Girl Next Door - Alyssa Brugman [42]
Mum squints at me through the smoke. 'Have an apple.'
'I already had an apple!'
'Have another one.'
I rock back on my seat. 'I can't believe you are starving us, and making us smoke cigarettes, and forcing us to live in this shoebox.'
'It's just for a little while,' she says, placing the dice in front of Will.
Will picks up the dice. Instead of rolling it, he says, 'Mum, why don't you go to Centrelink and get the dole?'
She looks startled and disgusted, as though Will just suggested that she might like a maggot sandwich.
It's like a little rainbow arching over my cloudy day. Why didn't I think of it before? It's designed for people like us, isn't it? Hardworking taxpayers down on their luck.
I've seen dole bludgers on telly. It must be enough to live on quite comfortably. Why would these people choose to live on it otherwise? I'm guessing it's enough for rent, food, and a little over to catch a movie. No popcorn, of course. We might even be able to afford Mum's new habit.
The lights go out. The fan blades slow down and then stop. Mum's cigarette end glows in the dark.
'The plug must have come out,' I say. The guy who showed us to our van plugged the power in before he unlocked the door. There might be a torch in one of the drawers, although it's pretty light outside. 'We can probably re-plug the socket without a torch,' I say.
And then the van rocks. The springs squeak. Collective sniggering.
'Mrs Melbourne,' whispers a voice. The window is open and the voice is right in my ear. It sends a violent shiver over me like a sharp poke in the side. I shoot out of my seat and bump into Mum. We hold each other's hands.
Outside, the light is behind them, so I can't see their faces, but there are four of them. It's the boys from the games room. I'm sure of it. The whisperer is clinging onto the side of the van like a monkey.
The van starts rocking rhythmically from side to side. The voice starts telling us what they are going to do to us. He's whispering it through the window. I haven't even heard of half the terms before, but I know I don't want them done to me. Most of it is directed at Mum.
They wouldn't be calling Mum 'Mrs Melbourne' unless those girls had told them that's where we're from. Why would they do that?
Our stuff pitches and rolls across the floor. I'm holding on to the foldaway table, and I feel sick. I'm scared too, because they're so brazen. If only I knew how far it was going to go. And for how long. Are they just going to rock the van for a while and leave, or will it be all night? What if this is their idea of foreplay?
I remember the way that boy looked at me – as though it had nothing to do with me. It was almost like he was looking through me. Adrenalin shoots through my body and makes me twitch and jitter. My eyes are adjusting and I can see Will's face clearly. He's frightened and angry. His Adam's apple is bobbing. I hope he's not going to do something stupid. Even while I'm thinking it I can see his brain working. He's imagining the squeaky wheel. He's remembering Dad saying that we should be proactive.
Mum must see it too, because she yells out, 'Willem, no!'
Will lets out a roar and makes a dash. He flings the door open and leaps out of the van. Mum is right behind him. She swipes at him and misses. She slams the door after him and leans against it with her shoulder.
Outside the window they fall upon Will with athletic grace.
I'm clawing at Mum, but she has her body pressed against the door. She's not letting me out. She's not letting them in. I can feel her body crumple up as she weeps.
'They're going to kill him,' I screech at her, and they are. Will is in a ball at their feet. He has his hands over his face. They are shadowy dancers on the lawn. Then they each grab a limb. They're carrying Will across the grass. He's wriggling and fighting to get free. They're laughing at him. It's a game. They're going to take him somewhere and beat him for fun. Will tears