Jordan in Okarito, 2a

Jordan leant out of the window and beckoned. His mother pulled in front of them, frowning and waving a finger as she did. He couldn't hear what she was saying – probably just as well he couldn't! He was obviously in trouble, yet again. It didn't take much.

“Sheesh!” He slid back into his seat. “Was she always such a grumpy . . . ah, person?”

“No, she wasn't,” Dennis grinned. “Not until she had you.”

“Me? It's not my fault. Nothing's ever my fault – I'm a kid.”

“When it suits you, you are. Oh, no – Damm!”

“Why? What? What've you broken?”

“Nothing's broken. Not yet anyway. She's leading us down the main street, there's not much room for a big old truck down there.”

“They'll all have to get out of the way then,” Jordan nodded. “I'll toot the horn again. That'll shift them.”

“You will not! Behave yourself. You should start as you mean to go on, so don't arrive in your new town making a big dick of yourself.”

“How I'm going to go on? That's easy – turn around and we'll get out of here.”

“Out of town?”

“Exactly!”

“I think not. This is where you'll be living for the forseeable future.”

“Dammit.”

He sat quietly checking it out as they crawled along the short main street area. He tried not to be too negative, but it wasn't easy. The weather didn't help. It was an overcast, gray and dismal day and it was a gray and dismal, worn-down and weatherbeaten old town.

There was some colour in the shop fronts, under the verandahs, but not a lot and up-top they weren't even trying. Some of the old places looked like they hadn't seen a lick of paint since the year dot. How expensive was paint anyway? Way too much, by the look of things.

It all looked like an old run-down gold-mining town, which was really he supposed, after the gold rush was over. Way over. Was he ever going to call this place home? He didn't think so.

One thing grabbed his attention and he sat up for a better look and looked back as they passed. It was a boy, of course – a kid somewhere around his age but much taller, of course. Why wasn't he in school? It wasn't over for the day yet.

He was a nice-looking guy, very tidy, but that wasn't the ineresting part. He was walking along, on the street not the sidewalk, and he was surrounded by dogs – dozens of them! Well, maybe one dozen, give or take a few. A lot anyway. They were all around him, quietly walking along and none of them on a leash or anything. Wow.

How did he do that? Maybe he was the Dog Whisperer, or the Leader of the Pack? The truck followed the car around the corner and he lost sight of him. Oh well, he was sure he'd see him around – couldn't miss him, could he?

Interesting.

Things improved, slightly, once they were out of the downtown area. There were still a lot of old buildings, but the houses generally were newer and better looked after. So, what was their house going to be like? Not great.

They pulled up in the side street, a couple of blocks back, and that bloody Steve was standing there waiting for them.

The house was nothing startling – not old, not new. It looked like a 1960's sort of style – wooden-framed windows, yellow weatherboards and a green roof, all a bit faded, naturally. The lawns needed mowing, the hedges needed clipping and gardens needed weeding,he noticed with a sigh because he knew who'd being doing that.

The house windows were small and high-up, almost touching the eaves under the roof.

“Oh, great!' He thought. 'Unless the floors are high-up too, we're going to be living in a tall person's house. How can she do this to me? I wanna go home!'