Pulling the Moves (7 page)

‘Crashed?’

I think Mum’s going to faint.

‘What’s he doing in an appliance shop? I thought he was in a haystack!’

‘They’re at the station sorting it all out. Your son’s all right, Mrs Studley. Just a few bumps and bruises.’

‘He’ll have more than bumps and bruises when I’ve finished with him,’ says Mum, suddenly straightening, and she looks like she’s ready for a full-on fight. Now she’s found that he’s alive and well, Sam’s going to be in deep shit with Mum.

‘Come on, Leanne, let’s go. That son of mine is
not
going to wreck my wedding.’

Mum swans out of the cop shop and down the steps to the wedding car. Her train trails in a muddy puddle before I can lift it out of the way. I figure this isn’t the time to tell her. She sits regally in the back, head up, and waves to some bystanders, just like the Queen of England, all the way to the church. She’s recovered with a vengeance. But I can feel my knees starting to shake.

Sam’s still at the cop shop in Portland. The way things are shaping up it looks like I’ll have to be the one to give Mum away!

The guys light smokes.

‘We’d better stay here for a while,’ says Zac.

The smoke swirls round the van and stings my eyes. Or maybe it’s the hay making them water.

‘Pity there’s no green,’ goes Zac. ‘I could pull a good pipe right now.’

‘Wonder what hay’s like to smoke?’ says Macca.

Great. He’ll set us all on fire next.

‘Shit, I reckon.’

‘Yeah. Reckon.’

‘You smoke, Sammy?’ goes Cola.

‘No.’

‘Don’t do a little dope every now and then?’ says Zac.

‘No.’

‘A squeaky clean kid,’ says Macca.

‘He’s okay.’ Cola’s flirting at me with her eyes. Zac glares. If looks could kill I’d be dead.

‘Don’t go pulling any moves on my chick,’ he says.

‘I’m not your chick,’ snaps Cola. ‘We’re mates, that’s all.’

She twiddles with the radio and gets some hayseed program about drenching cattle. Tries to tune it in to something else and all we get’s static.

‘How long are we going to sit here, then?’ she asks.

‘Five, ten minutes,’ says Macca.

‘Wonder if the copter’s out there?’

‘Get out and have a look. But don’t let ’em see ya, right?’

‘Okay.’

She climbs out over some hay bales. I can see her through the rear window, cautiously poking her head round the hay.

‘Nothing,’ she says, coming back. ‘I reckon we’ve lost them.’

Sure, I’m thinking, they’re going to give up just like that. You’ve got to be nuts.

‘We’ll wait a few more minutes,’ says Zac.

I lie back and wonder what Mum and Leanne are doing right now. Mum’s probably been pounding on my bedroom door bellowing at me to get up. Then she’s discovered I’m not there. Panic stations. I wonder if they’ve cancelled the wedding?

‘Hey, Sam,’ goes Cola. She climbs over the front seat and into the back with me.

‘What ya doin’, Cola?’ says Zac.

‘Just talking to Sam.’

‘Get back here.’

‘In a minute!’

She sprawls next to me and glares at Zac. He glares back.

‘I can talk to him, can’t I?’ she goes.

He grunts, but watches her in the rear vision mirror as she relaxes next to me.

‘You got a mum and dad?’ she goes.

‘A mum. And a dad in Noosa. And I’m supposed to be getting a stepdad in …’ I glance at my watch … ‘about an hour’s time. My mum’s getting married and I’m supposed to give her away.’

Cola looks worried.

‘Sorry, Sam,’ she says. ‘But you shouldn’t have been sleeping in the van.’

She squeezes my hand. She’s nice. Not her fault that she’s got in with these two hoons.

‘Yeah. Well …’

I tell her about my fight with Mum, Steve and Leanne.

‘I’ve got an older brother and sister somewhere. No dad. My mum’s living with this real creep. Human octopus. I wouldn’t live with them if you paid me.’

‘So why are you with this lot, then?’ I ask. ‘You seem … I dunno … not like them.’

‘They let me live in the squat with them when I was on the run,’ she says simply.

‘Oh. Do you do drugs?’

‘I’ve smoked dope a few times but it makes me go weird. I don’t do it any more. And I don’t do speed. I have to look after these two.’

