He made a pathetic sight, pushing his clownish mode of transport and waving Mildred off in a trail of silt from the side of the road. Secretly, Nic was disappointed his tight-knit community, typically less keen on outsiders, had welcomed the Arkady’s so warmly. In keeping with his decision, he resolved not to fritter thought on what they may or may not be up to.
Rounding the lane leading to the boatshed cul-de-sac, it became clear he’d missed the meeting as attendees disbanded. CJ beckoned him over, a scowl obvious even at some distance. His cheeks were flushed and Nic realised he’d been excluded from a full training session prior to the chin-wag. Practice was odd, given Nate’s extended leave.
“Man, am I glad to see you! What took you, Nic?”
Nic flourished at the BMX, chaining it to a railing. He contemplated leaving it unsecured in the hopes some kind thief would relieve him of the burden or maybe ‘accidentally’ toeing it into the drink.
“Transport issues.”
“Yikes! We were in primary school the last time you dragged that out. Where’s your bike?”
“Long, boring story.”
“You look good for someone reportedly at death’s door.” His friend regarded him suspiciously. “Really good. Have you been avoiding the crew? I mean I can’t blame you...”
He back-peddled hurriedly on seeing Nic’s stony expression. The conversation hung, as scull-mates shuffled passed thumping Nic awkwardly and murmuring gruff commiserations over Balt.
“Bummer, Nic.”
“Real sorry about your horse. He was great old steed.”
Embarrassment at the forced display of emotion seemed the dominant attitude. A lot of throat clearing occurred, the wharf at their feet and water-lapped reeds uncommonly interesting.
“Let us know and we’ll say goodbye over a few ales.”
“Yeah, thanks guys.”
The dock cleared slowly, all but two rowers loitering beyond earshot with their backs facing. Nic recognised the coach’s freckled nape, but couldn’t quiet place his stooped companion, hidden under a cap, towel wrapping his neck.
“Care to enlighten me? And what’s with the cats, they filling in for Nate?”
The animals were everywhere, peeking from bushes and balanced on piers. Scar, the boat master’s ugly, tail-less tom, sidled up close, battle wounds announced by the long scab across its pug snout and chunks of missing orange fur. Nic edged away, any proximity usually an excuse for a flashed talon or full-on assault, the higher up one’s body the better prize. The cat perched nearby and commenced licking, a deep rumble emanating its chest.
“Super creepy. It’s like an infestation.” CJ squared-up in the universal signal something unpleasant was about to transpire. “You know who that is?” he jerked his head in the direction of the duo at the end of the jetty.
“Should I?” Nic asked uncertainly.
“Arkady took Nate’s seat. He’s been training with us since the beginning of the week. The coach is frothing over how powerful he is. Says the championship’s in the bag, once you’re back.”
“That’s Sasha?” He needed it repeated. It couldn’t be true.
“Yep!” CJ made a popping sound on the end ‘p’. Nic didn’t really require the added drama, innards a turmoil of frustration and anger. Even if the wank proved an Olympian, he refused to crew with Sasha. The bastard had as much as pulled the trigger on his horse. “Wait until you get a load of him.”
On cue, Arkady slowly swivelled. He removed his hat and scruffed his hair, haughty attitude cowed. His face was a mosaic of violet and garish puce, one eye a swollen slit and puffed lips cut in several spots. He briefly peered at Nic, then looked away.
“Jesus,” Nic murmured.
“Yeah. Mira did that to him. Beat him senseless. Sam was there, saw the whole thing. Says she fights like the Tasmanian Devil.”
“My Sam?” What else were they exposing his brother to?
“The very same,” CJ nodded. “Got any clue as to why?”
“Several. Let’s get out of here before I have to explain my resignation to the Coach.”
“That’s not all.” They moved off along a green-fringed path for a bridge over the river to the back ovals of Sacristy.
“I don’t know if I want to hear it, CJ.”
“Oh, you want to hear this all right. Couple of the guys missed the Advanced English exam, including Nate. He apparently had a virus.” His eyes slid sideways, as if to say ‘the same fantasy illness you claim’. “The English Master was all set to reschedule a supplementary because he had a slim margin to justify it. But then Nate called, said he’d be satisfied with a pro-rata as his scholarship’s been approved unconditionally. No longer enough numbers to run a supp. If you missed it, your marks are averaged.”
“What bullshit! How the hell did Nate get an early entry scholarship? It’s great and such,” he added quickly, hesitant to disrespect the achievement.
CJ waved his hand irritably. “Yeah, yeah, we’re all thrilled etcetera, etcetera. In a fair universe that would be you. But it’s not. It seems Arkady Senior felt, regardless of a dearth of evidence connecting anyone to the act, Nate deserved compensation for the shooting. A professor friend expedited the application. It’s the O’Connor Midas touch in operation. That guy hasn’t had to lift a finger to get what he wanted all his life.”
Nic plodded the wooded arch, water sluggish below, cicadas screeching in mimicry of his thoughts. He rubbed his chin absently, ignoring the bitter undertone to Cody’s words. His gifted friend came from a penniless single-parent home, working more jobs than Nic to cover his education. Lack of money might circumvent his dreams, regardless of intellect. Recently impoverished, Nic empathised more than usual.
“Anatoly the puppet-master. Is there anything he doesn’t meddle in?” Light paws on the deck thudded the rear. Over a shoulder, Nic observed Scar padding their wake. “Shoo!”
“Go on, get!” CJ joined in, veering in Scar’s direction and clapping his hands. The cat plonked to haunches and gazed at them with a nonchalant air. CJ grimaced. “Nate scores an undeserved scholarship. We score an unwanted leech.” He shook his head. “Crap since those arse-holes arrived is just too weird.”
“You never uttered a truer sentence.”
***
Chapter Twenty-Five