have something for you. Jerri and I. We bought you these. Christmas presents.' - I hand Jackson three small boxes, red like blushing cheeks with ribbons as silky as lips.
'You didn't have to do this,' Jackson says, passing two over to Shaun.
Chloe backs away. She hoists herself onto a bench and sits there, watching as Jackson and Shaun open the gifts.
'C'mon Chloe,' Shaun says. 'It's just a small gift. We all celebrate Christmas, right.'
Chloe smiles. She walks over to Shaun and accepts the gift.
'I don't know if you have a tree here,' I say. 'It doesn't matter if you don't. But if you do these could maybe be placed on the tree. It's up to you guys.' - I weave some fingers through my hair.
'We do have one,' Jackson says. 'It's an old ladder with strings of lights wound around the rungs. The first few anyway.'
'A stairway,' Shaun says. 'Silly.'
I smile: 'No it's not,' I say. 'That sounds nice.'
Jackson smiles when he takes a small goomba out of the box: this strange toy of a Super Mario character has large fangs but angel wings also, and even though he wears a frown, he looks happy and content: 'It's a goomba,' I say. 'You love Super Mario so I thought I'd buy it for you. Actually, it's one of the last things I bought at the city before . . .'
'It's cute,' Jackson says. 'Thanks Shelly.'
'And that's a 1-up,' I say when Chloe looks up. 'You can have 1-up on me, see. Ha ha. I really don't want to argue with you while I'm here. Do you think maybe you could give me just this one chance? To prove myself?'
'This is crazy,' Chloe says. But she's smiling. She shakes her head and walks over to me. 'You're really strange. I knew you would be but . . . you're one of a kind.'
'Hug?' I ask.
Chloe pats me on the back once . . . twice: 'Thanks Shelly. I'm sorry. You have to understand that I was born and raised in the north. So it's not easy for me to just let someone like you into a house I'm staying in. But I promised these guys I'd give you a chance. I guess I almost broke that promise, huh? Look – we're mates. But if you hurt one of us, or try to change us then . . .'
'I won't,' I say. 'Promise.'
'A bag of mushrooms?' Shaun asks. 'Wait! You're kidding me? Shell, are you for real? How'd you get your hands on these?'
'They're legal,' I say.
'They're magic mushrooms?!' Chloe says. 'What do you mean they're legal?'
'They're legal in the south. I was asked to bring them into the house by some south-siders. It's the one thing they made me promise to do. And look – I'll be the first to try them, ok? I'll be the guinea pig.'
'Shelly, do you know what you're saying?' Jackson says. 'You've never gone anywhere near drugs in your life, except alcohol.'
'These are strange times,' I say. 'Really really strange times. SO what do you think Shaun? You like the present?'
'Love it,' Shaun says. 'You really surprise me sometimes Shelly.'
'Hey, Jerri's here!' I yell. 'She was a little scared, guys. That's why she wanted me to walk in first. Is it ok if Jerri comes in Chloe?'
'That'd be nice,' Shaun whispers.
Jackson nudges him hard.
'It's fine,' Chloe says. 'Let her in.'
******
References
1 Gale, A. (2010). Korea Tension Shifts to Tree. The Wall Street Journal Digital Network: Korea Realtime. Retrieved 23 December 2010 [BUT NOTE THAT THIS 'CHRISTMAS TREE' WAS ALSO IN THIS POSITION BEFORE 2004] from http://blogs.wsj.com/.../korea-tension-shifts-to.../
2 Griffiths, R. R., & Grob, C. S. (2010). Hallucinogens as Medicine. Scientific American, 303(6), 76-79. doi: 10.1038/scientificamerican1210-76
SHELLY FREEMAN – 10:42am - December 13 - 2011
'How did you get these?' I ask.
'I took them when I was in Bondi,' Danielle says. 'This is totally crazy. It's like a bunker. I'm sorry the pictures are so poor. I couldn't get any closer.'
'What's it called? Has it got a name?'
'Bondi Beach House,' Danielle says, tapping a photograph.
'How long has it been there?' Jerri asks.
'Who knows how long the beach house has been there for. But the bunker, that's gotta be new. I haven't noticed it before. It's definitely only a few weeks old, tops.'
'You think this is where they could be hiding?' I press. 'Why Bondi? It's so far south.'
'Yeah, like they're gonna try and hide out in Central,' Danielle quips. 'They need to be somewhere the south-siders aren't gonna check, somewhere as isolated and peaceful as Bondi.'
'So Adrian? Shaun? Ben? You think they'll be there? Did you try and get in?'
'I watched some south-siders walk up to a guard,' Danielle recalls. 'They were turned back as though they were drunk school girls trying to enter a nightclub. I'm clearly a south-sider so there's no way I would have been allowed in.'
'Is there a way we can contact the house: are they on Facebook? It's on the south-side so their page won't be censored, right?' Jerri asks.
'I don't know,' I say. I open the browser on my BlackBerry.
'Look!' Danielle says.She's sitting in front of a computer. On the screen is an enlarged photograph of one side of the bunker. The bunker's at least 100 metres away from the photographer. However, the wall is still crystal clear but for some areas covered in graffiti thin as oil: the paint and words nevertheless as prominent as a spill. 'I can read it.'
'What's it say?' Jerri asks.
'The greatest persecution of the church doesn't come from enemies on the outside but is born from the sin within the church,' Danielle reads. 'Pope Benedict XVI.'
'They're against the church,' Jerri says. 'They want the separation of church and state, for sure. There must be north-siders in the bunker.'
'I'm through!' I yell. 'I'm through! I'm through! Thank you Zuckerberg! Thank you, thank you!'
'What?' Danielle asks.
'Bondi Beach House! There's a page on Facebook. You're right, north-siders are inside. It's a safe haven. Not too many know about it. Not too many here in Australia anyway. But . . . says here that it's like a Big Brother house, the people inside cannot make contact with anyone outside, but people around the world can tell the people inside what to do, by first talking to the big brother, the lord . . . now that's just silly.'
'Who's in there?' Jerri asks. 'Does it say?'
'We have to contact Big Brother,' I state. 'We paste a comment on Facebook and he'll get in touch with us. Oh . . . look!' - I point to the screen – 'Friends of the people inside the house will be welcome, especially south-siders! That's us, Jerri! All of us! They want us in there.'
'But that's only if Adrian, or Shaun are inside,' Danielle says. 'How do we know they're in there.'
'We don't,' I say. 'We can't. But think about it: Adrian loves learning about other cultures, do you really think that he wouldn't be in the south side right now. A war breaks out, he'd be the last person to take sides. He'd be curious, he'd have to know what's going on. And if north-siders are being round up and placed into bunkers like this one then . . .'
'You don't think it's a concentration camp, do you?' Danielle asks.
'No,' I say. But that's all I say.
'Please don't go inside,'