The Legend of Kevin the Plumber by Scot Gardner Page A

Literally!’
    She dropped me at the door and I thanked her. Muz’s car wasn’t in the drive but I didn’t go home. I waited until the van buzzed up the road, with the woman waving fromthe window and driving over the white line. I walked across to Ash’s place. The bungalow was locked but there was a white plastic chair under the window. I dragged it into the shade, sat and waited. Waited for Ash, maybe. Waited for Mario to come home so I could explain what happened. He’d be pissed off at me, sure, but none of it was my fault. I wondered if they’d pay me. I turned up for the day, so they should pay me for the day. It was only fair.
    I got hungry at about one o’clock. I decided to do a fridge raid and bring back whatever I could find to eat in the shade next to the bungalow.
    Muz’s car still wasn’t in the driveway. Trixie was. She was growling and poking her arse at a scruffy-looking black poodle. I’d seen the poodle before; it lived down near the caravan park. I’d never seen it pay so much attention to Trixie. And Trixie, the slut, was just lapping it all up, prancing around then stopping so the poodle could smell her butt. They’d be interesting puppies; poodle crossed with a Shih tzu. Little shit poos.
    The TV was roaring. Mario was on the phone. I’d let the flywire door slam before I realised he was home.
    â€˜Hello? Who’s that?’
    â€˜Me,’ I said.
    The floorboards squeaked under his heavy footfalls and I held my breath.
    â€˜Where’s my car?’ he asked.
    â€˜What?’
    â€˜Don’t play stupid. Where’s my bloody car?’
    â€˜I don’t know. You dropped me off in it this morning. I haven’t seen it since then. How would I know?’
    His hair flicked through the air as he spun and stomped down the hallway.
    â€˜You there?’ he said into the phone. ‘Gary’s home now. He doesn’t know anything about it . . . Yep. Gone. Right out of the driveway. While I was still inside the house . . . Yes . . . No, I haven’t rung them yet, I’ve only just realised it was stolen . . . Right. Goodbye.’
    The phone made an ugly crack as he slammed down the receiver.
    â€˜What are you doing here, anyway?’ Mario called from the hallway.
    â€˜I was . . . I just . . . just grabbing some lunch.’
    â€˜Hello? Police? Yes, I’d like to report a stolen car . . . ’
    I made three cheese and Vegemite sandwiches. I slugged some milk from the carton and scurried across the road to Ash’s place. I knew she’d be at school. I scoffed the sandwiches. I ate like I hadn’t eaten for a week. Who’d want to steal Muz’s car? It wasn’t a shitbox but it certainly wasn’t prestige. They were lucky the thing started. Right out of the driveway? In daylight? That was keen. Or stupid.
    And it was probably stupid to leave work but too bad, I’d done it anyway. Mum and Mario could hardly hang me for it. They may never find out. I decided I could easily pretend I was going to work and just bum around. Nobody would see me and nobody would miss me, unlike school where they missed me if I was a minute late for class. Mrs Jefferies would phone Mum and ask if I was going to be joining them that day.
    There were no roll-marking Nazis at the plumbers; I just wouldn’t get paid. I even thought a way around thatas I sat beside Ash’s bungalow and waited. I thought I could go down and collect the dole and pretend I was working, just for Mum and Muz’s benefit. I might last a few weeks like that, save up enough money and just disappear up to Queensland where my old man could organise a decent job. Not a bad plan.
    â€˜Oi!’
    I’d fallen asleep and the shout startled me.
    It was Ash, rattling her keys at the lock on the bungalow.
    â€˜What are you doing here? I thought you were supposed to be at work.’
    I shrugged. ‘They couldn’t keep me away