Les speaks slowly, ‘We come out here every afternoon, Deefer and me, to sit.’ He reaches behind the seat and picks a blooming orange flower, breaking it at the stalk and holding it to his nose. ‘This is where I put Dorothy’s ashes.’ Les smiles. ‘I pick these flowers each time they bloom and put them in a vase beside her picture in the lounge room.’ Les twirls the flower in his hands. ‘Dorothy wouldn’t like me sitting around and grumbling. Or being too sad. It would be an insult to her spirit.’ Les sighs. ‘We have to move on, son. No matter what.’
Hunter looks up. He sees the tears welling in the old man’s eyes and understands Les is not only talking about himself.
The old man shuffles up from the seat and says, ‘What say I fetch you a bottle of ginger beer to take home. You could share it with your mum.’ Deefer jumps up and runs ahead of the old man.
Hunter remains in the chair, looking at the flowers in the garden bed. The colours seem brighter and deeper in the evening light.
33
jesse
I look out the window. It’s a bright sunny morning. I lean close to the pane and breathe heavily, frosting the glass. With my finger, I draw an outline of the biggest animal in Antarctica: the blue whale. I step back to admire my artwork. Perfect. Not a Japanese whaleboat in sight.
‘What do you think, Kelifa?’ I say, looking at the picture of my African friend Blu Tacked to my wall. A beam of sunshine lights the wall above his head. Kelifa seems to be smiling, probably because he’s received the email I sent to CARE Australia about the fundraising lunchtime we’re having at school today, in his honour.
‘Maybe we’ll raise enough so your dad can build you a new bedroom,’ I say, ‘away from your sisters.’
‘Mum,’ Beth calls, ‘Jesse’s talking to himself again.’
‘Jesse,’ Mum’s voice calls from the kitchen.
‘It’s okay,’ I yell, ‘Kelifa is not a false god, he’s an eight-year-old boy.’
Beth comes to my door and smiles. ‘Not an imaginary friend?’
I look toward the picture of Kelifa and shake my head. Beth walks into my room and places the new CD of The Scrambles on my dresser. Something is scrawled across the cover.
‘Ryan got each of the band members to autograph it, even Feral. He said you could auction it on eBay, or at lunchtime today and give the money to Kelifa,’ she says.
‘Wow, thanks sis.’
‘No worries, anything to avoid eating yams again.’
Mum knocks gently on my open door.
‘Beth,’ she says.
‘Mum,’ Beth answers.
Mum glances around the room, looking for Trevor. Kelifa smiles down at her.
‘What are you hiding behind your back, Mum?’ Beth asks.
Mum smiles. She steps into the room and elaborately presents Beth with a pair of yoga pants.
‘I bought these yesterday, Beth.’
Beth accepts the present and holds the pants up to the light.
‘They’re new, Beth. Not second hand.’ Mum turns to go and calls behind her, ‘I’ve kept your old pair.’
Beth stands holding the pants, her mouth open in disbelief.
‘You see, sis,’ I say, ‘the world can change.’
At school, Kate is waiting for me at the ‘Thought for the Day’ sign. The sign reads:
To give is better than to receive.
Kate’s wearing her green ribbon and, just for today, a green ‘Save the Whales’ t-shirt. As I approach, she lifts her pants to reveal her lucky socks. She smiles. ‘Too much green is never enough.’
When we get to class, everyone is sitting down, except Hunter who’s sitting on Sarah’s desk, his heavy shoes tapping on the wooden panel. Sarah hasn’t arrived yet.
‘Charityboy and Whalegirl,’ Hunter says, as we enter. He winks, just to let me know he’s kidding. This time.
‘You’re early, Hunter,’ I say.
‘The early bird catches …’
‘The worm,’ I suggest.
‘The teacher off guard,’ he answers.
As if on cue, Sarah walks in. ‘Hunter, I believe that’s my desk you’re sitting on.’
Hunter jumps up and says, ‘Sorry, Sarah, but as we’re a community, I thought it was our desk’. He casually walks toward his chair and sits down. Sarah sighs and places her handbag on her desk. Our desk.
Skye raises her hand. Sarah pretends not to notice.
‘Okay, class. It’s D-E-A-R time. And we know what that means.’
