Pulling the Moves by Margaret Clark Read Free Book Online

I’ve noticed that her hand’s wobbling. She probably couldn’t hit a fly. She’s not the type to bash someone’s head in: too unsure of herself.
    ‘So, Cola. What’s happening?’
    She shrugs.
    ‘What’s it look like? We’re on the run.’
    She pauses and looks at me.
    ‘How old are you, anyway?’
    ‘Nearly fifteen,’ I lie.
    ‘Yeah? I’m fifteen.’
    ‘You don’t look it.’
    That gets up her nose. She raises the steering lock. Ooops. Maybe I’ve misjudged her.
    Then I hear brmmm, brmmm brmmm. They’ve hot-wired another car. They bring it alongside and I can hear them messing about, probably with a length of hosepipe. I hear liquid gurgling into the tank as I lie on my back staring at Cola staring back at me. She turns away, moves out of my vision.
    ‘We need a full tank,’ says Macca. ‘Grab another car, will ya?’
    More engine noises. Where are we? I raise my head just a bit. Cola’s got her feet up on the dash. She senses my movement and lifts the steering lock menacingly. I sink back, but I’ve caught a glance at where we are: a car yard. Cars full of juice for the taking, like overripe grapes on a vine. The chain around the yard hasn’t stopped this lot. No way.
    ‘Would’ve been easier to swap cars,’ grumbles Zac, who seems to be doing most of the work. ‘Plus the cops’ll be lookin’ for this car, man.’
    ‘Told ya. I like this unit.’
    Macca sounds tired. Starting to come down off the goey. Zac’s already on a downer and sounding testy. I know everyone reacts differently to speed. Some get edgy, some get tired. I wouldn’t like to cross Zac when he’s out there. He’s the sort of guy who’s likely to chuck a psycho. I’ve got to get outa here. I wriggleslowly towards the door. If I wait till they both get back in the van, I can do a quick exit, run like hell, hide amongst the parked cars, raise the alarm …
    I slide carefully down towards the rear till I’m just about …
    Wham!
    The steering lock misses me by centimetres. I freeze.
    ‘Don’t even think about it,’ says Cola, as more petrol gurgles into the tank.
    Where the hell is Steve? Where’re the other cops? Haven’t they radioed ahead? Where’s the helicopter? Where’re the roadblocks? We rumble out of the car park and back onto the highway.
    ‘Better take a back road for a while,’ says Zac. ‘Pigs’ll be on the alert, eh. Here, Macca, turn off. We’ll hit the highway later.’
    ‘Where we goin’?’ says Cola.
    ‘I’ve decided. Adelaide.’
    Adelaide? As in the capital of South Australia? I don’t want to go to Adelaide . I’ve got to go to a wedding!

LEANNE
    I don’t want to get ready for the wedding yet. I think about sleeping in, then look at my bedside clock. 8:00. All right, all right, I’m getting up. I grab my walkman.
    ‘Right, Sam, hit the deck,’ I yell as I walk past his room. I want to bags the bathroom first: I’ve got major defuzz work to do on my armpits and legs. Then Mum and I have to hit the hairdresser’s.
    That’s weird. Sam usually gives this peculiar sort of pig-grunt when he gets woken up. I turn and poke my head into his room. His bed’s empty. Well, maybe he got up early and got his boy-bones organised for a change.
    I get in the bathroom and do my stuff as theMelonballs are singing “All Loved Out”. I wonder what I’d be like as a rock singer? You don’t need to be able to actually sing , just belt out words with a raspy voice. The Divynyls belt out their latest number. I give it a go while I’m under the shower, singing along with Chrissie Amphlett. There’s a pounding on the bathroom door.
    ‘Vaporise, germ,’ I yell to Sam.
    ‘Leanne! Stop mucking around and get out of that bathroom. You’ve been in there for an hour,’ says Mum.
    ‘So? Didn’t know I was on a time clock.’
    ‘Just get out!’
    ‘Okay, okay, don’t get your tits in a tangle.’
    ‘LEANNE!’
    ‘Yeah, right.’
    ‘Don’t use that tone of voice with me, young lady. I’ve