Free Huia Short Stories 10 by Tihema Baker Page B

think about eels with sharp teeth. ‘It’s a secret place,’ says Hemi. ‘First time you swim here, you get to make a wish.’
    Closing my eyes, I make the wish ‘Let Dad take me pig hunting,’ then take a running jump, fly through the air and belly flop in the water. For a moment I can’t breathe it hurts so bad, and all the air has whooshed out of me. I hear Bill and Hemi laughing; see them doubled over and holding one another. ‘Give him one point for effort,’ says Hemi. ‘And one point for stupid,’ says Bill, and they both start laughing again as though it’s the funniest thing anyone’s ever said.
    At lunchtime we go back to the house. Aunty has laid out sandwiches as big as doorsteps. They’re filled with ham and – to make sure we eat healthy – some lettuce. I hate lettuce. I slip it out when I think no one’s looking and put it in my pocket.
    Dad’s sitting at the table as well, and he’s quiet, as though he’s thinking seriously about something. Uncle George isn’t around, which is good, as I’m sure he would have seen what I did with the lettuce and got me into trouble.
    â€˜Dad,’ I say, and he looks up. ‘Can I have one of the puppies? It’s the smallest one and Uncle George is going to get rid of it.’ I don’t say any more, but my father knows. It’s because it’s the runt of the litter.
    I see something in his eyes for a moment, and then he nods his head. ‘But you better look after it boy. Feed it and clean up after it. You hear me?’
    I’m so happy. Then he says, ‘We’re going hunting tomorrow, so be ready because we’re going early,’ and I know that no day will ever get better than this.
    The next morning it’s raining and cold. Uncle George is moaning and groaning and doesn’t want to go, but Aunty says he has to. ‘We need some pork or venison,’ she says. ‘Get your lazy, fat arse out of bed. Breakfast’s on the table.’ He does, but he’s not happy.
    Dad is ready. He’s got on his big boots and hunting jacket, and Pig Sticker is strapped to his belt. He spent a lot of time last night scraping it over and over against the special stone that makes it so sharp it will go through a pig’s skin like butter. He cleaned his shotgun as well; it stands waiting against the wall by the front door.
    We’re only going to be away overnight, so we have sleeping bags and tins of baked beans and spaghetti. Uncle George wants to take a load of other stuff, but Dad tells him it would weigh too much and unless he’s prepared to carry it, forget it. I’m so excited I can hardly eat. Even so, I notice there’s something going on between Dad and my uncle – but that’s probably because they don’t like one another much. My cousins are coming too. We have a race to see who can eat the most sausages. I win, but Uncle George says ‘You got worms boy? Is that why you’re so scrawny?’ I think of the puppy and being the runt, him getting rid of it, and I see that funny look on Dad’s face again.
    Uncle George has two dogs he uses for hunting. We load them into the van. He calls them Jake and Chopper. Aunty told me once that they’re his babies. He’d hate it if anything happened to them. She stands at the door and waves goodbye. ‘Look after them,’ she calls to Dad, but he doesn’t speak or nod. I wonder if he’s even heard her, but then we turn a corner, she’s gone and it’s too late to say anything.
    We drive for a couple of hours. The rain comes down and it begins to blow. I don’t care, because Dad says weather like this is good for hunting – the pigs can’t smell or hear you. We’re snug and warm in the van, but no one talks much, and the only time we laugh is when Hemi farts, loud and long. It’s all those sausages and eggs catching up