‘Doze Early And Repeatedly?’ Hunter calls.
Everyone giggles, even Sarah.
‘Don’t Eat At Recess!’ I add.
‘Dead Elephants And Rhinos!’ Hunter answers.
Sarah holds up a book, as if to remind us.
Hunter clicks his fingers. ‘Of course. Drop Everything And … Retch!’
I can’t help myself. ‘Ha!’
Sarah makes an extravagant gesture of opening her book.
‘Drop Everything And Read,’ Skye calls.
Everyone groans. We all knew that.
After reading, Hunter raises his hand, but before he can ask a question, Sarah says, ‘Yes, Hunter, you can go to Walter’. Hunter whistles a bouncy tune as he walks out the door. We can hear it echo along the verandah. When Sarah turns to write on the whiteboard, Kate passes me a note. I unfold it under my desk. It’s an invitation to her place tonight, for dinner.
I blush.
*
On the grassy area at lunchtime, a few parents have arranged tables in a large semicircle. On each table are items for sale. All the students wander from table to table, looking for treasure among the cast-off toys and books.
A large sign is strung between the two wattle trees in the corner. It reads, ‘All proceeds to charity’ with a picture of Kelifa pasted into the top corner. I’m busy tying the cord a little tighter, so Kelifa won’t get blown away by the wind, when Kate races up and grabs my hand.
‘Hunter is setting up his own stall.’ She grins.
‘No!’ I say. ‘I wonder what he’s selling.’
‘Maybe he’s offering a joke booth? One dollar a laugh,’ Kate says.
‘More likely a “Give me a dollar and I won’t hit you” booth. He’d make a fortune with that one,’ I say.
She leads me across the grass, still holding my hand. We jostle among the kindy kids surrounding the booths. The first person I notice is not Hunter, but an old man with a walking stick. He’s standing behind a table laden with sushi! Hunter is beside him, offering a sushi roll to Larry.
I notice the sign above the stall, which reads, ‘Sushi $2.50’. Larry sees it too, but happily hands over the gold coins.
Hunter spies me and Kate. He spreads his arms wide, a shopkeeper displaying his fine items. ‘Chicken, avocado, beef teriyaki,’ he says. ‘No whale meat!’ Kate and I both reach into our pockets.
Hunter makes a gesture for us to stop. He offers me a chicken roll and Kate an avocado and cucumber roll. ‘Free for my friends,’ he says.
‘Did you buy all this?’ I ask.
The old man puts his arm around Hunter’s shoulder. ‘A nice Japanese man gave us a huge discount.’ He reaches across the table to shake our hands. ‘My name’s Les.’ He looks at Hunter. ‘The young man here told me all about fundraising for the starving Africans,’ Les says. ‘He figured as I had lots of spare time, I might as well join him on this stall.’
Les reaches behind him into a large esky and pulls out a bottle of fizzy drink. He pours it into two plastic cups for Kate and me. ‘Home-brewed ginger beer, on the house. Or on the stall, I should say.’
He leans forward. ‘Funny thing is, the Japanese man seemed to think I was Hunter’s father and the head of a company called Dalton Enter
prises.’
‘Hunter can be very …’ I can’t think of the correct word.
‘Persuasive?’ Les suggests.
‘Imaginative,’ says Hunter.
Les reaches to shake my hand, again. ‘This is a good thing you’ve organised, young man.’
Hunter sees Sarah on the verandah and cups his hands together, calling out, ‘Sushi, Sarah! Special price for teachers.’
Sarah reaches for her handbag.
Hunter looks at me. ‘I’m going to ask Sarah if you and me and Kate can help pack up, after lunch,’ he says. ‘That way, we’ll miss maths.’
There’s only one word I can say in response.
‘Ha!’
Helpful
Websites
Jesse, Hunter and Kate recommend these services:
www.care.org.au
CARE Australia is an Australian charity and international humanitarian aid organisation fighting global poverty, with a special focus on empowering women and girls to bring lasting change to their communities.
www.msf.org.au
Médecins Sans Frontières (Doctors Without Borders) is an international, independent, medical humanitarian organisation.
kidshelp.com.au
If you’re between five and twenty-five and need someone to talk to Kids Helpline is there 24/7 for problems big and small. Call 1800 551 800. Our services are free.
www.seashepherd.org.au
Sea Shepherd Australia is a non-profit conservation organisation whose mission is to end the destruction of habitat and slaughter of wildlife in the world’s oceans in order to conserve and protect ecosystems and species.
