his dad wouldn't let him get away with it. He was terrified of what punishment he might be in for and lay awake all night.
Groggily, the next morning, Roy went down for breakfast. After a silent meal, his dad rose and walked over, indicating for Roy to pick up his backpack near the front door. His mum placed a container of food in his other hand and as he looked at her red eyes, Roy hung his head in shame.
'I'm sorry, mum.'
She nodded and walked back into the kitchen. Roy stood facing his dad as his father pointed to the door.
'I warned you Roy.' was all his dad said and Roy was unceremoniously shoved out the door, his dad slamming it behind.
Roy stood, in shock, on the front porch and stared at the closed door - waiting for it to open. Surely his dad wouldn’t - couldn’t do this. He was only fourteen. He knew he’d stretched the limits, but never expected this. It was always, ‘do that again and this will happen,’ but his mum would talk his father out of any punishment.
Tears welled as his stomach churned and as he stood facing the door, remembering his dad’s last warning;
‘Next time you’re on the streets.’
With nothing much more than his PJ’s, shorts and the overnight bag holding a few belongings he knew his mum would have packed, Roy turned and walked away. He knew that once his dad made up his mind, there was no turning back. His dad was a man of his word.
Roy dawdled down their driveway, stopping and turning occasionally, with the hope the door might open. Half way down, he decided to walk around and try the kitchen door at the back of the house but it was closed. Roy could see his mum through the window and he pleaded for her to let him back in but she shook her head and turned away as Roy watched his dad leave for work.
Waiting until his dad had gone, Roy went down to their back shed and looked for the spare key. He thought maybe he could sneak back in after dark, but all he found was a message left in its place.
‘Don’t bother, the locks will be changed.’
Roy headed back down the driveway, as his mum watched through the window. He knew he’d gone too far this time. He’d been through his father’s rages often enough to know his dad wouldn’t relent and his mum had no choice. As he walked away from the home he'd lived in all his life, Roy’s heart turned to hate.
Roy sauntered down the street with his backpack, his drooped shoulders showing the feelings he was experiencing. Just down the road, he found solace in the nearby park where he’d often played as a child.
He sat on the swing, pushing his legs back and forward, stretching the chain to its limits to try and make it circle the frame. Unsuccessful, Roy ambled over to the see-saw, climbing on and balancing in the middle as he pushed a foot on either side of the wooden plank, the way he used to.
Roy played like this for a while, reminiscing about his childhood until he felt emotionally exhausted. He walked over to the old weatherboard shed and curled himself into a ball on the far inside seat. The old walls protected his emotionally aching body from more than just the chill of the wind as he sat and then lay on the seat, eventually falling asleep.
Roy woke after an hour an stretched as he slowly came to the realisation of where he was and what had happened. with his back pack slung over his shoulders, Roy sauntered down the street, past each of his friend's houses, stopping to chat to some of the elderly who worked in their gardens.
Hey Roy,' waved old Fred. 'How's your dad?'
'Yeah, hes good thanks Mr Collins.'
Fred had lived in the neighbourhood all his life and everyone knew and respected him.
'Give him my regards, then Roy.'
At eighty five, old Fred had all his marbles and was pretty switched on.
As he headed back to the park, kids were skipping as they came out of the local Kindergarten and Roy watched as they came to the park to play. He sat, wishing he was back in Kindie too. His mum would bring him to the park, like these kids and he'd play until the light began to fade, then they'd head home for dinner. They were happy times back then before his dad became angry and bitter and his mum became afraid of his moods.
Roy sat for a while longer, backpack by his side, until he knew the High School bus would be dropping kids from his school home. He watched as it drop off his mate, Paul, and raced up, trying to catch him before he went inside.
Too late, he rang the doorbell and Paul's mum answered but when she saw who was there, shook her head.
‘I’m sorry Roy. Your dad called us. We are disappointed with what you’ve been doing, and we don’t want you hanging around with Paul anymore. You need to find somewhere else to stay.’
She closed the door in his face, and Roy found the knot in his stomach tighten. As he turned back to the road, Paul called out from the upstairs window.
‘Sorry Roy. Good luck!’ Then he saw the bedroom door open and his mum close the blinds.
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