When It Drops

by Alex Dyson

  Caleb and Rachel nodded solemnly.

  But Nathaniel was having none of it.

  ‘Pfft, we’re not unlucky! We’d only be unlucky if we were happy now.’

  Monica grimaced. ‘Nat, that’s not true –’

  ‘It is!’ Nat doubled down. ‘We’re only sad ’cos we had such a good dad. The unlucky people are the ones that have shit dads. I mean, if we had a shit dad, we’d be stoked if he carked it. But we’re not. We had a sick dad. Sick as in awesome. But also, like, sick sick. Which is why we’re so sad now. So that should make us happy. You know?’

  On the TV, fireworks were going off. The three older Cliffords stared at their youngest family member.

  ‘Just don’t say we were unlucky,’ Nat said quietly. ‘We weren’t. It just feels that way ’cos of how good he was. Anyway, this show stinks. I’m gonna go play Fortnite.’

  And with that, the fourteen-year-old whose mulleted head encased a surprisingly insightful brain left the room.

  In his bedroom that night, Caleb mulled over many things. His mum. His dad. How it was weird that when he was out of the shower he never wanted to get in, but when he was in the shower he never wanted to get out. The usual stuff.

  It was after 2am, and he couldn’t sleep. So he hit the Instagram icon on his phone.

  He found @JakeTownsendMusic and stared at the feed. After the brutal blows of the last few days – more highs and lows than one sixteen-year-old should have to deal with – he had resigned himself to the fact that a musical path just wasn’t for him.

  The annoying thing was, he knew that next time he could do better. But that was stupid. There wasn’t going to be a next time. And even if there was, it would probably still be bad.

  Or would it? Caleb didn’t know. What would he regret more? Sending Jake a message and getting shot down? Or not sending a message, and finding out he wouldn’t have got shot down? Hypotheticals were tough. All Caleb knew was that it was after 2am and he was staring at a blank message screen.

  The cursor blinked.

  CHAPTER 26

  For someone who detested awkward photos, Jake Townsend sure had a knack for taking them.

  The teenage girl and her mum thanked him and showed him the phone screen. The young fan was smiling cutely, whereas Jake was halfway through a blink; his eyes were droopy, but not closed enough to warrant them taking the picture again.

  He sighed. He toyed briefly with the idea of asking the mother to delete it and take another one, but across the table it was obvious that Sheridan was getting impatient, so he bit his tongue.

  ‘Thank you so much, Jake, we’re such big fans,’ the young kid said.

  ‘Thanks.’

  ‘When will you have a new song? It’s been ages!’

  ‘Um … sometime.’

  ‘Hopefully not too long! We can’t wait!’

  Both mother and daughter laughed at what was not technically a joke. Jake laughed politely as well, all while stealing another glance across the table. Sheridan was on her phone. The family finally left, and Jake was able to take another bite of his rapidly cooling Asian fusion meal.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ he offered.

  ‘That’s okay,’ she said.

  But it wasn’t okay. Three dates in, and Jake could tell that the novelty of his stardom was wearing thin. What was once a sign of validation had quickly morphed into irritation; a harsh realisation that she would never have sole ownership of his attention. He had to give her credit – most girls he dated took a few months to realise it.

  Jake grimaced and took another bite of his tepid meal. The coincidence that this relationship was also quickly cooling was not lost on him.

  ‘Don’t you get sick of that?’ Sheridan asked. ‘People coming up to you all the time?’

  Jake thought about it. It was a tougher question than one might think. ‘Yes and no,’ he said eventually.

  She raised her eyebrows, waiting for him to elaborate.

  ‘Look, it’s good. People are usually really nice. It’s humbling, you know? I just … wish I could choose when it happened.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Sheridan shrugged before changing the subject. ‘Take a look at this.’ She showed Jake a photo on her phone of a white beach surrounded by large mountains. ‘I’m going there next week for a shoot, and apparently we’re staying at this place that has …’

  Jake kept his eyes on her phone, but his thoughts were elsewhere. He was thinking about his ex, Ava. How she would roll her eyes at this situation. Scoff at the prices on the leather-bound menu. Giggle at the waiter’s pronunciation of aperitif.

