When It Drops

by Alex Dyson

Caleb handed his phone to Ella, who typed her digits into it and handed it back.

  ‘Well, I better get to class. See ya, Caleb.’

  ‘Bye,’ Caleb managed to say as she walked away. His farewell came out as a puff of breath. His heart exploded. Fairies danced. Light broke through the clouds and silhouetted him in the open quadrangle like a god. Maybe. He wasn’t paying attention. But by the feeling of it, all these things were happening and more. It was bizarre thing to say, but the world suddenly felt, like, not terrible.

  Caleb watched Ella disappear back into the crowd of students moving between classes and suddenly had a brilliant idea. An idea that only five minutes ago would have seemed impossible.

  He got out his phone and opened a new message to Rachel.

  ‘Hey Tiny – can we still go to that party thing tomorrow?’

  CHAPTER 14

  Caleb furiously pounded the backspace key once again, deleting everything from his phone screen. A blank message box stared back at him. The contact, ELLA WESTLAKE, sat atop it.

  This was useless. He was running out of time. It was Saturday, and there were now only a few hours before the Shade Shack party, and every minute he spent trying to formulate the perfect text made it less likely that Ella would be able to come. But every single draft he wrote sounded more and more terrible. Sometimes too desperate, sometimes too nonchalant – his last attempt ended with him adding the cool man sunnies emoji to try to emphasise the sunglasses aspect of the party, but he decided that made him seem too try-hard. It was futile. He wondered if writers of other important documents felt this much pressure. Did the people who wrote the Declaration of Independence have to delete their work as they went? Or did they nail it first go?

  DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE … 1776 …

  Draft #835

  THOMAS JEFFERSON: AHEM, OKAY, HOW ABOUT, ‘ALL MEN ARE CREATED EQUAL, WITH THE RIGHT TO LIFE, LIBERTY AND THE PURSUIT OF HOT SINGLES IN THEIR AREA’? BENJAMIN FRANKLIN:UM, THOMAS, MAYBE WE SHOULD JUST PUT ‘HAPPINESS’ INSTEAD OF ‘HOT SINGLES’? THOMAS JEFFERSON: I GUESS WE’LL JUST HAVE TO AGREE TO DISAGREE.

  Caleb took a breath and tried again. Ella had talked to him yesterday. If he could harness that momentum and take her to a cool party in the city, well, that would be pretty excellent. But how to start a message?

  Hey Ella. Okay, good. Now keep it casual.

  Whassup?

  DELEEEEEEETE

  A text came through to Caleb’s phone. It was from Jai.

  Hey, mate, check Spotify, your song went up overnight. Already looking good on the listens. Awesome to hear you’re coming to the party too. Make sure you’re waiting out the front of your house at 5pm. You’ll see why. Cheers. J.

  Five o’clock! That was only three hours away!

  Okay, Caleb thought. Text first, then Spotify.

  Hey Ella, it’s Caleb Clifford. From school

  Delete. Delete. Delete. Delete.

  Maybe he should check Spotify first, then have a go at finishing the text.

  He opened the app and typed BVTTON into the search bar.

  Oh god.

  There he was. Was it him? It must have been. The circular profile photo was unmistakably his face with water dripping off it, the liquid wrapping around his cheeks and off his freckled nose. He had to hand it to Fawkner Lante; despite how bizarre the photo shoot had been, Caleb looked semi-decent. He clicked the artist profile and was taken to the ‘Songs’ section.

  There was only one: ‘Ella’.

  And the number of plays: 73,382.

  Caleb’s mind was blown.

  This was huge. The song had only been up for one day. One day! Below the track was a ‘featured in’ section. It showed all of the playlists the song had made an appearance in. New Music Friday, Indie Mixtape, New Age Pop, even something called We Be Vibin’, whatever that was. The playlists kept going.

  Caleb pressed play on ‘Ella’. Apparently, he would get .0084 cents per stream of his song, so he figured he may as well give it a spin to build the bank up.

  Westlake, you make my chest ache

  The song didn’t make him cringe as much this time. Now that he knew Ella was aware of it – was even slightly okay with it – a large weight had been lifted off his chest. Like a big silverback gorilla had been sitting there until a large crane pulled it skywards past a –

  Okay, no time for heavy gorilla analogies. Time to focus.

