Wrath. Part 7

"That's true, but there are some boys who are able to stay on here after they are 18 and serve out their sentences here rather than go to an adult facility."

"But where are they?"

"They live within the grounds here in a special self-care cottage where they look after themselves, and they're there because they have shown they have a strong desire to be rehabilitated. You don't see them much because they cook for themselves and they tend to be focused on their education, such as getting accepted into an apprentices.h.i.+p course or university when they leave here as well as general life skills. Mind you," Mr Khan adds, leaning forward, "every one of them has worked with his counsellor to understand the reasons for the behaviour that got him in here in the first place. The development that has occurred, both social and psychological, in each of them has convinced everyone concerned that they are determined to improve their lives and not get stuck in the revolving door syndrome."

I frown a little, and he continues. "The revolving door syndrome is where boys keep coming back in here, time after time. The worst thing is once they're 18, it's prison, and many of them end up spending most of their lives there. The thing is, Luca, they don't only cause misery for themselves but they spread it like a disease wherever they go. That's why it's so important to nip things in the bud here, and being able to talk with a trained person to understand what you've done is such a key part of getting past it and not slipping back into repeating the offence, whatever it's been.

"But look, today you're here for us to find a way you can have the best opportunity to get an education here. I suggest, if you are truly keen to put in the work, that you go across to the cottage to join the boys doing their TEE. I've already asked them if they're agreeable to that, and they are. So what I think is best is each day you can go there instead of Mrs s.h.i.+el's cla.s.s. You'll come back here for lunch, and then instead of doing trades in the afternoon, you can go back and continue or study on your own."

He must see my face fall a little. I love trades.

"Perhaps you can join the trades cla.s.s once a week if you can cope with the work. That's up to you. There's a teacher who comes in for a few hours each day to help, but the courses you'll do are mostly online, so you'll work to some degree on your own. How does that sound?"

"It sounds great," I mumble. Inside, I'm feeling a bit nervous. What if I can't keep up? What if, after all this trouble people had gone through for me, I fail?

"Apart from that, everything else will be the same. You'll still come back here in the afternoon, you'll still have your duties and so on."

"Is this all conditional on me seeing a psych?"

Mr Khan laughs shortly. "No, but I would like you to tell me the reason you're so against it. You're clearly an intelligent boy."

There is a knock on the door, and a worker from the kitchen brings in a cup of tea and a couple of biscuits on a small tray. "Thanks, George." Mr Khan and the worker chat for a moment, and it gives me a bit of time to think. One part of my mind is saying, Keep your mouth shut and say nothing. It's none of his business, and the other part is saying , He's gone out of his way for you; you owe him something.

After the door closes and Mr Khan finishes a biscuit and sips his tea a few times, he puts down his cup and waits.

"Well," I start haltingly, "the truth is that there are a few reasons why I don't want to see a counsellor or case worker or whatever. Firstly, I'm not going to be a repeat offender." I glance at him and add drily, "After all, I'm not going to kill my mother and step-father again, am I?"

"No, of course not," he concedes, "but the fact that you were so out of control that you killed two people could indicate that this is the way you will deal with things in the future. Something upsets you, so you lash out and people get hurt."

I s.h.i.+ft uncomfortably in my chair. "That's reasonable, but the thing is that I was never really violent before. It's not like I spent my time pulling wings off flies or getting into fights at school or even bullying anyone." I pause, the old familiar panic coursing through my body. "And then there's the fact that I was high. It's no excuse," I add quickly, "but you could say I wasn't completely in charge of myself." I am silent for a while. "You probably hear this all the time, but I know that whatever happens to me in the future, drugs won't be part of it."

He nods approvingly. "I believe you."

"Another reason-one I mentioned to you before-is that nothing anyone can say, no matter what a hot-shot psych they are, can change what's happened. No one can undo it, and there's nothing that can be said that will make me feel any different. It's like my friend from primary school who lost an eye. He's got a false eye, and it looks a lot better than a gaping hole, but it doesn't change the fact that it's fake and he's still as blind as ever. No matter what's said or what excuses are cooked up, the fact remains that two people are dead, it's my fault, and it's never going to go away." I'm panting slightly after all this talk, but there is still one more thing I have to say. "There's the last reason, the most important one as well: there's another person involved."

"What do you mean?" Mr Khan shoots back. "Someone else was involved in the deaths?" He leans forward in his seat.

