Making Laws for Clouds Read Free Page A

kitchen to get a round of drinks happening. I usually drink my Diet Coke neat, because I think it’s cool that you can use the word ‘neat’ when referring to a drink, and because I don’t like rum. Alternatively, I go for ‘on the rocks’. I bought my mother a couple of ice trays last Christmas, which means we can do ‘rocks’ any day we like in summer, as long as we remember to keep filling the trays.
    Wayne, it turns out, likes ice. He doesn’t drink much of anything, so finding out he liked ice worked out well, really. It’d work out better if he’d remember to fill the trays once or twice, but that’s Wayne. I can hear him now, in the backyard. He’s doing catching practice. That’s when he stands near the jacaranda tree and pings a golf ball at it and tries to catch it when it ricochets back. Wayne can do that for hours and then come in and suck only a couple of ice cubes. He’s pretty low-maintenance in a lot of ways.
    Mum wants it on the rocks today. We both do. She holds the cold glass against her face and says, ‘Beautiful.’ Slowly, like she means it, like it’s a thing of actual beauty. ‘Could you wet me a face washer?’
    Wayne says no to a drink, but yes to a cupful of ice. He puts a cube in his mouth and starts his catchingpractice again. He takes a dive to his right and nearly chokes on the cube when he hits the ground, but it clears. He crouches in the dust catching his breath and trying not to be sick.
    I don’t know what Wayne’s going to do with his life. That’s what worries me. Not everyone can get trained on a work-for-the-dole scheme and end up at the council. Not everyone’s got it in them to end up with some kind of expertise about edges. But I don’t know what to say. I know he wants to field at second slip for Australia, but he can’t bowl and batting scares him – so, face it Wayne, it’s not going to happen. It could be time to live in the real world. Okay, so he’s only fourteen, but you’ve got to start thinking about these things. I was fourteen four years ago, and I had a few ideas about where I wanted to head by then.
    It’s Wayne’s night for dinner and he does spam-burgers, which is what he usually does. Cut the right way you get three burgers to a can, so it’s okay. I can smell the spam frying while I’m in the shower. We’re eating early again tonight because of rehearsals.
    With Wayne, advice can be good sometimes but you have to go about it gently. You have to pick your moment.
    â€˜Hey, those were pretty excellent spamburgers.’That’s what I tell him, since a compliment’s not a bad way to start. We’re waiting for the bus, and there’s a thing or two he needs to hear before the others turn up. ‘Remember how last time – after the last rehearsal – I said you looked a bit too much like Wayne up there? Well, that’s okay, but if you want to end up a Magus one day, you do have to put some work in. If you want to create the right impression as a shepherd, you have to have sheep on your mind. Get it? That’s acting.’
    Wayne sits there picking at the scabs on his knees. I sit there in one of my mother’s old dresses with a long piece of rope wrapped around me three times, since I think that’s what they did for belts back then.
    â€˜See, you don’t think I feel exactly like a wise man in this, do you?’
    Wayne laughs, picks a bit more at a scab. Puts his finger on the drop of blood that comes out and turns the knee away from Mum.
    â€˜You get what I mean? I’ve done four of these now, and you learn something every time. Like, just sitting here getting ready for the rehearsal, I’m getting used to my Magus gear again and I’m giving a bit of thought to my myrrh. See, it turns out I’m a wise man who chooses to express himself through his myrrh, and that’s got to