The Ice-cream Man by Jenny Mounfield Read Free Book Online Page A

wasn’t it? ‘Guess what?’ he said. ‘Dad’s getting me a phone.’
    ‘Uh huh,’ Rick said, rocking back and forth on his chair. Although his eyes appeared to be downcast, Marty knew he was watching the street.
    ‘Yep, my mother thinks I’m too helpless to be allowed out by myself, so the old man’s buying me a phone.’ Marty chewed his lip. ‘Hey, Aaron, who’ve you got for maths? Not No-balls Baldwin?’
    Aaron’s head jerked up. ‘Huh? Ah, no, Mrs Jackman.’ He plucked a paper napkin from the holder and began tearing it into strips.
    The chimes blared. Rick rocked faster.
    ‘Oh right, had her last year.’ Marty dragged his wet finger across the tabletop.
    ‘Don’t know why the freak’s doing this. Way I see it we’re even,’ Rick said through clenched teeth.
    ‘How about English? Who’ve you got for English, Aaron?’
    Lickety-lick . ‘Same as Rick. But Goth Woman’s
    away for the rest of the year, so now we’ve got that relief teacher, Mr Gunner.’
    ‘He shouldn’t’ve ignored me, but he did, so we paid him back. That makes us even.’
    Marty glanced at Rick. He looked as though he would explode any second. ‘You got a PlayStation or something, Aaron? Maybe we can go upstairs and –’
    Rick shot to his feet, knocking the chair into the drinks fridge. ‘That’s it!’ He charged towards the doorway then stopped and snatched up a carton of eggs from a wire rack near the counter.
    ‘No, Rick!’ Marty yelled. He took off after him with Aaron close behind.
    Rick ran onto the footpath and started pegging eggs at the ice-cream van. Two primary school girls who had been walking towards the van took one look at him and bolted in the opposite direction.
    ‘Wanna mess with me, freak?’ Rick roared. ‘Well go right ahead!’ He moved onto the road and continued to pelt the van with eggs until they were all gone. Then he flung the carton away and stood there, chest heaving.
    ‘Go get him, Aaron,’ Marty said.
    Before Aaron could move, Rick marched towards the shop, probably planning on getting more eggs. Behind him, the ice-cream van drove away.
    ‘What on earth are you boys up to?’ Bernie thundered down the aisle from the back of the shop.
    ‘Aaron, is everything all right?’ asked the woman behind him.
    ‘Yeah, Mum. Don’t worry about it.’
    ‘I think we’d better go.’ Marty rolled onto the footpath. Bernie looked as though he was about to tear strips off someone, and he didn’t want it to be him.
    ‘Yeah, be seein’ ya,’ Rick called. ‘And don’t worry about them eggs. I’ll give you the money tomorrow.’

5
    The last thing Rick wanted to deal with after the day he’d had was his mother. He stood at the front gate and looked up at his house, certain he’d seen his mother’s bedroom curtain twitch. It must be nearly six o’clock; she should have been out cold hours ago. By the time he had gone to meet Marty at the servo that morning she’d already started her first bottle of wine.
    Rick walked the weedy path and took the stairs two at a time. He ran a hand along the rail, paint flaking beneath his fingers. It had been only nine months, three weeks and two days since his dad had died and already the place had turned from the best kept house in the street to a dump.
    He reached the top of the stairs and kicked one of the dead pot plants at the veranda’s edge into the overgrown garden below. Nine months, three weeks and two lousy days since his world had turned upside down. Rick bit the inside of his cheek in an effort to stifle the scream building in his chest. He tasted blood, hot and coppery.
    Shoving open the front door he called: ‘Mum, you there?’
    What a stupid question. Where else would she be? She never left the house these days unless she had to. Even her precious wine got delivered. He wondered what his father would say if he knew how she was spending his insurance money. He probably wouldn’t believe it. Rick barely believed it. Before his dad died,