One Dead Seagull (24 page)

The
track
snaked
amongst
some
enormous
chunks
of
granite
to
a
point,
then
wound
back
down
to
sea
level
at
Chestnut
Ba
y
.
There
were
a
few
families
and
groups
scattered
along
the
white
sand—none
that
I
recognised,
so
I just
kept
walking.
Chestnut
Bay
looked
bigger
than
Mars Cove
and
there
were
fewer
people.
I
thought
I
could
see Den
in
the
distance,
and
when
I
waved
he
waved
back
then
cartwheeled
down
to
the
wate
r
.
It
was
Den
all
right.
I started
jogging
again,
this
time
with
a
bit
more
purpose. Misguided
purpose.
It
wasn
’
t
Den
and
the
Humes
but
a
famil
y
o
f
wog
s
wit
h
milk
y
whit
e
ski
n
an
d
coconut
sunscreen.
I
had
almost
sat
down
at
their
towels
before
I realised
and,
in
a
quick
recove
r
y
,
I
asked
if
they’d
seen
the
Humes.
Lots
of
smiles
and
head-nodding
as
I
described the
famil
y
.
Eventually
the
man
spoke
through
a
neatly trimmed
black
beard.

‘Not
speak
English
ve
r
y
good.
Y
ou
look
for
friends?
I think
I
seen them
maybe
bit
further
and
further
that
wa
y
.’ He
pointed
along
the
beach
and
I
thanked
him.
There were
only
a
few
groups
of
people
between
us
and
the rocks
at the
far
end
of
the
bay
and
none
of
them
looked
like
the
Humes.

‘He
y
.
Y
ou
watch
bit further and
further along
some
people
with
not
clothes
on.
Okay?
Bit
funny
not
clothes
on.’

Nudists?
All
right!
I
thanked
him
again
and
certainly
kept
my
eyes out for naked
bodies.
After another
five minutes
of
walking—past
an
older
couple
reading
books and
a
group
of
girls
in
bikinis
watching
a
shoal
of
blokes on
boards bobbing
in
the
swell—I was
ready
to
turn
back.
I
had
promised
myself
I’d
go
to
the
next
group
of
people
then
give
up,
but
halfway
there
I
found
them.

All
along
the
beach
the
steep
edge
of
sand
that
marks
the
high tide
line was unbroken,
except
for one
small sandy
gorge,
not
big
enough
to
drive
Dad
’
s
ute
through, that
opened
into
an
eroded
area
of
soft
white sand.
Fresh footprints leading
through the
gorge
drew
me
in
and
I
didn
’
t know
where
to
look.
Bare
bums
eve
r
ywhere.
W
ell, not
eve
r
ywhere
but
it
was
a
shock
to
see
my
best
mate
’
s bum,
his
mum
’
s
boobs
and
his
dad
’
s
penis
resting
against his
thigh.
And
his
sister
’
s
.
.
.
well,
eve
r
ything.
I
thought
they’d
see
me
and
scramble
to
cover
themselves
but
I
was wrong.
They
weren
’
t
embarrassed—I
was.
I
should
have guessed
and
a
thousand
thoughts
crammed
into
my
head all
at
once.
Are
my
friends
sick?
A
bit
kinky?
If
they
don
’
t
cover
up
then
what
am
I
going
to
do?
What
if
I
get
a
hard-on?
I’m
not
taking
my
clothes
off.
I
might
just
look
up
at the
dune
until they’ve
finished
getting
dressed.
They’re not
getting
dressed.
What,
do
they
all
have
sex
and
stuff
too?
What
if
it
wasn
’
t
me
that
came
in
for
a
look,
they’d
all get
caught
naked.

‘Hey
W
ayne,’
Den
said,
and
Gracie
looked
up
from
her book.

‘Poor
kid.
Look
at
his
face,’
she
chuckled.

‘
W
e
can
put
our
clothes
back
on
if
you
like,
mate,’
Baz said,
pulling
his
sunglasses
off
and
standing
up.

