CHAPTER 10 #2
I stand and give Jessie a quick, hard hug then give the same to Remi. ‘I’m so sorry, Rem. I’ll text you. We need to catch up properly.’
My best friend waves me off with a knowing smile. ‘Hustlers gonna hustle,’ she calls as I clamp my phone back on my ear and quickly dart to the counter.
Using some exaggerated makeshift sign language, I manage to buy a jam bun from the disgruntled cafe attendant as I try to calm a panicky Boss.
‘Yes, they’re only getting four hundred thousand dollars … No, I think that’s a perfectly reasonable amount for a beachside suburb … Yes, it’s a multipurpose gym … Yes, futsal is a real sport … No, it’s not in the Olympics … Yes, Europeans might get offended if you call it indoor soccer.’
I wave goodbye to the girls as I walk down to the school, counselling Boss about the morning’s plans as I go.
By the time I walk through the school gates, he sounds much less agitated.
He even cracks a joke about the polls being as useful as actual poles (of the fence variety).
I manage to curb the urge to facepalm and smile instead—not because it’s a good joke but because if Boss is happy, I can be happy.
I nibble on my jam bun as I scan the school’s cobbled entrance, assessing the best location for the lectern.
Lilac Beach Public is one of those schools where Lamborghini SUVs are often spotted in the parents’ car park.
The quadrangle is dotted with hundred-year-old Moreton Bay fig trees that are surrounded by custom-made bench seats.
The original schoolhouse is picturesque sandstone, and rumour has it the annual Trash ’n’ Treasure stall at the school fete is a thrifter’s paradise (lots of vintage YSL).
I’m wondering which manicured grassy area will give us the best lighting when I spot a hulking figure crossing the road.
Thankfully, this time it’s fully clothed.
‘Millsy.’ It waves.
‘Archibald,’ I reply in my fake-sweet voice.
‘You’ve got wet hair,’ comments Archie.
‘That’s because I wash.’ I hope he realises this is an indirect attack on his hygiene levels, which admittedly seem pretty normal, but years of sibling mockery have taught me that bodily cleanliness is prime ground for a cheap insult.
‘I went for a swim,’ Archie says.
I purse my lips. ‘Congratulations.’
‘Brekkie?’ he asks, pointing at my paper bag.
‘You want some?’ I ask, proffering it to him.
He peers inside. ‘Are you hoping I’ll spill the jam on my shirt?’
I stay silent. I’m not comfortable with telling straight-out lies, and the truth is, yes, now that he’s mentioned it, I’d love it if he dripped raspberry sludge all over his chest.
When he doesn’t take the bun, I shrug and slip the paper bag into my handbag.
Overhead there are hordes of bats screeching around, which is really dampening the beachside vibe I was hoping for. I really don’t want them to shit on Boss during the press conference.
‘You’re early,’ I remark to Archie, slightly annoyed by the fact he’s already here and therefore getting in the way of my bat-removal quest.
‘You’re early,’ he replies.
‘I’m working.’
‘I’m working.’
‘Millsy is a legend,’ I say.
Archie raises his eyebrow. Oh okay, whoops, he was not doing the copying game. My bad.
‘I thought you were copying me,’ I explain in a rush. ‘I thought I’d say “Millsy is a legend” so you had to say it too.’
Archie raises his other eyebrow.
‘You know that game,’ I insist. ‘Like if you said “Archie is a sick bro” and I was copying you, I’d have to say “Archie is a sick bro” too.’
‘Who actually says “sick bro”?’
‘I think sick bros say “sick bro” … don’t they?’
Archie tries to hide his smile by turning his face up to gaze at the bats.
I look up too and wonder whether the school has some kind of ceremonial rifle I could fire to quickly scare the bats away.
Some private schools still have shooting clubs, don’t they?
I know Lilac Beach Public technically isn’t a private school, but that’s just in name.
I’m pretty sure some of the P&F members have been knighted. I think another one owns eBay.
‘How could we get rid of them?’ I ponder out loud. ‘Do you reckon there’s a rifle here we could use?’
‘We?’
