Page 11 of Power Moves
‘So remind me what our key lines are,’ says Boss. ‘We’re in South Western Sydney to announce a twenty-million-dollar literacy program …’
‘Twenty-two-million.’
‘Really? Where did the extra two come from?’
‘I made a call to Gregory last night and managed to convince him to transfer some funding from the Radical Reading rollout. It had a bit of cash left over.’
Boss chuckles. ‘I love how much Gregory loves you.’
‘Gregoryhatesme,’ I correct him. ‘He’s just scared of me because I’m an extension of you.’
‘And because you’re such a gun on the policy detail,’ says Boss.
‘True,’ I accept.
Boss chuckles as he turns onto the exit road. ‘Any journos I need to pay attention to today?’ he asks.
‘I think we’re okay,’ I say, mentally ticking off the journalists who are coming. My work life is a constant tug-of-war, trading secrets with one journo one week, another journo another week. ‘It’s Archie’s first freelance gig so he might be upset that it’s not an exclusive anymore, but he still has to file a story, so he’ll survive. Today’s priority is nailing the photo. The assistant principal is going to dress up as a dragon—it’s the school’s mascot costume—so I’m hoping for at least twofront pages. If we can get some cute kids in the frame too,everyoneis going to want to print that.’
‘So there’s no need to worry about Archie?’
‘No, I’ll sort him out.’
Boss cocks his head as he slows for the lights. ‘Remind me how you know Archie.’
‘Oh.’ I shake my head. ‘I don’t really. We just lived in the same uni residence. He was in the year above me.’
The truth is, I have no idea how I met Archie. He was just alwaysthere. In the background. A friend of a friend who I somehow always knew but was never properly introduced to. ‘He didn’t finish uni,’ I add. ‘He got a contract to play rugby in France so he left after second year.’
‘Ah, yes.’ Boss nods. ‘It’s a shame he got injured. He was such an impressive footballer, just like his dad. Would’ve worked out better for us if he was still playing.’
I make a non-committal grunt. It is a shame and it isn’t a shame. Of course I wish Archie hadn’t become a journalist whose apparent sole purpose in life is to terrorise me, but even I can admit he’s a genius at his craft. His talents would have been abhorrently wasted on the rugby field.
A few minutes later, Boss pulls into the parking lot of the primary school where we’re holding today’s press conference. In the distance there’s a playground that appears to be made from a few lumps of wood and some cable ties. It’s supposed to resemble the natural environment, which is why it took twenty-two months for the government to design and half a million dollars to build. As Jessie has explained to me many times, theau naturellook is always the hardest to nail.
‘I’m going to do a recce to see where we should do this photo,’ I announce, as Boss turns off the ignition.
‘I’ll stay here and practise my lines,’ he says.
‘Good idea,’ I agree, jumping out.
I make a beeline for the playground, where, as planned, a swarm of yellow-polo-shirted kids and a supervising teacher are waiting nearby. The students seem to vibrate with a rambunctious kinetic energy. The teacher is dressed in a rainbow pleated skirt with a crisp white blouse.
‘Hi there,’ she calls as I approach. ‘I’m Miss Rose.’
‘HELLO MRS MINISTER!’ bellows a curly-haired boy jumping onto an aesthetically pleasing and safety-compliant tree log. ‘Thanks for letting us skip class for this photoshoot.’
‘Hi!’ I wave back. ‘But I’m not the minister, I’m his media director.’ When I see the children’s blank looks, I add: ‘I’m his friend. I left the minister in the car.’
‘With the windows up?’ cries a kid with a flat cap. ‘He could die!’
‘He has the air-con on,’ I assure them
‘But the environment!’ cries a pigtailed girl.
‘Oh, um.’ I try to catch Miss Rose’s eye but she’s distracted by a stick-insect-shaped kid who’s suddenly chasing a magpie towards the school gates.
‘It’s a … hybrid,’ I lie, praying the children of this generation are still innocent enough to trust their elders.
