On the Jellicoe Road

“What was his name?”

“Xavier.”

My stomach settles back down and I take a deep breath of relief. “Never heard of him.”

“Xavier Webster Schroeder.”

I feel faint and my breath seems to leave my body with a speed I can’t control. I need it desperately to come back, because the feeling that I’m breathing through a straw frightens the hell out of me.

“Are you okay?” Griggs says, looking at me. He turns to Santangelo. “Why do you always do this?”

“Why do you always go berserk when she loses a bit of colour?” Santangelo asks back.

“Because she’s an asthmatic, you moron, and every time you open your mouth and tell her something she forgets how to breathe.”

I get this horrible feeling that while I’m in the middle of an asthma attack these two are going to thump the hell out of each other again.

Raffy fumbles through my backpack for my inhaler and I take a few puffs until I get my breathing back under control. She glares at both of them, a bit pale herself.

“What?” Santangelo asks again.

“Just drop us off at my place,” she says, helping me up. “And if you guys have one more fight, I swear to God, Chaz, I will never speak to you again.”

They stand staring at each other and I’m waiting for a comeback from him. But Santangelo just looks a bit gutted and I realise it’s because Raffy looks just as bad and I get a glimpse of how things really are between them.

Without looking at Griggs he holds out a hand to him and Griggs shakes it, reluctantly.

We get into the car and I lean back, exhausted. Santangelo turns and looks at both of us. “So what’s the story?”

I close my eyes and curl up on the seat.

“Our House guardian who lives by the river,” Raffy says. “Her name is Ha

We get dropped off at Raffy’s place and her mother forces me to have a lie down and then refuses to drive me home that night. So I’m taken prisoner and made to wear a crisp white nightie for middle-aged people that has pink and white bows on the shoulders. Raffy looks apologetic because she left any nightwear she could have lent me back at the school. We sit watching television until late. I haven’t said much since finding out about the missing boy’s link to Ha

“Do you miss being friends with Santangelo?” I ask her after the lights are out and we’re almost asleep.

“What makes you think we were friends?”

“Everything.”

I hear her yawn.

“Being enemies with him is better,” she tells me. There’s a pause and I think she’s going to say something more but she doesn’t and it’s just silence for a long while.

“My father…” I begin, realising that I have never said those words out loud. “If I look like that kid in the photo and he’s disappeared…”

She turns to face me and although I can’t see her in the dark, I sense her there. “Don’t listen to Santangelo. Once he was convinced that a girl he was going out with looked exactly like Cameron Diaz and, I swear to God, my father looks more like Cameron Diaz.”

I curl into the nightie, the crisp cotton cocooning me in a wave of security and I go to sleep thinking of the boy in Santangelo’s photo.

Because thinking of him brings me solace.

We’re still in our nightwear at eleven o’clock the next morning. Raffy’s dad is making us breakfast. The doorbell rings and Raffy’s mum calls out, “It’s open.” I just can’t believe these people invite people into their home without asking who it is.

Santangelo and Griggs walk in and Raffy and I exchange looks of mini-mortification. They’re surprised to see me but Raffy’s mum is too busy kissing Santangelo with such enthusiasm that it’s like Jesus Christ has just walked in.

“And this is Gri—Jonah,” Santangelo says, trying very hard to let the name roll off his tongue.

Jonah Griggs shakes hands with both Raffy’s parents like they’re in the military. As usual he is dressed in his fatigues and looks away the instant someone tries to make eye contact. Raffy’s mum forces them to sit down and they get to see us up close and personal in our nighties. I think I felt less self-conscious in my undies and singlet the night Griggs came to my room.

I watch Raffy’s mother standing behind her chair, holding on to Raffy’s long hair as if putting it into a ponytail and there’s this pride on her face while she’s touching her, like she’s saying, “Look at my beautiful girl.” It makes my eyes fill with tears and I quickly brush them away but as usual Jonah Griggs is looking and I want to melt into the ground and have the nightie cover the insignificant puddle that is me. It’s not that I miss my mother. It’s just that I miss the idea of what one would be.

“We were just driving around…in Jonah’s car and we thought maybe we’d pick Raffy up and then Taylor at the school, but obviously she’s here.”

“What a pity. We’ve already made plans to go shopping,” Raffy’s mum says.

“Shame,” Raffy says. “We’ll see the guys out,” she adds, standing up.

“Raffy, they might want some breakfast.”

The boys speak over each other, explaining that they’ve already eaten, and I walk out with Griggs while Santangelo has a twenty-minute goodbye with Raffy’s parents.

“What’s with what you’re wearing?” Griggs asks while we stand outside waiting for the others.

“It’s pretty hideous, isn’t it?” I say.

“Don’t force me to look at it,” he says. “It’s see-through.”

That kills conversation for a couple of seconds.

“Strange that you’re hanging out with Santangelo,” I say, trying to keep the silence from growing even more awkward. It’s much easier dealing with him as an enemy in the territory wars than like this.

“Strange? I don’t think that word comes anywhere near it. My troops are on an overnight camp three hundred kilometres away from here. I had to sleep at the Santangelo penitentiary for pre-pubescent girls. There are hundreds of them, including that a

“As if Santangelo’s dad would ever have you in his house if he thought that,” I say quietly.

He’s not looking at me and suddenly I get why he doesn’t look people in the eye. It’s like he thinks he’ll see the doubt or the distrust or the questions about his past.

“Okay, so it’s not that bad,” he says after a while. “So, like I asked, what’s with the nightie?”

“It smells like what I always think mothers smell like,” I tell him honestly, knowing I don’t have to explain.

He nods. “My mum has one just the same and you have no idea how disturbing it is that it’s turning me on.”

Before I can even go red, Raffy and Santangelo walk towards us.

“Your nighties’ see-through,” Santangelo says, getting into the car. He rolls down the window. “I have a plan,” he says.

I shake my head. “I can’t do territory wars at the moment.”