disappointed she was that he hadn’t been in touch with her.’
‘That’d be Eric Blair. He went to Ireland with Dad, but was working on another project.’
‘He might be helpful to us,’ suggested Boges. ‘What’s he like?’
‘I spoke to him a couple of times on the phone, before passing him on to Dad, but that’s all. He sounds like a nice guy. Dad seemed to like him. But you’re absolutely right, he might be able to tell us more about what happened over there.’
‘Definitely. So this Eric guy’s in your mum’s bad books, and as for you, well … she’s still convinced you’ve had some sort of breakdown—that you’re reacting to all the bad things that have happened to you. She even muttered something about knowing this day would come, and then when I asked her to explain what shemeant, she acted like she hadn’t said anything. It’s weird, dude. I don’t know, she just seems so … so vacant. It’s like she’s fighting something in herself, something that’s telling her you’re innocent. I told her you would never have done anything like that, I told her you were innocent, “Come on, Mrs O, it’s Cal”, and she just sort of patted my arm like she felt sorry for me .’
Boges looked at me with a helpless face. He started scratching his head. It was like he knew I needed to know what was going on, but he didn’t want to be the one to tell me.
‘Cal, I tried to tell her that your fingerprints were only on the gun because you picked it up when we were at your uncle’s place, but it was useless. I could see she didn’t want to listen to me. It’s like she figures I’m making up stories to protect you, like I’m being stupid believing that my best friend is being wrongly accused. See, Rafe has said a few things about your “unstable mental state” and “recent aggressive behaviour” … and he’s convinced you attacked Gabbi and that you were the one that shot him. How can you argue with that?’
‘What’s wrong with him? Unstable? Aggressive? He’d better not be talking about that day inthe kitchen! I was just trying to grab my mail from him when the stupid idiot fell over himself. I didn’t lay a finger on him. He lied about pinching the drawings then, and he’s lying about this too.’
‘But why would he lie about it?’ said Boges, more like a statement than a question.
‘I don’t know. I think he’s a loser and a liar, but I’d never hurt the guy.’
Boges picked up a handful of chips. ‘Well somebody did.’
‘And whoever did that to Rafe also put my sister in a coma.’ I swore and kicked at the leg of a broken chair. ‘As if I would hurt them!’
‘I know, I know, my friend. Chill out. But for whatever reason, that’s what he thinks.’
‘It just doesn’t make sense.’ I put my half-eaten sandwich down. ‘He’s lying. And no-one will believe me. Except you. Adults listen to adults. A kid’s say means nothing.’
‘Dude, it’s not just a matter of his word. There’s the matter of your fingerprints on the weapon.’
‘Yeah, and like you already said, we both know how they got there. I just don’t get it. We know it had to be his gun if it had my fingerprints on it. Maybe he knew something bad was coming. He could have been carrying it withhim for protection—oh, what’s the point,’ I said, frustrated with all the guessing.
We both sat back, staring at the ceiling.
‘So … I’m afraid to ask …’ said Boges hesitantly. ‘What happened to you the other night—you said it was a “long story”?’
I’d kind of been hoping he wouldn’t ask me that question. I sighed and gave him the rundown, starting with the casino explosion after we’d run away from security at the Liberty Mall carpark, and then through to being tossed like useless trash into the underground oil tank.
‘Trapped you in an oil tank!’ shouted Boges. ‘He was trying to drown you?!’
‘Hey, keep it down! Yes, an oil tank. I thought I was dead. The oil had
‘That’d be Eric Blair. He went to Ireland with Dad, but was working on another project.’
‘He might be helpful to us,’ suggested Boges. ‘What’s he like?’
‘I spoke to him a couple of times on the phone, before passing him on to Dad, but that’s all. He sounds like a nice guy. Dad seemed to like him. But you’re absolutely right, he might be able to tell us more about what happened over there.’
‘Definitely. So this Eric guy’s in your mum’s bad books, and as for you, well … she’s still convinced you’ve had some sort of breakdown—that you’re reacting to all the bad things that have happened to you. She even muttered something about knowing this day would come, and then when I asked her to explain what shemeant, she acted like she hadn’t said anything. It’s weird, dude. I don’t know, she just seems so … so vacant. It’s like she’s fighting something in herself, something that’s telling her you’re innocent. I told her you would never have done anything like that, I told her you were innocent, “Come on, Mrs O, it’s Cal”, and she just sort of patted my arm like she felt sorry for me .’
Boges looked at me with a helpless face. He started scratching his head. It was like he knew I needed to know what was going on, but he didn’t want to be the one to tell me.
‘Cal, I tried to tell her that your fingerprints were only on the gun because you picked it up when we were at your uncle’s place, but it was useless. I could see she didn’t want to listen to me. It’s like she figures I’m making up stories to protect you, like I’m being stupid believing that my best friend is being wrongly accused. See, Rafe has said a few things about your “unstable mental state” and “recent aggressive behaviour” … and he’s convinced you attacked Gabbi and that you were the one that shot him. How can you argue with that?’
‘What’s wrong with him? Unstable? Aggressive? He’d better not be talking about that day inthe kitchen! I was just trying to grab my mail from him when the stupid idiot fell over himself. I didn’t lay a finger on him. He lied about pinching the drawings then, and he’s lying about this too.’
‘But why would he lie about it?’ said Boges, more like a statement than a question.
‘I don’t know. I think he’s a loser and a liar, but I’d never hurt the guy.’
Boges picked up a handful of chips. ‘Well somebody did.’
‘And whoever did that to Rafe also put my sister in a coma.’ I swore and kicked at the leg of a broken chair. ‘As if I would hurt them!’
‘I know, I know, my friend. Chill out. But for whatever reason, that’s what he thinks.’
‘It just doesn’t make sense.’ I put my half-eaten sandwich down. ‘He’s lying. And no-one will believe me. Except you. Adults listen to adults. A kid’s say means nothing.’
‘Dude, it’s not just a matter of his word. There’s the matter of your fingerprints on the weapon.’
‘Yeah, and like you already said, we both know how they got there. I just don’t get it. We know it had to be his gun if it had my fingerprints on it. Maybe he knew something bad was coming. He could have been carrying it withhim for protection—oh, what’s the point,’ I said, frustrated with all the guessing.
We both sat back, staring at the ceiling.
‘So … I’m afraid to ask …’ said Boges hesitantly. ‘What happened to you the other night—you said it was a “long story”?’
I’d kind of been hoping he wouldn’t ask me that question. I sighed and gave him the rundown, starting with the casino explosion after we’d run away from security at the Liberty Mall carpark, and then through to being tossed like useless trash into the underground oil tank.
‘Trapped you in an oil tank!’ shouted Boges. ‘He was trying to drown you?!’
‘Hey, keep it down! Yes, an oil tank. I thought I was dead. The oil had
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