Marked (9 page)

“I know,” she said. “I’ve seen the draw.” She sat back in her chair and folded her arms thoughtfully. “I can get it changed if you like.”

“No.” I shook my head, watching her. “Thanks, but it wouldn’t solve anything.”

She smiled, a worried smile. “Okay. But if I were you, I think I’d make sure he wins.”

Quite some lady, Mrs West.

As far as the fight was concerned I was getting plenty of advice. But the only thing everyone seemed to agree on was that I needed to get fitter. Much fitter. So I was running nearly every day, mostly with Kat.

More like twice a day really. We’d jog over the hill to Jed’s shack, and I’d usually stop there, hovering at the point of death. While I was recovering, Kat would pound off along the beach into the distance, and then she’d pick me up on the way home. So more like two runs, with a break for half-time. And if Jed was home, it gave us a chance for a chat.

“Don’t see much of you now,” he said. “Everything okay on the sports car front?”

“Seems to be.” Dad’s MX-5 was back, complete with a new hood, so Jed’s role as taxi driver was over. “Reckon I prefer the ute though. More comfortable.”

He smiled knowingly. “Yeah, specially when you’re squashed up against Kat.”

I felt myself redden. Why the hell was I embarrassed? “There is that,” I muttered.

“I hear you started the fight ahead of schedule. Impatient little sod, aren’t you?”

“Eh? What are you on about?”

He was laughing now. “Your boxing … against Burger. Heard you attacked him in the gym. Trying to start a war?”

“No, course not. How d’you know about that anyway?”

“Still one or two of them at school who’ll speak to me. Norma West. She was teaching when I was there.”

“Did you go there? To Cooksville High?”

He looked at me strangely. “Not as a pupil. I taught there. Didn’t you know?”

I shook my head, dumbfounded.
Jed … a teacher
? “What did you teach?”

“Um … English mostly.” He passed a hand over the stubble on his chin, gazing out towards the horizon.

“What made you give it up?”

His eyes focused on mine, and I sensed he didn’t want to talk about it. “Let’s just say I had a philosophical disagreement with the Board of Trustees.” He shrugged, turning his gaze to the fishing reel he had in front of him. It had seized and he was taking it to pieces, laying out each part on an upturned fish crate.

“But what did you mean? Still one or two who’ll speak to you?” I have a lot of trouble working out when to keep my mouth shut.

“Well …” He glanced up at me and then looked out to sea again, frowning. “I reckoned the board were a sanctimonious pack of pharisees, and they reckoned I was a phallicacious philistine. And I guess most of the staff figured it was safer to run with the board.”

I stared at him. Only had the vaguest notion what he was on about, but this time I managed to swallow my tongue.
Phallicacious
? Was it even in the dictionary?

He reached over and punched me on the arm, grinning. “Forget about it. Best thing that ever happened to me. Look around you.” He spread his arms wide. “Who’d want to swap all this for a poxy classroom? Turn your back on the world and you don’t have to worry about anyone else’s problems.”

I returned his grin, relieved because I knew I’d touched a raw nerve, and I didn’t want to upset him.

“Look at this rubbish.” He bent forwards and held up a tiny ball race from the fishing reel. “Cheap foreign shit. Not even stainless.” A deft change of subject.

Silently, I watched as he gathered the parts together and dropped them into a rubbish bin beside the boatshed door. “Not even worth salvaging for parts.”

I was glad when Kat came into sight again, still a long way off, but running easily. The tide was high, the waves lapping against the beach cliffs in some places. Splashing through the shallows didn’t seem to worry her though.

Jed was watching her too, his discomfort forgotten. Seemed to have forgotten about turning his back on the rest of the world too. “What about the bloke that was following her? Any sign of him lately?”

“Bullyboy? No, haven’t seen him at all.”

“Maybe he’s been warned off.”

I looked at him. “What d’you mean? Have you?”

He shook his head. “No, nothing to do with me. Have you told your dad about him?”

“Get real. He’d just laugh.”

“Yeah. You could be right.” Kat had almost reached us, and he waved to her. “Gidday, gorgeous! Come to help this poor frail laddie back over the hill?”

She smirked and flopped down beside us on the sand.

“Yeah,” I said. “Remember, you promised to carry me if I hit the wall?”

