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Ghost Bird Narration of the first couple of chapters. By Lisa Fuller.
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Ghost Bird Narration of the first couple of chapters. By Lisa Fuller.
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Ghost Bird Narration of the first couple of chapters. By Lisa Fuller.
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The narrator, along with their twin sister, spends time with their Nan by the fire. Nan tells them stories and warns them about dangerous creatures that lurk in the night. Suddenly, a strange pendant is seen around the sister's neck before she is grabbed and pulled into the darkness. The next morning, the narrator wakes up with a strange feeling and goes about their day, excited for their last year of school. However, they notice a figure pacing on their usual path to school. Ghost Bird by Lisa Fuller Fire is the center of our world. It is where everything happens. Cooking, playing, laughing, family, story. Fire means so much more than just a bunch of burning carbon. I sit and watch the embers escape, propelled by hot air swirling upwards. They dance into the sky as the smoke moves steadily in one direction. My twin sister sits right in its way. What's wrong with you? I shake my head as she coughs. Hey, smoke's always beauty, little sister. Or, you know, the wind, which in your case, makes sense. You want to talk? Are you sure we're related? We say together, laughing with the same smile, same eyes, but a mirror image. A small freckle above the eyebrow on my right and her left is how most people tell us apart. Mirror twins are rare. Opposite sides of the hole, mum says. Even in our personalities. Lainey is outgoing, sporty, and popular. I am not. What are you two fighting about now? Nan comes shuffling out in the dark, a big chewfish in one hand and a massive ceratodus in the other. I help up to go help, but she shoos me away, tossing them to the ground. I stare in fascination at the ceratodus. Salmon, the odd people call it. As old as we are in this country, they reckon. White fillets say they were prehistoric dinosaurs or something. Makes sense to us. Sometimes people call them longfish, because that's what they had. Sitting by the river at night, you'd hear them surface to gasp in the air. Nan had already whacked these ones in the head, otherwise that salmon would be gasping now. You gonna just look at it, or you want to eat it? Sorry Nan. I smile at her as she comes over with her cleaving gear. An odd knife, some newspaper, and art foil. I stay close, watching every move she makes. While Lainey sits to the side, acting like a big dainty thing with her ill wrist and yucked out. Nan looks at me and we both roll our eyes. Anyone would think you weren't black. Cool yourself, my granddaughter. She mumbles in a rough smoker's voice. Hey, Marty, you'd figure out how to clean it, or you'd starve. Cleaning it is gross, I agree, but I'll take this over going to the shops and getting that boxed frozen fish for this any day. I lean too close and Nan growls at me for getting in her light while she's working. She always smells like imperial leather soap, white ox tobacco, and talcum powder. Mum said the only thing that had changed since she was a kid was the brunt. It sounds like it should smell bad, but it never does. It smells like home. Nan, when are you going to let me do that? What I'm sure is to do it the proper way. But how will you know if you never let me? She smirks. I'll know before you. Fish wrapped, she takes a stick and digs out some coals, placing her parcels in and covering them. Stretching her back out, she lets out a big groan, then settles down onto one of the blankets we'd laid out by the fire. Nan always keeps blankets in the car, those old scotchew hospital ones. Clean up them guts, granddaughters, and make your Nan a cupper. I go for the guts while Lainey does the tea. We already had the building on so it would be ready for Nan. When we get back to the fire, Lainey has hopped onto one blanket, wrapping a second one tight around her. She lifts one side for me and I calm and cuddle in close. We sit in silence, watching the flames. Nights like this remind me of your great-grandmother's old humpy by the river. Nan says, smiling into her tea. She reaches into her messy bag that she dares call a purse, pulling out her rollies and getting a pre-prepared one that she dips into the embers till she has a nice cherry on it. She takes one deep drag, puffing smoke into the flames and watching it curl upwards. Fear-tingled excitement rattles my heart to life. I know what is coming next. Lainey and I cling closer, clasping each other's hands tight as we wait. He used to tell me the best stories, my old dad. There were lots of things. Nan's gaze is lost in the fire and her memories. Couldn't teach us much, not language for sure. That old protector fellow would have taken us, but he told us what we needed to be safe. Sadness flows out of her then, mingling with the dirt and ash and painting the earth in pain. Another big drawl in more smoke. Never say their names or you'll call them to you. Don't whistle, don't draw on the dirt, don't sweep the ground either. Not in the night or they'll come. These fellas here look. She holds her hand up, palms facing out and does that claw-clenching move that we all know and are scared of. Even adults. Drag, puff. If you're walking at night and you feel something behind you, don't look back, don't run, sing if you have to. Drag, puff. Stay out of them caves at night, and if you go on them in the day, don't ever take nothing from them. If you kick a stone loose, put it back. Drag, puff. Keep your feet covered at night, or you might find something tickling them. Them things like children best, and they'll wake you if they can. Then they'll take you, and we'll never see you again. They never give back what they took. We knew these things because Nan made sure we knew them. She still told us every time we were out by the river like this, it was our way. Have you ever seen one Nan? Lainey asks. Well now, she says, turning to look at us. The fire lightens strangely out of her crinkled skin, making her beloved face look spooky. Sure you want to hear them stories? Yeah, not for doing me tonight. Her warnings are always the same, but she lets us sleep with her anyway. Yeah, please Nan. We say together. Good. She says, nodding in approval and looking back to the fire. Because you'll need these stories one day granddaughters. She looks lost for a minute while Lainey and I sit, waiting to have the sheets cleared out of us. From somewhere behind her, I see a flicker in the dark, like when a wallaby jumps between trees, moving fast. A brief flash of red dances and I frown at it, trying to see, probably light in the wallaby's eyes, but I look too small for that. Turning to ask Lainey, I have a second to register that glint of gold and a strange pendant around her neck, before clawed third hands wrap around her throat. We both gasp as it pulls her backwards out of the firelight. Lainey! I spin to Nan, expecting her to move, but she's still looking to the phones. Nan? She finally turns to look at me with shining red pupils. Stumbling, I feel hands grab hold of my shoulders. Be ready, granddaughter. She whispers as I'm ripped back, screaming into the dark. The day of. Rolling out of bed is like getting a present, the morning chill a gift this time of year. Soon the world will be nothing but inescapable heat, so intense that the tar on the roads would bubble. I stretch, trying to shake off the weird unease in my heart, like I'm forgetting something important. A heaviness sits in my gut that makes me fight to remember what I dreamt, but I give up when it refuses to come out. Stepping lightly over the worst of the creaking floorboards hidden under the pancake-flat carpet, I drag my feet to the morning's most unpleasant duty. I duck my head into Lainey's room. I look over her piles of clothing, pick up the nearest, bulkiest shoe, and peg it at the shapeless lamp on the bed. Waiting long enough to hear the expected four-letter field response from under the covers, I go to the kitchen. Finding the teapot half-full and lukewarm is my first hint that mum's already been up. The dishes in the sink say she's run a plate of food up to pop. Lately she's really worried about him getting too skinny. After rinsing out the pot and setting off the kettle, I make my way to the back steps. I sit and stare out over a neat little yard with its wonky clothesline and rusted tank scan. From here I can catch glimpses of the navies' places and the open paddock next door. Everything is a solid crackling brown. Trees flow over the heels on all sides of our town, holding the sun back as long as they can. The occasional car pauses with the council worker on their way in, or a big truck lined with cattle. Magpies are wobbling and the family of wooly wagtails that live in our shed are waving their moonbeams. Chewing them happily. The last of the cool air brushes my skin, running from the sun that's forced its way to the top of the hills. It reminds me of the aching split in my stomach that I'd woken with and the dream that wouldn't make itself known. The kettle clicks and like a starting signal I'm up and off to get ready for the day. Once I'm showered and fed, I can't put it off anymore. I resist the urge to turn on the TV for the millionth time and zone out. The port goes over one shoulder and I'm out the door. I'm not in a rush because I love school, but getting there late means arriving all sweaty and gross. And dawdling for me equals running late. I'm always late, one of the few ways me and my twin are alike. Mum says Laney's too obsessed with the mirror to notice the time and I'm too much on my own planet to see the real one. She's right, but I'll never tell her that. Besides, this is it. My big year of laughs. The last first day of school, the last year of school ever and hopefully the last I'll spend in this whole of a town. Most people are freaking out over Y2K and the world ending, but I can't wait for the year 2000. My morning funk disappears under that exciting thought and I could skip. I'm that happy. Jogging down the front steps of our little weatherboard, I can see other kids walking, but they're all primary schoolers. There's more than double the number of them compared to the high schoolers and only five other