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Authors: Scot Gardner

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Later, we walked around Uncle Al's fish farm. ‘Fishwood Fish', it was called. Just dam after dam after dam. Completely covered the side of a hill. In the office, he had the biggest fish tank I'd ever seen. Longer than Dad's ute and from the floor to the ceiling. It had a school of goldfish in it that blew my mind. The smallest one was a foot long. They cruised around the tank and they looked so cool. Mate, I could have watched them for hours. Gracie had to do some shopping so we didn't stay long.

Baz drove right through Fishwood and on to the next town, Berrigo. It was modern and had a plaza where Kez and Den and I could sit and have a drink while their mum and dad shopped. I had a hot chocolate. Three doughnuts.

Kez looked at me and nodded to Den. He was staring in his coffee and stirring it lazily with a plastic spoon.

‘Sorry, mate,' I said, and he looked up startled.

‘What for?'

‘You know, for calling you . . .'

‘That's okay, don't worry about it,' he snapped. Kez looked at a mum consoling a screaming kid. She had the faintest smile hanging on the edge of her lips.

‘You told her,' Den whispered through his teeth.

I shrugged and nodded. ‘She already knew.'

‘Bitch,' he said to me, and frowned. ‘Bitch,' he spat at Kerry, and crossed his arms. ‘You're all bitches.'

‘I am sorry, mate,' I said again. ‘I should have been, you know, a bit nicer or something.'

Den shrugged.

‘It was a bit of a shock and that.'

He grunted.

‘To be honest, I don't care if you root rabbits,' I said.

He squealed a laugh.

‘You're still my best mate,' I said.

He looked at me and smiled then looked at the potted palms in front of the coffee shop.

‘You guys saved my life, I reckon,' I said.

They both looked at me.

I nodded. ‘You,' I said to Den. ‘Last year, you called me a couch potato two minutes before I would have disappeared up my own arse.' I waved my stump at his face.

He rocked back on his chair and smiled.

‘When Ernie died . . .' I said. ‘You were . . . there. Right there. I dunno how I would have gone if I'd had to do all that by myself. Thanks.'

He shrugged.

Kez picked up her cup and hugged it with her other hand.

‘You phoned,' I said to Kez. ‘Five minutes later and I wouldn't have been here.'

I ran my finger across my neck and cleared my throat.

She put her cup down. ‘Bullshit. When?'

I shook my head. ‘I felt like shit after you guys moved. Real shit. Missed you heaps. Felt like wasting myself. Then Dad told me he was shifting up here as well and I worked out how to hang myself in the cupboard. I had the bloody cord in my hand. Couldn't tie the friggin' knot quick enough.'

‘God, Wayne, why didn't you call?'

I shrugged. ‘Dunno. Should have. Wasn't thinking straight. Anyway, you phoned. Saved my life.'

‘Why don't you come up here to live?' Den asked.

‘Yeah,' Kez said. ‘Plenty of room at our place.'

‘Or you could live with your old man,' Den added.

‘Believe me, that sounds like heaven but my home is with my mum at the moment. I couldn't just lob at your place and I don't want to live with my dad.'

‘Yeah, you could stay at our joint,' Kez shouted. ‘Mum and Dad will be fine with that . . .'

I shook my head. ‘I'm not ready to leave home. Yet.'

My leg banged a beat on the table. Kez nodded and held my stump. She is the only person in the world who can do that.

Chapter Twenty-one

D
AD LEFT A MESSAGE ON THE
H
UMES' ANSWERING MACHINE
with a mobile number. I phoned and some bloke named Dave answered. I asked for Dad.

‘G'day, Wayne. How you going, mate?' he sang. He sounded drunk.

‘Pretty shithouse.'

‘Oh. What's happened? Are you okay?'

‘Yeah. I'm all right. The farmer next door shot Ernie. Killed him.'

‘He what?' I could hear him take a drag on a cigarette.

‘Thought Ernie was going at his sheep.'

