The Last Tiger

  ‘Yes, Sir.’

  ‘Very well. You may go. I will let you know if I decide to take any further action, within the bounds of the school, that is.’

  ‘Thank you, Mister Baxter.’

  ‘Don’t let me down again, Tuan. See the nurse before you go back to class.’

  ‘I will. Thank you Sir.’

  ‘And send in Kai Williams, please.’

  Tuan pulled Baxter’s door closed as he left, and leaned over to speak to Kai as he passed by, ‘Baxter wants to see you.’ He moved a little closer to Kai’s face and whispered, ‘And Kai, next time, let’s make it just you and me.’ He allowed a faint growl to rumble deep in his chest, and smiled slowly, revealing his canines.

  ‘Prick,’ muttered Kai.

  *

  Rather than suffer the nurse, Tuan took himself off to the toilets to deal with his wounds himself. When he saw his own image reflected back in the mirror it was a shock to see how unsightly he’d become, how injured his face was, how already the skin was tight with swelling above his eye and around his mouth, how bright blood streaked and splattered the dark markings of his face. Despite this, he nodded knowingly at the reflection, as if he were the victor. In his heart, he was.

  This represented his first proper, physical fight. Of course he had scuffled occasionally as a younger boy, scrapping over this crab or that stick, but never before had he fought the way he just had. He laughed out loud, wincing as pain shot through his jaw. He felt fantastic, truly alive. Each punch landed freed tension, too much of it built up since starting school, since Bee began treating him in that strangely aloof manner she’d developed. And the anger towards Giles, hidden for what felt to be a lifetime; it released into the other person’s pounded face. But best of all he had truly tested himself. He’d measured his own strength and knew that although technically he hadn’t won that particular battle, he hadn’t lost it either. Not by any stretch of the imagination. He’d known from the moment they jumped him from behind that he’d had no chance of winning; they’d started the fight with a massive tactical advantage as well as numerical. But throughout he had come so close to gaining the advantage that the whole thing seemed like a game. One person against three yet tasting triumph had been possible. The idea of it thrilled him. It was hard not to feel proud.

  Gazing into the mirror as he bathed sore knuckles in a sink full of bloody cold water, he relived blows successfully landed, picturing with pleasure each time he tossed a body aside, remembering the look in the eye of one of the three, he couldn’t remember which, so regretful and terrified as their faces pressed together. Admiring himself now, Tuan felt invincible, as if seeing himself properly for the first time. Giles was right, he looked like a man and had strength that would always be beyond the reach of his peers, plus he had girls tripping over themselves just to speak to him. He was one of a kind. Today, he thought, my life looks pretty good.

  Bee was passing by the bathroom door when Tuan finally came out. She jumped in surprise. What was it about Bee lately, he wondered? Every time he saw her she had that awkward look on her face as if she wished she were somewhere else.

  ‘You okay?’ she asked, before he could speak.

  ‘Fine. You know how it is. They’ve been dying for a fight since I got here. Well, today they got what they wanted, didn’t they?’

  ‘I suppose. Your face looks sore.’

  ‘It is.’ He held up his hands. ‘And these.’

  ‘Maybe you should bring charges against them. You know, of assault.’

  ‘And what would that prove?’

  She shook her head, ‘Nothing. But it’s about time someone took a stand against those boys.’

  ‘I don’t think so. To be honest I can’t be bothered.’

  ‘What did Baxter say?’

  ‘Nothing really. Just don’t do it again.’

  ‘Did you tell him they have been trying to fight with you for an entire year?’ She sounded protective.

  ‘No!’ He smiled, ‘Best just to forget about it.’

  ‘You know best. According to you, anyway,’ she smiled back. ‘Listen Tuan…’

  ‘…Yeah?’ He thought Bee looked peculiar again, not at all the relaxed person he had always known.

  ‘Do you want to go to the cinema again this weekend? Just you and me?’

  He was surprised, ‘Sure. What’s on?’

  ‘Oh, I dunno. I just thought it would be nice.’

  ‘Sounds good, we could have a burger or something after,’ he said, grinning broadly now despite the pain.

  ‘Yes. We could. Tuan, about Char… I… have you… I mean… I heard…’

  ‘What?’