kids in my grade, but we'll be the biggest graduating class in a long time. If we all graduate. At the mailbox, I stop dead. A few houses down, right on the path I always take to school, a hunch figure is pacing. Now that I'd noticed, I realized all the little ladies were running the road to go around. Stick thin and clothed in one of those old-fashioned cream nineties that cover you from head to toe. Mad May Miller is doing her usual thing. Bent forward like she's searching the grass for something. Mushering to invisible people and throwing her hands around like she's demanding they listen. Hopefully someone has rung her more. God knows I can't. The hate our families have for each other is legend. One of those small town things where no one knows how it started, but every generation keeps it alive. Me included. I've always thought most of the Millers are a waste of oxygen, but seeing May just makes me sad. Nan used to say she always wasn't that way. Something bad happened to her, and so we should be good to her. Miller or not. Then Nan would pinch her lips together and ignore my questions. She used to tell me a lot, but if she shut her mouth like that, I knew not to push. I hear the sound of a familiar engine turning into a street, and I spot the white Corolla seconds later. Damn, should've left when I had the chance. The car barely stops in the dirt track that passes through a driveway before she's out and pointing at me in accusation. Stacey Claire Thompson, where do you think you're going? Um, school. I think about running for it, but she'd probably chase me. Dad used to say it was like calling a sandworm. Better make sure there was something bigger around, or you'll get caught up when it tries to climb you. The reminder of Dad hurts somewhere deep, and for a moment I can see him in the doorway telling Mum to- Leave my namesake alone, woman! She'd sigh or yell back, I should've never named her after you. She'd turn on him then, ready for a fight. He'd drop me a sly wink, waving a hand behind his back for me to sneak off. Dad was my tallest tree. Shoulders slumping, I brush the waves of memory aside and refocus on my glaring mother. A tall, skinny woman with skin shades darker than mine. The only thing I'd gotten from her was her caramel-colored eyes and the psychotic curly hair she'd already forced into a tight bun. Dressed in her hospital uniform, khaki jingling in her hands, she's always in a rush. You were supposed to wake your sister up. I did, but she told me to- Watch your mouth or I'll soap it. I roll my eyes and see her anger spike. Better to try for reasonable. I take a few slow steps towards her till I'm back at the fence. What do you want me to do, Mum? Drag her up by the hair? That's the only way she's coming with me. Her grandma's into the crinkles of worry I've seen more and more of lately. Daughter, please, just try, eh? For me? I hate it when she talks to me like an adult. It means I have to be freaking responsible. Heaving a sigh, I do my best sulky walk back into the house. As I brush past, I catch Mum's grin. Cow knows exactly what she's doing. Heading into my twin's bedroom again, I stand and contemplate my plan of attack. Her den is cluttered, starting with clothes, accessories, and rubbish carpeting the floor, working its way up the walls and ceilings that are plastered with every single celebrity poster she can get. The one from Smash hits magazine are her favorites, especially when they're muffled circle of boy bands and rappers like Boyz II Men and Nas. I pick my way over her junk in fluff sizes on the covers, landing straight across her thighs. Get off, I'm not going. Come on, weenie, you know she's gonna boss you till you move. Might as well get over it. I wriggle against her legs to annoy her. There's only one year left, and then she'll get off your back. I don't give a shit about school. It's a morning for epic eye rolls, but I hold in the sarcastic comment because it definitely won't get me my way. Maybe Reasonable will work for me again? Yeah, but she does. You can put up with it for this year and maybe you're home free, or you can bear and hear her whine about it for the rest of your life. I climb off her, making sure to dig my elbow into her stomach on the way. It's a oof, then silence as I stand and watch. Alright then, stuff Reasonable. You got five seconds, then I start smashing lumps with my port. Holy hell, Tayce, that thing's heavier than you. That was last year. This year, mom got me an extra book, remember? I heave it off the floor with a noise like a wheezing old dog and pretend to test it out. It's gotta be a few more kilos, at least. You might be the track queen, but I'm the weightlifter, sister girl. Now move. Bronte, Samuel, move with a show. I heave my port over the head. Five, four, three, two, two and a half. Nothing but a snort from under the covers. Oh, she asked for it. I drop the port under the ground and walk over to the largest poster in the room, the one of two packs tucked front and center on her wardrobe door. This one hasn't been folded in a magazine. Mom had given it to her for her birthday, ordered it pristine and new, not a single crease on it. I've always loved this poster, I say, fondling the corner. You wouldn't. Be ashamed to have to mark it up, bae. What would happen if I- Lily bolts from under the covers and pushes past me to the bathroom. She's cursing me, but she's up. I stick the corner back carefully and go into the kitchen to start the kettle before getting her towel from her room. I'm standing on the other side of the bathroom door when it cracks open and a soapy head pokes her. Tase, get my- Spotting the towel, she snaps it and slams the door. I didn't really expect it, thank you. Putting together some toast for her and tea for both of us. Her breakfast goes on the left like always. Two sides of the mirror, mom says. It's supposed to be a play on being mirror twins, we just call it a demo. Speak of the devil, Satan herself was heading towards the door on her way, her purse over one thin shoulder. I poke my tongue out of her and she grins. What a way to start the year. The Thompson twins, late again, but no one would expect anything else. Sitting in detention on the first day of school, I fly and turn over the page. Detention is always in the library, right next to the staff room. A large single room, it has shelves on all the walls up to west side and two taller stacks that are divided into spaces. At one end is an open area with all the little kids' books, while the stacks are all young adult fiction, and the other open area is non-fiction. The fore wall in the non-fiction area has a two meter high shelving filled with reference materials. Triangular brown laminate desks, each with five or six brown chairs, top the space in front of the stacks. The librarian, Mr. Wells, is our keeper today, and takes great delight in handing out a random essay topic to each of us. The catch is, we aren't allowed to touch a computer. Leaping through an ancient encyclopedia with a brown cover and bibled in pages, I'm looking for my topic, Newtonian time. When I finally get to the definition, I send the old fart a glare. What a smartass. A spitball hits my hand, I ignore it and my annoying twin. Don't be mad, Chase, she whispers. Irritated, I flip a page I haven't read yet and tuck my hand back into my lap. We've been giving each other a cold shoulder all morning, but she caved after lunch and has been pestering me ever since. We both ignore the other person in detention with us. Sam Miller had walked into the office not long after us. I couldn't help but feel bad for him. Mad May's great nephew, he's the one who always goes to get her because he can keep her calm. The only boy left in year 12, Sam has been in the same grade as us since preschool. Thirteen years of schooling, and for most of that time we kept our distance. At school we can be civil. Outside those gates, he's a Miller and we're Thompson's. Sam never seemed that bad to me and Laney, but we'd never admit it to anyone else. As usual, he picked the desk furthest away from us, but I could see him out of the corner of my eye, bent over his own book. It looked like he might have fallen asleep. It's your own fault, you know. Another spitball from Laney, but this time it hits my neck. I keep pretending to read. You would have been on time if you hadn't dragged me in, Tatas. Right, that's it. Wiping my hands off from under the desk, the rubber band I've been carefully stretching goes flying. Bullseye. Direct hit fair on her forehead. Laney freezes in a second of shock and we both burst out laughing. Sam must have seen it because his shoulders are shaking. What's going on over there? Zas the evil side-eye from his desk. Nothing, sir. We put our heads down and try not to giggle. A few minutes of silence tick past before I feel her gaze again. Looking up, I cock an eyebrow and she smiles back. Can you cover for me tonight? Laney asks. Why? Whatcha doing? She smiles. Better you know, little sister. I do my best impression of Mom's disapproving, tight-lipped look. All it does is make her giggle. Nah, nothing. I just wanna see Troy. I roll my eyes. Go on, then. Go hang out with Big Head and leave me to Mom. I've told her heaps of times what exactly I think of Troy, but it didn't stop her, so I don't bother anymore. Didn't mean I was gonna be nice about it. Leave ya to your books, ya mean. Her lips curl in a sneer and all the fun drops out of the air. I don't know why you bother with all the white man education, sister. What they're gonna teach us in here isn't real life. We gotta fight the system, not take part in it. I turn my glare on her and there's no playing this one either. Don't start that shit with me. Next thing you'll be talking native title. What's that ever done but tear us mob apart? And what's education ever done but lifted one of us above the others? You've never been that selfish, Chase. She hisses this at me and I can feel the fallout of words jumping up my throat. We glare at each other, ready to go to war but duck our heads down again as old Wells comes around his desk to eyeball us. It's an old argument and so familiar we can keep going using hand signals, mostly blue ones. She'll never convince me she's right, no matter how much she tries. Lainey has been talking like a VJ from the Black Panther Party she and Chase hooked up with Troy last year. It started off subtle at first but now there are