  Hey Ella, just wondering if you were –

  There was a knock at the door. Dammit! Right when he was on a roll.

  The door opened a crack. It was his mum, holding flowers.

  ‘Button, I’m just heading down to see Dad, if you want to come?’

  ‘Ah, I’m really sorry, Mum. I’m right in the middle of something.’ Caleb could tell she was sceptical. After all, he was lying on his bed, staring at his phone.

  ‘Okay then. Well, after that I’m heading to work. But it’ll be my last nightshift for a while, so maybe we can sit down and you can tell me about everything that’s going on?’

  ‘Yep, for sure, Mum.’ He accidentally said it too fast. Too flippantly. He really did want to talk to her. This text was just – it had a time limit.

  She shut the door. He sighed. He wished he could make his mum happy again, but he wasn’t his dad. Dad could always find the right words. The correct gesture. Caleb remembered Dad tickling her when she was annoyed at him for getting mud on the carpet one time. Dad said he was the swamp monster, then started to attack her, eating her belly. She was laughing by the end of it, pleading with him to stop. Another time she came home upset because she hadn’t got a promotion at work. Dad just held out his arms and she collapsed into them, resting her head on his chest. There was no talking that time, just hugging and swaying. Dad always knew the right way to make her feel better, in every different scenario.

  They really were made for each other.

  And now, the closest she could be to him was sitting next to his headstone at the cemetery. Caleb understood why she went there so much, but it didn’t seem to make her feel better. In fact, things had been getting worse over the last year. Caleb had no idea what to do about it, though. It was a large problem without an immediate solution, and he felt guilty that he had other things to focus on.

  Like the text. It might not have been more important, but it was definitely more urgent.

  Hey Ella, just wondering if you were free tonight for a party thing I’m going to –

  Party thing, party thing. That sounded strange. He deleted thing.

  His screen was interrupted by a new message from an unknown number.

  Hey Caleb, it’s Danny Harley – how’s things? Long time no chat. My mum was listening to the radio yesterday and she heard you on it. That’s amazing, dude! Hope things are well.

  Caleb read the text three times just to be sure. He hadn’t talked to Danny in years. Not for any particular reason – they’d just lost contact since Danny went to Montaigne College. It felt great to receive the text. It felt like he had friends again. He texted back immediately.

  Hey Danny, great to hear from you! Yeah, it’s been a pretty crazy week. How’s Montaigne?

  Caleb sat back. He’d written that text quickly – so why did it take so long with Ella’s?! He saw the three dots appear that meant Danny was writing back.

  Montaigne is good, dude. Still hanging with Kirsten and Nick and the crew which is cool. There’s this guy called Xavier who you’d really get along with too.

  The dots continued. Caleb waited.

  Really sorry about your dad as well. Me and Mum would have come to the funeral but we were on a holiday in Europe. Was meaning to text, but yeah, you know how it is. Anyway, we should catch up soon.

  It was a bittersweet text for Caleb. It was nice to receive, but it brought back the feelings he’d felt at the time. The anger he held towards Danny, who was probably Caleb’s closest friend out of everyone in the group, besides Ella. To not hear anything from him had really stung. Despite this, t
he thought of reconnecting was too much of a carrot. He swallowed his hurt and texted back.

  All good man. Yeah, that’d be nice.

  He waited, but no more dots appeared. Well, it was nice while it lasted.

  Caleb daydreamed again about what would have happened if he went to Montaigne College from the start. Maybe he’d be a different person. Someone confident. With friends. He’d even considered moving schools in year eight, but with his dad’s illness he didn’t want to be a burden.

  Caleb looked at the time. Holy crap – okay, enough stalling. He deleted everything on his screen and started again.

  Hey Ella, it’s Caleb. I know it’s last minute, but I’m going to this Shade Shack party tonight in the city and was wondering if you wanted to come? No presh :)

  Was presh better than pressure? Caleb said it out loud sometimes, but this was the first time he’d actually typed it, and it kind of looked weird. Okay –

  Hey Ella, it’s Caleb Clifford. I know it’s last minute, but I’m going to this Shade Shack party tonight in the city, and was wondering if you wanted to come? It’s on the Hilltop Hotel rooftop and there’s free food. No pressure :)

  Okay. This could be it. And if it wasn’t, there wasn’t time to change it. He just had to bite the bullet and send it. Although, biting a bullet did seem like a weird thing to do. Why was the bullet in your mouth in the first place?

