The Keeper (5 page)

13

Gran's bustling happily in the kitchen and Zoe's packing a box. I've just been you know where, not dressed yet.

‘What's going on?'

‘We're going to the beach, Joel.' Gran's smiling at
her
great idea. ‘We haven't seen enough of you these holidays. You must be so bored with nothing to do.'

Bored? She thinks I'm
bore
d
? I can't wait to get back to Dev. He'll be counting on me to be there. Especially after falling into the sea at Rogue's Point.

‘Can't it wait?' I try not to sound as worried as I feel.

Gran turns this incredulous face towards me. I mean she's really trying to do something for me. I'm such a jerk, but it can't be helped. ‘The beach? But you like doing things, Joel. You're always asking.'

‘I was younger then.' I've got to get out of this.

‘Last week?' Gran can be stubborn sometimes and I'm packed in the back seat with the picnic basket. We drive in Grandad's twin-cab ute to my favourite swimming beach where breakers come in and Gran has a hard time allowing me to go in the water up to my waist. Today she's really making an effort but all I can think is how I haven't taken Dev here yet and how much fun it'd be with him. We'd be able to swim out as far as we liked, body-surf back in. And if we swam further up there's caves – real ones (not like the space Mei and I call a cave at Rogue's Point) that you can only get to from the sea. Gran never lets me do stuff like that.

Basically, I'm PO, and bored. There's no life without Dev. And Zoe keeps trying to get me to talk. You know, about
stuff
. She's pretending not to, skirting around it as delicate as a shark circling a school of snapper. Big black fins showing. She must think I'm stupid.

‘How long have you lived here?'

‘Long as I remember.' Keep staring out to sea. Look bored. She'll soon get sick of it.

‘Didn't your grandparents live on a property further inland?'

‘Yeah, but Grandad always liked it here. They always came for holidays. Then Gran and I moved here.'

‘Were you born here?'

‘Don't think so.' Why doesn't she ask Gran all this stuff? Wish I
had
been born here. Shawn Houser was, Prescott too. And they never forget to remind me that I'm just a stray.

‘Do you remember your parents?'

‘Nah.' That shuts her up for a while. Gran said once that the girl who had me was too young. I've never understood that. Too young for what? Too young to love me? Too young to tell me I was hers, that I belonged somewhere? Gran's my mum when you think about it. She never says a lot about before I came to live with her and Grandad and that suits me fine. And Zoe can mind her own business. A dad would be good though. I always miss the fishing competition: Gran can't go out on a boat to fish. What's a guy meant to do while he waits for sixteen to come? Vegetate?

‘Not your mother?'

‘What?' Zoe's still at it.

‘Can you remember your mother?' Zoe's tone is patient, like the principal's sometimes. Except Zoe sounds like she's got more at stake, like it matters to
her
what I say. It makes me wonder how many times she's asked the question. Ms Colby has never mastered that measured patient tone; she shouts after the first time.

‘Joel—?'

Can't Zoe leave off! ‘Look! She gave me to Gran. Right? People should keep their kids.' That's telling her. Zoe's mouth is all saggy and her eyes have popped. Well, she's asked for it. And she's still not letting up. Jumping dolphins! She's pulling her face into gear for the next attempt.

‘Maybe people let someone else bring their kids up because they are sick and can't do it themselves?'

That sort of crap won't wash with me. ‘If my mum was sick I'd look after her. At least I'd have a mother.'

‘Maybe you were in danger? You might have died if Gran didn't look after you.' Nice try, Zoe.

‘Mightn't have been a bad thing. At least I'd know who I was.' Zoe ignores this. Unbelievably she seems to understand what I mean, though.

‘But you
do
know. You're Joel Billings. That's your Grandad's name too?'

But it's not enough. Not for me. A kid needs a father – a real one. One like Dev. I wish he was here and, just so Zoe can't bother me any more, I run back into the sea.