‘What about Zac?’ I ask. ‘Is he … I mean … you aren’t going with him?’

‘Nah. Told you. He sorta looks after me … I guess we all look after each other.’

Zac swings round. We lock eyes. Then he swings back, but I’ve seen enough. Cola mightn’t know it, but as far as Zac’s concerned she’s his property.

‘Stop yakkin’ and go have another look for that copter,’ he snaps.

‘Why me?’

‘Why not?’

Cola shrugs. Before I know what’s happening she kisses me gently on the cheek. Zac makes a snorting noise and swings round. I catch his eyes. He’s wishing I’ll drop down dead! Cola climbs out of the van again. I watch her move stiffly to the edge of the hay, rubbing her shoulder. She peers up, swivels her head, gazing through the drizzling rain at the sky. Then she comes back.

‘Still nothing. I’m cold. And I’m hungry. We’ve been driving round paddocks for hours. It’s nearly lunchtime.’

‘Get in and stop moanin’.’

She goes to climb in the rear again.

‘In the front. We’re motoring. You can talk to him later,’ snarls Zac.

She gets in over Macca, who’s dozed off, and stares, arms folded across her chest, out the side window.

‘Right. Let’s go.’

Zac starts the motor up and backs out of the hayshed with a roar that nearly rips out the van’s guts.

‘Where the hell are we?’ goes Macca, waking up and peering through the rain.

‘Who knows? Ask Wonder Boy in the back.’

How would I know? I’ve lost all sense of direction. There’re flat paddocks and hills in the distance. That must be where we came from.

‘That way,’ I say, pointing away from the hills.

‘That’s Adelaide?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Right. First major town, I’m lookin’ for a deal. How much money ya got, Zac, enough for some powder?’

‘Nah. But we can get cashed up, eh.’

I wonder how …

‘Don’t suppose Sam’s got a pocketful of dollars?’ goes Zac.

He’s gotta be joking. Me?

‘Not me,’ I go. ‘You’re outa luck.’

‘That’d be right.’

I’m surprised he doesn’t pull up and search my pockets.

The van rumbles across the wet paddocks, churning up the mud. That’s all we need, to get bogged up to the axles. But we don’t. We roll along till we reach the top of a hill. And … down below us is … the highway. Yesss! I can’t believe it. Maybe I’ll be a 747 navigator or an air traffic controller when I leave
school.

‘Yeehah. Let’s go.’

We bucket down the hill, skidding wildly on the wet grass, out of control.

‘Which way?’ says Macca, when we slide to a grinding halt at the bottom, motor throbbing.

‘That way,’ I go.

‘Don’t be a dick. It’s
that
way,’ says Zac savagely.

‘But that’s …’ I go.

But he doesn’t listen, just pulls onto the highway with a squeal and takes off, flat out.

‘I could kill for a whack,’ he mutters. ‘I can feel that pick in me veins, man.’

We zoom past a little old man in a bowling hat driving a Laser loaded with other little old men and ladies all wearing bowling hats. The old guy shakes his fist as we roar past. We just miss an oncoming car by a braid.

No one speaks. We churn up the ks, fast. Then Cola gives a shout.

‘Portland.’

We’ve come back. And I’ll bet the cops haven’t thought of
this
, I think bitterly, as Zac slows down. We actually are doing 60 k in the 60 k zone along the main drag. Unbelievable.

‘Right. We’ll do a burg,’ says Zac.

‘A burg?’ I go.

‘A burglary,’ Macca says casually, like we’re going to buy fish and chips.

‘Macca. Watch out!’

Macca lets his eyes go from the road, and the van’s on the wrong side, about to do a head-on with an oncoming car. And it’s a cop car! I wave madly.

Macca pulls the wheel hard. We do this huge broadside, skidding on the wet road, get control again and bore straight into an appliance shop. We smash through the window and glass sprays everywhere. Our windscreen shatters again, too, and we’re pelted with it. Steve’s going to be up for some serious glass repairs. Not to mention everything else.

Cola hits her head on the dashboard and screams. We skid across the showroom floor, demolishing a couple of washing machines and a drier on the way. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. Cola screams again and covers her face with her hands. I can’t believe we’re still alive.

