I went roughly south then west then south, thinking about my cash, doing a zigzag across Mahonyland. Moneyland, we should've called it. Each house I passed had its grass shorn like a military buzzcut, but with these long tendrils, pumpkins reaching out across the driveway and onto the berms. Lots of little overgrown apples and carrots to eat – if you were a HORSE. Blergh.
I was searching Junction Road for someone –anyone – when the first someone found me.
'WADDUP!' Maeve screeched, emerging from a tangle of flowers. 'Let's go shopping!'
'Where's your money at?' I blurted.
Maeve rested her hands on a picket fence and I met her on the other side. She was wet and had fresh black mud over yesterday's coating of brown.
'I hid mine under the wharf, but it's a secret,' she said. 'Where's yours? You don't have to tell if you don't want.'
'You hungry?' I went, pretending I hadn't squeezed information out of her, 'My belly's, like, flummoxing.'
Maeve reached inside her bra and pulled out a Mars bar. 'I saved it for you.'
I ripped the packaging off and made it disappear in one and a half bites. Maeve watched my sticky teeth separating and clamping down and separating again, glued with caramel. She chewed at the same time. 'I'll pay you back for the Mars bar later,' I lied to Maeve, trying to make her feel better. 'I want to have a money party tonight but I don't know where everyone is. You seen the crew around?'
'Chan and Esther are over by those buildings, I haven't checked them out yet. The – wait a minute – yeah, the southeast ones? I'm pretty sure that's southeast. This stupid country needs some mountains to see off of. Like, those guys are over where there's a library, I think? Lots of people went over there to check it out. They told me to come but I thought it was a trap.'
'Why would they trap you? You're their friend.'
She glanced over her right shoulder, then quickly back over her left. 'My mum's CEO had, like, a gazillion dollars and she still took heaps of money from the company. Not everyone's as honest as you, Ede.'
'Let's go to the river,' I said, 'Maybe there's food or something, I dunno.' Looping all around us, the river was the edge of everything. As we got near we saw the land on the far side of the river got kind of fuzzy, like we were looking at it through dirty glass, and I saw it ripple. It was humming too.
When we got to the south end of Junction Road there was something called Wade's Wharf road beyond a big rust-coloured barn with a huge, silent tractor on its driveway. Cows must've been hiding somewhere around here. When we found the cows I'd tell the boys to make everyone barbecued ribs. Finally the road became a boat ramp dipping into the river.
There was a wharf beside the boat ramp – and boats! I ran up, counting the vessels – two rowboats, a small white yacht and a stainless steel dinghy with an outboard motor. The steps were concealed right at the end of the wharf. I landed on the steps 30 seconds ahead of Maeve, sprinted frantically to the bottom and looked into the dark underbelly of the wharf for her money. Spiderwebs, mud, posts and piles and a sleeping rowboat, its oars folded neatly in its centre like the folded arms of a person in a coffin.
There was no money that I could see, not in a pile, not in a stack. Not stapled to the wood, not disguised, not pinned under a rock or stuck in the mud.
Maeve arrived behind me. I could hear her breathing.
'MAEVE SIMPSON. You said it was here.'
'How come you ran ahead of me?' she said sadly. 'If you want to borrow money, you can just say… .'
'Pfft. I don't need that. I raced ahead, ummm, to, tooo… to see if there's fish. We need to fish to eat, right? I thought I'd find us some fish?'
'Ede, honest: were you going to do something to my money?'
'I was just gonna look at it.' My words sounded weak. I didn't know why I��d wanted to rip my friend off. I wasn't in control. 'Look, d'you want some fish or not? We can, like, catch a bigass swordfish and serve it up like a family roast.'
'I thought we were family.' Maeve backed all the way up the stairs and when she got to the top she ran, frightened.
'MAEVE SIMPSON. YOU COME BACK HERE THIS INSTANT.' I climbed the stairs, ran back up Wade's Wharf Road until I hit Mahony Road, the big road stretching the whole south coast.
I slowed to a stroll, trying to look chill. Maeve might snitch on me. The others had to hear my version before Maeve's. We could form that equal-community-council-thing we'd talked about, kick Maeve out. Exile her ass. Maybe split up her mil.
There's no dairy, no minimart, no local produce market. No Subway, no Dominos, no KFC, no Burger King.
STOP IT. Stop it, Eden. There IS food. There IS drink. No sicko would put someone in a fish tank with nothing to eat or drink. Even if they did, they would never do it to you.
