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Authors: Scot Gardner

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nineteen

T
he phone woke me sometime in the afternoon and I answered it through the fog in my head.

‘Maddie?'

It was Jiff.

‘Don't hang up! Wait.'

I breathed into the mouthpiece.

‘You don't have to say anything. I've just got to tell you straight.'

I swallowed.

‘Erections happen for all different reasons. Wake up with them. Get them when I need to pee. Get them watching nature documentaries when animals are humping but it doesn't mean I want to hump animals. Fucking embarrassing sometimes. There's not much I can do about it. I can't control it. It's like getting angry. I can't control that either . . . but I try. If I get angry and punch the fuck out of someone
that's
when I'm a sick bastard. And those guys that hit on you, they were sick bastards. I'm not like them. Don't say I'm like them.'

I was holding the phone to my ear but no sound would come out of my mouth. I felt like I was going to spew.

‘Maddie?'

The shadows were still inside me. They'd swallow me if I let them.

‘Maddie?'

They fed on fear and they made me hate myself and mistrust everyone around me. They made it so I couldn't see straight. They made me feel like free-falling from the balcony. I couldn't see good or hope or love.

‘Maddie? Are you there? I've got to go.'

They held me by the throat and they tangled with my thoughts as they flapped around.

‘Maddie? Ah, fuck this . . .'

‘I'm sorry,' I said. It was a thin whisper and the phone booped in my ear.

Later, as I lay on my bed in the darkness, wrapped in my blanket and a kind of emotional coma, I knew he was right. There were times when I was with Dartanian that my body felt pleasure. My body felt pleasure and my spirit wanted to die.

twenty

I
spent days licking my wounds. Rosie made food for Evie and me and we zombied around to the hospital to see Dad a couple of times. How could I blame him for Mum's death? She died in her sleep. She was sick. She killed herself while Dad was sleeping. She was so sick in the head that she didn't want to get up in the morning. Ever. It wasn't Dad's fault. It happened.

Dad came home that Friday. He'd been given the all clear. The doctor told him to give up the smokes and the grog. Evie and I bought some streamers and made a sign. We tried to think of something nice but the best we could do was ‘Welcome Home Old Fart'. Rosie picked him up in her new van.

He'd used the shaver I'd taken in for him. The skin on his smiling face was warm and alive. Dad and Evie stared at each other like they'd been doing at the hospital.

Dad opened his arms. ‘Sorry, lov.'

Evie let him hug her. She patted his back and I could
see her face. Her eyes shut and her mouth wrinkled. ‘I'm sorry, Dad. So sorry.'

Dad kissed her cheek and she grabbed around his neck. Buried her face in his shoulder and cried. Dad rocked her from side to side and shushed in her ear. They hugged and hugged and hugged and I wondered if they were ever going to let go.

I snuck into the bedroom. In time, Evie came in and flopped on her bed with a box of tissues. Dad and Rosie went through the wall to watch TV. We lay on our beds and talked in whispers.

‘It doesn't feel like home anymore,' Evie said.

I rolled on my side and looked at her. ‘Yeah! It's different.'

‘I mean I still love Dad and that . . . and Rosie's great but . . .'

‘Yeah . . .'

‘I've changed,' she said.

‘Me too.'

‘Yeah, but if you fall in and out of love like me, it'll scar you forever.'

I got angry with her then. Flopped on my back and looked at the feathers in the glass beside my bed. Self-centred bitch. She reminded me of Bruna: back of her hand to her forehead. Woe is me. Drama queen. I realised Evie had always been like that. Lying on my bed it hit me like a revelation. I remembered when I was about four – I fell down the stairwell and grazed my elbow. It really hurt. Evie had looked at it and told me it was nothing. That when
she'd
fallen down the stairs
she'd
got a
much
bigger graze than that. Blood everywhere.

I laughed to myself.

‘What?' she asked.

‘Nothing.'

‘We should get a flat. You and me.'

‘Cool,' I said. I could live with her but I'd be clearing out if she ever fell in love again. That much drama would kill a mortal like me.

I realised I'd never fallen out of love. Only into it.

I phoned Colin.

‘Maddie! How's your dad?

‘He's fine. Back home again now.'

‘I thought you'd gone underground.'

‘Underground?'

‘Oooh, Maddie the heartbreaker.'

‘Pardon?'

‘Pardon nothing. You ruined poor Jiff, you bitch.'

‘I . . . I didn't mean to.'

‘Cold heartless bitch he called you.'

‘Really?'

