“You know, Lockie,’ she said aloud.‘What?’‘The thing about parents is . . . the thing about good parents — and I think your parents are pretty good . . .’‘Yeah, Mum makes cakes, amazing cakes, and Dad takes me fishing even when there’s work to do. They’re good parents, my mum and dad. But . . . but they didn’t find me.’‘I know, Lockie, but I promise they were looking. When we get you home they’ll tell you. I promise they were looking.’‘I should have stayed by the stroller. Maybe they’re mad and that’s why they didn’t look. Maybe they know I’m a bad boy.’ ‘You are not bad, Lockie,’ said Tina. She said the words slowly, patiently. ‘You are not bad and your parents sound like they’re pretty good parents. And you know . . . well, the thing about good parents is that they kind of love you no matter what.’‘No matter what?’‘Yeah, whatever happens, whatever you do, they still love you. Sometimes they shout when you do stuff they don’t like but they always love you.’‘What if the stuff you do is really bad?’‘They’ll still love you. That’s their job.’‘No, I mean what if the stuff you did is really, really bad?’‘It doesn’t matter, Lockie. You’re just a kid. Nothing you could do could be that bad.’‘You don’t know what bad is,’ said Lockie, and then he repeated the words to himself. ‘You don’t know what bad is.”

“He said they would be mad at me. He said they would hate me.’Tina saw her hand on the poker again. Some killing was good.‘Lockie, look at me.’He turned away from the yellow fields and his eyes met hers.‘I’ve told you before and you have to believe me: everything the uniform said was a lie. Everything. He lied about taking you to your parents and he lied about them not looking for you and he lied about them being angry with you. Whatever he did or you did he made you do it. He made you do it and he was bad and a liar and you are a good kid.’‘He said they wouldn’t love me ever again.’Tina looked out of the window. The thing about being a kid was that you had to hear the good stuff a lot before you believed it. You only had to hear the bad shit once before it began to eat away at you.”

“He said I was a dirty boy,’ whispered Lockie. ‘I was a dirty boy and that was why he did stuff to me, because I was dirty. It was my fault.’‘Bullshit!’ Tina shouted and half the locker room turned around. Tina grabbed Lockie’s hand and they didn’t stop moving until they were out on the street. The cold was a shock after the warmth of the gym but she kept him walking fast until they got back home.‘It wasn’t your fault, Lockie. It’s never the kid’s fault. The uniform was an evil piece of shit and nothing he said to you was true.’‘It was my fault—it was,’ whined Lockie.‘Why? Why was it your fault?’‘I was supposed to stand by the stroller. I was supposed to hold on and not move while Mum got the prize. Dad had to carry the cake. I was supposed to stand by the stroller and not move. It was my fault.’Lockie’s tears burst like a dam. His small shoulders heaved and his sleeve became a tissue.Tina leaned down and grabbed him by the shoulders. ‘Look at me, Lockie.’He did as he was told.‘This wasn’t your fault. Kids do stuff like that all the time. I have no idea what you’re talking about but I can tell you that my little brother wandered off every chance he got. It wasn’t your fault, Lockie; you were just being a kid.”

“Tina woke to a thin beam of afternoon sun. She lay still for a moment, revisiting, reliving, trying to get comfortable with the events of the night before. The sound of rustling paper got her up and the smell assaulted her again. Lockie was eating a burger, trying for slow, but failing.He had his back to her as he perched in a corner, secretively stuffing his mouth.‘Hey, Lockie,’ said Tina.Lockie turned, wild-eyed and fearful. He stopped mid-chew and pushed his tongue through his teeth to spit the gooey mess out.‘Gross, kid, just swallow for fuck’s sake.’‘Sorry,’ he mumbled. ‘Sorry for touching, sorry for eating, sorry for being a bad boy.’‘You’re not being a bad boy,’ Tina said. She hated how pathetic the kid sounded. ‘The food is for you, do you understand? It’s all for you.’Lockie stared. He was still and silent, as if waiting for what would happen next. Tina hated the idea that he was afraid of her, that he would have to be afraid of everyone he ever met from now on.‘Say it, kid. Say, “It’s all for me.” Go on, say it.’Lockie stared.‘Say it, Lockie.’‘It’s all . . .’ He faltered.“It’s all for me.” 'Say it, I mean it.’‘It’s all for me.’‘Say it again, Lockie.’‘It’s all for me. All for me, all for me.’‘Okay, kid, you can shut up now. Get back to your breakfast. I might have a cigarette.’‘The food is all for me,’ said Lockie. His voice was determined. He was telling her, but mostly he was telling himself.‘That’s right, kid, it’s all for you.’‘But you can share it with me,’ he said, and he gave Tina a small smile.Someone had taught Lockie all the right rules. Someone who didn’t even know if he was alive right now.‘I bet you’ve got the best mum and dad somewhere.' Lockie nodded and chewed. ‘I bet I do.’ He didn’t talk anymore after that. The memory of his parents had obviously been put somewhere far away so thoughts of them wouldn’t hurt. He wasn’t ready to take them out again.”

“Lockie stood with his arms by his sides as she ran her hands over his hair and squeezed his arms. Tina could see how uncomfortable Lockie felt at being touched. Margie hugged him again and again. She didn’t notice Lockie’s face or she would have stopped. When Margie stood up she was crying. Pete, meanwhile, was watching Tina.‘Start talking,’ he said to her and Tina could see he had already decided who was to blame for Lockie’s disappearance. ‘Her name’s Tina,’ said Lockie. ‘She saved me. Can you take us home, Pete?’Pete looked at Lockie. ‘You know I will, Lockie, but first —’‘Please, Pete,’ said Lockie. ‘Can you just take us home?’‘Oh god,’ said Margie. ‘Doug and Sarah—we have to call them. We have to let them know.’ She kept touching Lockie, on his head, on his arms and on his back. Tina could see Lockie wince. People wouldn’t know that they needed to be careful when they touched him. Some touches can make you feel sick.”

“Finally, she's like, "I know it looks bad right now, but parents are just people. They don't always know what to do. That doesn't mean they don't love you.”

“You know, when you think about it, that’s kind of a weird thing. I mean it’s meant to be sympathetic, right? But it’s kind of not. Like you’re telling the person there’s nothing unique about what they’re sayingI considered this as a couple of kids on Rollerblades whizzed past, hockey sticks over their shoulders. “Yeah,” I said, finally, “but you could also look at it the other way. Like no matter how bad things are for you, I can still relate.”