‘Oh shit, that's a bit rough,' he said, and I nearly cracked. I could imagine his leg jiggling. ‘Listen mate, I've had a word to your mum and she said if you wanted to you could, you know, come and stay with me and that. For a while. See whether you like it or not. Maybe go to school with the Humes.'

The door was open. I could see that he really did want me to be around and instead of pissing my pants with joy, I nearly cried.

‘Nah, Dad,' I said. ‘I'm going home.'

He coughed. ‘But I thought you wanted to . . .'

I could hear pool balls cracking behind Dad's breathing.

‘Yeah. I did. I wanted to live with you. I think I'd be better off with Mum. Just for now.'

The silence rolled on. He had another drag on his smoke.

‘Right,' he mumbled. ‘I've got to go.'

‘No. Not yet. I haven't . . .'

‘What?'

‘I didn't want you to feel like shit. I . . . I . . .'

‘Yeah, I understand, mate,' he said flatly.

‘Sorry, Dad.'

‘Nah, shit mate, don't be sorry. You're still me son. I still love you and all that.'

I swallowed and my throat squelched. ‘I love you, too.'

‘Yeah?' he said, and started coughing. He coughed hard and took the phone from his mouth.

I waited until he'd stopped hacking. ‘Yeah,' I said.

‘Good. Come and visit me.'

I smiled. ‘Yeah. Of course. Next holidays. Mum reckons she's organised me a car.'

‘Yeeeah? What, a new BMW?'

‘Nah, Uncle Don's old Lancer. She reckons he doesn't need it anymore.'

‘Ha! There, see, won't be long and I'll be botting a lift from you!'

‘Yeah, I reckon I owe you a few,' I said, and he chuckled.

I hung up the phone and stood there with my hand and stump resting on the bench. I breathed hard and deep. Next to burying my dog, that was the hardest thing I'd
done in my life. And just like burying my dog, it felt like the right thing to do. I felt closer to my mum. I felt closer to my dad than I ever had and he was going to be living six hundred ks away.

Chapter Twenty-two

K
ERRY AND
I
SPENT TWO DAYS TALKING AND HOLDING EACH
other. We made a pact that when I went home we'd ring once a week and send each other a letter a month. Kez wanted to do a letter a week, but I have never been that keen on letter writing. Kez said she'd come to Chisholm if I didn't come up over the Christmas holidays. We dug deep and we were so honest that if I had died then, I would have left my ripped-up body feeling like my life was complete. It had nothing to do with boobs and bottoms. Well, not much, anyway. All right—they were in there but they were more like the icing than the whole cake.

Den told his mum and dad that he was gay. That was huge. Kez and I left when Baz started crying. They talked and hugged and the worst of the storm rolled past. It'll be hard to get used to. It hits so many things. Language, for example.

We were playing Monopoly in front of the fire. Jesus the cat had already walked across the board and knocked everything to the shithouse. Den had a hotel on Park Lane and when I landed there he asked for fifteen hundred dollars rental.

‘Get stuffed, you poofter.'

The whole room froze and looked at Dennis. I apologised and he pissed himself laughing.

‘You've called me that since we were in primary school. Why would it be any different now?'

‘Because you are one?' I suggested.

He laughed hard. ‘I was then but you just didn't know it. Ha ha.'

He was the only one laughing.

‘Neither did you,' Kerry said.

He frowned at her. ‘So?'

They laughed and I felt completely at home. Gracie rubbed her eyes.

Kez and I made a pact to sleep in her room that night. No matter what. I'd stuffed my sleeping bag with clothes like I was asleep in my room. When Baz knocked on her door at about eleven we both sat up. I mean, we still had our clothes mostly on and that but Kez's face was as red as her doona cover.

‘Goodnight, you two. Please try and get some sleep, you have to be up early in the morning.'

‘Yep. No worries. Goodnight Dad,' Kez said, as straight as you like.

‘Yeah. Goodnight, Dad,' I said.

He chuckled. ‘Goodnight.'

Everything was perfect. How it was supposed to be. Even the moon was nearly full and it lit up her silken skin and made her eyes sparkle as it poured in the window. It seemed to race across the sky as we found the right spot again and again. We tried everything we could think of. Everything.