‘Out,’ bellows Macca. ‘Run!’

Zac and Macca piss-bolt. Fast. Glass crunches under their feet as they try to run. They couldn’t care less about Cola.

But it’s too late. We’re hemmed in, surrounded by cops with guns drawn, in an appliance shop in the main street of Portland.

It’s an anticlimax, really. After the wild chase, the gum tree crash, the farmer shooting at us, the helicopter and the hayshed, we’re busted. And it happened so quickly.

But—what am I thinking? I’m
rescued
!

‘Cola. You okay?’ I ask, as she sits, stunned, in the front seat.

‘Yeah,’ she whispers, as she struggles with the door handle.

I open the rear door and half fall out onto a crumpled washing machine.

‘Put ’em up, sonny.’

Who, me?

‘I’m not one of them,’ I babble. ‘They kidnapped me. I’m a hostage. I’m innocent. I’m Sam Studley and my future stepdad owns this van. I’m …’

‘Line up. Against the car. Hands above your heads.’

I’ve never seen so much hardware in my life!

‘But …’ I go.

Then Zac looks at me. A mean look.

‘Don’t listen to him,’ he says. ‘He made us nick this crate.’

I gape at him.

‘Get real,’ I yell. ‘Why would I nick Steve’s car?’

‘He’s going to marry your mother and you hate his guts,’ says Zac. He pulls Cola close. She wriggles away and moves to stand beside me. He’s furious.

‘And she’s his chick. She’s in it up to her neck,’ he says.

‘Don’t listen to him,’ yells Cola. ‘He’s crazy.’

Macca looks at Cola. And me. Then he looks at Zac. A look passes between them. He shrugs and points at me.

‘This is Steve’s van,’ he says. ‘Steve’s a cop who’s marrying his mum today. And he’s Sam Studley. He hates Steve. To get even, he planned this whole thing! Made us help him steal the van.’

‘You liars!’ I roar, lashing out at them with my fists.

A cop built like Rambo grabs me.

‘Into the car, you. And you. And you two. We’ll sort this out at the station.’

They march us into the street, stepping round crumpled driers and dishwashers. The cops shove Cola and me into the squad car and Zac and Macca into a divvy van that’s rolled up, and we’re off down the road. I’m shaking with fatigue and anger.

‘Don’t stress,’ says Cola. ‘They only have to phone
your mum and they’ll find out the truth. They’ll know you didn’t nick Steve’s van. You’ll be okay.’

‘But—what about you?’ I go anxiously.

She shrugs.

‘Dunno. Juvenile detention. Or if I’m lucky, a good behaviour bond.’

‘But where will you go now?’

‘Dunno. Some sort of refuge. Or a family who wants a stray kid, I guess.’

‘I think I know a nice family,’ I go, squeezing her hand. ‘It’s going to be fine, Cola.’

No probs. Mum and Steve’ll let her stay for a while. I’m sure when they meet Cola they’ll recognise that she’s a decent kid who just needs a chance …

Yeah. I squeeze her hand. I just know that things are going to be all right for Cola and me.

But right now we’ve got to go to the cop shop and sort everything out. And then we’ve got a wedding to fly to, and in a hurry!

We get to the church ten minutes late. Steve’s out the front under the verandah, looking anxious. When he sees Mum arrive his face lights up. I guess he really does love her. Mum half falls out of the car and drops her bouquet in a puddle. Steve bends down, picks it up and shakes it before he hands it to her. Muddy spots fly all over her dress and my dress. Now I
will
look like a mouldy grape, and Mum will look like a lamington, but who cares? We’re
here
.

‘You’re supposed to be waiting at the altar,’ says Mum to Steve.

He gives Mum a hug, which squashes her flowers, but neither of them seems to notice.

‘Sam’s okay,’ says Steve. ‘He’s being flown here in a police helicopter.’

‘I’ll kill that little rat when I get my hands on him,’ goes Mum, but I can tell that she’s relieved.

I straighten her hat which has been knocked sideways by Steve.

‘You look beautiful,’ says Steve, dragging Mum out of the rain.

They say love’s blind: now I believe it.

‘Right,’ says Mum. ‘Get yourself down to that altar, boy. Ah’s a comin’.’

