 |    |  |
keyword search:
 ~: FICTION / YOUNGER READERS :~  Something for Frankie by Tiggy Johnson 'Frankie said not to touch it.' I looked at Dani and took the liberty of poking my tongue out. She wasn't looking. The ciggie dangling from the corner of her mouth was almost completely ash and she stood, one hand on her hip, investigating fingernails on the other. Dani was a cow. I'd never liked her and wished Frankie had never let her move in. Her breath always stunk of smoke and I once asked him how he could kiss her at all let alone for as long as he did, with his mouth open and all. He hadn't heard. 'Get stuffed, bitch,' I wanted to say. Three months ago I'd called her a stupid tart and Frankie hit my arse till it hurt more than when I fell asleep outside on a thirty-six degree day for two hours last summer. He only stopped because Dani said she couldn't stand me crying like a baby anymore. I looked at the new bike, then back at Dani. She was watching again. I stretched out my hand, letting my forefinger run along the black leather seat. I stretched my lips in a pretend smile. Dani threw her cigarette butt to the ground and squished it with a red pointy toe like she wished it were my head. 'I'm outta here,' I said, turning toward the gate. 'He's gonna find out, you little dipshit.' 'Like I give a,' I whispered and raised my arm, half hoping she wouldn't see my middle finger greeting her. I'd be gone in two weeks and wished I was brave enough to tell them. But then I'd risk Frankie telling me to bugger off. 'Why wait,' he'd say. 'Just go now.' I imagined him blocking the doorway and turfing my stuff onto the lawn like in those US sitcoms. I dawdled round the streets, hands in my pockets, kicking stones along the footpath, thinking about things Frankie had done to me as a child. I was almost starting to see the funny side to some, like the time he'd made chicken patties for dinner, only after I'd finished he told me I'd just eaten crushed up grasshoppers and crickets. I ran to the bathroom, barely able to hold in the spew until I got there. Later I locked myself in my room, turning up Barnesy to drown out Frankie's laughter for three hours. That was before Dani. Dani didn't let him cook, she said the kitchen was her domain and he was only ever allowed in to wash up or to get another beer. I was allowed in whenever I wanted because she didn't cook for me, and then went off when I had baked beans on toast again. Since he couldn't cook up nasty surprises anymore, Frankie developed a knack to tempt me into touching his things. Especially the things he most wanted me to stay away from. Like his new Kawasaki. I didn't even care about motorbikes, but because he didn't want me to go near it, I couldn't stay away. That's probably why he took the Holden to work some days. So I'd touch the bike and he'd have an excuse to kick my arse. Other than his usual. 'You should know how it felt to be me after Mum died and Dad started on the plonk,' he'd say, then swipe his arm across my chest and lay an upper cut into my ribs. 'This one's a hand-me-down,' he said once. It was a week till me and Simmo were disappearing and I hadn't decided how to farewell Frankie. Simmo thought I should put something in his bed, like wasps or oil grease, or both. I imagined Frankie running round the house, grabbing his arse and screaming out threats I'd never hear. It was tempting, but it wasn't good enough, and how would I get the wasps in without getting stung myself? Simmo said he couldn't have all the answers and suggested I take the Playstation cable. I added it to my list and kept thinking. I wondered what I could do to his new bike. If I was brave enough. Something he wouldn't notice until I was halfway to Sydney. Neither me nor Simmo knew much about bikes, but I promised to piss in Dani's vodka. 'One more sleep,' I said, holding my beer up to Simmo. A few of the guys heard and they raised their stubbies, Dave calling out 'A toast,' before sculling his. Simmo's mum said we could have a few of the blokes around for our last night and she made plans to stay out. We stood around the telly, watching Essendon and Hawthorn fight it out, telling them how cool living in Sydney was going to be. 'You worked out your goodbye yet?' Simmo said grabbing another beer from the fridge. I lowered my voice, looked at the kitchen floor. 'Not yet.' 'Hey guys,' Simmo called, “What do you…?' 'Ssh,' I said, sticking an elbow into him. 