Girl Next Door - Alyssa Brugman [41]
There's a group of guys already in there. They look about sixteen or seventeen. As soon as I see them I withdraw. Will and I stare at each other. He looks like a snooty private schoolboy with his square shoulders, grown-out salon haircut and first-rate orthodontic work. I guess I look like a snooty private schoolgirl, totally decked out in Sass & Bide and no make-up in an I-don't-need-your-approval way.
'Oi! What's your name?' one of the boys calls out.
I lean my head back in the door again. 'Jenna-Belle.'
'Come and sit on my face, Jenna-Belle.' Collective sniggering. The boy who spoke sits with his legs spread wide. He holds my gaze. I step back again, and I feel a shiver of unease. I've had boys say rude stuff to me lots of times, but there was something cold about the way he looked at me. He wasn't trying to impress me; he was playing up to his mates.
Will and I head on down the laneway. A group of girls sit on the railing. 'Just ignore them. They're dickheads,' the first one says.
'Okay.' Will smiles.
One of the girls is quite pretty – for a bogan trailer-park girl – although she slouches, which does nothing for her cleavage, and she's wearing rubber thongs that once had a cluster of beads around the toes, but now just have ugly, empty metal clasps. Her clothes are all pilled, because they're made from cheap material. The whole ensemble just screams, I buy my clothes at the supermarket!
At least they won't tease me for being 'vintage'.
'What are yous guys doing here?'
'We're on holidays. We live in Melbourne,' Will tells them.
'And you're staying here?' asks a red-haired girl.
'It looks better on the website, eh?' says the first girl.
'Yeah,' I say.
The red-haired girl looks offended.
'Actually, it's one of the nicer parks we've stayed in.' Will smiles again.
It's only the second park he's stayed in, after Wombat Crossing, where there were built-in goannas and you had to sleep about twenty metres away from a pit of poo. Unless in his definition of 'park' he counts the resort with the bungalows over the lagoon in Vanuatu – I expect that place tops the list.
Willem wants to stay and flirt with the girl, but I tug him by the sleeve. We have six weeks. We can make friends with them later.
As we walk away I hear one of the girls say, 'He's cute.'
'You reckon?' mumbles another. I'm guessing the redhead.
Back in our van I discover a snakes and ladders board. The three of us sit outside playing until it gets dark. Mum is still smoking, even though there's a sign. She turns on the little fan instead, making the passive smoking more efficient. This game is like our life, except our life-board is one big ladder at the beginning and then all snakes after that.
Somewhere in the park a couple start fighting. It's quiet at first and then gets louder, and soon they're both screaming swearwords at each other. Even though they're a long way away, all the muscles in my neck and shoulders are tense.
The man, I'm guessing, based on their exchange, storms out, slamming the van door behind him. She shouts after him. Glad that he's gone. Hoping he'll never come back. I hope so, too, but he does. The fight resumes. It goes on and on. I can feel the beginning of a headache pulsing in my temples.
We play again and again, and nobody says anything. We're listening to the fight. Eventually the man leaves. A car grunts into life and squeals away.
I've tried to look at the bright side, but this place really sucks. It's ugly, it smells bad. I don't like the people. They're like the characters in My Name is Earl, except not funny, or nice to each other.
'I don't like it here,' I say. 'I don't want to stay for six weeks.'
Mum lights another cigarette.
'Can you stop smoking? Please? You're giving me a headache. And can we get something else to eat? Like, order pizza or something?' I add. 'I'm starving.'
Mum ignores me. She rolls the dice, and counts out four spaces with her token.
'Who said anything about six weeks?' Will frowns.
'There's a phone