Read Online Looking for Alibrandi by Melina Marchetta - Free Book Online

said, looking out on to the road. We were standing on George Street, the main road in the city. It was packed with people streaming out of the Hoyts and Village cinema centers, which were situated down the road. Most of them were heading for Town Hall station, which was beneath us.
    “Are you from St. Anthony’s as well?” Ivy asked politely.
    “Nope. I’m a Cook man.”
    Ivy, John and I looked at each other, nodding in silence, as if we had plenty to say. Jacob Coote seemed to be preoccupied elsewhere.
    “I’ll drive,” Ivy said, taking John’s keys and waving goodbye to us.
    John and I continued looking at each other, and turning his back to Jacob Coote, he took my hand.
    “Wished we would have danced tonight,” he said quietly. “I meant to ask, but I could never get away and before I knew it, the night was over.”
    I looked at his face, which, although not as attractive as Jacob Coote’s, was so earnest and honest.
    His copper hair was slicked back with gel, making his cowlick obscure. He was beautifully dressed in baggy beige pants and a paisley shirt. Compared to Jacob Coote’s black jeans, white shirt and what looked like his school tie, he looked like a million dollars.
    “Maybe next time,” I said.
    He nodded and looked back to where Ivy was walking toward the car.
    “You want a lift? I could drop Ivy off first and we could go for a coffee.”
    I looked at Jacob Coote’s back, wishing John had come along sooner.
    I shook my head and shrugged apologetically.
    “I’ve already got a lift.”
    He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek softly and let go of my hand, walking away. I stood looking at him for a while before I noticed that Jacob Coote had walked away as well.
    “Hold on,” I yelled, trying to catch up.
    “You like him or something?”
    “He’s a very nice boy.”
    “Ah, come on. He’s the type of guy who goes to university and decides to be gay because it’s trendy.”
    “That’s not true,” I snapped back. “John Barton is very intelligent and he’s going to do law at university with me. He’s Robert Barton’s son, actually.”
    “Whoever
he
is when he’s at home,” he snapped sarcastically.
    “Can you stop being so rude? Didn’t your mother teach you any manners?”
    “For your information, my mother is dead.”
    I stopped in embarrassment and shame, not knowing what to say. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that.”
    He waved away the apology and allowed me to catch up, and we crossed George Street without using the traffic lights. Cars zoomed by us, beeping their horns. A carload of hoods screamed obscenities out the window and Jacob Coote waved at them.
    “My friends,” he explained.
    “Charming.”
    “What’s your name, by the way? I know it’s long and complicated.”
    I couldn’t believe it. He had thrown eggs at me, sat next to me at Martin Place and danced with me for seven songs and hadn’t even asked anyone my name.
    “Josephine Alibrandi.”
    “I’m Jacob Coote.”
    “Oh, is that who you are,” I said, feigning vagueness. “Which one is your car?”
    “Which one do you think is my car?”
    I folded my arms, trying to keep warm. Although the days were mostly still warm, the nights were cool and my dress had short sleeves.
    I surveyed the ten or so cars in front of us and then looked at him.
    “It’s the panel van, isn’t it,” I groaned. “Oh God, I knew you’d be the type to have one of those. My reputation is ruined.”
    “Wrong guess,” he said, stopping beside a motorbike and leaning on it.
    I shook my head while he slowly nodded.
    “Want to take a taxi? I’ll pay,” I volunteered, swallowing hard.
    He unlocked the case at the back and pulled out two helmets.
    “I am wearing a good velvet dress, thank you very much. It’s the best thing I own, so it’ll probably be a family heirloom one day. How could you suggest I sit on that bike with my family heirloom on?”
    “Velvet and bikes? You might start a trend.”
    “My