  While Caleb was pondering that, the message disappeared, and in its place a new screen emerged.

  He was getting a call.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hey, Caleb.’ Miralee sounded quieter than usual.

  ‘Hey, Miralee. What’s happening?’

  ‘Well …’

  The tears came in waves.

  Caleb could barely make out the rapid-fire story in between the sobs. Dana was distant. She needed more commitment. She needed time. Miralee had tried, but her parents were strict, so she and Dana couldn’t see each other much. It was an intricate story, but the basic headline of it, if it appeared in the school newsletter, would be:

  MIRALEE KAHN AND HER GIRLFRIEND, DANA BEASLEY, ARE ON A BREAK.6

  ‘What should I do?’ Miralee moaned. ‘I mean, I don’t want to be on a break. There’s no such thing as a good break.’

  ‘Brakes are good on cars?’ Caleb offered hopefully. Silence. Caleb panic-talked. As sympathetic as he was for his friend, he needed to send that text to Ella. ‘I mean, you’ll be okay, Miralee. It’ll be fine. Besides, I don’t know if I’m the person you should be talking to about this. I’ve been on one constant break for the last sixteen years.’

  Miralee sniffed. ‘And you’re going all right?’

  ‘Sure,’ said Caleb. On top of everything, now he was feeling guilty that, in the middle of her own mess, Miralee was still worrying about him.

  Miralee sighed. ‘I just need something to take my mind off things … do you want to do something tonight?’

  ‘Sorry, what?’

  ‘Tonight? Do you want to hang out? I don’t want to be stuck alone with my thoughts.’

  Caleb panicked. ‘Tonight? I can’t, I’m um … going to this thing.’

  Dammit. Once again, his honesty had stuck its nose where it didn’t belong.

  ‘Going to what?’

  ‘Nothing. Just this party thing.’

  ‘Party thing?’ Miralee said, voice perking up. ‘What party thing? You never go to party things!’

  ‘It’s nothing really. Just a Shade Shack party. I’m going with, um’ – he thought quickly – ‘Rachel.’

  ‘Oh. That sounds cool.’ Miralee sniffed.

  Caleb felt himself sinking into the silence quicksand again, guilt warring with the need to end this phone call. And then Miralee handed him a branch – one he wasn’t sure he wanted to grab.

  ‘Well, could I come?’ she asked delicately. ‘Are you allowed to bring a friend?’

  ‘Well, kind of, but …’

  ‘Oh, it’s all right if you can’t,’ Miralee said, sounding deflated. ‘I don’t want to be a bother.’

  Caleb sighed. He was shutting Miralee down again. To send a text to Ella instead. A last-minute text. One she’d probably say no to anyway. He clenched his teeth.

  ‘No, you should come. It’ll be fun.’

  ‘Oh my god, Caleb, you are the BEST. What time are we going?’

  The happiness in her voice almost made Caleb’s crushing disappointment at not inviting Ella worth it.

  ‘Well, I think about five. We can come pick you up.’

  ‘Thank you so much, I know exactly what to wear. This is going to be awesome. You’re such a good friend! I’ll see you soon!’

  Caleb hung up, revealing once again his finished text screen to Ella.

  He backspaced it all.

  6. In actual fact, the Riverview Gazette usually had much cheesier headlines, and in this instance would probably have gone with OH MY, DANA SAYS BYE-BYE!

  CHAPTER 15

  Caleb sat in the gutter. The sounds of twilight swam around him: a few birds, a light breeze, and the slow, rhythmic tapping of his sister’s heels as she paced along the driveway.

  ‘Where is this car?’ Rachel said. They’d been waiting for twenty minutes, but the lift Jai was sending was yet to arrive.

  Caleb looked at the mandarin sky. He had mixed feelings about the party. He’d only wanted to go as it would have been a great excuse to hang out with Ella; now that he was heading there with Miralee, he wasn’t as excited. On the other hand, he wasn’t a jittery sack of nerves now either, so he might actually be able to relax and enjoy the evening. The thought of being around a ton of people was a bit intimidating, but then again, Rachel said the food would be free, which was cool. He did feel slightly bad about going out while he was grounded, because his mum didn’t know exactly what tonight was about, but, as Jai said, it was technically a work thing because in this industry networking was key … and so, overall, Caleb could sum up his current mood as ‘moderate’.