He scurries inside the church.

‘Will we wait for Sam?’ I ask, as I straighten Mum’s train, which is dragging on the wet ground yet again. She should’ve worn mud-brown. (She
has
!)

Mum glances up as the rain gets heavier. ‘No.
You
can give me away, Leanne.’

‘Me?’ I squeak.

My worst nightmare’s about to come true!

‘Yes. Come on.’

Mum grabs my arm and hauls me inside the church. The organist breaks into the wedding march.

‘I can’t, Mum.’

‘Oh, yes you can, my wild Leanne-child. Let’s go!’

Mum grips my arm even tighter and we stagger
down the aisle side by side which is totally weird. I’m sure we look like two lezzoes, but when Mum’s determined there’s no stopping her.

The church is full of people. I didn’t know we knew so many. Maybe Steve’s hired ‘Rent A Crowd’. Nah, probably his cop mates with their wives and girlfriends. I spot Fern and she gives me a weak grin. There’s a mob of school mates up the back all spruced and tidy for the occasion, come along for a perv, and nearer the front there’s Bin with Cathy, and Mr and Mrs Strachan, and Cooja sitting behind them with Boxie and Tosca and more of Sam’s mates.

The church looks cool. Someone’s put white roses at the end of each pew and two beautiful big vases of them at the altar. I tread on Mum’s dress and stumble. She squeezes my arm hard as we reach the front. I try to smile and look happy, though my arm feels like it’s about to drop off.

Steve’s standing there with the lights reflecting off his balding head. He gazes adoringly at Mum. His mate John’s the best man. I hope he’s remembered the ring. Mum hands me her bouquet and stands up straight beside Steve.

‘Love your dress,’ hisses Mum’s friend Paula from the front row. I don’t know whether she means mine
or Mum’s, but who’s worrying? I just want to get this wedding over with.

The minister’s a woman, Reverend Susan. She’s dressed in a long white robe with a silver cross dangling from her neck on a chain. She’s round and chubby and looks like a female Friar Tuck.

‘Let us sing Hymn 23,’ she goes.

There’s a rustle of hymn books and the organist crashes into the opening chords. The singing’s gross. Most of the congregation don’t know the tune, and it sounds ragged as the words bounce off the walls. Someone’s two beats behind, totally off-key. I glance round. Wouldn’t you know it, Grandpa in the front row. How embarrassing.

I stare up at a stained glass window of Jesus looking down at me and feel kinda weird. We don’t go to church much except for christenings, weddings or funerals. Birth, marriage, death.

There’s a movement behind as someone arrives late. Maybe it’s Sam? I sneak a look.

It’s Danny! My heart gives a huge flip-flop as my eyes meet his and he grins. He made it! He must’ve got the invite. Well, he promised he’d come back. And he did! He’s here!

I look back at Jesus and send him a thank you. Now
his big challenge: to get Sam here before the whole thing’s over.

Next there’s a prayer. We kneel, and I hope that no one can see the price tag on my shoes. Did I remember to take off the sticky labels? Half price sale, too. I try to bend my feet down as Reverend Susan reads a prayer and the congregation mumbles some bits.

We stand again. Then she gives a little speech about the sanctity of marriage. Well, Mum’s last marriage wasn’t too brilliant. Maybe it’ll be better the second time round? My dress is prickling my shoulders, and I try not to wriggle. Mum shifts from one foot to the other.

Reverend Susan beckons us to approach the altar. Up close she’s older than I thought, with little wrinkles fanning out from her eyes.

‘Who gives this woman to be married?’ she says.

That’s my cue. I open my mouth to say “I do.”

‘I DO,’ bellows this voice from the back of the church.

SAM!

He comes pelting in the door followed by two cops, and a skinny girl with tousled blonde hair wearing grubby white jeans and a torn T-shirt. The cops and
the girl sink into a pew up the back and Sam charges down the aisle.

Mum swings around with her hands on her hips and glares. ‘Where the hell have you been and what do you mean by clearing off before the wedding and where’s Steve’s van and if you’ve wrecked it you’ll pay for it out of your pocket money for the rest of your life and couldn’t you have at least done your hair and—’

Sam grabs her and gives her a huge hug, putting greasy marks all over the back of her dress.