‘I’m glad you found the “we” part of that sentence weirder than the rifle part.’
‘No, that sounded batshit crazy too. That was implicit in my tone. I’m just confused about why you think I’d get involved in any scheme to source a gun at a primary school.’
‘I wasn’t suggesting anything illegal,’ I snap. ‘I meant like one of those old-fashioned musket things that fires blanks. Something that makes a big pop sound.’
‘A big pop sound?’
‘Stop copying my words to make them sound stupid. We can’t all be clever enough to have a “batshit crazy” pun on the tip of our tongues.’
Archie smiles and shrugs. ‘I’m gifted.’
Regrettably, it’s the truth.
‘Anyway,’ I press on, ‘I don’t actually want to use a firearm at a primary school. It was a fleeting thought that I accidentally verbalised. And I still maintain that a loud bang would probably get rid of them. That was what I was trying to communicate. I was clumsy on the delivery.’
(This is embarrassing to admit. I am supposed to be an expert in communications. I’m certainly supposed to be better than Archie. I’ll just keep talking. That will help.)
‘Do you have a spud gun handy? And a potato?’
Archie snorts.
‘Or we could blow up this paper bag and pop it?’ I suggest, prising it out from my handbag. ‘Like kids used to do in primary school?’
The corners of Archie’s mouth properly curve now. ‘We could give it a go.’
I pull out the jam bun and wrap it in a serviette.
‘Do you want to blow it up?’ I ask. I can imagine stuffing this up, which would be both humiliating and frustrating, especially if it meant the bats continued to fly around shrieking like the Real Housewives of Sydney.
I pass the bag to Archie and he puts the paper to his lips and starts to blow. It’s one of those extra-large, waxy bags, but it becomes a taut balloon in a couple of puffs. He twists the end to seal it. ‘Ready?’ he asks.
‘Go for it.’
He pulls his hand back and I stick my fingers in my ears as he flexes his palm and slams it against the paper bag.
I reflexively close my eyes on the impact and then open them in disbelief.
Archie blinks too.
‘That sounded like a fart.’
‘I know,’ Archie says sheepishly.
‘That was useless!’ I giggle, shaking my head.
‘It was a terrible idea in the first place.’
‘It had potential,’ I insist.
Archie shakes his head too, his face breaking into a reluctant smile as something bigger than a paper-bag balloon swells in my chest. This is why I love my job: problem-solving, banter, the random shit we do for the greater good. I am keeping my enemy close! We will win this election!
Up in the sky the bats are still circling, chattering to each other in vampirical glee. Archie gazes up at them too, and for a moment, we are both hypnotised by the scene above us. When I look down, his eyes are already on me.
‘So about the Nancy story …’ he begins.
‘Barely made the Sunday paper. I hope you noticed how I nailed the damage control.’
‘It’s more about—’
I hold up my hand. ‘Honestly, Archie, don’t worry.’
He’s a career guy, I’m a career gal, and we’re in careers for opposing teams. Politicians distrust the media, and vice versa. I already know that. It’s not worth discussing and it’s definitely not worth a fake apology.
‘What do you reckon about this?’ I ask, gesturing to the building site on my left, where a giant steel skeleton looms over us.
The finished gym, funded by the infrastructure grant, will have views right over Lilac Beach.
Property developers would pay millions for that view.
Meanwhile, Boss is gifting it to the next generation.
Archie rolls his eyes. ‘Same shit, different day. You’d reckon the rich kids would get sick of all these handouts.’
‘It’s a public school.’
‘From a catchment area where the median household income is over four times the national average. Have you seen the car park here at pick-up time? There are more luxury SUVs than students. Speaking of …’ he mutters.
I see his gaze fall on the giant Audi with tinted windows that has double-parked in front of the school entrance.
I raise my hand in a wave as Boss steps onto the footpath. He nods in greeting. I can see the Channel 4 guys lugging their gear down the hill too.
I check my watch. We’re almost ready to kick off. The bats are still squawking in spirals above us but now that I think about it, we don’t need this school to look too perfect. In fact, a bit of guano will bring some much-needed grit to the story.