  ‘Maybe I should just call an Uber?’ Rachel said, just as a vehicle appeared up the street.

  ‘Uh, Rach …’ Caleb tapped his sister’s leg. She looked up from her phone just in time to see an eight-metre-long stretch limo pull up in their driveway, its tail end sticking out into the street.

  ‘Are you kidding?’ Rachel yelled. The driver’s door opened and a man in a suit and a black hat got out. He was quite young, but clearly trying his best to be as mature and formal as possible.

  ‘Apologies for my lateness, Sir and Madame, but I’m looking for Button?’

  ‘That’s us!’ said Rachel, her eyes wide as she looked the car up and down.

  ‘Sick,’ said the limo driver. ‘I mean … very good. Um, I’m Dylan, and I’ll be your driver for the night.’ He opened the car’s back door, which was about three metres away from its front door.

  Caleb was speechless. He’d never been in a limo before. He looked at his sister and she grinned back at him. ‘Um – is it okay if we pick up my friend as well?’

  ‘Of course, dude! Ah, I mean … indubitably. The car is yours for the night, you can do whatever you like.’

  ‘Whatever we like, hey?’

  The look on Miralee’s face when the limo pulled up – with Caleb’s torso hanging out of the sunroof like he was some sort of long-car centaur – was priceless.

  ‘Oh my goddd! Caleb!’

  ‘Hop in!’

  Miralee jumped into the back seat as Rachel poured some San Ciscogrino sparkling water into a Champagne flute for her.

  ‘Thank you!’ Miralee squeaked. ‘This is AMAZING!’ The majority of Caleb’s apprehensions about the night melted away when he saw how happy his best friend was. Everyone clinked glasses as the limo pulled out.

  ‘You have no idea how much I needed this,’ Miralee said, taking a sip.

  ‘Hey driver, can we get some music back here?’ Rachel enquired through the open partition.

  ‘Ah … why certainly, Madame.’

  ‘You k
now, you can speak normally if you like, Dylan. We don’t mind.’

  ‘Oh, thank god. Just chuck on your Bluetooth and you should be sweet to play whatever.’

  ‘I know just the thing,’ said Rachel slyly, looking at Miralee.

  ‘No, Rachel, please –’ Caleb tried, but it was too late.

  WESTLAKE, YOU MAKE MY CHEST ACHE

  ‘Ella’ filled the car as the girls whooped.

  ‘Woah, this track slaps!’ the limo driver called back at them. ‘What is it?’

  ‘It’s the reason we’re in this limo tonight,’ Rachel said, winding down her window so the whole town could hear it. Even Caleb couldn’t help but crack a smile as they blasted his song to the world, driving towards the city in their real life, ridiculous limousine.

  The marble foyer of the five-star Hilltop Hotel was full of various dapper-looking people in various dapper-looking outfits. A woman with what seemed to be a fox fur draped around her neck looked at them curiously as they breezed past. Rachel looked pretty good. She was wearing a yellow dress with her blue hair tied up. Miralee looked great, too. She had on a lime-green jumpsuit with delicate gold earrings. Caleb was, well … clothed.

  They spotted a woman with an earpiece and a clipboard over by the lifts next to a sign that said ‘Shade Shack Gala’. This was it.

  ‘I’m sorry, guys, this is a private function,’ she said as they approached. ‘Hotel guests are asked to use the elevators on the other side of the lobby.’

  ‘We’re invited,’ said Rachel. ‘We’re guests of TransAtlantic Records. This is the artist BVTTON.’

  The woman furrowed her brow. ‘I’m sorry, there’s no Button on this list.’

  ‘Well, how about Caleb and Rachel Clifford?’

  Her demeanour changed as soon as she spotted their names. ‘Oh, ah, yes. My apologies. May I see your IDs, please?’

  Caleb was surprised to see Miralee confidently reach into her purse and pull out what looked like a probationary license. This was confusing because A) to Caleb’s knowledge, Miralee didn’t have a probationary license, and B) even if she did, he doubted she could see over the steering wheel of any vehicle currently in circulation. The woman looked at it sceptically, but seemed to approve it. She gave Miralee a sparkly gold wristband, wrapping it twice around the recipient’s tiny wrist.