Alex Jackson: Closing Out

By Pat Flynn

'The waves, why are they breaking so suddenly?' asked Alex. 'It's going from deep to shallow water real quick. It's called closing out. If you get caught under it pins you down.'One minute Alex is a kid, the next he's searching for deep water. Searching to become a man, to know how to treat the girl he loves. In this final instalment Alex skates his way through the toughest course of all - life.

• Language: English
• Publisher: University of Queensland Press
• Release date: Aug 1, 2015
• ISBN: 9780702256790

Pat Flynn

Pat Flynn is a generalist: Great at many things, not the best at any one. A writer, entrepreneur, musician, and fitness and meditation try-hard, Pat runs multiple six- and seven-figure businesses around his various interests and skills.

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CHAPTER 1

Leaving

Standing on the driveway, waiting, there was time for one last check. Not that he needed it. Sharon Jackson had already made sure his bag was packed with everything bar the kitchen sink. Picking it up, he changed his mind. It did have the kitchen sink.

Nevertheless, it gave them something to say. Alex Jackson and Becky Tonella had had plenty of practice at goodbyes but they never were much good at it.

Skateboard? asked Becky.

Standing on it.

No wonder you’re taller than me. Toothbrush?

Nah. I’ll use my finger.

Gross. Toothpaste?

I’ll use soap.

She made a face.

Just joshin’, said Alex.

Jocks?

Nah.

What?

Changed to boxers.

When?

On my 15th birthday. My old underwear wouldn’t fit.

You sure?

Despite the comfort of Becky’s teasing, Alex was nervous. At any moment a minivan full of skateboarders would arrive. And these weren’t any skateboarders, they were the Zen team — featuring some of the country’s best vert and street rippers. His only comfort was that his mate Casey Marshall would be in the van. Casey and the rest of the Zen team were on the last leg of a national tour, and Alex had been invited along for the Queensland ride. Of course it was Casey who got him the gig that any 15-year-old skate-grom would die for. In trying to prove himself, Alex hoped that he wouldn’t actually have to.

In front of the barbeque (which hadn’t been used since Alex’s dad, Chief, blew it up) Becky’s father, Alf, was talking about his favourite subject: Becky.

She’s practising everyday, getting ready for the GPS season.

What’s GPS stand for? asked Chief. Grand Prix season?

That’s car racing, said Alf, drumming his fingers on the rusty hot plate. Greater Private Schools. It’s the toughest school tennis competition in Queensland. Even though Becky’s only in Year 10 she wants to play in the first team. And she’ll do it, too. You should see the way she rips her forehand.

Chief wasn’t to be outdone. Talking about ripping, one of my boys, Ben Wilson, is fightin’ for an Australian title next month. You should see his hand speed. Chief delivered a flurry of punches in the air.

Jeff, can’t you talk about something other than boxing? Sharon Jackson said as she brought out a freshly baked banana cake.

Sharon was the only person who called Chief by his real name. Jeff Jackson ran the local boxing gym and it was funny to hear big Samoan boys respond to his orders of 100 push-ups with, Yes Chief.

I could. But not while my lovely wife’s in front of me. He gave Alf a wink.

Alex shook his head. His dad was certainly one of a kind. Alex went back to worrying about his first demo, tomorrow in Rockhampton. He hoped the locals wouldn’t laugh at him. Then he noticed Becky looking at him, the playful expression gone from her face.

This might be a bad time to bring this up but we need to talk before you leave, she said.

You’re right, he said. It is a bad time.

If Becky knew it was a joke she didn’t show it.

Can we go somewhere private? said Becky.

Let us know when the van arrives, Alex said to the parents. We’re just going inside for a bit. I forgot my toothbrush.

No, you didn’t Alex, I packed it for you, said Sharon.

Alex went red. Well, I unpacked it, and now I have to pack it again.

Leave ’em be, said Chief. They just want a bit of alone time.

Dad! said Alex.

Don’t be long inside, Becky, said Alf.

She rolled her eyes.

Alex’s sister, Sam, and her best friend and neighbour, Mandy Lee, were parading around the living room wearing, of all things, their new high school uniforms. Sam had on the long skirt, blouse and tie of St Joseph’s, Mandy the short skirt and sports top of Beeton High.

Do you think this skirt makes me look fat? Sam said to Mandy.

Like a whale, said Alex, patting her on the backside. But don’t worry, you’ve got two weeks till school starts.

Haven’t you left yet? said Sam.

Don’t listen to him, said Becky. That uniform’s much better than mine. There’s a saying that goes, ‘The green dress of St Lucy’s makes the girls huge. The green dress of St Lucy’s makes the boys puke.’

I was just joshin’, anyway, said Alex.

Sam turned around and tried to see her bum in the mirror. Mandy gets to wear a sports skirt and top everyday, and I have to wear this. How am I going to play chasey?

You don’t, said Alex. We have discipline at St Joey’s. Beeton High needs that uniform so kids can run away from gangs and drug dealers.

Not true! said Mandy.

Just ...

Joshin’ ... yeah, we know, said Sam.

Becky followed Alex into his room. He shut the door — an occupational hazard of having a younger sister.

I can’t believe you are going to a posh school, said Alex. You’ll probably end up all snobby and won’t talk to me.

I’ll be the povest one there, she said. All the girls will have pet ponies and dads who are doctors. I’ve got an old dog and a dad who ...

Won’t leave you alone, said Alex. I’m surprised he hasn’t come in here after you.

That’s what I wanted to talk to you about, said Becky, sighing. I know things haven’t been going great since Dad got out of jail.

Becky’s dad was a lawyer until he was caught flogging his clients’ money. Now he was an ex-lawyer and an ex-con.

Things aren’t going great? thought Alex. He hadn’t noticed.

I’ve been spending so much time with Dad and tennis that I hardly see you. What I want to tell you is that when you get back from the tour I’m going to try and treat you better. I’m going to spend more time with you. That is, if you want me to?

More alone time? Alex asked hopefully.

She smiled. Maybe. You know how strict Dad is.

He’s like Big Brother.

He’s Italian, and I’m his little girl.

You’re not so little anymore. He moved in close. We’re alone now.

So we are ...

Alex bent down and flipped her legs out from under her. She gave a little squeal as she toppled back onto the bed.

Geez you’re clumsy, said Alex. He pretended to trip, falling beside her. But so am I, that’s why we’re so good together.

He noticed that her eyes were already closed, which had to be a good sign. He stroked her eyebrows, reached in with his lips when ...

Bang, bang, bang.

Alex, the van has arrived.

It was Chief. They heard him laugh. Make sure you’re wearing the right shirts when you come out.

Parents, thought Alex. Who invented ’em?

CHAPTER 2

Possum

Casey wasn’t in the van. This freaked out not only Alex but also his mum.

It’s just that we know Casey, she said to Mike, the tour manager and photographer. We trust him. Alex has only just turned 15.

Mike was nodding sympathetically. When he did this you couldn’t help but look at his lip and nose studs bobbing up and down.

Casey rolled his ankle this morning in Ballina and had to have it checked out, said Mike.

I’m not sure about this, said Sharon. I need to talk to Alex’s dad for a minute.

Sharon and Chief were in deep discussion when one of the skaters approached them. He was tall with dreadlocks and Alex recognised him immediately. Alex had a poster on his bedroom wall of him pulling a 360 flip.

Excuse me, Mr and Mrs Jackson, my name is Possum, he said, holding out his hand. "I’m a friend of Casey and he asked me to keep an eye on Alex on the tour. I promised I wouldn’t let your son get up to any mischief. If I do, Casey’ll