Free Pig Boy by J.C. Burke

been touched. The five coathangers are lined up exactly how I left them twelve hours ago.

 
    WE ESCAPE TOWN WITHOUT BEING seen. At least, I’m as sure as I can be. One eye was on the road while the other darted back and forth between the mirrors.
    When we turn onto the highway it’s like the world finally opens, giving me space to breathe. There are so many plans bouncing off the sides of my brain. But here on this quiet smooth strip of bitumen I will try to settle them and stop the noise.
    Maybe for the first time as a legal adult I’ll be able to think straight. I need to get back to how I usually am: one step ahead, decisive, direct and in control.
    I sigh, turning my head and lifting my shoulders, oiling the creaks and cracks in my bones and sockets. The rear-vision mirror catches the side of my face. There’s almost a cheekbone protruding through my padded skin. My fingertips push into the hard lump and I wonder what my skull looks like under all this flesh.
    â€˜I’m goin’ to have some blonde tips put in,’ Mum is telling me as she digs her fist into a giant bag of nuts. ‘What do ya reckon?’
    She shoves the bag into the glove box and brushes her salty palms over her skirt. I hear a grunt and a ‘hmmm’. She is satisfied, pleased even, that she has shown the discipline not to eat the whole packet in one sitting. Five minutes, maybe three, that’s all I give her before the nuts are back out and in her mouth.
    â€˜Son?’ she says. Now she’s watching me and I don’t want her to. It feels like her stare is sucking the oxygen out of the car. ‘Like I said before, ya spendin’ far too much time in ya room sleepin’. I really –’
    â€˜Who are you? Mrs Active?’ I snap. Straight away I want to slap myself across the head. I need her off my case. So instead I say, ‘Sorry. You’re right, Mum. I’ve just been really tired.’
    â€˜We need to talk about ya futcha, Damon.’
    â€˜Future,’ I pronounce under my breath.
    â€˜Ya gotta have some type of plan.’
    â€˜We could go to Adelaide and visit Aunty Yvonne.’ I imagine how easy it’d be to breathe interstate. ‘We’ve never been and you haven’t seen your sister in a couple of years.’
    â€˜Me sister only feels the need to see us when there’s a crisis,’ Mum replies. In a split second of insanity, I think of telling her that this is a crisis but she keeps talking. ‘And I don’t count sitting ya final exams in the public library a national disaster, thanks all the same. Even though she probably would. She’s so Mrs La-di-da, my life is perfect and I don’t want no one muckin’ it up. Plus I gotta keep an eye on me Powerball winnings, Damon. She’s not stupid.’
    The road to Pat’s place veers off the highway. The Pigman lives out this way too. That’s why I didn’t make a fuss about coming. Mum’s right. I’ve got to think about my future. I’ve got to work out how I’m going to implement the plan because there’ll be no second chances.
    I was fast out of bed today. I sensed Mum standing there and I was straight on my feet. But I know that won’t be quick enough the day it’s them standing there, ready to get me, to stop me from talking about what I saw them do.
    â€˜Now, I got a list in me bag.’ Already Mum’s taken the nuts out of the glove box. She’s talking through a mouthful of crunching. ‘I thought while I’m down at Pat’s ya can go on back to town, get the groceries, take ’em home and unpack ’em. My hair’ll take a while. I’ll text ya when I know what time I need to be picked up.’
    I’m agitated. I can’t work out how I can be quick on my feet and armed at the same time. I answer Mum with a snap again. ‘I’m not doing the shopping!’ So, slowly, I count to three, then