Her eyes flashed darkness in my direction and then rolled heavenwards. “Yeah right.” She heaved herself back onto her feet. “Come on; I don’t want to cool off.”

I shook the sand out of my shoes and wearily followed her up the track. But it was all in a good cause. Well, two good causes really. Getting fit enough to face Burger and getting to be with Kat.

On the narrower walking tracks she always ran in front. Partly because she was faster than me, and partly because I always waited for her to take the lead. She moved effortlessly, always with perfect balance. Graceful, like a cheetah. You could sense muscles rippling beneath her trackies – not an ounce of fat on her, yet she wasn’t skinny. I guess I liked following her because I enjoyed the view.

It was the first time I’d seen her with her hair up. She’d pulled it back into a loose ponytail low on her neck, and it bounced as she ran. I caught the occasional glimpse of a dark tattoo behind one ear, but I couldn’t make out what it was.

My fitness was improving. I had eyes mainly for Kat, but I was beginning to enjoy the other surroundings a bit more too. Heavy bush, damp and spongy under foot. Leaves that brushed against you if you let them, cool and still moist from last night’s rain. And where the trees had been thinned, glimpses of the offshore islands, sharp against the darkness of the sea. Jed had promised to take me out to those islands to go spearfishing. He hadn’t got around to it yet – probably waiting to see if I survived my boxing bout.

We reached the top and Kat stopped to do some stretches. And to let me get my breath back, I suspected gratefully. I plonked myself down on the lookout bench, watching her. “What’s the tattoo?” I asked. “The one behind your ear?”

She was doing sit-ups, but stopped suddenly, turning side on so I couldn’t see it. Then she reached up and flicked the band off her ponytail, letting her hair fall over her shoulders. “It’s not a tattoo. It’s a birthmark.” Her voice was uneven, brittle.

“And don’t you like it?” Something was wrong, and I wasn’t sure what to say. So I decided on the truth. “I thought it looked neat … cool. Suits you.”

She didn’t answer. Sat there staring at her feet, chewing at her lower lip. That lip always got a pounding when she was upset. “No,” she said at last, still speaking strangely. “I’m … I’m sensitive about it. Don’t like anyone seeing it. Okay?”

“Yeah, course.” Couldn’t work out what was going on, but I knew there was more to it than she was telling me. “Is that why you always have your hair down?”

She nodded, still working away at her lip.

“Well, I’m not going to tell anyone about it. Promise. But I meant what I said – I
like
it.”

She began getting up. “Let’s get going.”

“Can I see it?”

She was on her feet now, her back to me, body rigid. Frozen. She stayed like that for ages – several seconds. I couldn’t see her face. Then she lifted one hand and pulled her hair aside. She wouldn’t look at me though. Just stood there, and I realised she was trembling. It was a birthmark all right – a dark kidney shape about the size of my big toe. Against the natural tan of her skin, I thought it was beautiful. But I was wild with myself too. I’d really upset her and there’d been no need. Anyone with half a brain would’ve backed off.

So what was I going to do now?

I wanted to put my arms around her, to stop her trembling. I wanted to touch that beauty spot, to rub my thumb over it and somehow make it better, to make her feel better about it. I wanted … but then my tiny brain kicked in. And for once I quit while I was ahead.

She dropped her hand, letting her hair fall back into place, and I saw some of the tension go out of her shoulders. But still her eyes wouldn’t meet mine. We hardly spoke on the downhill run. I could tell she was troubled, her mind grappling with something I didn’t understand – though she didn’t seem mad at me. When the path widened on the lower slopes she moved over so we could run side by side.

Eventually, the walking track joined the road and we spread ourselves even wider, Kat running in one wheel rut with me in the other, a rough strip of weeds and grasses between us. She was still deep in thought and it made me uncomfortable. Causing her grief was the last thing I wanted.

Finally, I couldn’t bear it any longer. “Kat,” I blurted, “can we stop for a bit? I want … I need to talk.”

“And you can’t talk when you’re running?” She glanced across at me.

“No, not this kind of talk. Please?”

We had almost reached the valley flats now where the bush gave way to farmland, and she pulled up beside a wooden gate leading into a paddock on our right. She leaned her back against it, spreading her arms along the top rail and turned to me. A nod invited me to speak – her eyes and her frown warned me to choose my subject carefully.