‘I was kidnapped.’

‘Kidnapped? Who in hell would want to kidnap
you
?’ snaps Mum. ‘Well, you’re here now, so stand still and behave yourself and I’ll deal with you later.’

Sam stands beside me. He
stinks
, nearly worse than Grandpa, a mixture of sweat and cigarette smoke and slept-in clothes. He’s got hay seeds all over his windcheater. He looks and smells like he’s slept in a horse stable. Yuck. But at least he’s here.

‘I’ll repeat the question,’ says Reverend Susan. ‘Who gives this woman to this man?’

I look at Sam. He looks at me.

‘WE DO!’ we both say.

Steve grins and Mum’s got tears in her eyes. Well,
we’re both her kids, aren’t we?

Steve and Mum are asked to step forward. John fumbles in his pocket and brings out the ring. He gives it to Reverend Susan. Mum and Steve have to repeat what she says. Mum sounds confident, Steve mumbles.

‘I now pronounce you man and wife,’ says Reverend Susan.

Steve kisses Mum and knocks her hat off. Now everyone’s seen her extensions! How gross! I whip her hat back on her head. Steve kisses me, and gives Sam a hug. After that some large woman dressed in a bright shiny pink dress stands up and sings a song while we sign the register.

‘You look like shit,’ I say to Sam. ‘And you stink like it, too. What the hell have you been doing?’

‘It’s a long story,’ he says.

There’s more music as we bumble down the aisle, Mum gripping Steve like there’s no tomorrow and me gripping Sam even though he stinks. The congregation masses along behind like a flock of sheep. At least it’s stopped raining.

We pose for photos on the front steps, and Fern chucks a kilo packet of rice all over the wedding party, but mostly on me.

‘You’re messing up the big picture,’ I say to Sam, as the photographer tries to edge him to the back behind Mum.

‘At least I’m in it,’ he grins. ‘And I don’t have to wear that dumb suit.’

‘That’s what you think,’ says Mum, overhearing him. ‘You can go home and change into your wedding suit. I want you to at least look human at the reception. Go and get in the wedding car.’

‘But …’

‘NOW.’

‘Shouldn’t we be asking him what happened?’ I go, as he disappears in the grey Mercedes with its sodden white wedding ribbons sagging.

‘Later,’ goes Mum, as all these people charge up to congratulate the happy couple. Danny grabs me on the church steps and we hug fiercely. Then I glare at him. ‘You didn’t answer my letters.’

‘Where I was there wasn’t any post boxes,’ he said. ‘A guy brought the mail in on horseback. And I didn’t trust him with my return mail, or to buy stamps. He wasn’t quite all there, out of it most of the time.’

He grabs me again and holds me close.

‘I didn’t think you’d come,’ I whisper against his shoulder.

‘And miss the wedding of the year? And what the hell’s your brother been up to, Leanne?’

‘It’s a long story, according to Sam.’

Fern tools up. She’s wearing a long black dress and she looks like Morticia Addams.

‘Leanne. You look gorgeous,’ she goes, giving me a hug.

‘So do you,’ I lie.

‘I was going to bring Darren or Lynton but they’re both playing basketball,’ she says. Her eyes light on Danny.

‘Hi, Fern,’ he goes and gives her a hug.

Then I notice the girl who arrived with Sam hanging uncertainly on the edge of the crowd. I grab Danny’s hand and drag him over. Fern tags too.

‘Hi, I’m Leanne, Sam’s sister. This is my boyfriend Danny and this is my best friend Fern.’

She scuffles the ground with one toe. ‘Hi. I’m Cola.’

‘Cola?’ goes Fern. ‘What a weird—’

I give her a swift kick.

‘Um, Cola, do you know what happened to Sam?’

‘He was asleep in the van when we nicked it,’ she says, still staring at the ground. Then she looks up. ‘I’m sorry, we didn’t know he was there, truly. And I didn’t know Macca and Zac were going to go crazy
and drive all over the place. We were just going to have a short burn, okay? I didn’t really want to go, but they’re my friends and … well, you know how it is …’

The cops are standing behind us. I make a quick decision.