  Jake kept up the appearance of listening. He just needed to make it through.

  Through that story.

  Through the next one.

  And even as he lay in bed later that night next to Sheridan, he couldn’t lock his thoughts of Ava back into the safe deposit box of his subconscious. Instead, they danced at the forefront of his mind, pirouetting with other colourful topics such as his financially unviable record label and his inability to write any semblance of a good song for close to eighteen months.

  He needed to be better. He needed to get out of this slump. But most of all – he needed to go to the toilet.

  Manoeuvring his way through the dark to the bathroom, he sat on the loo and mindlessly opened Instagram.

  Nothing much had happened since his last visit. National Geographic had posted a giant jungle boa constrictor pic, his cousin Stephanie had taken a photo of a pink flower and DankMemez had uploaded their latest Spongebob effort, which was nowhere near spicy enough to elicit even a smile from Jake. Or maybe he was just in a bad mood.

  He went to his messages. There were three. One was from a girl wearing a bridesmaid dress in her photo: LOVE your music! Xox

  Cool.

  One was from a guy: Oi Jakey ya mad dog, next time you’re in Byron hit me up, we’ll get off our faces on shrooms ya legend. Peace.

  Not cool.

  And the final new message was from someone with the handle @ccliffrd.

  Hi Jake, Super sorry to slide into your DM’s, I totally never do this, but my name is Caleb Clifford and I met you at the Shade Shack party. We played a bit of Tetris until my sister dragged me out. Anyway, just wanted to send through a link to my song if you were still interested in checking it out. I’m a big fan of your label too, and mine just kinda screwed me over, so I don’t know if you have time to chat about it at some stage, but yeah if you did that would be amazing. Anyway, sorry again to bother you, hope you’ve had a great day. – Caleb

  P.S. I got a C- on my project on ‘Turbulence’, but only because my music teacher didn’t believe I met you :/

  Jake smiled. He remembered that kid. He was clearly escaping the party too. It certainly didn’t seem like he was old enough to have a label, though. Underneath his P.S. there was a link to a song on Spotify. Jake clicked through.

  Jeez. 2,844,913 streams. This kid was legit. That was more than a lot of his recent album tracks. He looked at the release date. Only a few weeks ago? No wonder the poor dude looked so lost at the party – it must have been a super hectic time. Ava would have definitely taken him under her wing if she was there. Tried to shield him from the world.

  So – while still sitting on the toilet, while thinking about Ava, while Sheridan slept in the other room – Jake pressed play on ‘Ella’.

  CHAPTER 27

  There is a certain point in every young boy’s life when they realise every piece of clothing they own is terrible, and Caleb’s glorious moment had arrived.

  ‘RACHEL!’

  After one of the most normal weeks in Caleb’s living memory – a week in which he barely embarrassed himself at all except for a small moment when he said ‘pacific’ instead of ‘specific’ in front of three people – it was the night of Dana’s party, and his old anxieties were starting to creep back in.

  ‘WHAT?’

  Caleb turned around from his wardrobe mirror and faced his sister. ‘Be honest. How do I l
ook?’

  She furrowed her brow. Her eyes scanned his appearance, from the bottom of his slightly baggy jeans to the purple T-shirt with MIAMI written across the front in swirly toothpaste-esque writing, up to his very problematic head.

  ‘Um … okay?’

  Some okays sound just like okay, and others sound like a great okay, but this one sounded like an optimistic okay at best. Like Rachel had wrung the okay out of a dry dishcloth.

  ‘Why is there so much gel in your hair?’ she asked. ‘You never do that.’

  ‘Is it too much?’

