Read Online Another Night in Mullet Town by Steven Herrick - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Steven Herrick
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chicken,â I reply.
Ella shakes her head
and I notice a small piece of bark
lodged in her ponytail.
I gently pull it through the strands of her hair.
I flick the bark away
and, for a long time,
Ella and I are both too nervous
to look at each other
or say a single word.
The sex life of caterpillars
The bell sounds
for the end of the best lunchtime
Iâve ever spent
saying little
but sitting close to Ella.
She stands first
and reaches down,
offering her hand
to help me to my feet.
She pulls me up
and we hold hands
for a few seconds.
Her skin is soft
and I feel the cool metal
of a ring on her middle finger.
We walk back to class
ignoring the mess of year nine boys
pushing each other at the canteen,
begging for free leftovers
from Mrs Ainsworth
whoâs known as an easy mark.
Ella and I have Science next period.
As we take our books from our lockers,
I say, âThe mystery of biology,â
thinking of Mr Drake
and his enthusiasm for bugs.
âBetter the sex life of caterpillars
than stink bombs in the laboratory,â Ella replies.
I drop my textbook.
Ella reaches down to pick it up and says,
âJonah is nervous with the word âsexâ?â
âNot only with the word,â I admit.
âWeâll have to work on that.â She smiles.
I follow Ella into Science
my mind a million miles
away from caterpillars.
The irony of beer
On Friday afternoon,
Angelo gives Manx
double the usual amount of money for beer.
âWhere did this come from?â Manx asks.
âPat ⦠Patrick gave it to me,â Angelo says.
Manx looks at Patrick
standing beside Angelo.
âBullshit,â he says.
Manx counts off half the money
and stuffs it in his pocket.
âWhat the hell are you doing?â Angelo asks.
Manx grabs Angelo by the shirt.
Angelo looks to Patrick for help.
âYour mateâs too gutless to do anything,â Manx says.
Angelo pushes Manx away.
âIâll buy the usual amount of beer,â says Manx.
âThe rest of the money is going back to Mr Huth.â
âYou canâtââ Angelo starts.
âI can. Regard it as a â¦â
Manx tries to think of the right word.
âA donation,â I finish.
Manx laughs and looks deliberately at Patrick.
âAt least someone here has a brain,â Manx says.
Patrick shrugs and walks away
leaving Angelo to swear at us
as if all that bad language
will convince Manx to change his mind.
In the bottle shop,
I walk up to the stack of Peroni beer
and tap the case.
Angelo is an Italian name, isnât it?
Maybe heâll enjoy the irony.
Payback
In the late afternoon,
Manx winds in the fishing line
and tosses the rod on the sand.
We look across the lake to Tipping Point.
Two men in fluoro vests are working
in Mr Beattieâs yard.
One of them holds a surveyorâs reflector,
while the other
maps the distance to each boundary.
âEither Beattie died without anyone knowing,
or Patrickâs dad offered him
more than he could resist,â I say.
âBastard,â is all Manx says in reply.
A familiar BMW pulls up on Lake Road.
Mr Lloyd-Davis winds down the window.
âHey, I want a word with you two.â
Manx and I stand
but, as Iâm about to walk towards the road,
Manx grabs my arm.
âMake him come to us,â he says.
Mr Lloyd-Davis strides down the bank,
pointing at Manx.
âMy sonâs friend just told me
youâre the idiot who graffitied on my window.â
I can feel Manx tense beside me.
âAngelo is a liar,â I say.
Mr Lloyd-Davis remembers who I am.
âYou owe me thirty dollars,â he says.
Then he steps up to Manx.
âAnd you owe me the cost of a new door.â
He grabs Manxâs arm and says,
âYouâre coming with me.
Weâll see what your father has to say about this.â
Manx wriggles out of his grasp.
âDonât you dare touch
Ella shakes her head
and I notice a small piece of bark
lodged in her ponytail.
I gently pull it through the strands of her hair.
I flick the bark away
and, for a long time,
Ella and I are both too nervous
to look at each other
or say a single word.
The sex life of caterpillars
The bell sounds
for the end of the best lunchtime
Iâve ever spent
saying little
but sitting close to Ella.
She stands first
and reaches down,
offering her hand
to help me to my feet.
She pulls me up
and we hold hands
for a few seconds.
Her skin is soft
and I feel the cool metal
of a ring on her middle finger.
We walk back to class
ignoring the mess of year nine boys
pushing each other at the canteen,
begging for free leftovers
from Mrs Ainsworth
whoâs known as an easy mark.
Ella and I have Science next period.
As we take our books from our lockers,
I say, âThe mystery of biology,â
thinking of Mr Drake
and his enthusiasm for bugs.
âBetter the sex life of caterpillars
than stink bombs in the laboratory,â Ella replies.
I drop my textbook.
Ella reaches down to pick it up and says,
âJonah is nervous with the word âsexâ?â
âNot only with the word,â I admit.
âWeâll have to work on that.â She smiles.
I follow Ella into Science
my mind a million miles
away from caterpillars.
The irony of beer
On Friday afternoon,
Angelo gives Manx
double the usual amount of money for beer.
âWhere did this come from?â Manx asks.
âPat ⦠Patrick gave it to me,â Angelo says.
Manx looks at Patrick
standing beside Angelo.
âBullshit,â he says.
Manx counts off half the money
and stuffs it in his pocket.
âWhat the hell are you doing?â Angelo asks.
Manx grabs Angelo by the shirt.
Angelo looks to Patrick for help.
âYour mateâs too gutless to do anything,â Manx says.
Angelo pushes Manx away.
âIâll buy the usual amount of beer,â says Manx.
âThe rest of the money is going back to Mr Huth.â
âYou canâtââ Angelo starts.
âI can. Regard it as a â¦â
Manx tries to think of the right word.
âA donation,â I finish.
Manx laughs and looks deliberately at Patrick.
âAt least someone here has a brain,â Manx says.
Patrick shrugs and walks away
leaving Angelo to swear at us
as if all that bad language
will convince Manx to change his mind.
In the bottle shop,
I walk up to the stack of Peroni beer
and tap the case.
Angelo is an Italian name, isnât it?
Maybe heâll enjoy the irony.
Payback
In the late afternoon,
Manx winds in the fishing line
and tosses the rod on the sand.
We look across the lake to Tipping Point.
Two men in fluoro vests are working
in Mr Beattieâs yard.
One of them holds a surveyorâs reflector,
while the other
maps the distance to each boundary.
âEither Beattie died without anyone knowing,
or Patrickâs dad offered him
more than he could resist,â I say.
âBastard,â is all Manx says in reply.
A familiar BMW pulls up on Lake Road.
Mr Lloyd-Davis winds down the window.
âHey, I want a word with you two.â
Manx and I stand
but, as Iâm about to walk towards the road,
Manx grabs my arm.
âMake him come to us,â he says.
Mr Lloyd-Davis strides down the bank,
pointing at Manx.
âMy sonâs friend just told me
youâre the idiot who graffitied on my window.â
I can feel Manx tense beside me.
âAngelo is a liar,â I say.
Mr Lloyd-Davis remembers who I am.
âYou owe me thirty dollars,â he says.
Then he steps up to Manx.
âAnd you owe me the cost of a new door.â
He grabs Manxâs arm and says,
âYouâre coming with me.
Weâll see what your father has to say about this.â
Manx wriggles out of his grasp.
âDonât you dare touch
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