Page 6 of Power Moves
‘Your bum is bony,’ I whine.
Jessie spins around and flicks my ear with her thumb and forefinger. It hurts more than you’d think.
‘Dad!’ I cry. ‘Tell her she’s being annoying!’
Despite being fairly high functioning adults, my siblings and I tend to regress in each other’s company.
‘Is there a point to this phone call?’ asks Maxy. ‘The crusher’s broken down and it’s not going to fix itself.’
I have no idea what a crusher is but it sounds important.
‘We’re staging an intervention,’ announces Jessie.
‘For Mill’s drug habit?’ asks Maxy.
Jessie laughs. ‘Yes! Dad, we didn’t want to tell you like this, but Mill’s a stoner.’
‘A whatter?’
‘A dopehead,’ says Maxy.
‘You’re a dopehead!’ I retort. It’s not my best comeback but it feels slightly more mature thanI-know-you-are-but-what-am-I?which also came to mind.
‘Chill, Mill,’ says Jessie. This is one of her most oft-used phrases. She once told me she enjoyed the poetry of it. I dislike the condescension. ‘We all know you’d never be a druggo. Not even Dad’s gullible enough to fall for that one.’
I somehow feel insulted by this. She doesn’t have to insinuate I’m a party pooper. Icanbe cool. I’m justcorporatecool.
‘If there was one person in this family who was going to be a druggo, it would be Jessie,’ says Dad.
‘What?!’ she explodes.
Dad shrugs. ‘I’m basing this off your lifestyle. You go to all those parties and you have more leisure time than Maxy and Mill. They work too much.’
‘That’s BS, Dad!’ huffs Jessie. ‘I’m an event manager. Ihaveto go to those parties. And besides, Maxy has way more free time than me. He works seven days on, seven days off.’
‘Oh yes,’ agrees Dad. ‘I forgot. Maxy, I hope you’re not taking drugs on your days off?’
‘No Dad, I spend those days on the dark web instead.’
‘Good,’ says Dad. ‘Er, what?’
Us three kids collapse into giggles. Whenever we’re all together, it’s a constant game of one-upmanship, ganging up on each other for stupid reasons to see who will slip up first. It’s my favourite thing in the world.
‘You guys are such winkipops,’ I say, shaking my head, and we all erupt into giggles again.
‘Winkipop’ used to be Mum’s name for her arch nemesis in Masters tennis—a hotshot doctor with a killer serve. Over the years, however, the word ‘winkipop’ has been bastardised to mean ‘loveable fool’. Essentially, I could say I have a whole family of winkipops.
‘Back to the point,’ says Jessie. ‘Do you guys agree Mill is working too much?’
Maxy and Dad slowly stop laughing. Dad’s eyes dart to the left. Maxy readjusts his goggles.
Jessie nods, businesslike. ‘I’ll take that as two yeses. Mill is working too much and needs a break, and therefore she will take my spare ticket to SoulFest. It’s what Mum would have wanted.’
‘Don’t bring Mum into this!’ I snap, horrified.
Jessie twists on my lap to look me in the eye. She’s so close I can see the glitter in her bronzer.
‘Then listen to me,’ she pleads.