Gran and Zoe are sunbaking when I get out (if you can call Gran in a hat and dress, sitting under an umbrella, sunbaking), both lazy and snoozy in an annoying adult way. Zoe's going on about something until I realise it's me they're discussing.

‘Easily distracted, don't you think?'

But good old Gran's sticking up for me. ‘Must just have something on his mind. Perhaps it's the Pham girl.' They both actually
giggle
. I try not to puke.

On the way back along the coast road the inevitable happens. We see Dev. He's on his bike, dust skidding up behind him like a cloud. His jacket's off and his eagle tatts are in full view as we pass him. So are the numerous scratches from his fight with the rocks last night, visible even from the car. He looks like he's been in a drunken brawl. I'd do anything to be on that bike with him right now. He looks as free-flying as the eagles on his biceps. But I don't dare wave, nor can I tell if Dev knows it's me. This is weird and I don't like it much. He's a secret and it should be fun, yet I want to shout out that I know him, but I'm too scared. Don't get me wrong – not scared of Gran or Zoe, just scared of it all changing. Dev's an adult with a mind of his own. What if it doesn't work out even when I want it to?

Gran's saying to look straight ahead. ‘You never know when an innocent look will annoy people like that.' I choke on a laugh.
Dev?
If only she knew. Now she's going on about ‘bikies' and their bad influence on our seaside town. I find crap like that hard to sit through.

‘It's “biker” – not “bikie”. And they're okay.'

Gran looks at me full on in the rear-vision mirror. (Serious stuff: she never takes both eyes off the road at once.) ‘Really? And how would you know?'

A black mass of words is jumping up and down my throat, clamouring to get out. I can't sort them through. Which ones should be said? So I bite down on them, hard, and keep my teeth together all the way home.

Zoe doesn't say a word either.

Mei

I wish Joel wouldn't go at Shawn Houser so much. I'd be okay. I see Shawn looking at me sometimes but I know he'd never hurt me, and Jonnie Prescott won't while Shawn won't. Maybe deep down Joel knows it too. It's almost like he needs to stand up for me because I sure don't need it. Maybe he's jealous. That's a cool idea – Joel jealous. That would mean he likes me. Hard to believe though when he's so wrapped up in that Dev Eagle guy. Maybe Joel did something weird like that Connections ad because most people have it in for him. Not Mr Sherman so much – he always looks at Joel like he's got a problem he'd like to help him with.

I don't think Joel's got a problem at all. It's his personality. Fired up all the time, against everything. It's exciting; you never know what he'll do next and he makes me feel like I can do things too. Sure he loses it in class and doesn't do well at his work. I've watched him sometimes – he just doesn't concentrate, that's all. As soon as he's stared at his book for a few minutes he starts looking around. Any sound will distract him. Shawn Houser knows it too, I can tell. He plays on it. I suppose you'd never get good at maths if you won't listen long enough to know what happens next in a sum.

In a group Joel can act a bit like a jerk and ruin everything but by himself he's great. I know he'd do anything for me – he's got a great big chocolate heart. No one knows, of course, because he covers it in bitter-tasting candy. No one's game to find out what's underneath, except his grandmother.

And now this Dev guy comes along. How does Joel expect to keep a guy like that secret in a town of five hundred? Joel's so wrapped up in him but what if he's no good? What sort of guy would answer an ad like that anyway? Why would he even be reading the Connections page? And why would he go along with it? Living in a boatshed like that. Joel never thinks what could happen next. Dev could be anybody – a pedophile even.

14

It's late before I finally get a chance to see Dev.

‘Where are
you
going again?' Help, I'm ambushed at the kitchen door.

‘Just the jetty, Gran.' This time I don't wait for her to say no; I bolt in the middle of her sentence.

‘You can't keep still . . .' Heard it all before anyway.

When I reach the boatshed it's dark already. ‘Dev. Dev?'

