He couldn’t believe he was back at Aunty’s house. He thought that was it, he was going inside, and it scared him bad. He had been stupid to think being fast was enough. Sooner or later they were going to get you. He was so lucky to have Aunty. It was only bail though. He’d have to go court and they’d find him guilty and he would go to prison. That wasn’t so bad was it? They’d get him off the crystal. He could come back here, live with Aunty, play hockey again. They had been the happiest times of his life. To know you’re good at something, that was cool. His mates, they all played footy. Not that he was bad at footy but he was light and he couldn’t kick so well when he was at full speed, but then he found hockey, that was his game. The coaches said he could play state.
He should never have gone to the city.
Darren had mocked him: ‘Hockey? That’s a girls’ game, dude. ’
That first time he didn’t even know what was happening. Darren just came out the shop, shoved a bag at him and told him to run. The store security guards had no chance. They couldn’t bust Darren because when they searched him he had nothing on him. Darren was too smart to let the camera catch him. Then Darren stole that car and it all turned to shit. Trying to impress that skinny girl, Jasmine. She was cute though. He was pretty sure she’d been flirting with him but what could he do? Darren would have beaten the crap out of him like he did that time he had to ditch the bag and jump the fence to get away. Like it was his fault. So, he would go to jail and do his time. He had no choice. They’d caught him cold. It was prison, for sure.
Unless he ran.
But no, he wouldn’t do that. He promised Aunty. Trouble was, he recognised one of Mongoose’s men in the court. He didn’t know his name but he was one of the close ones he’d seen at the house sometimes. Maybe he was there to pay a fine or something? Or maybe not. Maybe Mongoose had sent him to check him out.
He couldn’t relax. He’d sit for a second on the bed and then jump straight up again. He wished Aunty hadn’t gone off but she said she had to do things with the lawyer. She was a good sort, the lawyer. Once they got him inside though, she wouldn’t be able to help him. No one could. He hadn’t talked. He’d kept Mongoose out of it. But what was to stop Mongoose wanting to make sure he stayed silent?
He couldn’t think clear. If only he could have a hit, just a little one, clear his head. No one was going to stake him but. Not now. Shit, shit, shit. He didn’t even have those pingers. The house felt so small. He was pacing from one side to the other and back. Like that cocky in a cage they used to have at the club: the ‘hockey cocky’. Could it still be alive? Damn thing gave his finger a real good …
The rumble of a car outside pulled him up. Mongoose had a Subaru sounded just like that. He couldn’t see anything from in here. The windows were at the side of the house. Even if he opened the front door, he might not see anything because Aunty’s little driveway had trees and bushes hiding it so you couldn’t see out to the street. If the car drove straight in, then you could see it. The car was still rumbling. What to do? He edged to the front door and opened it a crack, peering out. Nothing in the driveway.
The rumble stopped. His heart kicked in. He could imagine Mongoose climbing out with a cricket bat. Please come back, Aunty. He shut the door. His eyes travelled to the phone. The police? No, because then he’d have to say why he called them and once he mentioned Mongoose they wouldn’t let up. Maybe it wasn’t Mongoose, maybe it was some other car. Plenty of cars rumbled, not just Mongoose’s. What he could do was sneak out the back, go over the back fence through the property behind, walk down Axton Street, turn down Morris Street, back down the other side and look at the car from the corner. If it wasn’t Mongoose, he could come back inside and relax. If it was he could hide till Aunty came back. That’s what he’d do.
He grabbed five bucks from Aunty’s drawer, just enough to buy himself a milkshake or something. He put on thongs and cracked open the back door. He looked left and right. Clear. He ran quickly and lightly up the backyard, his thongs flipping against his heels. He vaulted the picket fence easily into the property behind, crossed through sand and bush that did for a backyard and ran up the path that ran along the side of the house. Inside a dog barked but that was okay, he was on Axton Street in a flash, jogging to the corner and then turning down Morris Street. There were a couple of cars parked on the street but he couldn’t see anybody. He slowed as he got to the corner of Aunty’s street. Fortunately a big old wattle tree provided good cover. He edged under it and looked to the left.
Shit, shit, shit. He could see the back of the car parked about fifty metres down blocking Aunty’s driveway: Subaru. Shit. Nothing for it but to get lost for a few hours. Maybe he could find the lawyer’s office? She might even buy him a hot chocolate. He turned to head back. The shape of something so close it was a blur leapt out at his head. Whack, the blow stunned him, he felt himself drop. Words hung just out of reach. He felt a hand on his shoulder, but it was weird … it was a rubber hand … and then something pricked his neck.
‘What the fuck?’ He thought he said it aloud. ‘Mongoose, please …’
He tried to locate him but there was wattle in his eyes and nose and when he looked up the sun was so bright it was like a stick in your eye. ‘Man,’ he gasped, trying to stand but his legs were rubber. He felt weird, clammy, everything turned to film negative …