Read Online Bleakboy and Hunter Stand Out in the Rain by Steven Herrick - Free Book Online Page B

idyllic beach, the swaying line of poplar trees and the father and son in the park, gawking. They watched the ferry run over the frisbee. Hunter saw it bob, valiantly, on top of the approaching wave for a second, before disappearing under water. Broken to pieces, Hunter hoped.
    Hunter looked around. His father was sitting on a bench seat under a poplar. Hunter hadn’t noticed him move. He watched the ferry recede into the distance, among the sails of bobbing yachts and hovering seagulls. On the opposite headland, a man held a kite in his hands, while a boy stood with the kite line a few metres away. The child ran and the man released the kite. It rippled into the sky, floating higher as the boy ran. The man kept his arms raised, as if in worship. Finally, Hunter walked to the seat and sat beside his father.
    â€˜I’m moving to New Zealand, Hunts,’ his father said. ‘I’ve arranged for a ship to transport my car.’
    Hunter wondered how much line was left on the kite. Just how high could it float?
    â€˜I’ve been offered a job. And,’ he looked at his son, ‘I’ve met a woman called Patsy.’
    â€˜Ha!’ Hunter gets up from bed and quietly opens his bedroom door. The light shines from under his mother’s door. She’s probably reading in bed. He creeps along the hallway and walks downstairs to the kitchen. He doesn’t want to think about his father anymore. He doesn’t want to hear about New Zealand and the skiing holidays his dad promised that would never arrive. He doesn’t want to visit geysers or bubbling hot mud baths. And he certainly doesn’t want to hear about anyone named Patsy. Hunter doesn’t want another mother.

16
    jesse
    The next morning, I have trouble choosing what to wear. I throw all the t-shirts from my drawer out on the bed. There are six black shirts and one dark green one. I look up at Trevor. ‘Looks like it’s black, again, Trev,’ I say.
    At breakfast, I eat two poached eggs. Mum stands beside the stove watching me. She’s been hovering all morning, serving me breakfast, refilling my glass with orange juice as soon as I take a sip, offering me extra toast. When I finish the poached eggs, she scoops the plate up from the table and rinses it under the tap.
    â€˜Can I make you another slice of toast, Jesse, with raspberry jam?’ she asks.
    â€˜Thanks, Mum. But I’m full.’ I rub my stomach for effect.
    â€˜Are you okay?’ she asks.
    Maybe I rubbed too dramatically? ‘I’m fine,’ I say. Actually, I’m a little queasy from eating all the food she’s prepared for me. I feel guilty eating so much when Kelifa is still waiting.
    â€˜Jesse?’ Mum looks concerned.
    â€˜I’m fine,’ I repeat.
    Mum coughs. ‘Your father told me,’ she looks toward their bedroom, ‘about the incident.’ She reaches across and pats my arm. ‘I’ve packed a little treat in your lunch box.’
    Why is she being so nice? Did Dad make up a story about me doing something good rather than stealing his credit card? She presses my face against her stomach in a big hug. ‘I just want you to know how proud—’
    Beth walks into the kitchen and sees us hugging. Mum lets go of me and walks back to the benchtop. ‘Beth, what do you want for lunch?’
    â€˜Ten dollars thanks, Mum,’ smiles Beth.
    â€˜To eat, Beth?’ Mum holds up a block of cheese and a loaf of bread.
    â€˜Okay. Five dollars,’ Beth says. ‘We have a healthy food canteen, remember?’
    â€˜And we have a limited budget,’ responds Mum. ‘Bread and cheese?’
    â€˜Five dollars!’ implores Beth. ‘It’s hardly going to break the bank is it?’
    â€˜Beth!’ Mum says, a wisp of hair falling in front of her eyes. She whispers, ‘Not in front of …’ Her eyes flit toward me.
    Beth groans. ‘Jesse heard that,