I jogged, hardly even sure I was following Maeve's muddy trail any more. Finally I managed to slow as things aligned to tell my brain that I'd reached the southeast corner of Mahonyland. Here, we'd left the houses behind and we were surrounded by wheat and corn fields and wire fences. The road widened into highway, taking off from a cluster of lonely shops.
I was looking at a BP gas station. It was the most colourful amongst a handful of square, plain shops with big ugly stainless steel vents sticking out of their roofs – Venus Refrigeration, a boutique looking place that said it serviced refrigerators; a tiny hardware store with a wide plate glass window that I pressed my forehead against, trying to see inside. Virtually all of the merchandise was gone, but you'd hardly know it – the advertising, the stands, the cardboard, the plastic printouts, the folds, the tags, the labels, it was so cluttered with messages telling you how essential it was to buy the merch that it was hard to notice if the merch was there or not. Looked to me like every last screw had been taken.
I spotted the small library people had been talking about, just a converted house really, with childish writing on the window about story time for mums and babies at 9am Tuesdays, and faded posters in the window. God, there was even a Jane Austen poster. She was one butt-kicking bitch. She didn't let anyone tell her she couldn't do what boys could do. I wished she was there with me, writing down all the ignorant bullshit coming out of everyone's mouths. Beside Jane was a poster with a Native American Indian chief going "Only when you've got no more food will you realise you can't eat money," like one of those memes you put on your profile so people think you're deep.
There was a shop that had to have been a supermarket in the past, with a big parking lot and some trolleys, except the place had no logo and the windows were all papered over. It loomed over the township, big and white as an iceberg.
The BP, then. Ah. It was the first time I'd ever been excited about a service station. The sun made the green and yellow sign light up just a little bit. I guess the town planners forced it to be built out this way so people could fill up before they blazed through the countryside at 100 kays on their way to meet the motorway.
Grab a feed, gas up the limo, get my million and my mates, maybe get a car racing hard enough to shatter the dome and GTFO before the Mechastructure noticed we were gone – that'd be the plan. I could see activity inside the petrol station. It looked like Anya was in there, and I was starting to think that's where Maeve had fled.
I pushed open the door of the service station, went inside.
Anya was on her knees with a small blade, scraping gum off the floor. Beside her stood a bucket with foamy bubbles spilling out of it.
'ANYA! What the hell are you…?' Behind the counter, in front of the e-cigarettes and spraypaint, were a pair of boots. I followed the boots up the legs of a human with the head of – oh God no.
Adam had a whole box of chewing gum in his lap, but he wasn't chewing. A window from his organiser hovered beside his face. He counted packets of gum for 30 seconds, updated the tally on his organiser, counted a tray of breath mints, then updated his organiser. He counted lighters, bliss balls, beef jerky and hot and spicy peanuts while I stood gawping.
He'd got a million dollars today, and he was worried about gum?
'Like, hellOOOOoh. Ding-dong. You seen Maeve? Bitch is in deep trouble with me.'
'Maeve's safe,' Adam said casually, half-ignoring me. I noticed the lights were on above him, which didn't make sense, and some kind of rattling, buzzing drone that sounded like my dad's chainsaw. Or his mini camping generator that he used to power his computer gear in the woods.
Not only did Adam not stare at my chest, or suck the colour out of my eyes, he didn't look up at all. Anya, on the other hand, was rising. When she'd straightened up, her chin touched my nose. She was taller than any male in our group, and wide, too, with shoulders like the boys on the rowing team. Her jaw was a block of wood glued to her cheekbones.
She opened her mouth very slowly, looked at me like I'd squeezed through the nearly-closed doors of a bus she was driving. 'What you are wanting?'
'Um, back off out my face, okay?' I walked out of her intimidating spot and put the palms of both hands on the counter. 'Oh my god, Snickers bars! I love these things.' I began to unpeel one and leaned back against a drinks fridge which was cool on my shoulders. Electricity? Hell yeah.
'So glad you guys found this place.'
Anya grabbed my wrist and prised my Snickers out of my fingers.
'Youch, hey! That was mine!'
'One thousand dollars,' Adam said from behind the counter, 'No credit. Cash only.'
'Yeah right,' I said, and reached for another log of nougaty caramel heaven. Anya placed her hand atop mine, grabbed the little finger of my right hand and began to bend the finger back. I squawked and shook my hand and blew on it. 'GOD you guys are anal. You owe me for that. Oww. Oi, anyway, listen up. Can you actually do me a favour and tell me where Maeve is? She's, like, hysterical right now and– '
'Maeve is protected within my private property. You, on the other hand, are not. I'm unimpressed with your manners, Eden – or lack thereof.' Adam picked up a comic book and flicked a couple of pages, like he had better things to do.