"No, not like you mean. It's just that if I told the entire story of what happened that night, someone else would get hurt badly."

"I don't understand. If someone else can explain what led up to the attack, don't you realise it could shorten your sentence? The judge only stipulated an indefinite term because you were so unresponsive and you seemed to show no remorse, no explanation for your actions."

"It doesn't matter," I cut in. "It's more important that nothing is said, now or ever. It can only cause more harm, and believe me, it doesn't change anything. I still killed them both."

Mr Khan slumps back in his chair and looks down his long, fleshy nose at me. "You're a strange boy, Luca. I can only imagine you did what you did in retaliation over something, a payback of some sort."

I feel my face harden. "Don't try to work this out, Mr Khan. I'm not a jigsaw puzzle you need to fit together."

He rubs his hand across his forehead, ma.s.saging above his eyes. "You're quite right. Let's get back to what I can help you with. You'll need to sit down and go through the subjects you can take." A wry smile lights up his face. "If you do well in the exams, you'll still have another year here before you turn 18. You could begin a university course online."

"I don't think that far ahead," I say wryly. "There was no date set for my release, so as far as I'm concerned, I can't make plans for a future that may not happen. My future is probably adult prison. I'm not living a fantasy here. I just want to get through my time, whatever it ends up being, one day at a time."

We sit there for a while, saying nothing, but it isn't an uncomfortable feeling. I can see a photo on the side of the desk. Mr Khan is standing next to a tall, slightly stooped guy of about 23 or 24, who is dressed in the cape and mortar board-I think they call it-of someone who just graduated. A small, round woman wrapped in a red and gold sari, her smooth black hair pulled back from her face, stands on the other side of him, one plump arm encircled with rows of gold bracelets resting lightly on the young man's-her son's-arm. Something convulses through my body, and I want to be out of there, now.

"Shall I get back to cla.s.s now, sir?"

Mr Khan starts slightly. "Yes, of course. On Monday, you can meet with your teacher, and he can discuss your options with you and set up a schedule of study." He stands up and reaches across the desk, his hand outstretched. "You've done well so far. Keep it up."

I take his warm, dry hand and shake it firmly, the way Dad taught me. He opens the door for me, and I leave. The siren goes as I walk back down the corridor. I wait for all the boys to file out and then catch Mrs s.h.i.+els' eye.

"All sorted?" she calls, bustling around the room, picking up papers and books.

"Yes. Thanks for your help." I would like to say more, but the guard motions for me to go for lunch, and the opportunity is lost.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN.

There are other things to think about besides school. I'm getting better at football, and even though I sit on the bench a fair bit of the time, when Mr Robinson gives me the nod and I'm out there, it feels pretty d.a.m.ned good. I've put on a bit of weight, and now when someone runs into me on the field or I'm caught up in the pack, I don't get flattened the way I used to. Archie had been right. All that running comes in handy. I don't have the best kick in the world, but I can run and keep running. A lot of the guys don't do much exercise apart from the Sat.u.r.day games; I'm in the gym with Archie every day.

The Sat.u.r.day after I'd spoken to Mr Khan, Mr Robinson calls us over at the end of the game and we plonk down on the gra.s.s, glad to be resting. He stands there, his ruddy face serious as he raises a hand. There's silence, and then he grins.

"Good news, boys. The Kwinana under-18s are coming here for a match in two weeks. Think we've got a chance?"

"They any good?" Aaron drawls lazily, his long, golden body sprawling on the gra.s.s.

"Not too bad at all. They've beaten some good Fremantle teams this season."

Archie nudges me and murmurs, "That means they're pretty good. Nearly all of the best league players come out of Fremantle."

Some of the places I hear of down in Perth are just words to me, but I remember Fremantle. Dad had relatives down there, and we'd stayed with them for a week on holiday once. I'd only been about five or six, but lots of that time was stuck in my brain. We'd gone out in someone's fis.h.i.+ng boat, had fish and chips on the beach and wandered around the place a lot. It was full of little shops and laneways and cafes. Dad said it was much better than Perth itself because it had a European flavour. I didn't really know what that meant. I thought it meant the food was different. The streets were full of people having coffee, sitting in the suns.h.i.+ne and just having a good time, it seemed to me.

There were lots of Italians, and I remember how happy Dad had been talking with his friends and family. It had felt funny to see that he belonged to someone other than us, but those people were so friendly. I'd never been hugged and kissed or chucked around and swung up on shoulders so much. If ever I get out of here, I'll go there again.

