Read Online Shutterspeed by A. J. Betts - Free Book Online

find out for me,’ Nugget tells him.
    â€˜Why me?’
    â€˜Get Jasmine to, then. She’s …’ Nugget slows down, struggling for the right word. ‘She’s … charitable. You can’t leave me turning up to a date not knowing who I’ll bemeeting. Especially if her eyebrows remind me of John Howard. Sick!’
    Dustin laughs at his hairy, beefy mate. ‘You’re scared of a German chick?’
    â€˜Shit, yeah! They’re full-on, aren’t they? The note she left was real up-front, you know. “I would like to observe your accessories.” She’s going to jump me! You’re not taking this seriously.’
    â€˜Mate, cancer is serious. A German chick throwing herself at your massive agates is not serious. What do you want me to say?’
    â€˜You must have some kind of wisdom to share with me. You’re the ladies’ man after all.’
    Dustin snorts with amusement until he realises Nugget’s not joking. He’s been called a number of things in his life — a lazy bastard, a selfish prick, a waste of space — but never a ladies’ man. ‘Since when?’
    Nugget turns back to the punching bag and hits it with soft, swift hooks. ‘Well … you must be …’ right hook ‘… to score with Jasmine.’
    Dustin grabs the bag with both hands to still it.
    â€˜You know what I mean, dickhead,’ says Nugget, pulling his shoulder blades back. ‘It’s okay, she’s a cute chick.’
    â€˜She’s not my —’
    â€˜Whatever you reckon. I’m just saying what it looks like.’
    â€˜But you’re
wrong
. Geez, you’re my mate, you’re supposed to know that.’
    â€˜I just know what I see.’
    The bag sways between them and Dustin shakes his head.
    â€˜Well, you’re more of a dickhead than I thought,’ Nugget tells him.
    Dustin walks out of the rec room into the great wash of daylight, and the school oval snaps into focus. He just wants to chill out under the peppermint tree, where things make sense. He buys a pie and walks to where Jasmine sits, drawing.
    â€˜Where you been?’
    â€˜With Nugget. He’s lost the plot. I think his testicle’s stolen blood flow from his brain.’ Dustin’s glad he can laugh about it — Jasmine has that effect on him.
    She licks pistachio salt from her fingertips. ‘I reckon Mrs Clark’s pregnant. Do you think so?’
    â€˜Which one’s she?’
    â€˜My drama teacher.’
    â€˜The hot one?’ he says, his mouth filled with meat.
    â€˜The married one. She rushed out of class again today and I reckon she’s got morning sickness. When she came back she smelt kind of like spew.’
    â€˜Jaz, I’m eating.’
    â€˜Wouldn’t it be weird? Being pregnant?’
    â€˜It would be for me.’
    â€˜It’d be weird, I think, but kind of nice,’ she says rubbing the turtle-bump under her school shirt. ‘Pregnant women look so happy. You know, when they’re not throwing up. They just glow.’ The bump moves, like something out of
Alien
.
    â€˜Gross. Why are you still carrying that thing around?’
    â€˜What do you expect me to do?’
    â€˜Umm … put it back where it came from? That would be normal.’
    â€˜I’m not a deserter, Dustin.’
    â€˜Yeah,’ he admits, ‘I know you’re not. What do you know about eyebrow shapes?’
    â€˜You mean cosmetically or spiritually? There’s a facial analysis chart at my parents’ shop you could check out if you want.’
    â€˜Enough, forget it,’ he says, throwing his empty pie wrapper at her. ‘Nugget can shag John Howard for all I care.’
    Jasmine grins and pats her turtle. ‘You’re a strange boy.’
    He glides into Fremantle after school, tyres silent on the bitumen. People and traffic let him slip through, all the way to the