  Caleb turned back to the mirror. In an attempt to sculpt his hair into something resembling a hairstyle rather than a hedge, he had put in a bit more sculpting gel than the tub recommended. It had left his scalp somewhat, well, moist.

  ‘It looks like a seaweed salad,’ said Rachel, extremely unhelpfully.

  ‘What?!’

  ‘You know, one of those green slimy salad things you get at Japanese restaurants.’

  ‘I know what they are, I just can’t believe you said that.’

  Rachel put both hands on his shoulders. ‘Look, you don’t have to try so hard or care so much. Or try so much and care so hard. I’m sure Ella will like you no matter what.’

  Caleb sighed. He’d said hey in passing to Ella this week, but not much else. Unless you count staring at her using the reflection of a window as something. He was hoping tonight’s party would be an opportunity to actually talk to her.

  ‘I don’t think she has a thing for guys with hair like wet kelp, Rach.’

  She sighed. ‘Listen, Button – go have a shower and wash that goop out. Rock up to the party, and just play it uncool.’ ‘Uncool?’

  ‘Yeah, what are you better at? Playing it cool, or playing it uncool?’

  ‘Are those the only options?’

  ‘Yes!’

  Caleb stared at his sister warily. ‘Uncool.’

  ‘Exactly! Play to your strengths.’

  ‘That is probably the worst advice anyone has given, ever.’

  ‘Caleb, if you go there and try to be cool, what will happen?’

  ‘I dunno. Maybe people will like me for once?’

  ‘No! They’ll think, this kid has a song out that got four million streams and now he’s acting like a douche. Just go and be yourself. The talented kid who people underestimated.’

  Caleb considered it. ‘You think I’m talented?’

  ‘Just go, will you! Before I put some soy sauce on your head.’

  With his hair now back to his usual garden salad look, Caleb met Miralee at their agreed rendezvous point – the service station down the road from Dana’s place. A pathetic-looking green bag hung from her left hand.

  ‘What’s it going?’ said Caleb. It wasn’t a proper sentence, and he realised that immediately. ‘Whoops, sorry, I was going to say what’s happening, then tried to change it at the last minute to how’s it going and ended up doing a mix of both … I’m nervous. I’ve never been to a proper party before.’

  ‘YOU’RE nervous?’ squealed Miralee. ‘I’m the one who has to talk to my on-a-break girlfriend. Luckily, I managed to get this –’ She dug into the bag and pulled out a bottle of Agrum Ruby Pink Grapefruit & White Peach mineral water which, the label claimed, also had ‘a hint of elderflower’.

  ‘Nice,’ said Caleb. ‘It’s lucky, actually, I don’t drink anything with less than two fruits and a flower in it –’

  ‘And here’s the pièce de résistance!’ Miralee said, ignoring Caleb’s joke. She took out a tall glass bottle with red and silver lettering in a language that didn’t look like English.

  ‘Kom-rad vod-Ka?’ Caleb attempted to read.

  ‘Yeah. I managed to bribe a guy to buy it for me. Apparently, it was the cheapest brand. Almost cheaper than the mineral water, actually!’

  Caleb sighed. ‘How much do I owe you?’

  ‘I’ll tell you what – nothing, if you talk to Ella tonight.’

  Under the fluorescent glow of the service station, Miralee’s grin looked devious.

  ‘We’ll see.’

  The noise that floated out of the weatherboard house was the unmistakable sound of parents being away for the weekend. A few dark silhouettes hovered in the porch light, the smaller red glows of cigarettes flaring intermittently.

  Caleb and Miralee wandered up the hedge-lined driveway and opened the screen door. The volume of music and noise increased as they made their way through the dimly lit hallway towards a random conglomerate of hair and short dresses and sneakers.

  Miralee looked over at Caleb.

  ‘Kitchen?’

  They placed their bag on a bench that was already covered with various spills and empty cans, plus a dishcloth that looked like it was growing its own ecosystem.

  ‘Dammit, there’s no cups!’ Miralee exclaimed, rummaging through a bunch of cupboards. ‘Okay, looks like we’ll just have to use these.’