‘No
we
can
’
t,’
Ker
r
y
said
as
she
ran
up
the
sandy
hill
to
where
I
was
frozen.
She
grabbed
my
hand
and
dragged
me
into
their
camp.
‘Bare
bodies
won
’
t
kill
him.’

Den
flopped
onto
his
bum
and
took
two
handfuls
of sand,
letting them
cascade
onto
his
pale
thighs.
Gracie just
watched
me
with
a
sympathetic
look
on
her
face.
Her boobs were
the
same
colour
as
the
rest
of
her
bod
y
,
all
sort of
heavy
and
gold–brown.

‘Come
on.
Let
’
s
go
for
a
swim,’
Den
said,
and
bolted past
me
through
the
gap.
When
he
ran,
his
knob
jumped
about.
Ker
r
y
dragged
me
back
out
onto
the
beach
where I
felt
even
more
embarrassed
for
them.
What
about
the people
down
there—the
old
couple
and
the
girls—what will
they
think?
Didn
’
t
cross
their
minds.
They
just
went
barrelling
into
the
water
and
I
crashed
in
with
them,
with my
footy
shorts
and
T
-shirt
still
on.
It
was
cold
enough
to
make
me
suck
in
a
sharp
breath
and
my
stump
ached
for a
few
seconds.
I
was
hoping
it
would be
like
a
cold
showe
r
.

‘Get
them
off,’
Den
shouted.

‘
Y
eah,
come
on
W
ayne.
I’ll
give
you
a
hand
if
you
want,’
Ker
r
y
said
gentl
y
.
She
helped
me
drag
my
wet
shirt
off,

God
knows
that
’
s
hard
enough
with
two
hands.

‘
T
ake
your
shorts
off?’
she
asked
gentl
y
.

I
thin
k
I
wa
s
pressured
.
‘Bu
t
wha
t
i
f
I
get
,
yo
u
kno
w
.
.
.’

‘A
hard-on?’

I
nodded
and
looked
up
and
down
the
beach.

‘
Y
ou
probably
won
’
t
and
even
if you
do,
who
cares?
Sometimes
Den
gets
a
bit
excited
when
he
first
gets
his gear
off
.
.
.’

I
think
I
was
conned.
‘What
if
someone
sees
us?’

She
laughed.
‘So
what?
Y
ou
reckon
they
haven
’
t
got
bodies
of
their
own?’

‘
Y
eah
but
.
.
.’

‘Whateve
r
,’
she
said,
and
dived
under
a
wave
that
nearly bowled
me
off
my
feet.

Oh,
this
is
bullshit.
In
a
moment
of
wildness
I
ripped
off my
Hawks
footy
shorts
and
my
jocks
and
heaved
them
clear
of
the
wate
r
.
I
can
’
t
even
begin
to
describe
how luscious
and
naughty
it
felt
to
swim
without
clothes
on, the
water
peeling
off my
body
so
softl
y
.
When
I
dived through
the
waves
after
Den
and
Kez,
my
willy
would
flap
and
rattle
deliciously but
I
didn
’
t
get
a
hard-on.
It
wasn
’
t
really
a
sex
feeling at
all—just wild.
W
e
crashed
and tumbled
in
the
waves
for
a
while
then
swam
to
deeper
water
where
I
had
to
struggle
to
stay
afloat.
T
reading water is
hard
with
one
hand.
Hard
but
not
impossible.

I
could
see
Ker
r
y
’
s
breasts
bobbing
as
though
they
were floating.
I
had
to
battle
to
keep
my
eyes
off
them.

‘
Y
eah
.
.
.
Cool
huh?
Breasts
float!
And
penises,’
Ker
r
y said,
and
I
felt
like
a
pe
r
vert.