'Kindly excuse me? Adam, hey – OI! I'm talking to you! How did you get power in here? Wakey wakey! No one else has lights. Is that hot dog machine on? OI! MECHALOVER! I'M TALKING TO YOU!' I reached across the counter and clicked my fingers in front of his face. Adam kept his head in his comic book, didn't look up, just pressed a key on his organiser screen and then a pair of tentacles were twisting around me. Anya hauled me off the ground, rotated me, slammed me down, and I shrieked, fearful my face was about to be cracked on the hard floor. Then Anya dragged my head to the bucket of grey floor-cleaning water and held it above the liquid, the edge of the bucket cutting into my throat.
'I can't breathe!' I rasped, sickly bubbles touching my lips, 'Let me up!'
Out of the corner of my wet, bubbly eye I saw Adam move, and I waited a few seconds for him to come over and fight Anya off and release me. Then his voice came over the PA.
'You can let her catch her breath. Hopefully she's learned her lesson.'
Adam was only metres away. He would have loved making his voice boom and spread everywhere, superior, powerful, commanding. I stood up, ran back towards Adam, ready to claw his eyes out, and my chin was suddenly cracking on the lino, teeth shattering, knocked unconscious for a microsecond before the store started moving backwards and away from me. I glimpsed Maeve peeping out from the BP's backroom where she must have been hiding amongst stacked boxes of toilet paper and hand soap. Afraid of me. Afraid of her best friend.
Anya dragged me across the grimy concrete of the forecourt and I clawed and wriggled and shook and started to see blood. I realised my right elbow had been skinned.
'STOP, PLEASE STOP.' Cold water was poured over me and I got my knees under me and grasped a rubbish bin and a petrol pump, and almost managed to stand before I slipped in the – water?
No, that wasn't right. It reeked. It wormed up my nose and stung my brain. I gagged and swallowed the puke back down. The 'water' had a rainbow sheen. It was petrol. Anya had blasted me with enough unleaded that a puddle of the stuff was trickling across the forecourt.
I found my balance, spread my legs, put both hands on Pump number 6 for stability, and faced Anya – who aimed a nozzle towards me like a gun barrel.
Adam had finally gotten off his chair and come up behind Anya. He put an arm around her waist and aimed a little pen at me – pen? Pen?! It didn't make sense.
No. It was a long-nosed barbecue gas lighter, the kind that flames with just one click.
Straight away I wasn't cool any more, or young or pretty. Teachers didn't email me to say they missed me. The Under 15 girls soccer team weren't nominating me for Student Coach of the Year any more. I was alone and terrified, pants soaked in petrol and pee-pee, balling my eyes out and begging.
Adam clicked; a flame appeared. He relaxed his finger and the flame went away again. He sighed, disappointed. 'Eden, Anya is authorised to protect me from assault. This is the first and last time I'll tell you.'
'I DIDN'T ASSAULT YOU, YOU FUCKWIT.'
'Eden, I'd like you to – what was the phrase – "Leave right away" because "I don't want people seeing you here." That sound familiar, hm?'
'What, you recorded me, did you, you, you, you paedo?!'
'I maintain records of all threats to my security.'
'Anya, why would you work for this piece of shit?'
'Piece of shit, I see, okay. Maeve: here.' Adam clicked his fingers and Maeve came to his side like a dog. 'Now, Maeve, you were telling me about a certain disturbing "piece of shit" incident you suffered involving Eden here. Care to repeat it?'
Maeve pouted her cheeks, hunched her head low so she looked like a fat-necked duck. Her eyes darted from Adam to me and back to Adam, like we were two parents and she wasn't sure which one would side with her.
'You tricked me. You wanted my money.'
'CAN SOMEONE ACTUALLY GET ME A TOWEL? THIS ISN'T FUNNY. WHAT'S WRONG WITH YOU?'
Adam flared the end of the lighter again and I jerked backward a step. If he touched the flame to the puddle of petrol, it would outrun me. 'Eden, the fundamental difference between us is you attempt to interact with your peers through passive aggression, kvetching and bullying, whereas I treat my friends with respect.'
'With MONEY.'
'Payment for services rendered is a sign of respect,' he said, looking chuffed with himself.
'I WANNA GO HOME. LET ME GO, ADAM. YOU HAVE TO.'
'The king of kings doesn't have to do anything,' he said with a shrug, and flared the lighter and lowered it toward the petrol.