Gravity Read Free

moved to the patrol car. He opened the door and took out the breathalyser. I tried to stop the panic that was churning in my guts from leaking onto my face. I smiled and looked into the paddock.
    He fitted a new plastic mouthpiece to the machine and held it to my lips. ‘Just blow in there, Adam, until I say stop.’
    I sucked a huge breath and blew until the machine beeped and there was no air left in me. He didn’t say stop.
    Cappo looked at my eyes and shook his head. ‘It’s positive.’
    â€˜Whaaat?’
    He looked up the road and when he glanced at me again, his eyes were as cold and humourless as log yard ice. ‘Bit more than a couple with the boys.’
    The panic in my guts burst. It ruptured like a garbage bag and spilled its fucked-up load of emotion into my veins. Rotting lumps of sadness, shards of rage and the smell of something dead inside. My heart pumped and the mess spread through me, turned my limbs to logs and stole the air from my lungs.
    Tears.
    â€˜Sorry,’ I said.
    â€˜Bit late for that,’ Cappo said. ‘Bloody idiot.’
    He pointed to the four-wheel drive. ‘Let’s go.’
    I had to wait for a car to pass before I could open my door. I wiped my face on my sleeve and rubbed my eyes. The car slowed for a gawk. Jai Murray’s old burgundy Commodore. Bully was in the passenger seat. He stared, mouth open, as the car crawled past. He turned and looked some more through the back window. The brake lights flashed, then Jai hit the gas and they lumped towards Splitters Creek.
    I washed my face in the sink at the station and Cappo got me to blow into another machine. It buzzed like a compressor. He had his hand over a printer output but the machine grunted and stalled. The paper had jammed.
    â€˜This is a bit of a formality,’ he said. ‘No matter what your official blood alcohol level is, you’ll need to hand in your licence.’
    I nodded.
    He held out his hand.
    I saw a window of opportunity. A chance to crawl out of the shit-pipe ride my life had become.
    I shook my head. ‘It’s at home. I can go and get it if you like.’
    He lowered his hand. ‘If I’m not here when you get back, put your licence in the letterbox.’
    â€˜Okay.’
    â€˜I just don’t get it, Adam. Two types of people drink and drive: people with a death wish and dickheads. Have you got a death wish?’
    I snorted. ‘No.’
    He looked right at me and shook his head. ‘Minimum twomonths’ suspension. Two hundred and fifty buck fine. Could be more. You’ll be back on the school bus next term. Are you working up at the mill on the holidays?’
    I nodded.
    â€˜And walking to work,’ he said.
    I just kept nodding. I felt a steely calm. ‘I’m sorry, Cappo. I should have . . . I should have done a lot of things.’
    â€˜Stop apologising. Save it for your old man. Save it for Simon, for Christ’s sake.’
    I nodded some more but now I was staring at the floor. I could handle Dad and his impotent Christian rage. And getting caught made me the lucky drink driver in our family. Unlike Simon, I didn’t write my car off. I didn’t come home from hospital a busted retard.
    I didn’t kill my best mate.
    â€˜Thanks,’ I said, and left.
    And I was thankful. In some respects I felt deeply indebted to Cappo. As well as saving me from myself, he was my last straw. I looked over my shoulder at the cop shop and felt my wallet in my pocket. The wallet with my driver’s licence in it. I wanted to run but I ignored the adrenaline fizzing in my limbs and breathed deep. Tried to relax. Look sad. Look calm. I’d need the power in reserve. I’d need every drop I could muster for later. Save it all up for my final run at the line. I knew I’d need it to crack through the gravity of Splitters Creek and find a new life.

Three
    Bully was in the shower. I chatted to his mum and