times when I swear she hates white people. Mom never taught us to be like that. She always said we went through too much, had too much of the shit put on us and knew how bad it hurt to go dishing it out on someone else. Mom hasn't noticed Lainey's new attitudes yet but when she does, Lainey and Troy both better look out. It's a satisfying thought. Eleanor Thompson could send grown men running with that sharp tongue of hers. Lainey takes off straight after Wells releases us. Watching her climb into a man's car, that bad feeling from this morning stirs my guts. A snippet of a dream flickers, something about Lainey screaming. Goosebumps race over my flesh. Troy barely waits for her to close the door before spitting gravel. Dickhead knows what I think of him. No way would I get in his car and know what he'd offer. Still, that feeling sits there. I almost whisper a request for a man to keep Lainey safe before I stop myself. Feeling depressed, I head home. Walking up to the house, I spot Troy's green and brown rusted bum and frown. If word got out he was parked outside our place, mom would be on the warpath. What does Lainey think she's doing? I glare at the cocky moron who has the balls to smile at me. Lip raised in a sneer, I make it to the front door in time to bar Lainey from leaving. Given up on sneaking around, she rolls her eyes and shoves me. I forgot something. Now get out of the room before someone sees us. I stay where I am for a moment, trying to get her to look at me. She's out of her uniform and shorts and a t-shirt, but she won't meet my eyes. She just keeps right on shoving. In the end, I have to back off. It isn't like I have a choice. I can't force her to tell me, especially on a gut feeling. Watching her run outside, something bothers me. It's only after she dries off that I realize she hadn't been carrying anything. The churning inside worsens and for no reason, I can't explain, I go and stare into Lainey's room. Aside from the usual mess with her poor and discarded uniform now resting on top, there isn't anything to see. But something feels wrong. Shaking my head in my imagination, I go to my room to change out of my sweaty clothes. The night of. Turns out there is a need for a cover. Mom pulls another double shift at the hospital, so I get to be on my own. I don't mind me alone one bit, but I'm always worrying over Mom. The hospital is understaffed, staff underpaid and fast heading into an old people's home without the long term care facilities. Mom is one of just two assistants in nursing in the town, and she always says with two teenage girls to support, she has to take what she can get. It is better pay than what she'd get out of New Orchards, but not by much. Some weeks, if there are new nurses in town, Mom barely gets any shifts. If Mom knew how much Lainey was off with Troy, she would crack. But her crazy shifts mean she isn't around enough to notice. Mom has always been strict. We were the only kids her age with a curfew. Some of the younger kids stay out later than us. Uncle Joe stepped in last year and talked her into loosening the reins a bit. At least now we're allowed out on the weekends, up until midnight anyway. Weeknights we're supposed to be home before full dark, homework done and early to bed. Even with the extra freedom, Lainey keeps pushing the boundaries. It's been worse since she got with Troy. When Mom calls to check in on us, I'm parked on the couch watching challenge, and make out Lainey's in her room doing her own thing. No matter the shift, she always checks in. I rush her off the phone by telling her I got into tension for being late. Her guilt has her hanging up the phone quick. I finish challenging with some channel surfing, all two of them who can get in this house, and give up when all they want to talk about is the Sydney Olympics next year. Boring. Collapsing into bed after a quick sandwich and some study, just to get ahead. I close my eyes and imagine all the places I'll see and waters I'll dive in once I'm a marine biologist. Stuff swimming with dolphins, I want to get out there with killer whales. Big saltwater dreams for my little fresh water bony, Nan had always said with pride. Well enough to throw her voice out of my head. I pass out. Racing through the bush, scrub whips my legs. Stepping higher over the layers of leaves, branches, and bark to quote Everson, I can't escape it entirely. Every step sends out a screaming sound. I can't hear the others. The plan was to split up if they found us, so why do I feel like they've abandoned me? Dogs howl over the sheltered men. I'm running through iron box with no cover. Torchlights flash through trees. They can see me. A loud pop and a big splinter. Holy shit, they're shooting. Go low and zigzag. Troy's words fire through my head. It's the hardest thing I've ever done, but I double over and force myself to dodge erratically. Hurdling through the trees, I'm moving away at a much slower pace now. The torchlights wave randomly. They've lost my position. I duck behind a big tree and press my back to the rough bark. Gulping breaths as quietly as I can, I watch the beams of light dance in the trees around me. They keep jerking like the people controlling them are running straight towards me. My heart tries to fight its way out of my chest. I force myself to wait. Listening to the crunching footsteps getting closer, I stare up into the face of the nearby pool men. I told Troy we should have waited. It was too soon since we last raided this place and the light of the moon would make us sit in ducks, but he wishes he'd listen now. Where the fuck did he go? He's got to be close. Off in the dark, the dog starts howling and shouts of excitement ring out. My pursuit stops. Come on, but we saw someone. I told you, it was just a big group, but you can keep chasing it if you want. I'm getting some of the real action. More steps, but this time in the opposite direction. The remaining man curses a blue streak. I squeeze my eyes shut. He starts running and it takes a few moments for me to realize his footsteps are moving away. Releasing a shaky, silent breath, I try not to gasp in much needed air. Relief and guilt course through me. I was safer now, but at his expense. Pushing it from my head, I open my eyes and wait for the sounds and torchlights to fade. The screaming dogs grow fainter. The sound of my two pursuers softening. When I can hear only the crickets, see only the moon, I pry my hands from the trees. My crouching dash to the next one takes too long. I stop. No one calls out. Nothing gets shot. I force myself to do it again. And then again. Adrenaline takes over and I'm sprinting. I try not to think about who they're chasing instead. Shutting it all out, it's like I'm on the track again. Only this time, the car is the finish line. The moon is the lights of the stadium. Just have to make it to the car and I'll get something better than gold. I'll be safe. A glint of light on metal through the trees signals the final stretch. Breaking out of the tree line onto the dirt track we found weeks ago when we'd last been here, I'm round the car, testing all the doors faster than I can think to do it. All locked. Shit. I press my head to the cold metal and watch my breath fog the window. I feel the trees pressing on all sides and the eerie silence of the night finally registers. Not even a cricket is calling. Something worse than fear crawls along my skin. The bush is never silent. Not like this. Head lifting, I put the car at my back. Movement to my right as a speckled silvery body hurtles towards me. I'm flat on the ground without thinking. A whoosh of air overhead and I'm rolling under the car. There's blood in my mouth from biting my tongue. Terror rips through my gut and tries to crawl out my throat. A ghost bird. A fucking ghost bird swooping me. I lie there trying to see out of all sides of the car while keeping my movement silent. Taste says that all the old stories are just superstition. Tawny frog mouths aren't messengers. If she was here though, I'd bet she'd be under the car with me. Some things are just ingrained. A scraper moves to my left. Whipping my head towards it, my whole body jumps as I stumble. Like turning off the mute button on a tv, the crickets start calling. Sound returns to the world and I can hear it all now. Psst. I tip my chin up so fast I rack my head in the undercarriage. You idiot! I'm swearing but I'm still whispering it over his chuckles. Troy brings a knee from where he's kneeling at the front of the car. Bent over to see where I squeeze myself. Looking for these? He dangles the car keys and laughs like we're not on the run. Keep it down! He laughs harder and holds his hand out to me. What for? We left those pricks behind ages ago. Besides, who's all that? No one can catch us out here. I'm about to unleash on him when I feel hands clamp around my ankles. It's not like those horror movies you see where the girl gets dragged away. There's no time for a breath or a fall on screen. All I get out is a gasp of fear as I'm yanked backwards into darkness. I'm lunged into semi-consciousness. Fear pouring over me. I'm sure, so horribly sure, that Langley is in danger. Struggling out of the suffocating covers I stagger, wrap myself, wobbling my way to Langley's bedroom door and slamming it open. The bed is messy as usual and there's no way to see if a body is lying in it. I land on the seams, hands dragging through blankets and emptiness. My groggy mind screams with panic as I run to mum's room. Too late I remember the double shift and plonk down onto her neatly made bed, clutching my head. My whole body is shaking and there's a metallic taste in my mouth. Coming more awake, my mind whispers it's just a dream. It takes me a bit longer to remember that dreams aren't supposed to have any meaning, just the subconscious working through stuff. Still, everything inside me wants to call mum. She'd make it all better. Only Lainey isn't supposed to be out tonight. If I call mum, I'll be dogged. Mum will lose it because Lainey's out and I covered for her. Lainey will probably show up unharmed and hungover, then she'll make me pay. No matter how you look at it, I'll be in the doghouse with both of them. Feeling a little steadier I make my way to the kitchen to scull a glass of water while the kettle boils. Shocked to see the clock above the trash to say it's only midnight, I pour myself a cuppa and vanish the coppery taste from