I turn back to Mr Robinson's voice. "So, boys, the only way we'll beat them is to go out there and play as a team. I know you tend to rely on Archie." He pauses as kids reach across and pat Archie's back and laugh at his obvious embarra.s.sment, and then he goes on, "but we can't go out there as a one-man wonder. We're a team, and everyone has a part to play.

"Now this Kwinana team will have strategies they use every week so that every player knows exactly what to do. No random kicks hoping they'll lob somewhere in the right direction, but planned moves. Good footballers use their brains, not just their bodies. I'm going to be here every afternoon for the next two weeks, and Mr Khan has given permission for you boys to train instead of going to afternoon lockdown after trades."

We whoop with joy. Every day! Outside, running around instead of stuck in our cells. I wonder how they'd managed to get enough staff to be on during all those training afternoons. Maybe they want us to win the game as much as we do.

We all jog back to the gym, and a couple of guards are jogging with us. There is a new guy I haven't seen before. He's bigger than most of the other guards-not taller, but it's easy to see that he works out. His head is shaved, and I can't see his eyes because he's wearing sungla.s.ses, but his jaw juts out, square and aggro-looking.

Archie flicks a look at him too. "Steroids."

"How do you know?"

"Look at that jaw. I dunno; they just get a look." The guard turns as we watch him, and he pushes aside a couple of boys at the back of the pack, moving through to where Aaron is. He stops and says something to Aaron, his big beefy hand resting on Aaron's back.

Archie frowns. "Bit too friendly." We push through into the gym and lose sight of Aaron, and in the rush of showers and changing, I forget all about the guard.

Everyone is pretty pumped up that day, full of talk about the game coming up. We cl.u.s.ter in the rec room, and the guards wander past, checking us out casually through the observation windows every now and then. I catch a glimpse of that guard again, just standing there, looking at us.

"Think I'll give the gym a miss today," says Archie. "I'm stuffed."

"Same here." I'm fine, but I feel like company. Dangerous. "Arch," I say, before my brain can stop my mouth, "where you from?"

Archie glances at me from those deep-set eyes. "Up around Carnarvon way."

"What's it like there? I've never been further north than Northampton."

Archie stretches out in a corner on an old beanbag and closes his eyes. "Beautiful. Black-fella country. The dirt's red, the sky's always blue, it's always warm, but there's plenty of rain when you need it. Not too many buildings."

"Your family still up there?" I hold my breath after I speak. s.h.i.+t, what if he asks me about mine?

"Yeah. Most of 'em. Some have drifted down to Perth, but I've got plenty of cousins, aunties and uncles up around there. Much better place to live than down in Perth." He pauses and chews on his thumbnail for a minute.

"So you've got brothers and sisters?" Better to get this away from parents. His face brightens, and he nods vigorously.

"Eight of 'em!"

"b.l.o.o.d.y h.e.l.l!" I laugh.

"I'm an uncle already. My sister Charlene has two little boys, and my oldest brother, Raymond, has a daughter. He lives up in Broome. I wouldn't mind going up there one day."

"Nine kids is a lot of work for one woman."

"Yeah, I guess so. I think Mum wanted to have a big family to make up for what happened to her mum."

"What do you mean?" I ask.

"They never talk about it, but my cousin Bella told me that our grandmother Rosie was a half-caste. That's what they used to call Aboriginal people who had one white parent. It was easy to see, even when she was old. Her skin was a kind of patchy light brown, and her eyes were... what's that colour called that's not brown, not green, not blue?"

"Hazel."

"That's it."

"Who was her father?"

"Christ knows. Some white p.r.i.c.k." He flashes a quick look at me, grinning a little apologetically. "Sorry."

"Don't be. A p.r.i.c.k's a p.r.i.c.k whatever colour he comes in."

Archie nods. "Back then, they took what they liked. The thing is it ended up being a curse for her."

"What, the people in her family didn't like it that she had white blood?"

"No, that wasn't it. She was just a kid, and her mum had other kids; no one made any difference at all between them. Her stepfather loved her, and she was the oldest, so she helped her mum with the others. When she was about seven or eight, some government people visited the camp and looked at all the kids. No one took much notice. They thought it must be some sort of health check, but the government people picked up four kids and put them in the back of the truck. Rosie was one of them.

