.

Licking his lips, Aaron glanced from Marty, perched at the top of the slope, hunched low in his chair, to Rick. A strange feeling of unreality washed over him. Despite the sweltering heat, goose bumps prickled his skin.

The ice-cream man’s jangling tune was beating a tattoo inside Aaron’s skull, ringing out like the world’s biggest music box.

‘Half a pound of tuppenny rice; half a pound of treacle; that’s the way the money goes. Pop! goes the weasel,’ Aaron sang.

Rick’s head snapped around. ‘What are you on about?’

‘“Pop! Goes the Weasel”. That’s what the ice- cream man’s music is.’

‘I don’t give a flying fart what it is. Shut up, will ya?’

Aaron was vaguely aware that somewhere a dog was barking, and of the clackety-clack of a skateboard, and of his blood roaring in his ears. Relentlessly the sun beat down, setting the top of his head on fire. His breath caught in his throat, swelling it like a bladder about to burst.

And then Rick’s arm fell and it took every drop of strength Aaron had to turn his head in Marty’s direction.

Marty shot down the lane, teeth bared, arms moving so fast they were a blur.

Pop! Goes the Weasel
filled the world.

Aaron’s head snapped towards the road and he was momentarily blinded by the sun reflecting off the ice-cream van’s split windscreen. Reflexively he squeezed his eyes shut just as Marty flew past. What if Rick had left it too late? With sudden certainty he knew the next thing he would see was Marty broken and bleeding on the road.

But Marty made it, rocketing past the ice-cream man’s line of vision a second before the van reached him. With a thud that should have burst his tyres, he hit the road and skidded to a stop in the gutter.

The van screamed to a halt, stopping in front of the lane with its nose angled slightly to the right.

Rick darted around it and ran to the other side of the street, whooping as he went. He gave Marty an enthusiastic high five. ‘That’ll teach ya to mess with us!’ he yelled at the van. He and Marty turned their backs and moved away, disappearing from view.

It took several long seconds before Aaron’s legs would unlock. He edged over to the other side of the lane, trying to see the ice-cream man through the windscreen. He wasn’t about to follow Rick if the man was going to fly into a rage and leap out at him.

But all he could see was the sun-bright windscreen, glowing like dragon eyes. And all he could think as he stared at it was that some demonic monster had clawed its way out of the earth and was poised, ready to strike.

Aaron shook his head. What was wrong with him?

Maybe he was suffering from sunstroke.

‘Come on, Aaron,’ Marty called.

Why wasn’t the ice-cream man yelling at them? The van just sat there, motor running with that idiotic music playing over and over. Aaron licked his lips, but couldn’t summon any spit. Had the man had a heart attack? Was he slumped over the steering wheel gasping his last breath as Aaron stood at the end of the lane doing nothing? If he was, would they all be charged with manslaughter? Why couldn’t Marty and Rick see something weird was going on?