my mouth, ignoring the voice in my head telling me it's blood. Doing that careful tea balancing shuffle into the sunroom, I sit on the massive couch. A big part of me wants to turn on every light in the house but I hold off. The kitchen light is still blazing. That is enough. The sunroom's mishmash of frosted and clear windows give a catwalk view of the night. The mostly full moon has sent the stars into hiding and the world is a fizzard landscape, giving enough light to see almost every shape in every detail. Enough to hint at things moving in the shadows. With a shake I banish the image of a charging bird. A slight breeze shifts the trees and cools our climbing bodies. A car drives past out the front and from the sound of the engine I can tell it's the brown boys doing their usual lapping around town into the late hours. Like it's the biggest place where there's something to see. Then again, they always have the best gossip, those boys. It's quiet but it's never still here. Remembering the dead silence in the dream, I shiver. The weird nightmare keeps trying to play through my head in full Technicolor. I hold off most of it but it keeps sneaking in, like the scariest moments in a horror movie. Nan would probably have called it a special dream, one I should listen to. School serves as my subconscious, telling me something about myself. Although why the hell I dream on rainy was anyone's guess. I can pinpoint the second I started to believe science more than my own mob. The day we lost Nan was the worst of my life but I'd kept the faith. I'd look for the signs, waited to feel her close by to come visit. If Nan visited anyone it was going to be me, I'd been so sure. I'd spend the most time with her listening to the old stories, learning the things that Nan always said would keep me safe. There were things she'd promised to tell me when I was older that I'd never get to hear now and some she'd close her lips tight about like this nightmare mirror. I love Pop and he's told me some great stories too but not the ones Nan did. As I got older I realised men don't sit down like that with girls and neither do the women with boys. Just like there are some things that you should never say to your uncle that you could say to your auntie. Losing Nan was bad, we all knew we'd love so much more but I knew she'd come see me again. Weeks went past, nothing happened but I trusted in our bond. Then other cousins claimed to have seen her, felt her. The longer I waited the angrier I got and one day I got done waiting. I turned my back on Nan's beliefs like she had done to me. Part of me knows it isn't logical to be angry with a dead woman, the rest of me doesn't care. That nightmare but it felt so freaking real. Still nothing to be done but wait for Lainey to show, or Nan or maybe the fam. Mum wouldn't be too much longer but that doesn't mean Lainey will get in before her. Sometimes she pushes her luck and if Mum is tired enough she'll let me do a quick glance in to check that us girls are safely sleeping. There'd been a lot of years after Dad died when Mum wouldn't let us sleep on our own. We were seven when we lost him in a car accident. He'd been driving back home late after a few days out torturing by himself. Lainey had once called him a tree killer because that was the job, going out and poisoning trees to clear land. She'd been smacked for it and told not to eat the food it put on her plate if she was so high and mighty. It was maybe the only time I saw him look ashamed. Torturing is something most of the men in town do for different properties, sometimes in gangs and sometimes by themselves. Dad had his own one-man team going which is why he was all alone that night when he went off the road right into a tree. The cop said it was tired driving, I didn't like to think about it. My strongest memories of him are being held close to his massive chest which was usually vibrating with laughter at something we'd been doing. He'd never call me by name, I was his M&M, short for Manini. Sometimes I think my parents were idiots, fancy naming your twins after yourselves. For seven years we were two Alanas and two Stacys in the house and one communal headache. There were times I'd miss the other Stacys so bad my chest felt like it might explode. That's how I learned that time doesn't heal some things, you just get used to the pain. Gulping down the last of the tea I pushed to my seat like I'm shoving against my thoughts, rinse my cup and head back to bed. I hesitate at Lainey's door but decide not to create a realistic lump. If Lainey is showing off somewhere she deserves to get in trouble. I climb into my own bed to wait and somehow fall asleep. Day one, daylight. The screeching beep from my little alarm clock is the next thing I know about the world. Blurry eyed I flip over and turn it off. The nightmare hadn't continued but there's a feeling like I had some kind of dream, something important that I really needed to remember. Struggling it off I tumble out of bed and head for Lainey's room. When there's nothing but a rumpled doorknob greets me I go into panic mode. Lainey likes taking risks but she isn't suicidal, which you'd have to be to flout mom's rules so badly. Bursting into mom's room I jump onto the bed shaking her away. Mom, wake up! Mom, Lynn didn't come home last night. Mom cracks an eyelid open to frown at me. I know, what you're waking me up for, you know I got in late. My jaw must have unhinged, it drops so fast as mom rolls back over. This woman should be angry and ranting or worried and pacing, possibly both. I'd seen her go into one of those frenzies before, which isn't the first time Lainey has broken the rules. I reattach my jaw, reach out and grab mom's shoulder for another shake. Mom, what went on? Why aren't you cracking? A long suffering sigh, mom spoke to the wall. Your sister is off somewhere with that boy. The police are looking for them. What? A couple of his little gang ended up in a lockup last night, trespassing on some property. The cops came to see me at work, my apathy is starting to fade and I can feel the rising fury in her tone. Neither of those boys have cars and your sister was seen driving around in Troy's car with them last night. The cops think she's hiding without him somewhere. Now, go get ready for school. Knowing this isn't safe territory, I hesitantly squeeze her shoulder. Mom, and don't think I forgot that you've been coming for her too, where you go? I flinch, pulling my hand back. Get to school, and when you get home, you better be ready to tell me how long this has been going on. Then I'll decide your punishment. Bastard! One difference between me and Lainey is that I know when to beat a quick retreat. Even when I do, I know to be scared. This has given mom all of her skill and cooked up a real good anger and an even worse sentence. Hopping into the shower, I remember last night's nightmare and scoff at myself in the bright morning light. Dreams are so stupid and my twin radar isn't worth shit. Lainey and Troy are probably somewhere hiding now, trying to get their stories straight. I'll come home and find Lainey back. Then we'll both be gone for eternity. Just freaking great. And Lainey ran off again. Who do you reckon she's doing now? Kathy's nasal tones hit me. I freeze in the doorway of the bathroom. The kid on the heels bumps into me, shoving me forward the rest of the way. Sorry, Chase. One of my classmates mumbles as she passes, giving me a quick glance, her eyebrows flowing up at the look on my face. I'm too busy glaring at Kathy and her little crew to respond. The veranda stretches the whole length of the big building, and close to one side are the big open portraits that come to waist height. Serving the purpose of being right on the teacher's noses as well as barricading us in, doorways dot the wall with lowered windows linking them in a chain, leading into the various classrooms reserved for us high schoolers. The big building has zero insulation and no air con, just a few steel ceiling fans for each class, and no heating. Only the computer room has polished windows and blinds to try and keep the air con in. The lessons aren't why most of us love the place, especially this time of year when it can go over 40 degrees. Kids are stealing onto the veranda from each class. The only person who got out from those boxes was none of the other teachers. Jock lunch, I walk straight out to the group of girls crossing around the portrait and getting Kathy's face. What did you say? The others go quiet and stop their jockeying and talking. All eyes are on me and the biggest bully in the school. Her queen bee attitude and occasional luckiness beside me, she pretty much runs the high school girls, all 18 of us. Everyone except me and Lainey, and she hates us so much she sticks her little minions on us a few times. The fact that Lainey's not liked in her only gives Kathy more reason to be a giant bitch to us whenever she can and has done since year one, turning people against us, making sure we stay on the outside with as many people as possible. It stopped bothering me a long time ago, but it always gets up Lainey's nose. I've seen her do a number of nasty things to people over the years, especially if she thought she could get away with it. Mom said what most parents would. Kathy is just jealous because Lainey and I are so close, so pretty, blah blah blah. The only thing is because she's a dog. I agree. Kathy smirks. What? Can't a person have a private conversation? Bullshit private conversation. She waited till I walked out of the classroom before saying that one as loud as she could. Pastooges, Cassandra and Naomi stand out grinning. The three of them are cousins and they've been following Kathy's breed since they could crawl. Lainey and I used to put bets on if they had an original thought between them. I couldn't care less what you and your little gang are on about, but if you're talking about my sister, then we got a problem. Oh yeah? Kathy steps forward, bringing us nose to nose, lowering her voice so no one can hear. And what if I was? What you gonna do about it? I haven't got your attorney to back you up now. I snort, not bothering to lower my voice. That'd be right. Gotta double bank your dirty dogs cause you know you get flogged in a fair fight. Kathy's face goes red and she shoves me. I hit the wall as she follows with her fist up and fury in her eyes. I bare my teeth and she hesitates. That's