  She screwed up her nose, as if screwing up an idea and tossing it away. ‘Nothing, actually. Ignore me. Sorry to rush off, but I’ve got to go, I’m on my way to see Baxter. Anything I should or shouldn’t say?’

  ‘Just the truth.’

  Tuan noticed a little of the Bee he had always known spark in her eyes as she asked, ‘So I should say it, or I shouldn’t say it?’

  ‘Say it. Say the truth.’

  ‘What, that you’re a maniac?’ She laughed, but the flash of real Bee had already vanished and the tone was horribly false, ‘Catch you later?’

  ‘Sure.’

  He watched for a few moments as she walked away, cuffs pulled down over her hands, head lowered, hair drawn back into the ponytail she always wore. Why she would be so awkward with him was a mystery, when from the moment they had sat together in the lounge room at Whitegate, they had been such easy friends. He knew things had altered for them both. He had seen her talking with a boy from Year ten during most of their break times, and where once he and Bee talked after lunch, now he and Char enjoyed each other’s bodies behind the gas tanks. It was a simple developmental shift, but not entirely satisfactory as far as Tuan was concerned, since Char was a known quantity and the boy was not. He was nice enough but not really right for Bee, something he meant to broach with her sometime.

  Collecting his bag and heading to his next class, he cleansed his thoughts by deciding Bee had Women’s Problems. Char certainly had Women’s Problems on an epic scale so why not Bee, he thought. Thus having provided himself with a satisfyingly complete answer to all matters female, and having proved to be an able fighter, Tuan decided life was actually far greater than just pretty good.

  THE RICHNESS OF YOUTH

  ‘Pass the ketchup, please, Pappy.’

  Felix reached across and handed Bee the bottle, ‘You okay?’

  ‘Long day.’

  ‘Since when was school a long day?’ enquired her Nana.

  ‘It is a long day when you’re a kid,’ Bee’s mother defended, ‘Or a teacher for that matter.’

  Bee looked at her mother and smiled. ‘And how was school, Mum?’

  ‘Fine, thank you Bee.’

  ‘So Pappy, how long will you be here?’

  ‘Just under a week,’ Felix said, ‘If that’s okay with you?’ he winked. ‘It’s just a visit. Spend some time with you all.’

  Bee nodded, her heart bursting, always so much happier with a house full of people.

  In the age-old fruitless tradition of attempting to engage a child in after-school discussion, Patrick asked his daughter what she did at school that day.

  ‘Nothing!’ came a chorus from around the table.

  Bee protested, ‘I can’t help it if we never do anything. I don’t know why you keep asking. We never, ever do anything.’

  ‘Of course not.’ Felix winked again.

  ‘Actually,’ she announced, almost regally while squirting sauce onto mashed potato. ‘For a change, something did happen today. Tuan was in a massive fight. A proper full on punch up.’

  ‘With whom?’ Bee’s mother poked at something on her plate.

  ‘Oh, no one you know. Char’s brother and some of his mates, three of them onto one.’

  ‘No!’ Patrick was aghast.

  ??
?Yep. It was so unfair, but Kai isn’t exactly a fair sort of person.’

  ‘Three? So what happened?’ Felix rested his knife and fork on his food.

  ‘They jumped him from behind at lunchtime and wouldn’t stop hitting him; I tried to stop them, Char tried; even Ann Marie was there. The crowd was huge. Baxter broke it up, with one of the other teachers.’

  ‘And Tuan?’

  ‘Oh, you know Tuan. He’s okay.’

  ‘He’s okay? Three boys attacked him and he’s okay? Bee! I know you think he’s invincible but really…’

  ‘He is, Pappy. He’s fine. I spoke to him afterwards. To be honest, I think… I think he enjoyed it.’

  She saw her mother and Nana exchange glances.

  Felix turned to Patrick, ‘Did you hear that, Pad? Three onto one and the lad’s okay.’

  ‘I did. That kid’s a tough one,’ Patrick managed to say, his mouth very full.

  ‘I said he was okay,’ added Bee, ‘I didn’t say he wasn’t hurt. Obviously he’s a bit battered and bruised. He was quite puffy looking when I saw him, and his knuckles looked really swollen. But he was looking very pleased with himself. Like I said, I think he enjoyed it. You know what he’s like.’

