head.
âYou know,â I say, âmaybe itâs just me, but I donât find that very funny.â
Lik and Leech are both silent.
âAnd another thing I donât find very funny is you two hassling me every time I walk past. Itâs got to stop.â
âSorry,â says Lik. âWe were just mucking around. How about a milkshake to make up for it?â
I should leave it here and just keep walking up the hill, but Iâm enjoying my newfound power too much. I remember the cool milkshakes that Lik used to make for me back in the days when we were friends. Two heaped teaspoons of malt, eggs, ice-cream and about half a bottle of chocolate syrup. Hardly any room for the milk. Beautiful.
âThought youâd never ask,â I say.
âOkay,â says Lik. âIâll go get you one, wonât be a sec.â
âNo, not takeaway,â I say. âI think Iâll drink it inside, if thatâs okay with you. Sunâs kind of hot today.â
Leech and Lik look at each other.
âYeah, Andy,â says Lik. âOf course. Come in.â
We start walking up the drive. Iâm so cool I canât believe it.
Inside, I pick the best seat in the loungeroom and plonk my feet up on the coffee table. Thereâs a pile of magazines on top of the table, so I push them all off onto the carpet with my feet.
âI think Iâll just wait here while you make my milkshake,â I say.
âSure, fine,â says Lik.
I grab the remote and turn on the television. I turn up the sound full-blast so that itâs distorting.
Lik pokes his head around the door.
âHey, Andy!â he says.
âWhat?â
âCan you turn that down a bit?â
âNo,â I say. âI like it loud.â
Lik just stands there like heâs not sure whether to rip the remote out of my hand and shove it down my throat or just leave it.
âWanna make something of it?â I say.
âNo,â he says, âof course not. Youâre the guest. What flavour milkshake do you want?â
âChocolate, of course,â I say.
âComing up,â he says and goes back into the kitchen.
I start flicking through the channels on the remote. âPlayschoolâ on Channel Two. The presenters are pretending to be kookaburras. Theyâre singing a song.
âKookaburra sits on the old gum tree, merry merry king of the bush is he . . . â
I know exactly how that kookaburra feels. Iâm the king and Lik and Leech are my subjects. They will do anything I tell them to. I watch a bit more of âPlayschoolâ, then turn it off.
âWhatâs taking so long?â I call.
âAlmost ready,â yells Leech.
I hear the high-pitched whine of the blender. My mouth starts watering. Steve Likâs milkshakes are really something else.
The blender stops.
âI donât want it in the container, either,â I say. âI want it in a glass. With a straw!â
âNo worries,â calls Lik.
Leech enters the room with the milkshake on a tray. Lik is right behind him.
Leech places the tray on top of the coffee table. The milkshake is in one of those old-fashioned glasses with ridges down the side and a crazy straw sticking out. There is a scoop of chocolate ice-cream sitting on top.
Lik picks up the glass and gives it to me. Then they both kneel down on either side of my chair and stare at me.
âDo you mind?â I say.
âNo,â says Leech, his lips curling into a slight smile.
âWell, what are you waiting for?â
âWe just want to watch you drink it,â says Lik.
âWe just want to watch you enjoy it,â says Leech.
Thereâs something about the way he says âenjoyâ that I donât like.
I push my arm forward to make sure they remember whoâs boss here. I look at them, look at my tattoo and look back at them to make sure theyâve got the message.
But they