enough. The common knocks her back a step and wipes the green off my face. We'd been trying to provoke each other into hitting first so we could use a self-defense claim. I knew Mrs. Clay was still in the mess room and the weird silence from the environment would tip her to the fight. Kathy, Stacy, turn to the principal's office right now. The wobble moment of stern, wrinkled face took no shit from anyone. I've missed. She... Kathy tries. I don't care, young lady. We do not put our hands on each other. Now move. We saw the whole thing miss. Jacinta jumps in and gets a grab for her troubles. And we both know whose side you'd pick. Get to your next class. All of you. Her voice sent the other kids hurrying to their bags, whispering. Now make sure it's me the finger behind Mrs. Clay's back after Jacinta turns to join in the coffee pain. Following a few steps behind the old woman, I slouched down the stairs through the covered area where we have parade with the little ones every morning, down past the empty library into the office. The blame will probably get put on me with Kathy's two lackeys running around giffing, but when me and Lady got up, the thoughts stopped me in my tracks. Sit, Mrs. Clay barks as we're heading into the principal's office. The admin ladies eye us like we're walking dog tricks and they're the bitches I'd always known them to be. They touch the body up to us and get the inside news. I ignore them and so does Kathy. They're all white women and who knew how that shit would get twisted. No matter what we did or didn't say, the news would be out by lunch, spread by this pack of doggies. The whole time I can see Kathy staring at me, but I keep my eyes forward. As soon as the office ladies get bored and go back to whatever it is they do, I hear her chair creak as she sifts towards me. So, do you know? Pretending I can't hear her, I yawn and start taking fake dirt over my nose. Oh, maybe she doesn't tell you everything after all. Hmm, must have not watched the pay from our class properly. Clinton tells me everything. It is hard to pretend now, but I keep right on inspecting my notes like they hold the secrets of the universe. Kathy's cousin, Clinton, is one of the boys in the lockup waiting for his code day. They never let anyone but immediate family into those things. Cops are making her look like a stupid monster, she's full of shit. Still, Clinton's mom either sends them in to her. He told me how lenient Roy left him and tried his high and dry at that property. My head comes over and I stare her down. Bullshit. Kathy stares right back, happy she couldn't arrive. I go to smack myself upside the head. Instead, I glare straight into her smug, pungent-nosed face. It's true, they were bucks on my push and when they got back, the car was gone. Bitch, that bitch twin of yours talked Roy into leaving them there to get flogged up. No wonder Troy dumped her. The roll of an awkward stretch sounds as the admins all drift towards us like a bunch of magpies spotting food. They won't stop us if the fists start to fly. The principal's door closes and we slump back in our seats. Mr. Clay stands in the door with a look that sends admin ladies roaring back. Mr. Clay is nice to Mrs. Clay. Neither of them are very nice people. I'm not sure if it's because they're unhappy with being dumped in on a small town where they have no clue about the cultural differences of half their students or if they genuinely don't like kids. He turns his glare on us and we go from angry to nervous. Right, you first, Kathy. My mouth opens. As the victim, I should be first. The guilty one always gets seen to last. Everyone in the school knows that. Mr. Clay is really predictable. My nurse is a new pick, forced to watch a victorious Kathy saunter into the office. When she comes back a few minutes later, she doesn't look as happy, but she still gives me a sneer. Stacy, come on in. There's something weird in Mr. Clay's voice. He still stands, but it isn't his usual harsh, showing trouble tone, so maybe it hasn't all gone Kathy's way. Stepping in, I shut the door, taking only the free seat across from Mr. Clay. Mrs. Clay sits to my right and says nothing. Now, Stacy, would you like to tell us what happened? He folds his arm on the desk and gives me a stern look that demands the truth. He probably did the same to Kathy, but like hell she gave him what she wanted. Kathy said something nasty about my sister, sir, so I told her to stop and she pushed me. Mrs. Clay came on and stopped her from hitting me. And what exactly did she say? I fridged it in my chair. It's really rude, sir, and I think I can take it. Oh well, he asked. She said that Laney'd run off again last year, didn't know me or what she was doing now. Mr. Clay's eyebrows lift. Who or what? What? I frown. Mr. Clay nods. I know you think you heard Kathy say who, but she's fresh she said what, as in what Laney was doing now. I shake my head violently. No way, sir, she said who. Mr. Clay sighs at my stubborn response and Mrs. Clay steps in. It doesn't matter. The fact is Kathy pushed you and then lifted her face to strike you. She'll be getting two weeks detention. My face feels like I've been sucking on a lemon while snarling a fart. The Clays run this whole zero-tolerance rhyme, but they only ever apply to the kids they decide have lost cause without too much trouble. Kids like Laney and me. If I'd done what Kathy did, I'd have been suspended. I know it for a fact because last year Laney had been dividing Kathy's position. She got two weeks of suspension for becoming physical with another student and for using profanity. I feel to see her using a few two hours at the end of a sentence from detention to suspension. Mr. Clay then finished. He brought you in here, Stacy. We're concerned that Laney's absence last night may be causing you some distress. We'd like to make an appointment with you to see the counselor next Thursday. They tried this one on me and Laney before. The guidance counselor is a nice guy, but overworked. He always seems to be rushing somewhere, probably because he's responsible for visiting all the schools in the district and he only has a day, or sometimes half, in each place. Thanks for worrying about me, sir, and miss, but Laney will leave back soon, so it won't matter. Both are then perked up in their seats and I can almost see the inventory dotted in the numbers of the cop shop. Mr. Clay beats her whip badly to the punch. Oh, do you know where your sister is then? No, miss, and it's not like I'd tell you anywhere, but Laney'd never leave without telling me. The two eyes meet each other, their condescending thoughts practically leaping across the desk. The bell blasts and Mr. Clay and I jump. Mr. Clay doesn't move. He's gotten used to it being right outside his window. Well, that's lunchtime. Go ahead and join your friends, Stacy. Again, they do their condescending eye dancing and I roll mine as soon as I have my back to them. We all know I have no friends here. Day one, afternoon. Heading up to the port rack, I grab my lunch and some books before we're all chased off the veranda. They don't let us up there during lunches because they say we can't be trusted not to steal from each other. Sitting in the high schooler's lunch area under the big building, I start scoffing the sandwich mummy's thrown together. Normally I ignore lunch in summer, it's too damn hot to eat during the day. But who'd pass up a bacon sandwich? At least it's cooler under here with all the concrete polished to a shine from epic handball wars. I can see a few of the primary schoolers hanging out in little groups over the area, but most have already eaten and are off to the playground on the other side of the primary school building. A lot of the older kids have lunch passes, so they head home or down to the shops to get their food. I try not to think about the office. It isn't that I don't have any friends or family in the school, but my best friends are all gone now, either to boarding schools or off working somewhere. I get on with most of the others when Cassie isn't around, but I'm not close with anyone except Lacey. I have no trust for sheep who blindly follow bullies. Laney and I can go out for lunch too, but in the middle of summer it isn't worth being in the heat for that long. Lately though, Laney's been going out to spend them with Troy. So much for not thinking about it. I pick up my books and head to the library. Since I've lost all signs of a social life at school, I pretty much live down there when I'm not in class. That isn't so bad, but losing my friends also means there's no one to hang out with after school and on the weekends. Laney tried to get me to come out partying for a while, and I'd even gone a few times, usually when I was feeling lonely. Brimming and Troy could stop baiting each other. It made our sisters fight, so Laney stopped asking. Settling into the chair that should have my sweaty cheese marks permanently printed on it, I keep working on my English assignment and try not to worry about things I can't change. At least there's no air con here. Life away from this town is the goal. A life of sea and swimming is the dream. The loneliness will be worth it, as long as Laney comes home soon. What the hell is she even thinking? Some of the property owners around here will take shots at trespassers. Or worse, if you're trespassing black. I push the thought of what that means away. None of it's helping me with my English assignment. I stare down at the piece of paper that lists the requirements. I'm supposed to write some bullshit about what I want for the year. If I'm honest and right, I want my sister home safe and my nan back from the dead, it would likely get a big fat F. I want to get out of this hellhole filled with tiny racist mimes especially for teachers. Would earn me detention. That last thought blocks up my brain and I wish I could scream it. The blank page of my notebook stares back at me for a long time. Into that empty space slips Cassie's words. When did Troy dump Laney? I jump out of my chair as the bell rings. Goddammit, phone calls to parents aren't allowed unless you're sick. Even then the admin ladies are listening and anyway, Cassie's probably just shit staring. Kicking the heavy wooden desk leg, I pack up my books and walk back to class. The gossip going around at school is pretty much what mom said except for the part where the boys in lockup have been