Free Extinct Doesn't Mean Forever by Phoenix Sullivan

which is most of the time. I take him out back, let him run round when nobody’s home, but not near as often as he’d like. Dunno what’ll happen in two weeks when I go back to school. I could sneak back home during the day. Or pretend I’m sick again. No, stupid plan; I’d be back in hospital. Then who’d care for Addy?
    Em makes a big deal of saying “Hi” to Dad when we go past the pub. He’s having a ciggy out back, so I stop. Em goes, hoping she won’t see me for the rest of the day.
    When Dad goes on about life’s-too-short, I know that something’s about to happen. Maybe he’ll blow his cash on something really cool, like a motorbike. Or just take off in the Kombi with Em and me. A few years ago, he chucked in his job in the city to work here in the pub after whining about life’s-too-short. I always thought 42 years was a pretty long life, but I don’t tell him so. Just wonder what his next plan will be, and hope it means we get more time to surf.
    Len shows up. He doesn’t seem mad with me.
    “Hey, Lance!” He waves at my Dad. “How’s it goin’, cuz?”
    He’s so skinny his pants are bunched up around his waist, tied with string. Dad asks him where he’s sleeping tonight, and he says he don’t know, so Dad says, “Our house, Len.”
    Then Len says to me, “Blackfellas are lucky buggers. We can just go to any town in Australia — any town at all — and if you know where Blackfellas meet, you know you’ll find a cuz or a bro. You know you’ll get a bed or a porch to sleep on, or maybe they’ll share their place under the bridge with ya. That’s why you always hear Blackfellas yapping on about who was yer mum or yer dad or aunty. Whitefellas broke up families; tried to kill our culture. So just knowin’ who your people are is like a big ‘Up Yours’ to the Whitefella.”
    “They reckon Blackfella culture’s extinct,” Dad adds, his accent changing like it does when he’s with Blackfellas. “But it’s not. Just not obvious, unless you know where to look.”
    Makes me think of Addy, coz he’s not extinct either. Just not obvious. Like it’s not obvious that me and Dad are Blackfellas by looking at us, coz our faces go bright red in five minutes flat without sunscreen. We didn’t know we were Blackfellas till Dad’s mum told before she died. She said it like it was something bad.
    “Well, Len.” Dad clears his throat. “I reckon I’d like to be a proper Blackfella soon, if yer’ll still have me. You asked if I wanted to be initiated — well, yeah, Len. Yes I do.”
    Len shrugs and tells Dad he’s known all along. That was his own dad’s mob, why wouldn’t he want to? So why not do it next weekend? Dad’s rapt! That’s his next life’s-too-short move.
    “How do you get initiated?” I ask, coz I’m thinking I’ll have a go in a few years.
    “Gotta show how brave you are, and how well you can do traditional things. Spiritual things. We’ll go to Jamorjah Island, stay for a few nights. You and Emily can camp with the women and kids. Then when your Dad come back, he’ll be a real Jamorjah man.”
    “A few nights?” I say, trying to look happy. But all I’m thinking of is how Addy’ll cope if I’m not there. How’ll he get fed?
    Len grins and tells me I’ll have a great time. I’ll learn to spear fish and hunt goannas, like a proper Blackfella kid. “ Them lizards are good eating — easy to catch if you sneak up behind them, before they’ve warmed up proper. Just grab their tail and whack , hit their head on a tree before they can do anything about it.” I think of Addy and feel sick, but I just smile.
    That night, I find Addy’s been scratching the door with his thumb claw. If he keeps going, it’ll be sawdust. And he makes a noise that means he’s hungry, so I gotta get him more food. Getting sick of that park, but what can I do? Dad and Len have a laugh when I go past with a stack of branches. “Got plenty of them on Jamorjah,” Len calls out.