Two Wolves by Tristan Bancks Read Free Book Online

tilted his head up.
    â€˜ What is this?’ he barked.
    Ben looked at the bag: hanging, threatening to fall.
    â€˜Is everything okay?’ Mum called from across the clearing.
    â€˜Was this you?’ Dad shouted at Ben, daring him to lie.
    Ben was too scared to say anything. The neck of his shirt was pulled tight against his throat. Difficult to breathe. He heard running.
    Olive arrived in the doorway.
    â€˜What happened?’ Olive asked.
    â€˜You go climb the tree, sweetie,’ Mum said, arriving next to her.
    â€˜But I –’
    â€˜Go!’
    Little footsteps.
    Ben wanted to climb a tree too, for the first time in his life. Or to hide in his mum’s skirt like he had when he was two.
    â€˜Was it you?’ Dad asked.
    â€˜I didn’t see what was in it,’ Ben said.
    â€˜What’d I tell you about stickin’ your big bib in?’
    â€˜I don’t know,’ Ben said.
    Dad was quiet then. In Ben’s experience it was never good when adults were quiet in this kind of situation.
    â€˜I think –’ Mum said.
    Dad shushed her.
    â€˜What do you think I should do?’ he said, letting go of Ben’s collar. Ben stood up straight, avoiding eye contact with his father. There was no correct answer to this question. Ben would either suggest a punishment worse than Dad had in mind or he would suggest something easier, nicer, and his father would erupt.
    Ben shrugged, concentrating on his feet. His shoelaces were grubby and splotchy. One was untied. The leather on the toe and side of his right sneaker was grey and worn from soccer. Ben closed his eyes for a moment. On the cinema screen at the back of his eyelids, he watched the last ten minutes of his life in 32x rewind, like he was scanning back over one of his movies. He wanted to reshoot every frame from the moment he entered the cabin. He wanted to stay outside, not let curiosity get the better of him. He did not want to know what was in the bag.
    â€˜ What do you think I should do about busybodies?’ Dad said sharply, lifting Ben’s chin, pressing ‘stop’ on Ben’s in-brain rewind. ‘What?’ Dad shouted again.
    â€˜It’s not his fault,’ Mum said, taking a few steps into the cabin. Ben could see her hovering behind Dad.
    â€˜What’s not his fault? That I can’t have a single thing to myself without someone sticking their nose into it?’
    â€˜We sold the wreckers,’ Mum said.
    Everyone was quiet. Dad blinked and straightened his body, taking in what she had said.
    â€˜What?’ Ben asked, turning to her.
    â€˜Dad. He sold the wrecking business.’
    Ben thought about this for a second. ‘Did they pay cash?’
    Mum nodded and scratched her neck.
    Ben looked at Dad, who stared back. ‘Well, why didn’t –’
    â€˜We thought you’d be upset,’ Mum said.
    â€˜Upset?’ Ben asked. Why would she say that?Mum knew that he didn’t like the wrecking yard. It was filled with dead, broken, rusty things and, when he was there, he had to search for parts or clean the toilet or restock the drinks fridge. The only good thing about the wrecking yard was when he found something interesting, like his camera, in one of the cars.
    â€˜Right,’ Ben said. ‘So . . . is the money . . .’ He stopped. He tried to think back through the events of the past two days but his thoughts were scrambled. He suddenly felt tired. ‘How long are we staying here?’ he asked.
    â€˜I need to work out what we’re doing,’ Dad said.
    â€˜. . . for the rest of the holiday,’ Mum added.
    â€˜Yes, for the rest of the holiday,’ Dad said. ‘Get away from me. Go down the bush and play.’
    Ben did not need to be told twice. He slipped past his father, around his mother, grabbed his backpack from near the door and exited the cabin. His parents began arguing. Ben walked to the