bashed. They reckon the property owners and their workers did it but the cops are ignoring it. Some bullshit about defending their property even though none of the boys were armed and they were outnumbered 2 to 1 against full grown men. Laney's right about one thing. This place is fucking racist. Where we differ is Laney responds to it with more hate and I just want to get the hell away. Or at least I hope to. There has to be more than this surely. It isn't like we can do anything about the way things are. All the positions of power are held by the property owners. All white and all with their memories of the days when they owned us. Lock, stock and barrel. To use terms like slave you have to be considered human. We've never been that to them. Hmm. Did bitter count as harbouring hatred? Sometimes I feel infected by this place as this hate itself breeds here. Sitting through another two and a half hours of school is torture. I spend the whole time giggling, fidgeting and staring at the clock but it gives me time to think. The moment the last bell rings I force myself to walk to the port rack pretending to struggle with my books as I keep an eye out. Any of my cousins might know the goss but I keep my eyes peeled for my cousin Bobby. She's better than the courier male if you want to piss her off you'd call her Roberta. When I finally spot her she's walking alongside Cassie. There goes that idea. I assume I pour it onto her shoulder and start forwards. There's no point asking now. I might love my cousin but she has shit taste in friends. I underestimate how much Bobby loves a good gossip. She grabs my arm when I try to brush past her. Here Trace, any word from Lainey yet? There's real concern from her so I stop, making sure I can see what Cassie is doing. Nah nothing, why? Did you hear something? Nah sorry cause they reckon Troy's not talking. My spine goes rigid with shock. I can see Cassie's smug triumph. Hey what do you mean Troy? Bobby's eyes light up. She loves being the first to miss any gossip especially when it's this big. Don't you know? She tries to hide her glee. Troy drove back into town late last night. He's dodging the cops and he's not saying nothing about what happened that night but Lainey isn't with him. Thanks cuz. I say, shaking off her hand and turning towards her says. Tace, there's something else. They reckon she was out at the potter's place. My face must have gone white because she reaches to grab my elbow. You alright? I shake my head to clear it and focus on the important information. Yeah, yeah fine. See ya. I tell her over my shoulder and bolt for it. Where you going? Bobby calls to me. I ignore her. Home is normally a 10 minute walk but I cut it down to 5. Evening is hit. Rounding the last corner I push past the burning in my chest and crash through the back door. Heart pounding. I have to stop and catch my breath before picking up the phone and dialing the hospital. The woman who answers is one of those stuck up ones so I do my nicest pie scene saying we have a family emergency. I pretend not to hear the other woman dig for information on Lainey. Just wait till she's finally removed to ask to go get mum. Stacey? Mum, did you hear? Troy's back in town but he doesn't have Lainey with him. There's a pause and a muffled sound. Then mum comes back on. All clipped words and harsh sounds. I hate that ultra professional voice she puts on sometimes. It means she's burying something. Who told you this? Bobby told me at school. Said he got in last night but he wouldn't say where Lainey is. Right, we'll see about that one. Mum must have covered the phone because all I can hear for a bit is the hum of different voices. Then she's back. Call Uncle Joe. Get him to come pick me up. We're gonna sort this right now. And me too? It's a question but for some reason I yell it. There's another pause but this one is shorter. Alright, tell Uncle to swing past on his way. Tell him it's about Lainey. Click. I dial Uncle Joe's number and listen to the ring. Uncle Joe is dad's older brother and he's done all he could for us since dad died. We'd gone to the cemetery for the 10 year anniversary and he said he'd been right there. Here's our second dad. He answers the phone and Slim Dusty flows down the line. As soon as I say Lainey's name the tunes are shut off and I have his full attention. I'm getting in the car now. You'll be waiting at the street when I pull up, niece. Got it? Got it, Unc. I hang up and walk to the road, school uniform and all. If I don't want to get left behind then I better be where I'm told. I'll be left here all bloody night if I have to. I spot Bobbie heading down the road towards me and I know that girl is coming to have a dory. Luckily Uncle pulls up before she gets close. Bowie starts queuing and doing a frantic pick-me-up-to wave. I wave back in a friendly see-ya-later-coz way. Uncle stares straight ahead. I pretend not to notice how hard Uncle is creeping in the steering wheel or the waves of extreme pissed-offness crashing around the car. For once I keep my mouth shut. This really isn't going to end well. Hopefully for Troy. Roaring up to the hospital we pull in to where Mum is waiting. Squeezing between the seats I flop into the back as Mum jumps in the front. Where are we going? Uncle growls. Edna's place. Mum didn't growl back but I know the tight-lipped look that goes with that tone. That's scary enough. She turns in her seat, eyeballing me. Did Bobbie hear anything else? They reckon she was out at the potter's. I say it fast, like I'm ripping off a band-aid. Uncle swears a streak and Mum goes pale. There are good and bad property owners around. The potters aren't the kind of people we'd go anywhere near. Their long-running hatred of anything darker than tan is well known. Nan always said they were a family that bred hate. They'd discovered their bit of land right after the Archer Brothers settled down in Eidsfold Station, naming it after their town in Norway. The potters decided they were going to do one better, calling their property Akershus, after some famous castle in Norway. It set off a big rivalry that went on for a while, but where the archers moved on, the potters never did. Then again, the archers ended up with a station renowned for the cattle that came off it, and a whole town established close by and named after their place. Akershus was the poor cousin left to wither somewhere on the back roads between Eidsfold and the next town over, Mundaburra. No one could pronounce the name, let alone spell it, so it just got called the potter's place. All their grand ideas shriveled up and they blamed the local blacks for it. No one really knew why exactly, but Nan always said bitter people don't like logic. It doesn't suit their thinking mentality. That's it. Mum grates. Pretty much. She faces forwards. Nothing else is said as Uncle burns up to Edna's. She's Troy's mum and I really have my doubts on whether we'll find him there. If you're hiding from the pots, how silly would you be to hang around the place you live? My face drops in disbelief when we pull up to see Troy's car parked in the back, plain as day. Mum twists around again to look at me and forgets her anger long enough to chuckle. Some people are begging to be caught, daughter. Then she's all business again. Now you stay in this car and do not step a single foot outside, no matter what happens. Is that clear? Uncle whips around like he's just remembered I'm sitting there. And if you do, you'll deal with your mother and then me. Got it? My eyes get really big and I nod. Uncle likes to think he's scarier than mum. Me and Lainey play along to make him feel better. Mum knows him too. Her lips twitch before they both throw their doors open and march up to the house. A few dogs bark from inside. Rolling down my window, I lean forwards, not wanting to miss a single second. While the adults take the stairs off the big old Queenslander, my eyes keep flicking over to Troy's car. I can't shake the image of Lainey hiding under it, feeling those hands close over our ankles. Wrist bumps flood my body. I look back as mum starts banging on the screen door. Edna Dennis comes dooring up as if she didn't hear us the second the car pulled up into the driveway. We won't. Our mums have never liked each other much, but it isn't the intergenerational war we have with the Millers. We want to talk to Troy. We just want to know where Lainey is. Uncle is better at pretending to be calm than mum. My boy doesn't know anything about that girl and he doesn't want to know. She's the one who got them into this in the first place. Bullshit! Mum yells in her face. Lainey wasn't in any trouble like this before. Now bring your little bastard out here so he can tell me what he's done with my daughter. In horrified fascination, I watch them square off through the fly screen. That girl's nothing but a troublemaker. Because your son is so fucking innocent. Don't go run my son down. Get off my fucking porch. With all that going on, I should be transfixed. But my eyes keep sliding back to Troy's car. I would swear there's something moving under it. And isn't that spooky as hell? My goosebumps grow worse. Mum must have hit the screen door because a bang brings my attention, snapping back, and the next minute uncle has mum by the shoulders. The four-letter words are flying now. Listen here, you dog. You better got off my fucking property before- before what, Edna? Before your sleaze of a man grabs another knife? Come here and, hey, knock it off you two. Ah, we didn't come here for this. Uncle keeps trying to talk sense, but it has as much effect as mum telling Lainey to go to school. It's the day for my daughter to flop around unhinged. It isn't so much for the foul words that shocked me as hearing mum say them. Lainey would have loved this, if only to tease mum later about rinsing her mouth out with soap. And still my eyes wander back to that stupid old banged up- I do a double take. There. I call, uncle, uncle. But there's no getting his attention while that's going on right in his ears. When he opened the door, I stepped from the car, keeping one hand on it like that would stop them from going off at me later. Hey, uncle, look here. Uncle Joe swings an irritated look at me, but he stops when he sees me beside our car. You get back in that? My frantically wiggling eyebrows cut off his growl. I have his attention now, so I tilt my head in the direction of Troy's