‘Could you please drive Cola to our home and let her have a shower and get changed into some of my clothes, then she can come to the reception.’

‘Well, I don’t know, she’s supposed to be—’

Steve comes up. ‘It’s okay, you guys can trust her with me. I’ll take responsibility. You’re welcome to come to the reception too if you want to.’

‘Yeah,’ I go. ‘Practically every other cop in the state’s there. It’s more like a cop convention than a wedding.’

Steve stares at me and I wink to let him know I’m only joking.

Cola climbs in a cop car with the cops and they drive off. I guess Sam will still be stuffing about getting dressed: he can show her the bathroom and my bedroom. As the wedding car’s still at our place and there’s only one Mercedes left, Mum, Steve, Danny and I pile in, and John goes with Aunty Paula and Grandpa.

The Scout Hall’s been decorated for the occasion by some of the scouts’ mothers and fathers. The tables are spread with white cloths and all the place cards we wrote are in the right places. I’m at the top table with Mum, Steve, Paul and Sam. I grab Danny’s card and put it on an end. He can sit with me, and this girl Cola can sit next to Sam.

The bridal party lines up to welcome the guests. Just as we’re shaking the last hand Sam arrives with Cola. She’s wearing my long black skirt with my white crop top and my best black shoes. Luckily we’re about the same size. If she’d been short and chunky like Fern we would’ve had a problem. The two cops have grabbed Steve and they’re talking to him. He nods. They leave, probably to copter back to Portland.

‘Come on,’ I say, as Mum tucks her arm through Steve’s and they swan up to the front of the room. ‘We’re all at the top table.’

It’s a good wedding. The scout mums have made pumpkin and minestrone soup, so there’s a choice of the two. Straight after the soup course Mum and Steve do the bridal waltz to a live band in the corner. Sam dances with Cola and I dance with John because Danny says he can’t waltz. Mum’s determined to
have the dancing early because she reckons at most weddings the band doesn’t start up till late and everyone wants to go home. The rest of the guests get up and have a dance. Well, they call it dancing. They just clump together in pairs and shove each other round the floor. I can’t move to this stuff: it’s gross.

Then the music stops again. We have the main course, a choice of roast beef or chicken with three vegs, and there’s more dancing. Then Steve makes this speech and says that Sam and I look nice, and on behalf of Mum he thanks everyone for coming. We toast the newlyweds with champagne.

‘Right,’ says Mum, plonking herself between Sam and Cola. ‘The moment of reckoning has come. What happened?’

Sam tells this incredible story, with Cola filling in the gaps.

‘So Steve’s van’s a write-off?’ says Mum sounding grim.

‘Nah, just the side panel’s caved in,’ says Sam.

‘So who’s supposed to pay to fix it?’

‘Dunno.’

Sam hangs his head and Cola goes red.

‘Don’t stress,’ says Danny. ‘I’ve got mates. We can
fix it cheap. The insurance should cover the repairs, anyway.’

‘Ermph,’ goes Mum. But she doesn’t look too worried.

‘Lax out,’ I go. ‘This
is
your wedding day, Mum. And it’s nearly time to cut the cake.’

More photos as Mum and Steve cut the cake. Then we have fruit salad or pav to finish off. The pav’s like a huge lump of frogs’ spawn, all uncooked in the middle. Serious spew food. The fruit salad’s got bruised pears and black bananas all through it. There’s more dancing, then it’s time for the telegrams.

I’m cool, but they’re really
off
. Uncle Clive reads them out one by one. He’s got new bonded teeth and he lisps through them, sort of spitting out the words. There’s all these sick jokes about Steve burying his bone: there’ll be more than a fence running round the house soon with the patter of little feet (
yuck
): a joke about sex and Steve’ll come in two secs—everyone over eighteen’s laughing their heads off. Everyone
under
eighteen is dying of embarrassment!

Then it’s time for Mum and Steve to go on their one-night honeymoon to a local hotel.

‘I don’t know,’ says Mum, regarding Danny and then Cola. ‘I think I’d better forget the honeymoon
and stay home.’

‘Aw, Mum …’

‘I’ll chaperone,’ says John. ‘Cola can sleep in Leanne’s room and Danny can sleep in with Sam. I’ll take the couch.’