‘No, I called you that but it does sound better that way, don't you think? I get this picture of you dressed in studded leather with a whip. Oooh.'

‘Stop!'

‘Whiiiiipcrack!'

‘Colin, shut up!'

‘Sorry. Can't control myself sometimes. What can I do for you?'

‘For a start, you can tell me why you wouldn't give Jiff my number. Bastard.'

‘Hey, I was trying to protect you. Maybe I was trying
to protect him from you. Doesn't matter, he asked Mum anyway.'

‘You're full of shit. You're jealous.'

‘Bullshit. Of what?'

‘You are! Of me and Jiff.'

‘That's crap, Madonna,' he said, and I knew that it wasn't crap. He doesn't call me Madonna.

‘I still love you,' I said.

‘Ha!'

‘I do . . . and I want Jiff's number.'

‘Oooh, salt in the wound.'

‘Colin.'

He chuckled and gave me the number.

‘Thank you. Goodbye.'

‘Maddie?'

‘What?'

‘You okay?'

‘Yes, I'm fine.'

‘Good. Give Jiff my love. And I love you, too.'

‘Yeah, yeah. Bye.'

He hung up and I dialled New Zealand. Three rings with my heart beating in my temples.

‘Hello?' It was a man's voice.

‘Hi, is Jiff there?'

‘Jiff? No, sorry. He doesn't live here anymore.'

‘Oh. Do you have a new number for him?'

‘No, sorry.'

I thanked the man and said goodbye.

‘Who is this anyway?'

‘Madonna.'

‘What,
the
Madonna?'

‘No, not
the
Madonna.'

‘Not that Madonna, the other Madonna. The one Jiff met in Australia?'

‘Yeah. That's me.'

‘Choice!'

I was about to apologise to this total stranger. Explain why I'd been the mega-bitch-from-hell. The phone was silent for two short breaths then the voice began again.

‘I'm Jiff's brother, Alex, ay.'

‘Oh, hi, Alex.'

‘Jiff reckoned you were pretty amazing.'

‘Yeah?'

‘Yeah. Hasn't stopped talking about you since he got back.'

‘So where's Jiff gone?'

‘Dunno. I've been up the bay with a few of my mates. My mum's not home. I think he's gone to Wello. Have you got his mobile number?'

‘I didn't know he had a mobile.'

‘Yeah, well, sometimes I think he forgets he's got one.'

He gave me the number and I thanked him again.

‘Here, you'd better give us your number in case he rings here.'

I gave him the number but Jiff already knew it. Knew it and had given up using it.

I phoned the mobile, it rang twice and Jiff answered.

‘Hello?'

‘Jiff? It's me, Madonna.'

‘It's Jiff here. Thanks for phoning my mobile, ay. Leave a message when you hear a beep.'

The phone beeped and I hung up. I looked around the flat. My cheeks were glowing. I phoned again.

‘. . . Leave a message when you hear a beep . . . BEEEP.'

‘G'day Jiff, it's Madonna. I've made a major boo boo and I need to talk to you as soon as you get this message. See ya.' I almost hung up. I pulled the receiver to my ear and blurted it out. Said the thing that had been bubbling in my heart.

‘I love you. Bye.'

twenty-one

E
vie got a job that weekend. Working on the floor with Jerome at Ransom's. She was always lucky like that. She'd never been on the dole, never been out of work long enough. I felt that thing growing in me again. That never-good-enough envy of my big sister and it would have consumed me if I hadn't met Red on my way home from a fruitless day of job hunting.

‘How are you?' I asked. ‘I didn't ever get to say thank you for getting the ambulance for my dad.'

He nodded.

‘Where have you been? I haven't seen you around for ages.'

‘I've been at school,' he said with a grin. He dug his hand into his pocket. ‘I've got something for you.'

‘Oh?'

He held out his fist, fingernails down and I offered my palm.

‘Close your eyes.'

The thing dropped on my palm and rolled across my
fingers. I caught it. Smooth, warm from his body. A little sphere. ‘A marble?'

‘Yes. How did you know? A special marble. You can look now.'

Blue and green glass jumbled in a ball as big as a grape. A little world.

‘It's beautiful, Red. Thank you.'

He took my fingers and curled them around the marble. When he was satisfied with the fist, he made sure no one could see and kissed my knuckles. ‘That makes it lucky forever.'

‘Thank you,' I whispered.

I crouched and we hugged. He smelled clean and his skin under my fingers was smooth. We rode the lift in a kind of sacred silence.