Kerry was breathing rhythmically on my chest as the next day began. The room was a mess, covered in clothes, condoms and wrappers. There's not much room for two in a single bed but I couldn't get close enough. So perfect. It had been worth the wait.

‘Come and live with me,' she croaked.

I looked at her face.

‘We'll get a kombi or an old bus. I don't care . . . a ute. We'll go see Australia.'

I chuckled to myself. ‘What about a shower?' I asked.

‘Since when do you need a shower? We'll buy one of those black camping showers.' She stuck her face in my armpit. ‘Nah. Just won't shower.'

She pulled the doona over her head and I tickled her until she squealed into her pillow.

We showered and dressed. It took me six minutes to tie my shoelaces. Baz had a glass of juice for breakfast and Gracie hollered goodbye from the bedroom. I waltzed straight in and kissed her. She hugged me and I thanked her.

‘See you again soon. Okay?' she said.

‘Yup. Real soon.'

Den hugged me, his breath making clouds as the bus idled. I told him he was still my best mate and he drew away and thumped his forehead on my chest. ‘Yeah, yeah,' he said.

Barry almost lifted me off the ground as he hugged me and slapped my back. ‘Take care, you hear?'

‘Me? I'm going home for a rest.'

‘Yeah,' he chuckled. ‘Come soon for a proper holiday.'

Kerry wrapped herself around me and buried her face in my neck. We rocked from side to side.

‘Keep phoning and that, okay? I want you,' I said.

Her body shook and she squeezed me.

‘I love you. It's so big I can get lost in it. Hear me? I—love—you, Kerry. One day soon I'll rock up on your doorstep in my white ute and we'll go off together. Go see the country. You and me. All right?'

She sniffed and nodded. She let me go and I dragged myself onto the bus. I saw Den wipe his face on his sleeve. Kez stood and waved until I couldn't see her.

The bus trip was going along fine until we stopped in Lakes Entrance. I'd been ute-spotting the whole way, thinking, ‘Whoah that one's cool' and ‘Dual cab? Maybe' and there was a white one parked next to the bus stop. It had a black dog chained on the back and my guts got tight. I walked up to the ute thinking, ‘Is this mutt going to bite my other hand off or what?' When the dog saw me getting closer its whole body started wagging. It pulled against its chain and licked at my hand and my face. It tried to jump up on me. I scruffed its ears. I wondered if I'd ever own another dog. That was a hard one. You fall in love with them and the bastards die. Still, if you didn't fall in love you'd have a bloody lonely life. That was a hard one all right. A hard one but not a killer. The killer came when I went over to the fish-and-chip shop.

The joint smelt like stale armpits. I grabbed a Coke from the fridge. I ripped open my wallet to pay for it and a square of folded paper fell onto the worn lino. A note from Kez. I paid for the Coke and ran to the bus. I hunched in my seat.

Wayne,

I love you, too. If I wrote down all the things I love about you, this note would be thicker than a phone book. I love your smile and your hair and your courage. I love how honest you are. I love your hard body. I really love your hard body. I love it when you're gentle and I love it when you're not.

I believe in you. I know you'll be back. I'll be waiting.

Love Kerry

PS–I really love your hard man's body. Did I mention that already?
PPS–If this letter makes you cry then we're even.

I read the note again and again. We were even. I had a smile on my face but we were even.

MORE BESTSELLING FICTION AVAILABLE FROM PAN MACMILLAN

Scot Gardner
One Dead Seagull

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!

But no matter what the odds, Wayne has a lot of living to do. He's determined not to rot in the hot sand like a lone dead seagull.

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'
VIEWPOINT

‘An often hilarious glimpse into a fifteen-year-old boy's life . . . Gardner has the ability to describe very funny events'
MAGPIES

Paul Hayden
Last Wave

I sit there in the water. Watching it all. Feeling the sun on my face, feeling my feet in the gluggy sand under the water. And I feel the warm, gentle lull of the water around me. I look back again. Across the blue sheen to the distance of the break. ‘Last wave,' I say
.

