One Dead Seagull Read Online Free Page A

e hom e o n th e bu s bu t th e fron t doo r was stil l locked . De n bange d franticall y o n th e glas s panel an d yelle d bu t ther e wa s n o response . H e shrugge d his ba g of f hi s bac k an d hunte d fo r hi s keys . H e wa s jiggling
o n hi s fee t a s h e searche d throug h hi s ba g an dI thought
h e wa s goin g t o hav e a n accident . I n on e swif t motion he’ d foun d th e keys , unlocke d th e doo r an d burst throug h t o th e toilet .I hear da muffle d toilet-far t the na hug e sigh.
    IwalkedpastKer r y ’ sbedroomonmywaytoDen ’ sand realisedwhyshehadn ’ tunlockedthefrontdoo r .Shewas
lyingonherbed withheadphonesonandJesus,hercat, curleduponherstomach.Herthumbswerecurledto touchthetip ofhersecondfingersandhereyeswere
closed.Icouldsmellthesandalwoodincensethatshe lovesandfaintlyhearthemusic.Soundedlikewaveson
thebeach. W eirdo.
    ‘Hi W ayne,’shesaidsoftlyandIjumped.Shesighed andopenedhereyes.
    IapologisedfordisturbingherandJesusliftedhishead
whenIspoke.
    ‘Oh,Ihadfinishedanywa y .Howareyou?’
    ItoldherIwasokayandshemotionedformetosit
downatherdeskchai r .AskedmeifI’d
hadanymore dreams.
    ‘No.Nomorepoxydreams,justsleep.’
    Therewashalfaminuteofuncomfortablesilenceand IthoughtIhadbettergoandwaitforDeninhisroom.
ShesatupandJesusjumpedontomylap,pinning
me totheseatandpurring likehe’djustgotanewsetof batteries.
    ‘Did youhearthefull sto r yaboutMrRichards?’she askedassheclickedthestopbuttononher W alkman.
    ‘ Y eah. W ell,no.MandyMastersontoldmeonesto r y aboutRicho andKylieSimpson.Shereckonssomeofher matesheardMr Johnsonon the phone to somebody tellingthemallthedetails.’
    ‘Heardthatsto r y...thatRicho ’ stheonewhogotKylie
pregnant?Soundsabitofftome.Mandyisabonehead.’
    I nodded . Sh e migh t sa y som e stupi d thing s bu t sh e isn ’ t a bonehead . Sh e give s m ea bon e i n th e pants , though.
    ‘Iwasmates withKylierightupuntil
theweekbefore sheleftandshedidn ’ t
knowshewaspregnant.Shewas
like,four monthsgoneorsomethinglikethat.Ican ’ t believethat.’
    Mustbetime to leave.Istartedpatting Jesus abit roughlyhoping
he’dgetthehint andjump down.He seemedtolikeit.
    ‘WhenIovulate,rightinthemiddleofmycycle,Iget seriouslyhornyandif Ihaven ’ tbeendrinking enough waterthenIgetwickedpainsintheguts.IreckonI’d kno wI wa s pregnan t th e mont h befor e i t actually happened!Can ’ tbelievethatpeoplecanbesoignorant
abouttheirbodies.’
    Iheardthetoilet flush.ThankGod.Istoodupand Jesu s obligingl y droppe d t o th e floo r . Ker r y started laughing.
    ‘ Y oumusthaveneededthe toilet pretty bad,huh
    W ayne?’
    Ilookedatmycrotchanditwascoveredwithcathair andwetspots.MyfacegothotandIleftbrushingthehair
andfishy-smellingspitoffmypants.Dumbcat.
    Dennisclosedthedoo r ,andputaCDon—TheFeral Pigs,titletrackfromtheir Nasty Pieceof W ork album.Slash metalissoothingtothesoulsometimes.
    ‘Ker r ysaidRebeccaHanson ’ shavingapartytonight.
HermumanddadhavegonetoBrisbane
orsomething.I thinkweshouldgo,’heshoutedoverthemusic.
    Den ’ snotexactlyapartyanimal.Rebecca ’ smateswith MandyandChe r ylandthatgroup.Shemightbethere.
MumwouldprobablyletmegoifKer r yandDenwere
going.Iaskedhimifhismumanddadknewaboutit.
    ‘ Y eah.Mum ’ sdrivingusandpickingusup.’
    Amazing.Wishmymumwasthatco-operative.Iknew
I’dhaveabitofbargainingtodoso ItoldDenI’dseehim
aroundeighto’clock.Henoddedandclosed thedoor behindmeasIleft.Ker r ystormedpastasIcamedownthe
hallandskiddedononeofthefloorrugs.Shethumped onDen ’ sdoo r .
    ‘Hey! T urnitdown,’shescreamed.
    Themusicfadedfromaroartoayell.Sheflaredher nostrils,smiledanddisappearedintoherroom.

 

     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Icleanedupmybedroom.Iknow thatsoundsstupidbut I haveplayedthisgamebefore.I askforsomethingand Mumsays‘goandcleanupyourroomwhileIthinkabout it’.Onestepaheadwhenshegetshome.Ifoundabout seventydirtysocks—thethingsbreedundermydesk.I havetoadmititfeltgoodwhenI’dfinished.Isatdownto ma r velathow