dinner.
But Nicky didnât care what he said: he wasnât her father and he didnât even need to be listened to.
âLook,â she said to her mother, âone of Jâs friends got shot by the cops today and heâs dead, okay?â
J took a quick breath, wondering why she thought it was a good idea to say that.
âAnd I donât think it would be that big a deal to let him stay here.â
That was quite a mouthful, and both Alicia and Gus looked curiously at J.
âI didnât know him too well,â the boy said evasively, feeling like something the cat had dragged in, still flapping helplessly on the kitchen floor.
âThat was on the news,â Gus said.
âI didnât know him too well,â J repeated, trying to put as much distance between Bazâs death and himself as he could. âItâs just a shock and everything.â
J wasnât ashamed of knowing Baz, because Baz had been one of the best people heâd ever met. But he didnât want to have to explain that to these people. How could he? Nickyâs parents had about as much in common with the kinds of people J knew as they had with the man in the moon. That didnât mean anything; it was just the way it was. Some people went to work and built up their super, and other people robbed banks. It might sound mad and stupid, but that was the world. What could J do to change it?
âWell, I mean, can we do anything? Do you want a drink?â Gus asked, trying to be supportive.
Nicky shot an angry look at him, like what an idiot , but she would have got that in sooner or later, no matter what he did.
Alicia was wondering if any of this was actually true. It wasnât that she suspected her daughter of lying; it was just that, along with the high-stakes emotional games Nicky had been playing, Alicia had noticed an increasing recourse to hyperbole and exaggeration that regularly turned the most mundane setbacks and disappointments into total annihilating disasters of global proportions .
âNo, thanks,â J said, answering Gusâs offer of a drink.
âThatâs terrible,â Alicia said, her eyes searching Jâs face for the marks of these awful events.
But Nicky wasnât listening to anyone any more as she spat at her mother, âSo maybe you can think about that,â and stalked angrily off to her room.
Alicia really didnât know what was going on with Nicky these days; she was so secretive. But the idea that her daughter was mixed up with criminals getting shot by police was more than enough for Alicia to think about. She turned back to the computer screen as J walked stiffly past, following Nicky, and embarrassed to be the cause of the dispute.
Most kids have parent trouble, but J didnât. Both his parents were dead, or gone. J had never had a straight story from his mother about his father; for all he knew he was either shot by the police, or in jail, or shot by someone else. He had never really been able to tell with his mother what was true and what was being made up just to get whatever it was she wanted out of him. The truth was his father had never been around.
Still, she had been his motherâsomeone to hold on to, even if she hurtâbut now all he had was Nicky. Of course, he didnât think about it that way. He hardly thought about it at all. He loved her, he supposed. Sometimes she asked him, and heâd say yes. If anyone else was looking at her, heâd feel jealous. Like he did with Craig. He didnât really think about the future, because that seemed stupid. He didnât have a future, not like other people have futures.
People like him werenât going to make plans or try to imagine what the future might be like. Nicky could, J knew that. She could finish school, maybe go to TAFE, do some course. Become a teacher. Sometimes sheâd say things like that. That she could be a teacher. She could do it because
But Nicky didnât care what he said: he wasnât her father and he didnât even need to be listened to.
âLook,â she said to her mother, âone of Jâs friends got shot by the cops today and heâs dead, okay?â
J took a quick breath, wondering why she thought it was a good idea to say that.
âAnd I donât think it would be that big a deal to let him stay here.â
That was quite a mouthful, and both Alicia and Gus looked curiously at J.
âI didnât know him too well,â the boy said evasively, feeling like something the cat had dragged in, still flapping helplessly on the kitchen floor.
âThat was on the news,â Gus said.
âI didnât know him too well,â J repeated, trying to put as much distance between Bazâs death and himself as he could. âItâs just a shock and everything.â
J wasnât ashamed of knowing Baz, because Baz had been one of the best people heâd ever met. But he didnât want to have to explain that to these people. How could he? Nickyâs parents had about as much in common with the kinds of people J knew as they had with the man in the moon. That didnât mean anything; it was just the way it was. Some people went to work and built up their super, and other people robbed banks. It might sound mad and stupid, but that was the world. What could J do to change it?
âWell, I mean, can we do anything? Do you want a drink?â Gus asked, trying to be supportive.
Nicky shot an angry look at him, like what an idiot , but she would have got that in sooner or later, no matter what he did.
Alicia was wondering if any of this was actually true. It wasnât that she suspected her daughter of lying; it was just that, along with the high-stakes emotional games Nicky had been playing, Alicia had noticed an increasing recourse to hyperbole and exaggeration that regularly turned the most mundane setbacks and disappointments into total annihilating disasters of global proportions .
âNo, thanks,â J said, answering Gusâs offer of a drink.
âThatâs terrible,â Alicia said, her eyes searching Jâs face for the marks of these awful events.
But Nicky wasnât listening to anyone any more as she spat at her mother, âSo maybe you can think about that,â and stalked angrily off to her room.
Alicia really didnât know what was going on with Nicky these days; she was so secretive. But the idea that her daughter was mixed up with criminals getting shot by police was more than enough for Alicia to think about. She turned back to the computer screen as J walked stiffly past, following Nicky, and embarrassed to be the cause of the dispute.
Most kids have parent trouble, but J didnât. Both his parents were dead, or gone. J had never had a straight story from his mother about his father; for all he knew he was either shot by the police, or in jail, or shot by someone else. He had never really been able to tell with his mother what was true and what was being made up just to get whatever it was she wanted out of him. The truth was his father had never been around.
Still, she had been his motherâsomeone to hold on to, even if she hurtâbut now all he had was Nicky. Of course, he didnât think about it that way. He hardly thought about it at all. He loved her, he supposed. Sometimes she asked him, and heâd say yes. If anyone else was looking at her, heâd feel jealous. Like he did with Craig. He didnât really think about the future, because that seemed stupid. He didnât have a future, not like other people have futures.
People like him werenât going to make plans or try to imagine what the future might be like. Nicky could, J knew that. She could finish school, maybe go to TAFE, do some course. Become a teacher. Sometimes sheâd say things like that. That she could be a teacher. She could do it because
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