Girl Next Door - Alyssa Brugman [62]
'All the best?' I wrinkle my nose.
'What would you have me say, Jenna-Belle?' She smiles at me. She's twisting her wedding ring, except she's transferred it to her right hand. Her engagement ring isn't there. She's sold it.
My mum's sneakers were always white. Her laces were always tied. She put on make-up every morning before breakfast. She wore mascara and powdered her nose even on a Sunday when she wasn't going anywhere – when she would recline on the lounge in her ironed tracksuit flicking through Country Style magazine with her manicured fingers. She always looked like a woman with a plan. That's what I want to ask her: What's the plan, Mum?
So far we've followed Bryce Cole's plan, but it's not a very good plan. In fact, it's not much of a plan at all. We just joined his crazy conga line as he crashed from one crisis to the next, but at least we were moving.
Mum has no plan. She just has a crumpled blouse, little spiky bits of hair that stick up because there's no product in it, and an orangey-coloured lipstick that she bought on sale once, but never wears because the colour doesn't suit her. She's not wearing J'adore, she's wearing Just-Like-J'adore.
I'm starting to panic, because we have no money and no plan.
Mum's still waiting for me to answer her. I want her to stop being so polite. I want her to say, Actually, Bryce Cole, you can kiss my butt! And you too, Mister Centrelink! And then pull some freaky kung-fu moves. Hai-ya! That's what I want to see. Some double-you-oh-em-ay-en.
Instead I have the cloying smell of Just-Like-J'adore in my nose and it's making me feel ill.
'I just think you could have . . .'
'Could have what, Jenna-Belle?' she hisses. 'Lost my temper? Sworn at him? How would that have helped? Where have you seen that work?'
She's staring at me. She's so still.
All she has is us. Will and I are her Albert Bear, so I bite my lip and blink away the tears that have sprung into my eyes.
26
JOKE
JEOPARDY
When the club closes we find ourselves on the footpath of a main street lined with closed shops. We walk past a saddlery and a shop that advertises 'Bait and Ammo'. We must be way, way west. Perhaps Wyoming . . . in 1868.
There are some kids on the other side of the street. They have a wheelbarrow, and are taking it in turns to pitch each other out of it. The three of us bunch up together and walk faster. Around the corner is a KFC. We walk towards the light, but it's closed too.
We walk past a knick-knack shop. There's a pile of dirt and wilting potted flowers strewn on the ground out the front, which explains the wheelbarrow.
Up ahead there's a bus shelter. Inside, I lean my head against the poster, crossing my arms over my chest against the cold.
Willem walks backwards into the empty street. He's watching for a bus.
'Where will we . . .?' I start.
'Into the city,' Mum interrupts. 'There'll be more places open there.'
I take out Declan's phone and stare at it. 'There must be someone we can ring. What about those friends of yours who lived in Paddington? The Fredricks? Was that their name? Or the Perrys in Balmain.'
'I called everyone there was to call long, long before this,' Mum says quietly.
I close my eyes, trying not to shiver. My toes are going to sleep, so I stomp my feet. What is it about forever and buses?
'Let's play Joke Jeopardy,' I suggest. 'I'll start. The punch line is "a carrot".'
'What's orange and sounds like a parrot?' Will guesses. We've played that one before. 'Okay, "To get to the other slide".'
'Why did the chicken cross the . . . playground?' I ask.
'That's an easy one.' Will grins. 'I know! "Because they'd be bagels".'
I'm thinking. Something to do with dogs? I hear an engine and open my eyes, but it's just a truck. 'I give in.'
'Why don't seagulls go to the bay?' He laughs.
'That's dumb,' I say, yawning. 'All right . . .'
'"Burple!"' Will interrupts. He bounces up and down on the spot, probably to keep warm, but also because he's really getting into it.
'I don't know – what colour