Free Have You Seen Ally Queen? by Deb Fitzpatrick Page B

we won’t buy a plasma screen for you kids. Or you can leave the country.’
     
    There’s a long pause, because I get that, I do, but I don’t have any idea what it’s got to do with her being sick. How can a money system make you sick?
     
    She’s looking angry now; she’s staring out the window. I wish I hadn’t asked. I understand everything even less than I did before.
     
    Mum tries to apologise, says something like You’ll understand when you’re older.
     
    ‘Yeah, maybe,’ I mumble.
     
    Aunty Trish pokes her head in, offers cuppas.
     
    I stare at the door. ‘No, thanks. I’d better get going, if that’s okay, Aunty Trish, I’ve got a science test tomorrow,’ I lie.
     
    My head’s a spin dryer on full blast.
     
    Mum jerks out a hand to me. ‘Send Dad my love, Ally, and give Jez a cuddle for me.’
     
    ‘Okay.’
     
    As I turn to leave, she says, ‘Don’t think too much about what I said today, okay?’
     
    I can hardly look at either of them when I say goodbye.
     
    I follow Aunty Trish out to the car.
     

BOYPRAWNS
    Lunchtime. Forcing myself to plough through some crappy book we have to read for English. As usual, the book is shite. I’d love to know who gets to choose our books; they must be about to fall off their perch, or something. They’re always books about war—guns and bleak landscapes.
     
    Rel’s coming over, hands in pockets, looking cool. His dickhead mates are on the other side of the oval, watching. I pretend I haven’t seen him and keep reading, except I’m reading the same line over and over, and I have no idea what it says. I check that my socks are pushed down, but not too much, and then he’s here.
     
    ‘Hey, McQueen.’
     
    I look up. ‘Rellard.’
     
    ‘Very funny. How’s stuff?’
     
    I sigh. ‘Pretty average. You?’
     
    ‘Yeah.’ He sits down and there’s a distant round ofclapping and cheering from his buddies. ‘Shut up,’ he says, giving them the forks. ‘What’s happening?’
     
    ‘Not much.’
     
    He’s looking funny, kind of thoughtful. ‘Nicked any more mulberries lately?’
     
    I grin. ‘Nah. But before ... I took heaps.’
     
    ‘Little Miss Piggy, hey!’
     
    Hmmm. Not really the impression I was going for.
     
    The oval’s just been mowed, every other stripe is pale green, and insects are cutting sick around our legs and heads.
     
    Rel says, not looking at me, ‘We’re, um, going prawning tonight, in the estuary, if you want to come.’
     
    Bejesus. ‘Prawning?’ I’m going hell red.
     
    ‘Yeah, you know, with nets and lamps and the barbie, and we fire them up, then and there. My folks are right into it; it’s kind of a regular gig.’
     
    ‘With your oldies?’
     
    He starts picking grass clippings off his shoes.
     
    ‘Well, yeah.’
     
    I take a breath, suddenly aware of how rude I just sounded. He must feel like a complete zit.
     
    ‘Okay ... well, yeah, thanks.’
     
    ‘Okay?’ His eyes are big. Maybe I should have said no; he looks shocked.
     
    ‘Yeah: okay.’
     
    ‘Okay.’
     
    This is so embarrassing. ‘So ... how should I ... should I meet you there?’
     
    ‘Nah. Just come over to my place about five, or something.’
     
    ‘Okay.’
     
    ‘Cool.’ He stands up. ‘See you tonight, then.’
     
    ‘Yeah, tonight.’ Oh my God, oh my God. Tonight.
     

PILLOWFIGHT
    Great. I’m in the shit again. Mum rang Dad in a state after giving me the lowdown on the evils of capitalism last night, and now Dad knows the whole story. He’s really angry that I went over there without permission. McSuck Jerry’s flitting around like a real little angel and I just can’t stop shaking my head about this whole ... ordeal. This thing with Mum is too weird. I mean, is she sick or what? And I was only trying to get it all straight in my head, and now look what’s happened.
     
    Dad said, ‘Ally, you lied to me.’
     
    ‘But I didn’t.’
     
    Dark look. ‘You told Aunty Trish that I’d said