The Story of Tom Brennan by J.C. Burke Page A

nephew, aren't you?'
    'Yeah.' I kept my head down, sorting through my change on the counter.
    'You living here now?'
    'Yep.' I was short twenty cents.
    He swiped the change off the counter into his palm. 'You living at Saint Marg's?'
    'Yeah.'
    'Moved from . . .?'
    'Mumbilli,' I grunted.
    'That's right.'
    I looked up. His bloodshot eyes were staring into my face. 'So you reckon I should let you into this pool?'
    I opened my mouth.
    'Hey? Do ya?'
    The sound stuck somewhere in my throat. Here goes, I thought.
    'Just jokin', mate,' he chuckled. 'You're only twenty cents short. I'm not going to call the cops.'
    'Um, I, er . . .'
    'You're sweating like a pig, buddy.' He handed me a token. 'In you go. You look like you could do with a dip.'
    'Yeah. Thanks.'
    'First time swimming here?'
    'Yeah.'
    'Don't open your eyes. There's a bit too much chlorine in the pool today.'
    'Relax, relax,' a voice was saying in my head, but after that little scare I felt like a lie-down and one of Gran's orange tablets.
    'Oi! Tom!' Rory was up on the diving board.
    I unbuttoned my school shirt, kicked off my shoes, emptied my pockets and did a running bomb.
    Smack! It was icy. It hit the nerve endings like shock therapy, zapping me out of my paranoia. 'Whoa!' I shouted, rising to the surface and shaking my hair, the water spraying around me. I climbed out of the pool and jumped back in. The soles of my feet slammed the water before landing on the cold tiles. I pushed off hard, springing high out of the water, lifting myself into the air, flying just for that second. For once, I felt free. Free and light.
    Rory's feet came charging along the edge of the pool. He leapt in. Jimmy followed, bombing hard. Then Soupe bombed Jimmy. Water flew everywhere.
    'No running,' one of the lifeguards yelled, but we were too busy splashing and dunking each other.
    'Watch out, here comes the human whale,' shouted Rory.
    Brad Wiseman was walking towards us. You could almost feel the ground vibrate with each step. He was huge. He had to be over six foot one and I reckon there wouldn't be much change from 115 kilos. He'd been the firsts' prop for the last three years. Rory reckoned he's repeated that many times he must be almost twenty.
    'Arrrr-a-arrr!' he bellowed, thumping his fists on his hairy chest.
    'Go the flop, Wiseman,' called Soupe.
    'The flop, the flop,' the boys started chanting.
    Brad took a few steps back, paused, then ran, throwing himself into the air. Whack! – the biggest bellyflop I have ever witnessed. The water sprayed up and over the edges of the pool. Everyone started clapping and cheering, even me.
    Rory swam over to me and mumbled, 'They reckon Wiseman's been shaving since he was nine.'
    'Yeah?' I said.
    The bloke at the desk was right about his chlorine miscalculation. My eyeballs felt like they'd been rolled in chilli and were sticking out of the sockets on toothpicks.
    'Don't rub 'em,' Rory warned.
    'They bloody kill.'
    'They've been dumping so much chlorine in this pool lately.'
    'Why doesn't someone do something about it?'
    'I'm planning on it.' Rory stopped at the queue by the shower. It seemed like everyone at the Coghill Pool was lined up, bloodshot eyes staring. We looked like a bunch of aliens from some sci-fi movie. 'Just stand in there and let the water rinse your eyes. It's the only cure.'
    A girl waited in front of me. She was tall, her shoulders broad and strong. Her hands reached up over her head as her fingers squeezed the water from her ponytail. I watched as the drops slid down her smooth brown skin, slipping under the tie of her bikini top, down her back and into her bottoms. I felt movement in my shorts, and before I had a chance to think of sledging baby seals, she'd turned and was looking at me.
    'Tom? Hi!'
    I gulped.
    'Chrissy. Jonny's sister.' Her white teeth grinned at me. 'Remember, you came over the . . .?'
    'Y-yeah.' I think my face was as red as my eyeballs. 'The Bart Simpson slippers.'
    She nodded.
    'Hey,