car, hesitating for a second until he lets go of mum. She barely notices, going back to bang her palms against the screen while Edna threatens to call the cops. Watching uncle storm towards me like I am in some serious trouble, I feel a smile creep over my face. Daisy, Claire, Thompson, I told you to stay in that car! See, not as scary as when mum says it. I smirk. Coughing into one hand and doubling over a bit to do it, I slide my other hand down, pointing under uncle's car, before again tilting my head towards Troy's old bush basher. Uncle picks a path that takes him closer to the house. At the last second, he veers towards Troy's car. Swerving to the side of it, he drops his knee and grabs a handful of whatever he finds under there. Next minute, he's pulling the struggling Troy out, not caring if he's getting any scrapes or bruises along the way. Get off me! Troy yips. Edna must have heard him because she breaks off swearing at mum and starts screaming to her husband to call the cops. Suddenly switching from banging on the screen to leaning against it with all her weight, mum smiles easily as she watches uncle handle Troy. She's always fast on the uptake is mum. Uncle is a big man, even by today's standards, and years of cordoning and fence work has left him with a lot of muscle. He gets an arm across Troy's throat pretty easily and has him pinned to the ground in no time. Whatever he's saying to the boy has Troy struggle slowing then stopping, leaving him looking up at Uncle Joe. Me and Lenny might not be scared of our uncle, but any man with half a brain should be, especially if they've harmed his brother's girls. And Troy has done plenty of harm. I want to run over there so bad it hurts, but the whole thing is over pretty fast. One minute Troy's on the ground and the next, Uncle is picking him up and setting him on his feet. Troy isn't a small bloke, just young, and Uncle is good at intimidating without having to harm the young fellas in town. Uncle turns back towards me when two things happen at once. Edna's man Ray comes barrelling around the side of the house with an axe raised over his head, and the town cop's car comes racing in behind me. I shoot a look at the front door to see Mum step away from the screen like nothing is wrong, while Edna has gone quiet. Troy goes white as a sheet, a neat trick for a black fella. Ray does a weird little skid, brings the axe down and throws it under the house. All the black people in the place throw their hands up, no silly ones here. I don't know whether to laugh or cry, this is going to take forever. Chewing up time we should be using to look for Lenny. You really expect me to believe that you were bringing the axe to Joe because you borrowed it from him? Sitting in the cop shop with my head down, I keep pretending to read the writing magazine I'd found in the waiting area. The whole place smells like stale things and chemicals, probably a mix of the surgeon's illegal inside smoking and the air freshener he's been trying to hide it with. The cop shop is a brick square with a tiny waiting area that started out as temporary and at some point began permanent. There are two of those old brown plastic chairs with metal legs and a small side table with magazines from five years ago stacked on it. I'd claimed one when mum refused to sit down, somehow managing to pace in the minuscule area. Edna sat down and the other chair crossed the table for me. I shouldn't be able to hear anything the cop is saying but they only have room for Troy and Uncle to be in a separate office and single interview room. They'd already questioned me, mum and Edna on the scene, then piled the men into the back of the car. We'd follow them down into the cop shop. After putting Uncle and Troy in the offices, they'd brought Ray to the open area behind the front desk and tackled him first. This had been going on for roughly 30 minutes. At some point the surgeon left to get some dinner or something, leaving the constable there to finish up. I spent the whole time trying not to laugh and refusing to look at mum or Edna. I could feel them not looking at me either. Yeah officer, he wanted to sing Troy about leaning and I figured I'd give it to him at the same time. Send me a tripsy. Ray's being so respectful, no sarcasm even, but I wouldn't melt in his mouth. Alright Ray, I believe that. Why did you throw it under the house? If I'd kept hold of it, you might have thought I was threatening you or something bad like that. I didn't want you to shoot me, so I chopped it fast. The constable is suspicious as hell but it's not like he has anything on them. Right now their biggest worry is Troy, so they finish up with Ray and it's only another hour before they let Uncle Joe go. Edna and Ray give us all dirty looks as we leave. They're waiting to see if Troy will get released or thrown in lockup. Lockup wouldn't be a friendly place for him with Clinton and Tyrone already in there. From what the cops said, those two are so pissed off they dogged Troy and Laney in for being there that night too. Sliding into the car, I stay quiet and wait. It doesn't take long for them to start. They just have to get enough space between them and the cops first. Then she turns to face Uncle. Well, Troy says he doesn't know what happened to her. He said they all split up when I got chased. They were supposed to meet up with the car but she never showed. He's lying! My furious shout stops on cold and they both look at me. I could see their worry. I mean, he has to be right? How can I tell them I'm so sure because of a stupid nightmare? Mom shakes herself and nods at Uncle. Turn this car around. We're making a missing person report. Her voice is hollow. It's the voice that I'd only heard two times before, when she told us Dad was never coming home and the last day she took us up to see Nana at the hospital. I lean forwards and wrap my arms around Mom's shoulders as tight as I think that's will allow. It's okay, Mom. We'll find her. We'll make sure she's okay. Mom's strong. Calloused hands pat my forearm. From your lips, baby girl. So Constable isn't any happier to see us the second time, especially when Mom marches up and declares her 16-year-old daughter missing. Edna and Ray shoot her a vicious look while the cop sighs. He looks Mom up and down. We've got the warrant out for her arrest, Eleanor, he says in a bored voice. Mrs. Thompson to you, Constable. She doesn't wait for him to hear the emphasis in that one. Barring right across her frown. And I want it on record. Laney said she was going to see Troy after school and said she saw her get in his car after school. Troy says he hasn't seen her since last night. So take down the damn report. Well, that's not the story Troy's telling everyone else. Mom's eyebrows climb upwards. And when did gossip become an official police force? That boy told Joe that Laney never showed up when she was supposed to. I want you looking out for her. There's a lot of things in this world that we want, Eleanor. Most of which won't happen for one reason or another. Mom looked ready to keep arguing but Uncle grabs her elbow, nods to the cop and drags his sister-in-law with him, whispering in her ear the whole way. Staying put, I either cop like he's a sample under a microscope. He doesn't seem to like it much. What do you want? He sneers. Going to report someone else missing? Yeah, actually. I draw. Your humanity seems to be missing. You might want to do something about that. Turning on my heel, I follow after my family, leaving him with a bright red face. Fully expecting him to race after me and make up some charge. I'm shocked when I make it all the way to the car. Finding Uncle holding a struggling mom against the car knocks that straight out of my mind. Calm down, Al. There's no point dealing with them assholes. They wouldn't do nothing anyway. We start the search ourselves. I can see the tears Mom is fighting behind all that rage and I stare back towards that old building. I can't help wondering how he would have treated us if we were some other shade of brown. If it had been the old constable, we'd have been alright. I mumble, more to myself than anyone else. Uncle grunts, only decent cop this town ever had. There isn't much to say after that. Day 1 Twilight Walking up the street to Pop's place wasn't my idea of helping the searchest, but I'd finally stepped on Mom's last nerve and been ordered out of the house. After we'd gotten home, Uncle Joe went out to talk to a mob and Mom started reading everyone and anyone she could think of. It was like watching her shake the limbs of a big ghost gum and getting depressed when nothing fell out. No one had seen Lainey. It didn't help that we'd both spring to the phone if it so much as squeaked. Plus, I kept staring at her, wondering if I should try and talk to her about my dream. I don't believe, but I knew she would. When she went off at me for creeping her out, it helped relieve the uncertainty. If she was going to yell, then it's probably a good thing I don't tell her. A nightmare isn't going to help us find Lainey. The one upside is that now everyone knows what's happening. The biggest mob is turning up. They're all at our place, sitting down, dividing up street properties and search areas. And I hate that I'm not there with them. The feed of barbeque steaks, sausages, eggs and tomatoes is still warm on the plate and back in our floor as I trudge the back roads. There's a big freaking hill this way, but a lot fewer houses and I don't want anyone stopping me to ask how it's going. I focus on keeping the bread from sliding off the top of the alfoil so I don't have to look up. I know the path to pops like the back of my hand. I can walk around blindfolded in this town. I'd say this most little weather board life is ours. Most I've been in were small three-bedrooms with one bathroom and a kitchen. If you're lucky, the toilet is in the house. If you aren't, it means tiptoeing all over Cairntoast through a dump at night. Even my white-knit places are like that. A bit flasher, maybe, not needing anything done, like a bathroom that actually has four complete walls, but still a complete layout. Then again, most of them own their own places. Us blackfellas are all renting from the aboriginal housing our private way. There are so few options for us in our town that you take what you can get and are thankful for it. I can't shake this feeling that all this is useless, that Lainey never left that property, that potters have a reputation with us that goes back generations. There's no way they'd let us out there to look around, no point even asking. Instead, a whole heap of aunties, uncles, and all the cousins are going out on roads around the potter's place, hoping he made it that far. I try not to imagine my twin walking somewhere out there without food or water, alone, maybe lost. Others will be out at different places, hoping to get lucky. Potters is rare around here, having survived mostly intact throughout the years. They haven't had to lease out paddocks or subdivide like others. They have enough sons to run the place, and still be able to employ a few jackaroos, none of them black. Then again, not many blackfellas will go out there. On the most western side of that property sits a mountain that none of us will go near. The elders are clear on that one. I shove those thoughts aside as I hit Pop's driveway. His place is an old weatherboard up on Shore Stills. The difference is ours is cream and his is white. Most of us in town are a shade of white or pink, and all of it's peeling. His yard is filled with flowers, and out back is one of the best vegetable gardens in town. Mom said his last job before he retired was a gardener. Like always, he's stretched out on the veranda, rollies on the table, and one burning away in his hand, washing everything. Men are worse consistent women, Mom always says, and I believe her. Hey Pop. His grittled voice grumps and he nods his silver head. I can tell straight away that I'm in trouble. 