The Story of Tom Brennan Read Online Free Page A
Author: J.C. Burke
head in a fan then dipped it into a cement mixer. When she got in the car she stank. There was so much gunk in her hair, I thought I was going to suffocate with the fumes. For a joke I started doing choking noises, and did I cop an earful.
It started with just a 'Piss off, Tom,' which wasn't enough to stop me. It grew to a 'Tommm,' through clenched teeth, 'I said – pissss offfff.'
Kylie had a habit of clenching her teeth when she was mad. It cracked Daniel and me up. We called it her 'need to do a crap' face. So naturally I had to get my money's worth out of that. Then I went back to the coughing and choking, louder this time, holding onto my neck, making my face go purple. It was the most fun I'd had in ages. But then I got the serve, got the 'Fuck off, you dickhead! I hate you! I hate you, I hate all of you.'
Dad kept driving. He wasn't one to lose it, but he had a thing about swearing, especially girls. Daniel's girlfriend, the one before Claire, was prone to a bit of a rough mouth. It really got up Dad's nose, which was another reason Dad adored Claire so much. She never swore. According to the old man, her breeding was too good for that.
Kylie must have been thinking the same. 'Sorry, Dad,' she said.
'It's not nice hearing you speak like that, Kylie.'
'I said I was sorry.'
And that's when Dad pulled up at the side entrance to our new school: St Benedict's Catholic College, Coghill. Like I said, he read that well ahead. No grand entrances for the Brennans. Slip in the back door unnoticed was the name of the game these days.
'Kylie, and you too, Tom,' he began. 'I know this is hard for you guys, it's hard for everyone. Look at your grandmother, she's seventy-eight and had to make room for four more people in her home. But this is the way it is, and as a family we have to stick together.'
Dad was looking at Kylie. Kylie was picking her nails.
'This is the challenge God has given us.'
'God?' Kylie mocked. 'God? You're already sounding like Gran. Get over it, Dad.'
She struggled out of the car, pulled her uniform down and tried to run her fingers through her hair. Then she walked off without a goodbye. She didn't even look back. That was the thing about my sister, she'd become tough. It was like I hardly knew her anymore.
Dad opened his mouth, then closed it.
'Bye,' I said.
'Well, good luck, son,' he answered. 'Check on your sister at lunch, will you?'
I looked back before going through the gate, instantly wishing I hadn't. Dad was leant over the steering wheel, his head in his hands.
St Benedict's, or Bennie's as those in the know called it, didn't look that different to St John's, except twice the number of buildings and a lot more grass. It was built in the same grey besser block with verandahs running across the second level. There was a lot of concrete, rows of silver benches pasted in bird's shit and fat kids hanging outside the canteen eating finger buns with pink icing.
I followed the signs to the office; no way was I going to ask for directions. Kylie was already there, finding out what classroom to go to. She ignored me as she picked up her bag, which was right next to my foot, and she ignored me as she threw it over her shoulder, just about knocking me out.
As she strode out the office doors I noticed her bag had hitched her uniform up, revealing blue and red undies fighting the beginnings of a wedgie. It was not the best way to start a new school.
'Kylie,' I whispered. 'Kylie. Oi.'
She kept walking. I followed.
'Kylie,' I said a bit louder. 'Kyles. Your, your undies are . . .'
She spun around and I prepared myself. But she was crying, or maybe it's that she was trying not to. She yanked her uniform down.
'Kyles . . . you okay?'
For a second she pressed her lips together. 'I have to go,' she said quickly.
I understood where she was coming from. It's like, don't ask me now. Don't ask me to let go of my breath because I don't have the energy to clean up the mess. It's just easier to keep
It started with just a 'Piss off, Tom,' which wasn't enough to stop me. It grew to a 'Tommm,' through clenched teeth, 'I said – pissss offfff.'
Kylie had a habit of clenching her teeth when she was mad. It cracked Daniel and me up. We called it her 'need to do a crap' face. So naturally I had to get my money's worth out of that. Then I went back to the coughing and choking, louder this time, holding onto my neck, making my face go purple. It was the most fun I'd had in ages. But then I got the serve, got the 'Fuck off, you dickhead! I hate you! I hate you, I hate all of you.'
Dad kept driving. He wasn't one to lose it, but he had a thing about swearing, especially girls. Daniel's girlfriend, the one before Claire, was prone to a bit of a rough mouth. It really got up Dad's nose, which was another reason Dad adored Claire so much. She never swore. According to the old man, her breeding was too good for that.
Kylie must have been thinking the same. 'Sorry, Dad,' she said.
'It's not nice hearing you speak like that, Kylie.'
'I said I was sorry.'
And that's when Dad pulled up at the side entrance to our new school: St Benedict's Catholic College, Coghill. Like I said, he read that well ahead. No grand entrances for the Brennans. Slip in the back door unnoticed was the name of the game these days.
'Kylie, and you too, Tom,' he began. 'I know this is hard for you guys, it's hard for everyone. Look at your grandmother, she's seventy-eight and had to make room for four more people in her home. But this is the way it is, and as a family we have to stick together.'
Dad was looking at Kylie. Kylie was picking her nails.
'This is the challenge God has given us.'
'God?' Kylie mocked. 'God? You're already sounding like Gran. Get over it, Dad.'
She struggled out of the car, pulled her uniform down and tried to run her fingers through her hair. Then she walked off without a goodbye. She didn't even look back. That was the thing about my sister, she'd become tough. It was like I hardly knew her anymore.
Dad opened his mouth, then closed it.
'Bye,' I said.
'Well, good luck, son,' he answered. 'Check on your sister at lunch, will you?'
I looked back before going through the gate, instantly wishing I hadn't. Dad was leant over the steering wheel, his head in his hands.
St Benedict's, or Bennie's as those in the know called it, didn't look that different to St John's, except twice the number of buildings and a lot more grass. It was built in the same grey besser block with verandahs running across the second level. There was a lot of concrete, rows of silver benches pasted in bird's shit and fat kids hanging outside the canteen eating finger buns with pink icing.
I followed the signs to the office; no way was I going to ask for directions. Kylie was already there, finding out what classroom to go to. She ignored me as she picked up her bag, which was right next to my foot, and she ignored me as she threw it over her shoulder, just about knocking me out.
As she strode out the office doors I noticed her bag had hitched her uniform up, revealing blue and red undies fighting the beginnings of a wedgie. It was not the best way to start a new school.
'Kylie,' I whispered. 'Kylie. Oi.'
She kept walking. I followed.
'Kylie,' I said a bit louder. 'Kyles. Your, your undies are . . .'
She spun around and I prepared myself. But she was crying, or maybe it's that she was trying not to. She yanked her uniform down.
'Kyles . . . you okay?'
For a second she pressed her lips together. 'I have to go,' she said quickly.
I understood where she was coming from. It's like, don't ask me now. Don't ask me to let go of my breath because I don't have the energy to clean up the mess. It's just easier to keep
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