wanted to curl up and die, but not here. She reeled into the lounge, grabbed that old hoodie of Koâs, some cash and sunnies, and crept out the front door.
It felt like the world was spinning, but she managed to steady herself. Come on, you loser! She fumbled the gate latch open and set off down the road towards the nearest petrol station. Although the petrol fumes on the forecourt made her want to chuck all over again, she managed to order a coffee and doughnut to go. She cradled the coffee like a newborn baby as she nursed herself to the lakefront. Her watch said quarter to twelve. The wind was easing and the sun was tryingto break through; she hoped it failed. She found a tree, and lay against it, sipping the coffee. The doughnut could wait till her stomach settled.
This is killing me.
The night before, Evan had laughed loudly and praised up Deano, who was a nice kid, long may he remain so. No doubt Deano was headed down the same path as the rest of them, though. Anyone who fell in with Evan ended up dead, in prison, or trapped on Loser Street. He had also thrashed her, but still had the gall to act like everything was sweetness and light afterwards. His friends all thought he was so cool. He had joshed with the guys, all matey, but if one of them got too close to her, she could feel his eyes lasering through her.
I used to think girls who stayed with guys who beat them were pathetic. Now Iâm one of them. Different perspective, huh!
I gotta get out.
Iâve gotta go where he canât follow.
God knows where that might be. The only folks she knew here were Evanâs mates. None of her rellies believed her about Glenn Bale. No-one would take her side.
There had been a girl that had run out on Brutal, and word had it she had gone to Auckland but ended up on the streets. If I donât do this right, thatâll be me.
It was too much to think about, and she was too tired. So she set her head against the tree, and blanked out everything. Despite the caffeine and the sugar, sleep came like a rising tide, and pulled her under.
Â
She started awake. She looked at her watch: Jaysus! Quarter to four! But she felt so much better ⦠the gnawing in her stomach had settled, and she wolfed the doughnut in three big bites. It was sickly sweet and vaguely unpleasant, but she felt better for it. She caught a whiff of herself: like a ciggie stubbed out in a puddle of beer . She felt utterly wretched.
She was suddenly aware of scrutiny. A young guy was standing nearby, watching her. She realized it was the same kid who had seen her crying the day before. She lifted her shades and jerked her eyes about, scared that Evan might be around, but no â tourists and all sorts were everywhere, but no-one she knew. It was as if she and the young guy were totally alone.
âHiâ, the guy said hesitantly. âIâm Mat. Well, Matiu actually,â he added.
She considered ignoring him, or telling him to get lost. But instead, found herself drawling offhandedly, âMatiu? Picked you as Pakeha.â She puffed her half-forgotten ciggie to buy some time. He must be only part-Maori, with his paler skin, and that reddish hair must come from that mother of his. He was kind of cute, in an over-serious way. Maybe heâs a bloody Mormon, trying to save the sinner .
He looked at her intensely. âThis is going to sound really weird, but I saw you yesterday afternoon, and â¦â
She waited. Here we go ⦠Is he a Jesus-freak or just chatting me up?
â⦠I dreamt of you last night.â Then he seemed to realize how disastrous he sounded, and went redder than a Santa suit.
She was suddenly cross to have wasted even a second of her life on him. âYeah? Piss off, kid.â
He took a step back. âYeah, look, sorry, I deserve that. Sorry to intrude â¦â He seemed to be berating himself silently.
She turned away, when suddenly the black-and-white sheepdog from yesterday
It felt like the world was spinning, but she managed to steady herself. Come on, you loser! She fumbled the gate latch open and set off down the road towards the nearest petrol station. Although the petrol fumes on the forecourt made her want to chuck all over again, she managed to order a coffee and doughnut to go. She cradled the coffee like a newborn baby as she nursed herself to the lakefront. Her watch said quarter to twelve. The wind was easing and the sun was tryingto break through; she hoped it failed. She found a tree, and lay against it, sipping the coffee. The doughnut could wait till her stomach settled.
This is killing me.
The night before, Evan had laughed loudly and praised up Deano, who was a nice kid, long may he remain so. No doubt Deano was headed down the same path as the rest of them, though. Anyone who fell in with Evan ended up dead, in prison, or trapped on Loser Street. He had also thrashed her, but still had the gall to act like everything was sweetness and light afterwards. His friends all thought he was so cool. He had joshed with the guys, all matey, but if one of them got too close to her, she could feel his eyes lasering through her.
I used to think girls who stayed with guys who beat them were pathetic. Now Iâm one of them. Different perspective, huh!
I gotta get out.
Iâve gotta go where he canât follow.
God knows where that might be. The only folks she knew here were Evanâs mates. None of her rellies believed her about Glenn Bale. No-one would take her side.
There had been a girl that had run out on Brutal, and word had it she had gone to Auckland but ended up on the streets. If I donât do this right, thatâll be me.
It was too much to think about, and she was too tired. So she set her head against the tree, and blanked out everything. Despite the caffeine and the sugar, sleep came like a rising tide, and pulled her under.
Â
She started awake. She looked at her watch: Jaysus! Quarter to four! But she felt so much better ⦠the gnawing in her stomach had settled, and she wolfed the doughnut in three big bites. It was sickly sweet and vaguely unpleasant, but she felt better for it. She caught a whiff of herself: like a ciggie stubbed out in a puddle of beer . She felt utterly wretched.
She was suddenly aware of scrutiny. A young guy was standing nearby, watching her. She realized it was the same kid who had seen her crying the day before. She lifted her shades and jerked her eyes about, scared that Evan might be around, but no â tourists and all sorts were everywhere, but no-one she knew. It was as if she and the young guy were totally alone.
âHiâ, the guy said hesitantly. âIâm Mat. Well, Matiu actually,â he added.
She considered ignoring him, or telling him to get lost. But instead, found herself drawling offhandedly, âMatiu? Picked you as Pakeha.â She puffed her half-forgotten ciggie to buy some time. He must be only part-Maori, with his paler skin, and that reddish hair must come from that mother of his. He was kind of cute, in an over-serious way. Maybe heâs a bloody Mormon, trying to save the sinner .
He looked at her intensely. âThis is going to sound really weird, but I saw you yesterday afternoon, and â¦â
She waited. Here we go ⦠Is he a Jesus-freak or just chatting me up?
â⦠I dreamt of you last night.â Then he seemed to realize how disastrous he sounded, and went redder than a Santa suit.
She was suddenly cross to have wasted even a second of her life on him. âYeah? Piss off, kid.â
He took a step back. âYeah, look, sorry, I deserve that. Sorry to intrude â¦â He seemed to be berating himself silently.
She turned away, when suddenly the black-and-white sheepdog from yesterday
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