‘Here, mate.' He's down on the rocks, a line in the water. ‘Just cooking up a storm.' Dev has a way of talking that you can hear the grin in his voice and I feel weird, sort of sorry and guilty that he has to catch his tea.

‘About today – I couldn't get out of it.'

‘Family time, eh?' Does Dev sound a bit tired of it all? I try not to panic.

'I wished you could've come.'

‘Guess you know what you're doing, mate, but are you sure this is okay?'

‘What?'

‘Meeting me without them knowing?'

‘I'll work on it. There's a fishing competition at the weekend. I've never been able to enter before. You have to have a parent or substitute.'

There's a bit of a silence before Dev asks, ‘Do I qualify?'

I hesitate. I want to say Dev's not just a substitute but I don't. ‘Yeah, I want you to do it with me.'

‘Everyone will see me.' It sounds like a warning and I know what I have to do.

‘Yeah.' The time for secrets is over. I'm thinking already how I'm going to break the news to Gran. That's when we hear the noise.

‘Listen.' Dev half stands but I stay cool.

‘Gravel. Someone slipping on the stones.' Don't know why Dev's spooked.

‘It's just one of the fishermen coming in. There's always people out this time of night.'

Dev doesn't seem convinced at first. Maybe he hasn't heard much the other nights he's been there, but he soon settles down.

‘Let's take the boat out tomorrow, Dev. Get some practice for the competition?'

‘So that's why it's a guardian-child competition. Off-shore fishing, eh? And your gran won't mind me driving her boat?'

‘It's mine. She said one day everything would be mine because my dad—‘ I stop suddenly, for once realising I've said enough.

‘Your dad?' prompts Dev.

What can I say now? I've started it. But what if Dev doesn't want to hang around after he finds out? But surely Dev's different. I may as well finish it. ‘He ran off.' It's half the story anyway. The rest is too dreadful to think about. If it's true. What a relief – Dev doesn't ask any more.

‘Tomorrow it is then.'

Next day it's an age before I can get away again. Gran could get in the
Guinness World Records
for thinking up jobs and Zoe's watching me like I'm off to rob a bank. What's up her nose, anyway? Ha! Smells like rotten cray from here.

‘I'll bring back some fish for tea.' Trying to placate Gran as I race out the door, hoping there's nothing else she will think of. As usual I don't think ahead how I'll explain bringing home whiting and snapper. Even Gran knows you rarely catch them off the jetty. I slow down once I'm out of earshot.

In the boatshed Dev's already getting the tackle ready. The rods and a hessian bag are in the boat. He's been busy. Good thing Gran keeps the registration current. Mei's dad takes the
Sea Wolf
out sometimes when he's not off on his trawler, so it should work okay. Dev and I go over everything – where the life jackets are, the anchor, ropes. Gran wouldn't have been content with just knowing
where
the life jackets are; she'd make me put one on.

‘So I drive the tractor down, hitch up the trailer. And down to the water we go. That how your grandad did it?'

I nod. ‘Watch the motor – Grandad always left it in reverse since it wasn't used all the time. Mr Pham does too.' Half of me is excited but the other half I'm not sure. This is the first time I've been in the boat in two years.

‘Didn't bring Mei this time?'

I shake my head. ‘Nah. She didn't want to. Besides she's happy writing all day.'

‘Writing?'

‘She's got this fat purple exercise book, puts her pen to the paper and off it goes like it's magnetised. Don't know how she does it.' Actually it's going to be great having Dev all to myself. I want to enjoy the day without Mei's unspoken ‘what ifs'. I have enough of those myself.

My fears about the boat are unfounded. Everything works. I pull the trailer back to the shed while Dev keeps the boat idling. Then I jump in from the side of the old jetty. ‘Grandad used to say the fish are out in the holes.' I'm pointing to the pale blue patches of sea.

‘That'd change with the tide, wouldn't it?'