  ‘I don’t suppose Giles will be too pleased,’ said her mother. ‘What will happen to the other boys?’

  ‘Not sure.’

  ‘Char. Isn’t she Tuan’s, um… friend?’ asked Patrick.

  Again Bee caught her mother and grandmother looking at one another.

  ‘Conquest, more like,’ laughed Felix, as he shoved mashed potato turned pink with ketchup into his mouth, ‘Mmm. This is wonderful, just what I fancied. Thanks.’

  ‘Char? Funny name,’ commented Nana.

  ‘It’s really Chardonnay. She doesn’t like it.’

  ‘As I said, funny name.’

  ‘And Nana isn’t?’ remarked Felix.

  ‘That’s Nana as in nanny as in grandmother,’ said Bee. ‘Not a real name.’

  ‘Actually it is my real name,’ Nana smiled. ‘Nan is, anyway. That’s what my mum and dad called me. It’s from the name I was christened with, Bee. Ann.’

  Bee suddenly realised that she had never asked herself why Pappy was Felix yet Nana’s name never changed no matter who addressed her.

  ‘So as I said,’ Felix grinned, ‘you can hardly talk. Nana… Nan… is a very odd name.’

  ‘No it isn’t and don’t be cheeky’ Nana replied, ‘and mostly because it doesn’t refer to a type of fruit. If grape variety is the theme, she could just as easily be called Merlot or Riesling, Champagne even. It’s so silly.’

  ‘Except Champagne’s a region.’ Felix aimed his fork at his wife.

  ‘I know that. But you take my point.’

  He lightly stabbed her, ‘Now you take mine.’

  ‘Stop it, you daft thing.’

  Patrick grabbed the sauce from Bee, who was again busily emptying what this time appeared to be the entire contents of the bottle onto her plate. ‘Well, you hear names like India and Paris often enough, and Brooklyn, even Bristol and Dublin, so I imagine someone somewhere will certainly be called Champagne. And anyway, what’s the difference between names of places and names of months or flowers? Like June and May, or Violet and Daisy? Think about Lily and Ivy, those names have been around forever and a day.’

  ‘We have a girl called Cabernet at our school,’ commented Bee’s mother, face straight, ‘And her twin brother Sauvignon.’

  Everyone except Bee rolled their eyes and groaned. Bee smiled as if she understood.

  ‘I know them, their mum works at the Blue Nun,’ remarked Nan.

  ‘Yes she does,’ agreed Felix, ‘in Oyster Bay, isn’t it?’

  ‘Enough,’ sighed Patrick.

  ‘Just because you couldn’t think of anything!’ Felix laughed.

  Bee’s mother smoothed her hair affectionately, despite Bee trying to shake her off. ‘Not really, Bee,’ she reassured. ‘We’re just being silly. Anyway, I’m done, full up.’

  ‘Turkey’s are done, people are finished. That’s what Baxter says,’ interrupted Bee.

  ‘I know,’ her mother replied. ‘You’ve told me a thousand times. If you’ll excuse me everyone, I need to check on dessert. Help me Bee? When you’re done?’

  ‘Let’s get back to this fight,’ said Felix, ‘What was it actually about?’

  Bee shook her head as if she didn’t know, but then said, ‘I heard it was about Char. Her brother has never liked Tuan and doesn’t approve of their… friendship.’

  ‘And what do you think?’ he asked.

  ‘I think it’s none of my business.’ Suddenly Bee rose with her meal unfinished and followed her mother, who made an offer to top up wine as she left the room.

  ‘I’d love a top-up,’ Nan called after her, ‘anything but Chardonnay, I hear too much of a certain vintage can give you a real headache.’

  *

  Kai and the others were banned from school premises although technically they should never have been there in the first place, as access was only permitted in order to sit examinations. Already precious few Year elevens were allowed to visit favourite teachers in the endless round of final farewells, and post fight even these privileged students found themselves barred. Tuan received no punishment, although he noted that the PSHE session immediately following the incident miraculously became a detailed lecture on the birds and the bees.