RACHEL
My town
is exactly
four hundred and twenty-two kilometres
from the ocean.
I check the distance
driving home from holidays
with Mum and Dad
the day before school begins
and while Bondi Beach
gets frothy waves
of cool, salty water on white sand
my town suffers
waves of dust storms
and locust plagues
and heat that melts the bitumen
and the first thing I do
when we get home
after driving all day
is run down to the dam
in the near paddock
and dive in.
The water is warm and brown.
My toes squelch in the mud
while the windmill clanks.
A pond-skater buzzes the surface
and starlings fantail
across the sky
the day before school begins.
Laura
My new teacher
wears a flowing summer dress
with red pianos printed
on white linen.
Her hair is crow-black and messy
and she pulls it back
from her face
and ties it with a red ribbon.
She wears black ballet shoes
and casually sits on her desk
before asking us
to tell her something, one thing,
that we like about ourselves.
Selina, Mick, Cameron, Pete and Rachel
immediately
raise their hands
while I slink as low as possible
behind my desk.
SELINA
Ms Arthur said we should
bring in a photo of ourselves,
our favourite,
to paste on the Class 6A wall
and we could draw a design
around the photo
with our name, in bright colours.
And underneath our photo
we could write,
once a week,
what we’ve done lately
or what made us happy, or sad.
‘Just like Facebook,’ I said.
On Tuesday we spent all morning
drawing our names in big letters
with swirling colours
of red, yellow, green and blue.
Except Cameron
who wrote his name in tiny letters.
His writing was so small
you had to go really close
just to see if it was there at all.
And he’d chosen a thumbnail photo
of when he was a baby
lying in a cot asleep.
Cameron spent the whole morning
admiring his little photo and his teeny name
surrounded by glaring white cardboard.
Sometimes he stepped back
and looked at the photo from different angles,
like an artist.
Then he’d move close and adjust it,
just slightly.
Finally Ms Arthur couldn’t stand it any longer.
She asked Cameron
if he planned to add anything
to his cardboard.
Cameron looked shocked
and said, in his usual loud voice,
‘No way, Ms.
I want to have lots of space
to write about everything I think!’
Mick
I’m staring out the window
minding no one’s business but my own
because Ms Arthur is teaching maths
and that’s not really my go.
What do we have calculators for?
Charlie Deakin from 5C comes in with a note
and Ms Arthur tells me the Principal
‘requires my presence in his office’.
So I follow Charlie along the verandah
and he’s smirking the whole time
because no one gets called out of class
for good news,
it’s always trouble,
but I don’t say anything
and I don’t act nervous
because I haven’t done anything wrong,
not lately anyway.
Well, not that Mr Hume knows
and I trust my classmates not to tell anyway.
Charlie Deakin is still grinning
like he’s won a prize,
yeah, first-prize boofhead.
He knocks on the Principal’s door
and says to me,
‘Hume’s madder than a nest of bull ants.’
Charlie Deakin opens the door
and walks away down the hallway
leaving me standing there
with Mr Hume looking at me
and he’s not smiling.
First published 2014 by University of Queensland Press
PO Box 6042, St Lucia, Queensland 4067 Australia
www.uqp.com.au
uqp@uqp.uq.edu.au
© Steven Herrick 2014
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no part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system,
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written permission. Enquiries should be made to the publisher.
Cover design and illustration by Jo Hunt
Typeset in 12/16.5 pt Stempel Garamond by Post Pre-press Group, Brisbane
Printed in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group
Cataloguing-in-Publication Data
National Library of Australia
http://catalogue.nla.gov.au
Herrick, Steven, 1958- author.
Bleakboy and Hunter stand out in the
rain / Steven Herrick.
ISBN 978 0 7022 5016 3 (pbk)
ISBN 978 0 7022 5266 2 (pdf)
ISBN 978 0 7022 5267 9 (epub)
ISBN 978 0 7022 5268 6 (kindle)
For primary school age.
Bullies–Fiction.
Schools–Fiction.
A823.3
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