I'm not totally sure about that. ‘Let's try that smooth patch out near the island. I often see boats out there.'

We coast out into the deeper water, then Dev lets the throttle out.

‘Wo—' What a rush! I get thrown back as the engine bursts into full power. Cool. The wash behind us churns like we're a giant mixer thundering through the bay. ‘I never thought I'd be able to do this,' I shout.

Dev beckons to me from the wheel. ‘Here, have a go.' Dev seems pleased too, standing there watching me as if he's proud of me. It's a new feeling. Only Gran is ever proud of me.

It takes ten minutes to reach the pale blue water I saw from the shore. Dev cuts the engine and over the anchor goes.

The boat calmly bobs like a horse moving for the next stretch of grass. It reminds me of Grandad in those few months before he died. ‘Quiet, hey?'

‘Just the way I like it.' Dev settles down and reaches for his rod, starts cutting line with his pocket knife and tying knots.

‘Is that why you don't mind being in the boatshed?' I'm hoping I'm right and Dev pauses, line between his teeth. He spits overboard before answering.

‘How did you work that out?' There's admiration in his tone; another first. It makes me want to say things, things that the kids at school might call stupid but Dev would understand.

‘Just guessed. I used to worry about it. I mean,
I
wouldn't like it but I got to thinking that there might be different kinds of “lonely” and maybe the boatshed isn't so bad.'

‘You're a smart kid.' My glow fades. Me smart? The disappointment comes sharp like I'm filleted. Dev's just stringing me along; I know that ‘encouraging tone'. Mr Sherman uses it too.

‘No, I'm not!' I shout it because I feel like a warrior defending a sinking marshland, not because I want to, but because it's all I've got.

Dev's not fazed, nor does he let me get away with it. His line's in the water now but his mind's on me. ‘You've got smarts where it counts. None of this school stuff. Do you think I'd be hanging round a dumb kid?'

That pulls me up short. ‘No bull?' I'm trying to decide whether to believe him or not and I find I really want to.

‘Can't write it down like Mei.'

‘So what.' Dev's head is so close all of a sudden that I can't move mine back. ‘So what,' he repeats and for once I have no answer. I just carry on with rigging my line. Dev throws me a grin when I look back at him. It's like he knows just when I will.

Today the whiting are on the bite. ‘It's the pillies.'

Dev grins when I talk like Grandad used to. Dev and I do more than catch fish though. We see dolphins too. It happens after we pull anchor and move further out. ‘There, on the right!' I hear them first – the slight whoosh of air blown out of a breathing hole. Dev's hooked up a salmon and is playing it, pumping and winding, ready to land it in the boat. ‘Wow, Dev, she's a real keeper.' It's jumping, trying to get free – just like I would, if I was caught on the end of a line – when all of a sudden this dolphin bursts out of the blue, takes the salmon in its mouth, hook and all, and splashes back into the sea.

‘Did you see that!' Talk about jumping dolphins!

‘We can kiss that salmon goodbye, mate.'

‘Hook and all. Guess it'll dissolve one way or the other.'

We don't catch much after that, even though the dolphins move on, yet it doesn't seem to matter. For once the fishing's not important – it's the sitting, saying what comes into your head next after the staring. There's something about watching that expanse of shifting blue and green that draws things out of me somehow. I know I talk a lot to Mei about bikes or fishing or what I did yesterday. Maybe she never wants to hear all that stuff. She never says. But this is different, stuff I never talk about to
anyone
. ‘Grandad was cool, you know.'

Dev doesn't glance down. Like it's the most normal thing to talk about a dead guy. ‘I had a grandad too once.'

‘Mine just got sick and died.'

‘Mine too, mate.'

‘I didn't think he ought to have, you know? Not when I didn't have a dad.' It's on the tip of my tongue to say it wasn't fair but I stop in time. That sounds so childish; Gran always says there's no promise that life will be fair. I wish it was. Dev grins at me then. He's got the bluest eyes today. It must be the reflection off the sea. It's almost like he's heard the stuff in my head, all the things I don't say. It makes me feel warm in places I haven't for a long time; it makes me ask the next question.

