Free Challis - 05 - Blood Moon by Garry Disher

Tank with that cute new guy
but was too busy to chinwag with them. First she made her way down High Street
to the foreshore, where the schoolies were already partying. A number of cars
were parked facing the mangroves and the yacht basin, tailgates up, revealing
mattresses and sleeping bags, surfboards and eskies full of beer and
bourbon-and-cola cans. A few dome tents had been pitched nearby. Otherwise the
scene was full of kids, most of them standing around blearily, holding bottles and
cans, others standing on the roofs of their cars, dancing to the music that
blared from competing sound systems. They were all having a bad hair day, and
the guys hadnt shaved for some time. Guys and girls, they wore shorts,
boardies, singlets or T-shirts, often over bathing suits. Most were in bare
feet, grimy feet. These werent the swimming, surfing or bike-riding schoolies,
but, by the same token, they werent overdosing, harassing the locals or
fighting, either. Plenty of energy, though: the girls were on the lookout for a
hot guy, the guys for a hot girl. Looking for love. Like everyone.

    All kinds of regulations were being
broken but Pam turned a blind eye. She wandered among the kids, introducing
herself, handing out ID bracelets, informing them about the Chillout Zone,
telling them to eat, drink plenty of water; advising them to stay in their own
groups and look out for each other.

    Then she wandered back up High
Street. Many of the shoppers and shopkeepers knew her and nodded hello. There
were schoolies here, too, in clumps and pairs strolling, window-shopping. Some
of them knew her; some shed helped. One group, clacking through the T-shirt
racks outside HangTen went into a mock panic. Cool it, guys, ditch that
ecstasy, hide the vodka, its ... Schoolie Patrol!

    Very droll, Pam said.

    She lingered to chat with the kids.
High Street was mild and docile under the springtime sun. Then a car pulled
into the kerb, glossy red, a hot little Subaruthe kind of toy your well-heeled
schoolie might drive, she thought enviously. Shed been known to buy the wrong
kind of car and pay too much for it. She saw a young guy get out from behind
the wheel, his girlfriend from the passenger seat, and saunter into HangTen as
if they owned it.

    A minute later, they came out, the
guy looking royally pissed off.

    * * * *

    Caz
Moon, working one of the cash registers in HangTen, saw the red Subaru pull
into the kerb. For just a moment then, everything clenched tightly inside her,
but by the time Josh strolled in, holding the hand of a female version of
himself, she had recovered.

    Before shed quite known she was
going to do it, Caz called across the shop, Hello, Josh. Raped anyone yet?

    He was good-looking in that blond,
vacant, mouth breathing, never-had-to-think, -feel, -question-or-want-for-anything
private school way. Right now he was staring about vaguely. Perhaps he was
stoned, perhaps he hadnt heard her. Josh? she said again, lifting her voice
above the racks of brightly coloured scraps of cotton. Raped anyone so far
this season?

    She rang up a sale, gave a kid her
change. HangTen was pretty cool for Waterloo; had the right labels. The local
kids liked to hang out there, occasionally buy a Billabong T-shirt or some Rip
Curl board shorts. Not her scene, however.

    She continued to stare at Josh.
Finally he woke up. He looked at Caz, a dangerous flush settling over him.
There were two other sales assistants, a handful of customers, and all were
watching, waiting.

    How about it, Josh? said Caz.

    He didnt rise to it. Instead, he
said, Fuck you, and dragged the girlfriend out. She wore painted-on jeans and
heels she couldnt manage. She wailed Joshua! and he told her to shut up.

    Caz smiled at her customers,
shrugged, said Schoolies, as if that answered everything.

    When that young copper came in,
wanting to know if there was anything wrong, Caz put on a brilliant smile and
said, Not a thing.

    * * * *

    12

    Late
in the afternoon Challiss desk