Seventeen-year-old Owl is between school and the rest of his life. He has his mates, the beach, the surf, and the big event on his calendar is Stink's eighteenth birthday and a longed-for date with an absolute goddess.

But the party is about to end. Owl is about to learn what it really means to lose something you love . . .

‘A bloody good first up novel . . . Paul knows his shit when it comes to writing for surfers'
TRACKS

‘A first novel that really moves . . . Don't let your nervous ness about the gritty realism prevent you from letting this book speak for itself'
AGNES NIEUWENHUIZEN

Markus Zusak
When Dogs Cry

‘You're a bit of a lonely bastard, aren't you?' said Rube. ‘Yeah,' I answered. ‘I guess I am.'

But Cameron Wolfe is hungry. He's sick of being the filthy, torn, half-smiling, half-scowling underdog. He's finally met a girl. He's got words in his spirit. And now he's out to prove that there's nothing more beautiful than an underdog who's willing to stand up.

A tough but poetic street story by the acclaimed author of
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‘a surprisingly stylish package . . . convincing in its handling of teenage anxiety and ambition'
SUNDAY AGE

‘Markus Zusak . . . shows that the future is in most competent hands'
GOLD COAST BULLETIN

‘stands alone as an absorbing, deeply satisfying coming of age novel'
MAGPIES

‘this is one to make you laugh, cry and believe'
SPECIALIST CHILDREN'S BOOKSELLERS CATALOGUE

Jaclyn Moriarty
Feeling Sorry for Celia

Dear Ms Clarry,
It is with great pleasure that we invite you to join
our Society.
We have just found out about your holiday. It is so
impressive! You had four assignments, an English essay
and a chapter of Maths to do. And you didn't do one
single piece of homework!
Fabulous!
Also we have a feeling that you have a History test today.
And you're trying to study now? On the bus? With the
Brookfield boys climbing onto each other's shoulders to
get to the emergency roof exit? And with Celia about
to get on the bus at any moment? And you think that's
going to make a difference!!!
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.
Yours sincerely,
The Manager
Society of People who are Definitely Going to Fail
High School (and Most Probably Life as Well!)

‘Elizabeth Clarry is exactly the sort of person I'd love for a best friend'
MELINA MARCHETTA, AUTHOR OF
LOOKING FOR ALIBRANDI

‘Hilarious . . . a must for any angst-ridden teenager'
DOLLY

‘Moriarty's writing is a hoot and her sense of irony perfectly placed in this hilarious addition to the genre of genuinely comic Australian young adult novels'
THE AUSTRALIAN

Catherine Jinks
The Rapture

Early in the 21st century, Joseph Peek turned into another person.

Now, eighty years later, journalism student Aldo Frewin discovers who that person was—and why he's now living as Jarom Woodruff, aged sixteen, in a troubled Mormon cult in remote Tasmania.

For members of this cult, the End of the World is imminent and the Rapture awaits. For Aldo and his uncle, time is also running out. They need to know—will Jarom die as Joseph died before they uncover the truth? Has a genetic experiment changed the course of history? And if it did, does anyone have the power to change the future?

From the award-winning author of
Eye to Eye
, winner of the 1998 Children's Book Council, Book of the Year Award.

‘cleverly conceived . . . competent writing and interesting ideas will ensure the novel's success'
MAGPIES

John Marsden
Winter

‘I came home when I was sixteen.'

For twelve years Winter has been haunted.

Her past, her memories, her feelings, will not leave her
alone.

And now, at sixteen, the time has come for her to act.

Every journey begins with a single step. If Winter is going to step into the future, she must first step into the past.

‘Marsden caters for his teen audience magnificently'
GEELONG ADVERTISER

‘Upper primary and secondary students will love this book'
COURIER MAIL

‘one of the most intriguing stories I have ever read . . . you won't be able to put it down . . . John Marsden has outdone himself again'
REACT

‘a powerful and redemptive story of the journey to the discovery of truth . . . Marsden has drawn Winter with great skill and feeling. Highly recommended
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