‘Hey!
White whale!’
Den
shouted
and
duck-dived
so
his bum
cheeks
were
the
only
part
of
him
sticking
out
of
the wate
r
.
Ker
r
y
giggled
and
did
the
same.
Their
bums
were
different shapes.
I
had
a
go
myself
and
nearly
drowned thinking
about
what
it
must
look
like
from
the
su
r
face.

‘
W
ayne,
we
said
you
should
take
your
shorts
off,’
Den
said.

‘I
did.’

‘
Y
eah?
Doesn
’
t
look
like
it
.
.
.’

I
looked
at
my
loins
through
the
wate
r
.
The
tan
line
at
the
top
of
my
thighs
looked
like
it
had
been
painted
on. Ha
ha.
I
dived
on
him
and
pushed
his
smiling
face
under
the
su
r
f.
His
skin
was
silky-slippe
r
y-smooth.
Ker
r
y
dived
on me
and
I
took
a
lung full of
water
with
a
wild
laugh. Coughing
and
spluttering,
I
crawled
to
the
shore
and
up onto
the
d
r
y
sand. The
others
followed,
Den
rolling
like
a
puppy
until
he
was
coated
with
sand
except
for
his
face.

W
e
had
sandwiches
for
lunch—with
real
sand—and
I got
to
thinking that
the
Humes
are
my
famil
y
.
I
do
more stuff
with
them
than with
my
own
mum
and
dad;
they
take me
as
I
am.
No
hassles.
With
the
sun
scorching
my
shoulders
and
neck,
and
the
white,
white
cheeks
of
my
bum resting
on
the
warm
sand,
my
life
felt
pe
r
fect.
Just
for
that
minute,
eve
r
ything
was
as
it
should
be.
All
the
stuff
with
Mandy
and
Phil
felt
like
a
bad
dream—there
was
the
sore spot
on
my right
ribs
and
the
feeling
in
my
nose
like
I’d had
a
cold
for
a
week
and
blown
it
until
it
was
ra
w
,
but
that
was
nothing.
Somewhere
inside me,
something
had
been cut
open,
all
the
shit
had
fallen
out
and
now
I
was
getting
on
my
feet
again
after
the
operation.

Ker
r
y
kept
looking
at
me.
Maybe
it
was
me
looking
at he
r
.
Her
nipples
were
sticking
right
out
when
we
got
out
of
the
wate
r
, now
they
were
soft
and
the
same
shape
as
the
rest
of her
breast.
She
had
hair
in
her
armpits,
like
me;
I’d never
noticed
that
before.
So
did
Gracie,
soft
and
almost
white.
I
thought women
didn
’
t have
hair
there.
I
know
about
shaving
and
all
that
but
I
thought
it
would
grow different
or
something.
I
dunno.
Mum
always
shaves
her
legs
and
armpits
and
stuff.
I
guess
that
’
s
what
the
shavers
are
fo
r
.
I
found
them
in
the
shower
when
I
was
little
and
I
just
assumed
they
were Dad
’
s
and
then
one
da
y
,
maybe two
years
after
Dad
had
left,
I
noticed
they
were still
there so
they
had
to
be
Mum
’
s.
I
shivered
at
the
thought of seeing
my
mum
naked.
Y
et
seeing
Gracie
naked
was
no
big
deal.
Seemed
natural.
Normal
even,
just
part
of
who
she is.
But
Mum—that is
a
whole
different sto
r
y
.
I’ve
never
even
seen
her
in
unde
r
wea
r
.
When
she
hangs
her
undies
out
on
the
line,
she
hides
them
in
between
other
stuff
so you
could
never
see
them
even
if
you
happened
to
be
Mr
V
elo
and you
looked
over
the
back
fence.
Mum
hates
the
wate
r
,
too.
And
Dad will
go
on
it
but
never
in
it.
Baz
and
Graci
e
roughe
d
an
d
tumble
d
lik
e
kid
s
an
d
floated
together
in
the
su
r
f
for
hours
while
we
mucked
around
in the
sand.