  Kai’s attempts at luring Tuan into another fight by hanging around the school gates with his crew in tow were repeatedly foiled by an ever vigilant Baxter, frustrating any hope either boy had of a repeat performance. But each time Tuan passed by he made certain to make eye contact with Kai, delivering the same intimidating smile he had given outside of Baxter’s office, and on each occasion Kai’s response was the same as it had been then. Prick. When he wasn’t looking at Kai, Tuan was searching the crowd for Boyce. He’d seen him twice. He wanted to speak with him face-to-face, perhaps nose-to-nose. Fist to fist. Neither occasion could he reach the man before he disappeared, but Tuan knew if Bee and he were in touch, it would only be a matter of time.

  The final week came and went without incident. The planned trip to the cinema passed by in a more relaxed manner than expected, giving Tuan hope that Bee had returned to her normal self and shaken off the female affliction that ailed her. The film had been long, about a man who found his place amongst people very different from his own. Tuan enjoyed the film and when questioned by Bee denied seeing any resemblance between his story and that of the man. After all, he said, the character on screen joined an entirely different species from a totally different planet, besides which everybody was blue. What, therefore, was the resemblance? Bee said she thought it was obvious.

  *

  With the last day of the school year finishing two hours early, Tuan and Char decided they would spend the afternoon scouring second hand clothes shops and stop for a drink somewhere, until they woke up to the fact that the press in its entirety intended on coming with them. In a swift change of plan, Tuan invited Char home.

  From the bus window, Tuan caught sight of Bee wandering away with a crowd of friends, wearing the short bright patterned dress he knew was a favourite, assuming the bulging schoolbag contained her uniform. Her usual ponytail had for once been released into loose locks that looked far less ratty than normal. The ever-present boy from year ten was amongst them. Watching the group walk away, Tuan was disconcerted by an unexpected pang of regret that he had not gone with her. But then he looked at the voluptuous and, he thought, uncomplicated Char sitting beside him, her smooth, soft, milky-white arms pressed against his, and somehow none of it mattered quite as much, even if she did stink of cigarettes. He leaned in and kissed her forehead before retuning his gaze to the streets beyond the window. Char half smiled but said nothing, thin white cable trailing from her ears. This is how they remained for the entire journey, side-by-side in a companionable peace. The two teenagers were juxt
aposed. Tuan, an inherently fearless jungle boy plucked from obscurity and thrust into a life of advantage and luxury, had easily assimilated. Char, an underprivileged blond girl desperate for greater things with no obvious opportunities coming her way, was unable to see a way to fit in. As one graciously accommodated change the other lashed out and fought for it. But white or brown, rich or poor, one commonality was passion. Obvious physical differences were not insignificant and part of their attraction was this extreme, one so plain and fair, the other dark and patterned. And while they desired each other’s body’s they had greater passions, too; an absolute lust for the future, with little care for how rocky the journey might become.

  Char had never been to his house before, and as they walked from the bus stop and everything drifted up-market, so the difference in their lives became increasingly obvious. Instead of barren concrete speckled with gum and litter, the clean roads were lined with huge trees, orderly pruned branches stretching up from neat grey-brown trunks. And rather than looming tower blocks haphazardly stuffed with entire communities, the grand houses ranged from comfortably roomy to ostentatiously large. Street after street sprouted winding driveways, each bisecting extensive mature gardens where massive gables rising from thick foliage hinted at the enormous wealth resting below. Here, where the lives of the rich were concealed behind CCTV cameras and security gates, outsiders whose roots held them firmly to their past stood out. Where Char lived, sanctuary was achieved in much the same way and strangers were equally unwelcome, but all she had shielding her from the difficult and sometimes chaotic outside world was not a network of exclusive roads, fancy gates and a direct line to the police station, but a single plain blue door. It was hard being born into family whose lack of funds equaled only their lack of aspiration, an unfair sort of domestic potluck.

  As they walked, freshly painted telephone kiosks and postboxes radiated traditional bright red, and the tall, arching, grey street lights reverted to the petite black posts of ancient gas lamps; perfectly replicated lanterns above short crossbars in a tribute to an age gone by. It was both a step up and a step back, as the material value of all things antiquated became immersed and absorbed in social standing.