'I don't want the whole town to know.' 'Don't worry,' he said. 'We'll be outta here this time tomorrow and as if they're gonna talk to Frankie.' Dave and two others were in the kitchen. 'What?' 'Johnno hasn't decided on a proper goodbye for his big brother,' said Simmo, then told them about the chicken patties. They laughed and offered to help me make some. 'Where are we gonna find cockroaches now?' I said, hoping they'd shut up. 'Dazza's on at KFC.' Dave nodded and reached for the phone. 'Let's find out if he's seen any.' I tried saying no, but they were giggling like schoolgirls and were ready to make patties with whatever they could find, and nobody heard me. I escaped to the loungeroom, hoping Dave wouldn't do anything drastic enough for Frankie to hunt me down. Sam followed me. 'Didn't Frankie buy a new bike?' 'Yeah.' 'I've got an idea,' he said. 'You wanna get him back for the chicken?' I shrugged, as if to say 'keep talking'. Sam knew about bikes and I listened, thinking his idea sounded better by the word. We opened Simmo's freezer, looking for chicken. We found porterhouse, chops, fish fingers, ice cream and finally, chicken fillets. I felt bad stealing Simmo's mum's food but Sam suggested we tell her we got hungry. I shrugged and reasoned; it's not like she hadn't invited me to stay for dinner a million times. We defrosted the chicken in the microwave and cut it into chunks, like I'd seen Dani do for a stir-fry. Then we rolled it in caster sugar. Lots of caster sugar. Simmo thought it was a good idea to make some real patties too in case anyone was home, we could use them as our excuse. None of us knew how to make chicken patties so we mashed canned beans with breadcrumbs and egg and rolled out balls the right size. At my place all the lights were off and I thought maybe Frankie and Dani were out. Frankie's Kawasaki sparkled on the lawn, reflecting rays from the streetlight, reminding me of a toothpaste ad. Sam whistled and we raised our eyebrows at each other, grinning. He had the chicken and I helped him unscrew the petrol cap before going inside to leave the patties. I was about finished and heading out when I heard Dani. She stood in the doorway and I wondered if she'd seen Sam. I jumped around to face her. 'What are you doing?' she said, hands on hips. I thought about what I wanted to say. 'Going out,' I said, looking down, hoping I didn't have to say anything else. Hoping I didn't look guilty. 'It's almost one,' she said. 'I thought you were a burglar.' 'Just me.' I shrugged, nervous. I hoped she wasn't about to get Frankie up. 'What's that?' She nodded toward the table. I almost laughed, thinking about what Simmo had said. The plan worked. Frankie wouldn't find out about the bike until the morning, or even Monday if I was lucky. But something stopped me following the plan and I blurted 'Something for Frankie.' Then, I knew I was in trouble. She'd know it was a trick. I'd never made anything for him before. Not even coffee. And now it was too late. Sam would have finished and would be waiting. There was no going back. I was sure I was shaking and moved one hand behind me, making sure Dani couldn't see the other, holding the door. Instead of saying anything, she stood still, eyes open wide like it was my turn to talk. I considered saying we had leftovers from a barbie and thought Frankie'd appreciate them. Instead I inched backwards and said, 'The guys are waiting.' I stepped outside, letting go of the flywire as I ran down the steps. I heard Dani mutter 'huh,' then the door banging against the frame and bouncing back. Then my own words as I called out 'tell him it's chicken.' |
|
| ||
|  Adventure Book Reviews Crime Drama Experimental Fantasy Horror Humour Modern Period Romance Sci-fi Scripts Thriller Younger Readers | |
| ||
 | ||
 | ||
| Tiggy Johnson | |
| ||
| Tiggy Johnson juggles study, young children and writing. Her words have appeared in Verandah, Tamba ...>> | |
| ||
| ||
| ||
| ||
| More Younger Readers: One Skull, Two Skull, Three by Steve Martin 'Are you game?' Sonicman asked. Spence shuffled his feet in the gravel. 'I guess, if we have to.'... >> First Kiss by Steve Martin Spence stood outside the skate rink in the strong afternoon sunshine, looping the loop and walking the dog Finally he slid his favourite yoyo into his shorts pocket, shivered as he brushed his mop of black hair out of his eyes and entered the dimly lit building. He had arrived just in time.... >> | |