‘Why did you come?'

‘My sister saw the ad. She's always on the lookout for a partner for me. She thinks I'm lonely.'

I think about some other meanings of ‘lonely'. ‘She right?'

‘Sometimes, I guess. Anyway she thought where there's a boy without a dad there'd be a young mother.'

Suddenly I feel like a breeze has sprung up. A cool one.
Mother, partner.
The usual old bitterness begins its well-trod pathway through my gut. I try to keep the hurt out of my voice. ‘I'm sorry I don't have one for you.'
He didn't come for me!
I try to keep calm, like it was before, but I can't; horses are coming, galloping into my head. I try to stop them, try to shut the gate but they keep on, taking over, throwing up clods of earth. The noise is deafening and I think I stand up. I'm sure I drop my rod. The boat's lurching. I know that much and nor do I care.

‘Mate—' I can see Dev through the haze. For once he's worried. I aim a kick at the tackle box. It goes flying, so does the hessian bag. Water washes out, the whiting we've caught slide onto the hull. The boat's dipping low now and I'm struggling to stay upright. My head's starting to clear but I hang onto the red-brown feeling inside; it's stronger than me. Dev should shout at me, tell me to sit down – I could sink us. I'll be ready when he does . . .

But I'm not ready, not for Dev's quiet voice – no menace, no Ms-Colby-you-lost-it-again; just ‘That's not why I came.'

I should shout at him but I'm never sure, when people go calm. It's like they take a pressure valve off. What's he mean?
That's not why he came?
Why did he then? I don't dare ask. It's too close, I might hear the truth and I'm sure I'm not going to like it. No one ever comes for me. What was I thinking of? Letting my guard down like that? The horses are kicking their heels now, happy they've done some damage. My face is screwed up into my Al Capone scowl as I sit down as far away from Dev as I can manage in the confines of the boat.

Funny thing, Dev keeps quietly sitting, picks up his rod again, but the fishing trip's over. Even he can see that. He reels in the line; both of mine too. I pretend not to notice, as he leans over to half-fill the bucket again and picks up the fish. All this without glancing at me. And I try not to give a stuff.

At the old jetty I help pull the boat in, onto the trailer, but I still don't say anything. Some things go too deep. Besides, it's all over now. Dev can keep the fish too.

It's when I turn to go that Dev calls me. I almost don't stop, bugger him. I stand still for just a second, considering, but it's long enough for Dev to start talking.

‘Mate, I'll tell you why I came.' Well, whoopi-do. I feel as hard as a lighthouse inside, all shut up. I let Dev have the full effect of what that feeling looks like on my face. Let him tell me then. What do I care?

Dev's playing with his goatee, glancing up at me on the slope. For a second I think he's scared. Nah. I make a movement to go and Dev rushes in.

‘I had a kid once.' Then he pauses. ‘It was my fault he died.'

I stand my ground. Yeah, tough, but it's got nothing to do with me.

‘I just wanted a second chance. Then I heard about the ad. Mate, it
was
for you I came.' Dev's actually looking sad. Big deal – it's not for me he's sad, it's for that other kid. Second best. I'm always second best. Dev makes some movement with his arm then, and I'm out of there fast.

It's later, on my bed, when I think about it some more. I think about what Dev called out as I rushed off.
‘Don't shut me out. We need each other.
' Do we really? I need a dad, sure. That's obvious, but does Dev need me? And why? I want it to be because he cares, not because of some mistake he's made. What about Rogue's Point? I reckon he cared then. And tonight – Dev didn't have to tell me all that, did he? It's weird, like Dev's finally let me look inside the box. But why?

There's not much point thinking about it any more. How's Dev going to like me anyway after today?