40 other feet. I put it on the table in front of him, drop a quick kiss onto his cheek before picking up his gigantic mug and starting into the house. Cup of tea? I sing out as I walk into the kitchen. I don't even have to ask, really. The mug is half full and mostly cold, but it wouldn't matter if it was only five minutes old. He always had a fresh cuppa with his food. Bring me the milk and sugar. Grinning and shaking my head, I hit the kettle's button and rummaged around his kitchen to make us both one. He had to talk to me that time, no choice. We are all on the strict orders from Mom to only give him certain amounts of sugar and milk, and I can't ignore her, but Pop sure does. And don't forget the salt and pepper. This time I groan. I cut cutlery and all the fixings out of him, finish the teas and set them on the table before plonking down in one of the mismatched chairs he has strewn about. I watch him pour on salt and pepper and wince. That's yucky, Pop. You're ruining Mom's cooking doing that. Has no flavor. He gives me one of his mischievous eye twinkles from all his big bushy eyebrows. Then he remembers to be mad at me, frowns, and then focuses on getting into his feed. The tea is next and it's even worse when he does to death, so I stop looking and watch his hands instead. Mom says he'd been a giant of a man and you can see it. Into his seventies and he's still taller than all of his sons. His broad shoulders might be skinny now, but they are always straight, his head up and his posture perfect. An upright, big mountain of a man. Those are my earliest memories and how I've always seen him. I love sitting with him like this, even if he's being all sulky with me. I stare out over the front lawn, picture perfect as always. Mom is gonna crack. He isn't supposed to be pushing him over or using a whip or snipper either. I hide my grin behind my mug because if he thinks I'm laughing at him, I'll be in for it. He always says I'm never too old to smack, not that he ever did it, but I wouldn't put it past him. Where's your mother? He growls as he reaches for his mug. Call and write a check if anyone's seen Laney. My grin drops as I lower the mug, looking at him from the corner of my eye. He's too busy looking at his plate. She gone? Yep. Didn't Uncle Terrence come tell you? Nobody tells me anything in this family. And there's the reason for his sulk. Not! Momma go off at Uncle for that. He was supposed to come tell you what was happening while we started the search. I'm outraged, but not surprised. Mom's brother isn't nowhere. Should've come check. He'd done it, but we had other things on the go. Well, you should've come told me. Then I get thrust in my direction to make the point. Pop, that's not our fault. Momma's ringing everyone. Uncle Joe went for a drive around to everyone who doesn't have a phone. I was cooking the dinner you ate in. Sal, it's not like you never heard about it. He raises his hand at me, glumming down the lettuce mouthful. See, we got it. He knows everything, little fuller. He swallows a bit of tea to clear the way and starts again. Never mind that now. Anyone seen her? Accusation delivered. He's straight to the point. Pop never really seems to be that worried about any of us, but Mom says you have what's close to see. Once he got into one of his sulks, he usually holds on to it for dear life. Now he's pushing it aside for the news of his granddaughter. I feel my shoulders drop as I curl my body around my mug. Nah, nothing. Pop can't hold all these hate tears or any sort of sadness, so I stare straight into my mug and try not to let them well. I figure they've been through so much in their time, our lives must seem easy as, and any complaints made us winches. The silence stretches for a while and I realize he's stopped eating to eye me closely. As soon as I tilt my head towards him, he speaks again. You've been dreaming? My eyes glow white with surprise and I look straight at him. He nods and takes another mouthful, mouthing with his mouth for me to get a move on. Sometimes it's eerie how the old people just know stuff. One day I'll get the courage to ask how, but let me reference there are some things you maybe don't want to know. I might have sort of had this nightmare, but it's not real, Pop. It was just a dream. He looks at me, no expression, nothing. The focus in his gaze has me squirming till I spill my guts all over the place about the nightmare, which is what he wants. So he's under the car looking at Troy, but next minute something just grabs her. He sits there chewing, a swallow, some more tea. Did you just see what did it? Another mouthful went in. No, but it was like I was her in the dream, and she didn't see it either. Got her from behind. Yes, by the ankles, pulled her from under the... Wait, how did you... I trail off and wait. Questions are the fastest way to shut the old fella's up. Either he'll tell me or he won't. My job is to keep my mouth shut and my ears open. It's my turn to watch him closely as he finally glances down to scrape the last of the bits together and scoop them onto his fork. He doesn't look up as he cleans his plate with the last of the bits and starts to fidget. My B, there was another girl a while back disappeared one night out of that place. I suck my breath in, clench my jaw tight and force the breath out through my nose. When mom was little? That sounds calm enough. He shakes his head and puts his plate to the side, takes out one of his millions of hankies and dabs at his mouth before picking up his tea and gulping some down. Or that, when your grandmother was a girl working out at Ice World Station. He isn't deliberately teasing me. He has a C and I have to prove that I'm worth it. Knowledge for us isn't like rocking up to school or opening a book and it's all there laid out for you. You have to prove to yourself that you deserve the old people's trust and even then there are some things they'll never tell. I've had these yawns and nawns but I'm almost an adult now, the rules have changed. I've never had this kind of talk with pop. I should be honoured that he was willing at all, especially around nan. He hasn't said a word about her since her funeral. I might be ready to jump out of my seat and throw a full on tanty to her if she told me what I want, but I won't. It wouldn't get me anything and mum would pitch a fit if I did something that disrespectful. Worse, pop wouldn't tell me anything ever again. But you wouldn't have been here then, eh? He raised his hand and audibly directed him. I was up on Rocky then, happened while I was out there. Young woman's snatch was all I heard. There was nothing in the newspapers, not till the end and not about anything that happened to her. It said to his mug, not me, and I can tell he's getting jittery talking about it. Still, this is for Lainey and I so desperately want to push to know. Do you remember what year, pop? I watch him pull back and look at me, the ends of his eyebrows falling over his dark brown eyes, creating a screen that he watches me from under. There's a second I think for sure he'll climb up. Might have been 47. No, had to be 48. A few years before I met new Nan. Gaze goes back to his mug and that moment of sharing vanishes. I could have swung through his sadness, but all he does is take another gulp of tea. Bringing out his tobacco, he starts making his brodies. That's all I'm going to get. I fear tea has burned my eyes, so I grab a sip and mumble something about cleaning up and getting back home. He pushes his mug towards me and says nothing as I take everything inside. Pop leaves me to myself while I scrub away my pain under boiling hot water. Making him up another mug of tea, I place it carefully in front of him. I get the biggest shock when his hand covers mine, patting it softly a few times before pulling back like nothing happened. The tears I've been fighting threaten again. I bend down and give him a peck on his cheek before making a quick retreat. He says nothing, watching me walk off with mum's split. My phone clears my head a bit, although not as much as that hand pat, and I realise how silly it all sounds. How could a young woman disappearing over 50 years ago have anything to do with Lainey? Lest those potter boys are some kind of deliverance freak, going around taking black girls every few decades. I want to laugh it off, but what other options are there? I know I'm deliberately shying away from the other possibilities. Remember daughter, the world is a lot bigger than anyone knows. There are things that science may never explain. Maybe some things that shouldn't be explained. Mum's words intrude. These women are stunning me nuts. Then again, mum might know the story of the girl, but asking her about it now would be suicide. I see Lainey's face and I now have to try. I hope mum understands.
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