Bleakboy and Hunter Stand Out in the Rain Read Online Free PDF

Kate never called me Jesus Freak last week, when Hunter turned on me.
    â€˜You could ask somebody else,’ my voice is quiet, ‘to stop the whaling.’
    Kate nods. ‘I’ve already sent letters to the Norwegian and Canadian Embassies.’
    â€˜No, I mean …’ I look up into the sky.
    Kate notices. ‘You mean …’ She points a finger to the heavens.
    â€˜It can’t hurt,’ I say.
    Kate shrugs. ‘I imagine if he,’ she giggles to herself, ‘or she is up there, they’d have more important things to do.’
    â€˜Like stopping wars?’ I suggest.
    â€˜Yeah.’ Kate punches me on the arm. ‘Or stopping themselves from falling out of the sky. Why do people always look up for God?’
    â€˜Maybe he floats like a hot air balloon,’ I suggest.
    â€˜He or she definitely doesn’t sit on a cloud. I’ve been on a plane heaps of times and clouds don’t look heavy enough to hold somebody as important as …’ She points skyward again.
    â€˜My parents tell me not to worship false gods,’ I admit.
    â€˜My mum says the only supernatural thing in the universe is,’ Kate touches her heart, ‘inside us. It’s what we do that counts.’
    â€˜But who makes us do it?’ I ask.
    Kate laughs. ‘Dad says it’s all nonsense and everyone knows the only true God plays in the midfield for Barcelona.’
    We stop walking as we reach Elkhorn Park. Hunter is swinging a schoolbag wildly around his head. Watson is trying to grab it off Hunter, who holds him at bay with one outstretched hand.
    â€˜Hey!’ Kate yells.
    Hunter slows down his swinging and Watson manages to grab the bag. Both boys pull. Watson stumbles to his knees, but holds onto the bag. Hunter lets go of the strap and walks toward us. Behind him, Watson clutches the bag and hurries away. Without meaning to, I tighten the grip on my backpack.
    â€˜Bleakboy and Whale-eater,’ says Hunter.
    I look nervously toward Kate, wondering how she’ll react. She doesn’t say a word. I follow her example and we both stand silently a few metres from Hunter.
    His glance wanders to my Dunlop Volleys. ‘My uncle wears shoes like that,’ he says. ‘Old-man tennis shoes.’
    He looks from Kate to me. ‘You couldn’t hit a tennis ball if you tried, Bleakboy.’
    There’s really nothing I can say to respond, so I bite my lip. Kate stifles a yawn. When it’s obvious neither of us is going to react, Hunter starts looking uncomfortable. His eyes flit from Kate to me, looking for something else to pick on.
    Kate smiles.
    â€˜How do you eat so much blubber with railway tracks on your teeth,’ Hunter says.
    Kate stops smiling. I think her braces give Kate an infectious smile, but I’ve never said that to her.
    â€˜You’d better not walk too close to a magnet with all that metal in your mouth.’ Hunter mimics being drawn into a wall face first. He calls out, in a deliberately muffled voice, ‘I’m stuck, I’m stuck!’
    I can hear Kate’s teeth grinding with the effort to remain silent.
    Hunter looks scornfully at both of us. ‘Talking to you two is like talking to a wall,’ he says. ‘A metal wall.’
    Kate yawns, this time not hiding her mouth with her hand. Both sets of braces are showing. She glances toward me and tilts her head, indicating we should leave. She turns away from Hunter. A second later, I do the same. At the far end of the park, Watson is about to board a bus home, both hands clutching his backpack.
    Hunter calls from behind us, ‘Bleakboy and Whale-eater.’ His voice echoes across the park until we cross the road. I sneak a glance back and see Hunter standing alone wondering where Watson has gone and wondering what to do next.
    Kate says, ‘It works!’
    â€˜Pardon?’
    â€˜Mum told me about non-violent protest.’ Kate frowns.