"It was awful," Bella told me. They were all screaming, and Rosie's stepfather ran over and grabbed one of the men. The others knocked him to the ground and kicked him. All the women ran after the truck as it left. Rosie's mum got her hand through the rails of the truck, but she fell as it sped up. The last she saw of her mum she was kneeling in the road, blood running down her face.'"

"Jesus," I say, quietly. "Why'd they kidnap them?"

"They'd taken all the kids who looked a bit white. It's what they did then. They'd take them away from their families, give them a white name and put them in schools run by the church. G.o.d knows what my grandmother's real name was."

"What happened to her then?"

"Well, she had to stay in there with other girls until she was 14. She learned to read and write a bit but mostly how to clean and cook. Bella said that my grandmother hated the nuns, but she grew to love Jesus even though she couldn't work out why He was so kind but these women, who said they were doing His work, were so mean. Anyway, she used to ask every new kid who came there if they knew her family, but no one ever did.

"When she got to 14, she was handed over to a family on a station. The wife treated her all right, and my grandmother cleaned the house and looked after the kids. The husband was away a lot, fencing. Anyway, to cut a long story short, he started coming to the little shed she slept in. She was too scared to say anything to the wife. It was too shameful to her, but it wasn't long before the woman noticed her belly getting bigger. She'd screamed at her and called her a s.l.u.t, and a day or two later, the man had driven her back to the convent.

"They took her back, but no one spoke to her except to say she was a sinner. All she could think of was that as soon as the baby was born, she'd just leave and the two of them would keep walking till she got back home. She made little clothes for it, but as soon as it was born-and I say it' because the nurse threw a cloth over her face so she couldn't see whether it was a girl or boy-they took it away. As much as my grandmother cried and pleaded with them, she never saw her baby, that day or ever."

Archie shakes his head slowly. "b.a.s.t.a.r.ds. As soon as my grandmother was strong enough, she climbed out a window and just kept walking. She knew to go north, and eventually she landed in Carnarvon. She wandered around, looking for her people, but they were all gone. The town had spread, and there was a banana plantation where the camp used to be. Somebody told her that her mother had died.

"She never found any of her family again. There were different mobs further inland, and she lived with one of them and eventually had Mum and four other kids. Bella said she still cried over her first one, though, right up until she died.

"Mum's done her best with us, but it hasn't been easy. I just want to get out of here, go home and look after her proper. Maybe get a job around home or go up North for a while and make some money." Archie stops talking for a while, and then he turns to me, his eyes very dark. "I've gotta get out of here, Luca. It's driving me mad. I know I haven't got long to go, but being inside like this is killing me. I'm used to sleeping outside. Even though Mum's got an old house on the edge of Carnarvon, we nearly all sleep outside. I feel like I can't breathe properly when I'm stuck in that cell. I just need to keep my nose clean, keep away from trouble, keep my head down. One thing wrong, and I won't get out. One of my cousins kept coming in here and getting into trouble with the guards, and he ended up going to big prison when he turned 18. He couldn't stand it either."

"Is he out now?"

He laughs bitterly. "You could say that. He hanged himself the second week he got there."

We sit there for a while. What can I say after that?

"What are you two k.n.o.bs looking so sad for?" It's Aaron, bouncing around from side to side in front of us. He looks hyped up, a big grin on his face, bobbing around like a boxer.

"We're sad 'cause you're here, d.i.c.khead," Archie laughs.

"No you're not. You won't be sad in a minute, anyway." Aaron glances at me, his eyes grave for a moment. "Something to tell you, Arch," he says quietly, his hand across his mouth, pretending to wipe it.

I get up. "Think I'll go and see if the canteen's still open."

Archie's hand shoots out and grips my arm. "You don't have to go." He turns to Aaron. "He's okay. You can talk in front of him."

Aaron nods and shrugs slightly apologetically. "Just keep your mouth shut, Luca."

They both laugh, and I look at them, puzzled. Archie punches my shoulder lightly. "You hardly ever open it! You're the quietest dude in here."

"Anyway," Aaron goes on, "that new guard has been talking to me a bit, and he says he can get some sweet stuff for me, bring it in."

Archie shakes his head. "Don't tell me about no drugs. I don't want to know."

"What about you, Luca? You must have a fair bit stashed in your account. You never seem to buy much like the other guys. How about something to make the time pa.s.s?"