to happen,’ said Tully.
‘Maybe we should just rob a bank,’ said Nathan.
‘Or mine for gold.’
‘Or make a movie.’
Desi groaned from the back seat again and they fell silent.
‘Bamps says he doesn’t know where Mum is,’ Tully said finally. ‘I think he’s telling the truth. I’m pretty sure that Laney knows where Mum is but she won’t tell me. It takes a lot of money to hire a detective. I’ve checked it out. But it would be worth it. As soon as I have some money that’s what I’m going to do with it. And we’ll get our own home. With a real garden. Maybe invite Bamps, if he wants to come. Laney can stay where she is.’
One song slid into another on the radio before Nathan finally said, ‘Maybe your mum doesn’t want to be found at the moment.’ His eyes shifted sideways to catch Tully’s expression.
‘Maybe you should shut up when you don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Tully.
‘I’m just saying, she knows where you are. If she wanted to see you—’
‘What would you know? You’re so stupid you can’t even spell the word loser!’
‘Hey, what, no ... I just meant—’
‘Let me out.’ Tully grabbed at the door handle.
‘Tully, no!’
‘Stop the goddamned car.’
Even before the car was stopped, Tully wrenched the door open and tumbled out into the street, giving the finger to a car that swerved to miss her.
‘Do you want to kill yourself?’ screamed Nathan as Tully wound her way through the traffic to the roadside.
‘Maybe I do,’ she screamed back.
And then she disappeared from his view.
21
Tully’s Story
So yeah, money and stuff is just a waste of time. Saying please and thank you, ironing clothes and knowing how to spell and maths and other school stuff—these are also a waste of time. And friends. Sometimes I think friends are a waste of time. They’re so much work. You can’t just tell them what you think. You have to be careful. Be around when you’d rather be doing something else. Forgive them when they make you sad.
I think having enemies is a much easier job.
But I used to believe in friends.
There was this girl I knew once—Amanda—who had, like, the perfect life. Everyone at school loved her. I mean not just the girls but even the guys and the teachers. Even my mum liked her and she doesn’t like anyone.
Amanda had an amazing house with nice carpet and those little crisscross white see-through curtains at the windows. I was always bugging Mum for some of those in my room, but she just didn’t see the point. I mean, when you’re living in rentals you don’t want to go wasting your money on making someone else’s place look good.
Amanda’s dad was nice enough, though I didn’t see a lot of him. He had something to do with the local council and spent a lot of time at work, or talking to people on the phone about work or travelling because of work.
Amanda’s sister Missy—I’m pretty sure that wasn’t her real name—was always nice to me, though she and Amanda would fight at the dinner table about who got the salt first or the drink or who had to say grace. I’d never been in a house that said grace, so I always hoped they never asked me to say it. And I was jealous that Amanda had a sister. I asked Mum once if I could have a sister, but she said I was all she needed.
Amanda’s mum was like ... like one of those perfect TV mums who don’t try to dress like they are hanging out in the teenage section at Just Jeans, and whose car always has enough room to drop everyone home and who always has something great cooking in the kitchen. Not just out of the freezer stuff, but like, stuff she made with flour and eggs and that. She even made vegetables taste okay.
But the really amazing thing about Amanda, the most amazing thing of all, was that she picked me to be her best friend. We met when I was eight. The first day I walked into class, Amanda made space for me next to her chair and showed me around the school at
‘Maybe we should just rob a bank,’ said Nathan.
‘Or mine for gold.’
‘Or make a movie.’
Desi groaned from the back seat again and they fell silent.
‘Bamps says he doesn’t know where Mum is,’ Tully said finally. ‘I think he’s telling the truth. I’m pretty sure that Laney knows where Mum is but she won’t tell me. It takes a lot of money to hire a detective. I’ve checked it out. But it would be worth it. As soon as I have some money that’s what I’m going to do with it. And we’ll get our own home. With a real garden. Maybe invite Bamps, if he wants to come. Laney can stay where she is.’
One song slid into another on the radio before Nathan finally said, ‘Maybe your mum doesn’t want to be found at the moment.’ His eyes shifted sideways to catch Tully’s expression.
‘Maybe you should shut up when you don’t know what you’re talking about,’ said Tully.
‘I’m just saying, she knows where you are. If she wanted to see you—’
‘What would you know? You’re so stupid you can’t even spell the word loser!’
‘Hey, what, no ... I just meant—’
‘Let me out.’ Tully grabbed at the door handle.
‘Tully, no!’
‘Stop the goddamned car.’
Even before the car was stopped, Tully wrenched the door open and tumbled out into the street, giving the finger to a car that swerved to miss her.
‘Do you want to kill yourself?’ screamed Nathan as Tully wound her way through the traffic to the roadside.
‘Maybe I do,’ she screamed back.
And then she disappeared from his view.
21
Tully’s Story
So yeah, money and stuff is just a waste of time. Saying please and thank you, ironing clothes and knowing how to spell and maths and other school stuff—these are also a waste of time. And friends. Sometimes I think friends are a waste of time. They’re so much work. You can’t just tell them what you think. You have to be careful. Be around when you’d rather be doing something else. Forgive them when they make you sad.
I think having enemies is a much easier job.
But I used to believe in friends.
There was this girl I knew once—Amanda—who had, like, the perfect life. Everyone at school loved her. I mean not just the girls but even the guys and the teachers. Even my mum liked her and she doesn’t like anyone.
Amanda had an amazing house with nice carpet and those little crisscross white see-through curtains at the windows. I was always bugging Mum for some of those in my room, but she just didn’t see the point. I mean, when you’re living in rentals you don’t want to go wasting your money on making someone else’s place look good.
Amanda’s dad was nice enough, though I didn’t see a lot of him. He had something to do with the local council and spent a lot of time at work, or talking to people on the phone about work or travelling because of work.
Amanda’s sister Missy—I’m pretty sure that wasn’t her real name—was always nice to me, though she and Amanda would fight at the dinner table about who got the salt first or the drink or who had to say grace. I’d never been in a house that said grace, so I always hoped they never asked me to say it. And I was jealous that Amanda had a sister. I asked Mum once if I could have a sister, but she said I was all she needed.
Amanda’s mum was like ... like one of those perfect TV mums who don’t try to dress like they are hanging out in the teenage section at Just Jeans, and whose car always has enough room to drop everyone home and who always has something great cooking in the kitchen. Not just out of the freezer stuff, but like, stuff she made with flour and eggs and that. She even made vegetables taste okay.
But the really amazing thing about Amanda, the most amazing thing of all, was that she picked me to be her best friend. We met when I was eight. The first day I walked into class, Amanda made space for me next to her chair and showed me around the school at
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