I picked up the phone to try Jiff's mobile again but I wimped out. My life would never be a Madonna fairytale. My life just
is
. Mum dying when I was little may have been a big bonus for me. What if she had lived and been sick all her life? What if she had been another monster like Dartanian?

She was still part of me. In the colour of my hair and skin and eyes. I still wondered about her but I didn't stop my life to wonder. Nothing really ended, new stuff just started happening and I got swept up in it all. The whole world could fill up with monsters and slimeballs but I wasn't going to be one. That was a choice. Everyone is free to choose.

twenty-two

I
t took me forever to get to sleep on Wednesday night and then the phone rang. It shocked me out of sleep like it was hard-wired to my nervous system. 4.17 am. My heart filled with dread. Someone had died. Someone had been in an accident. I surged out of bed and turned the light on in the lounge. Dad's door opened.

‘Hel . . . (cough) . . . Hello?'

‘Is that you Maddie?'

‘Yes. Who's this?'

‘It's me, Jiff.'

‘Oh.'

The phone went quiet. It didn't register. I had the thing on my ear but I wasn't awake. Then the realisation rushed at me like a city loop train. ‘Jiff! Oh my god! Jiff, it's you! I'm sorry I said what I did. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I didn't talk to you . . .'

‘Steady, Madonna.'

Dad's door closed quietly.

‘Sorry.'

‘Enough sorry sorry.
I'm
sorry it's so early. I just got your message. It's probably seriously late in Australia, ay?'

‘Nah. It's only just after four in the morning. We haven't had dinner yet.'

‘You Australians are crazy.'

‘Well, you caught me at home and that's the main thing.'

‘Yeah. Call me a tight arse but STD rates are cheaper now, ay? Heh heh.'

‘I've missed you.'

‘Yeah? Funny that. I've really missed you, ay. Like someone snuck in at night and scooped my middle out. Then I nearly took off when I got your message just now. I worked out why.'

‘Why?'

There was faint crackling on the phone and the shadows of other voices that never really made words.

‘Well, you said something in your message that kind of summed it up.'

‘What?'

‘Think back. What did you say?'

‘I said . . . I needed to talk to you. That I'd made a mega boo boo.'

‘Yeah.'

‘And . . . that I wanted you to ring straightaway.'

‘Yeah, so here I am. Who cares what time it is?'

‘And I said that I love you.'

‘True?'

‘True. That was my big boo boo. I forgot to tell you. I love you, Jiff.'

‘Choice!'

I yelped and he laughed.

‘That's why
I
missed
you
. I love you, too.'

‘True?'

‘True. I love you, Madonna.'

I star-jumped and sent the phone clattering against the wall. ‘Sorry. Are you still there? Sorry.'

‘Stop saying sorry.'

‘Sorry.'

‘Okay. I'm going to be a veterinarian.'

‘Fantastic! Congratulations.'

‘Yep, I got accepted into a great uni.'

‘You whaaat! Oh that's wonderful. Jiff, that's such good news.'

A faint static whistle. I grabbed the tiki around my neck.

‘I'm moving to Australia. Five years at least.'

My hand was trembling. I wasn't the pure ever-virgin mother of Christ. I never would be. Never could be, but I felt her alive in me. I wasn't the queen of pop, oozing sex and confidence and wearing only a look, but I could feel her dancing. I was just me.

‘So. I was wondering,' he said. ‘You up for a coffee sometime?'

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I got a flash of Dad running at me screaming. The brick grabbed and dragged me into the blade. My head smacked into the cover. My arm got stuck at the back of the blade and I could feel it cutting me. Rasping the bone. Red dust. Red blood. Black.

At times life seems brutal to Wayne. His mum and dad have been best enemies since they broke up, he thinks he loves Mandy but she loves Phillip, and his best mate Den is a serious health hazard. Even if Wayne survives the booby-traps and accidents that face him, Den could still get them both killed!

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From a fresh new voice comes a serious comedy about what happens when you make a truck-load of mistakes and a handful of gutsy decisions.

‘Entertaining and heartfelt . . . Scot Gardner presents pictures of youth with a compassion that endures'
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‘reassuring and real'
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‘Get a life, Fairy.'

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‘I feel I could walk right on out the door and encounter Dan, Eddy or Wayne, the hero of Gardner's first two novels, so fresh and seemingly complete is their creation'
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Fabulous!
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That's really very amusing, Elizabeth. We like you for it. You're perfect for our Society and we're very excited about having you join.
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Tomorrow, When the War Began
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