Still breathing heavily, I looked at her for a moment. Wondered how to start. I had to say
something
. “Hey … I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s going on. When we stopped up there,” I pointed vaguely back the way we’d come, “I upset you. Didn’t mean to, but I know I did. I’m really sorry.”

She was staring at me, still grappling with something in her mind. At last she spoke. “It’s okay. I’m just a bit mixed up. Not your fault. Forget it.”

Forget it? How could I? There was something else I wanted to say too. She hadn’t wanted to show me that birthmark. It was something she kept hidden. It had stressed her something awful, but she
had
shown it to me. She’d trusted me enough to let me see it. And it made me feel special. In a way, I wanted to thank her – only somehow I couldn’t.

Kat smiled, but it was a thin and desperate thing. “D’you want to walk the rest of the way? Not far to go.”

“Fine. Suits me.”

I could see the entrance to her place across the paddock from where we were standing. A black four-wheel drive was parked in the shade of some cabbage trees not far from her letterbox.

“You got visitors?” I asked.

“What?” She whirled, peering over the gate, and I saw her fingers suddenly clench, a white-knuckled grip on the top rail. But only for an instant. Then she backed away, dropping into the roadside ditch behind a clump of flax. She was pale and her eyes were searching mindlessly. “Shit,” she muttered, fumbling for her mobile in the zip pocket of her trackies. “Get out of sight.”

“What’s the …?” I began, and then stopped, crouching beside her. “You won’t get a signal here. Not in the valley.”

She didn’t answer. Intent on the phone, thumb working feverishly. “Shit,” she repeated, and then looked up at me, trembling. Her eyes were usually hard to read but this time they were screaming. And the message was fear – she was scared out of her wits. “Can I come with you? To your place? I need to use the phone.”

“Yeah, course you can. But why?” Again I stopped. She’d tell me in her own time.

“We’ve got to stay out of sight. Cut through the swamp there and then follow the mangroves upstream till we get to your place. Don’t let them see us.”

I didn’t argue. Whatever or whoever was in that four-wheel drive had well and truly thumbed her panic button. And her fear made me scared too. Really scared.

The MX-5 wasn’t in the carport, and I cursed inwardly. There’s never an adult around when you need one. Something was terribly wrong, and I wanted Dad to be home.

I pointed Kat towards the phone in the hall and tried to listen from the next room. She spoke much too quietly for that, so I was still in the dark. If I was going to find out what was going on, I’d have to wait until she told me.
If
she told me.

After she’d put the phone down she followed me through to my bedroom. It felt strange having her there, though it didn’t seem to faze her. The spare bed was a dog’s breakfast of dirty clothes, and I shunted some of them aside to make room. She sat down and I perched opposite, on my own bed. She seemed to have recovered a bit – still uptight, but not quite so jumpy.

“Can I wait here for Blissy? For Mum? She said she’d pick me up here.”

“Yeah, of course.” I was trying to catch her eye, but she was gazing around the room nervously. “How about telling me what’s going on?”

“What’s going on?” At last her eyes settled on me but they looked numb, and she was nodding as if trying to make up her mind. Her bottom lip was clenched between her teeth. “You don’t want to know. Honest.”

You don’t want to know
. That might’ve been true a couple of weeks ago, but not any more. I’d sucked myself right into it. “For God’s sake, Kat. You’re frightened as hell. And that’s making me scared. You’ve gotta tell me
something
.” I was pleading.

There was a long silence. Finally, I broke the deadlock. “I’ve got no idea who they are, but do you want me to go and see if they’re still there? Should be able to see that bit of the road from the bush line behind the cottage.”

She stared at me for a moment, still thinking, and then nodded. “Yeah, good idea. I’ll come with you.”

The four-wheel drive wasn’t there. I could practically feel Kat’s relief, but then we saw it again. It emerged from the bush further up the road, not far from the gate we’d been standing beside when I’d first seen it. We watched as it headed slowly back in our direction, stopping short of the bridge that linked our side of the valley with the main road. A Pajero, and there seemed to be two people in it. They waited there for maybe a minute, only a couple of hundred metres beyond Kat’s place. Then they turned across the bridge and accelerated onto the main road, disappearing from sight up the valley towards Tairua.