  Miralee produced two cereal bowls from one of the lower drawers. She unscrewed the Kom-rad. Caleb wasn’t sure whether he should say anything about quantities before she started pouring.

  ‘It’s okay, I’m not putting in much for me,’ said Miralee, as if reading his mind.

  ‘Hey,’ someone said from across the kitchen. Caleb looked up, recognising a year twelve girl in a white tank top. ‘Are you that kid with the song on the radio?’

  ‘Um … yeah?’

  ‘Hmm … You’re shorter than I thought.’

  ‘Okay?’ Caleb replied.

  The girl turned back to her friends. Miralee handed Caleb a bowl of vodka. He was somewhat surprised that she’d also included cutlery.

  ‘Why the hell did you give us spoons?’

  ‘I don’t know! It’s a bowl, it felt like it needed one.’

  ‘You want us to walk around the party eating our drinks?’

  ‘Fine, I’ll take them out!’ She removed the spoons and put them in the sink. ‘Well, cheers?’

  They clinked their bowls together and had a sip. It was awful.

  ‘Shall we go look for Dana?’ Miralee said.

  ‘Are you sure you want me to be there?’ asked Caleb, always slightly intimidated by Miralee’s older, cooler flame. Even more so now that it seemed like she didn’t appreciate the two of them hanging out together.

  ‘Yeah, it’ll be fine. This way she can see you’re no threat.’ Caleb squinted at Miralee. ‘I’ll try not to take offense at that …’

  The garden was even more packed than indoors. People sat on the garden walls, and a few lazed on a trampoline, drinking from various bottles and cans. Caleb and Miralee scanned the area.

  ‘I can’t see Dana,’ said Miralee.

  She may as well have been a wizard because, right then, Dana walked out of the French doors and into the backyard.

  ‘There she is!’ yelped Miralee. ‘Quick, pretend to talk to me!’

  ‘I am talking to you.’

  ‘That’s good. Keep doing it. Is she looking?’

  Caleb glanced over and saw Dana looking right at them.

  ‘Yes. Oh, ah … she’s heading this way.’

  ‘Oh my god – just be cool.’

  That was a tough request for someone like Caleb, but at least he was doing a better job than Miralee, who was, without a doubt, freaking out.

  ‘Hey, Miralee,’ Dana said.

  Miralee turned, her face full of mock surprise.

  ‘Dana! Hey! Happy birthday!’ She shoved her bowl into Caleb’s hands, slopping some vodka and elderflower onto his shirt, before giving Dana a hug.

  ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d come,’ Dana said, hugging her back.

  ‘Well, I wasn’t sure you’d invite me, so I guess we’re both surprised.’

  The two girls looked at each other. Caleb felt like he was back in year six playing the irrelevant background tree in the school musical. Then, suddenly, the spotlight shone on him.

  ‘Dana, you remember Caleb, right?’

  Dana looked at him suspi
ciously. ‘Hey,’ she said. ‘Yeah, I’ve been hearing a lot about you lately.’ Miralee blushed.

  ‘Hey, you too, I mean … not that much. A bit. Nothing bad, just …’ said Caleb. It wasn’t good.

  Dana turned back to Miralee. ‘Wanna go and talk?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Miralee followed Dana back to the house, pushing through the figures silhouetted by the backyard lights.

  Alone again.

  Brilliant.

  ‘Hey, Caleb.’

  Caleb turned around, and was punched in the face. Not literally. But the emotional impact of Ella Westlake materialising in front of him certainly felt like a face-punch.

  Her features were even more striking in the dark. Her hair was braided tonight, and she was wearing a white top with a black choker thing around her neck. Her jeans were blue and slightly loose, and she had a strange look on her face that was getting stranger by the minute. Caleb wasn’t sure why until he realised he was just staring at her, and hadn’t actually replied to her hey, and oh god, say something quickly, something cool, anything –

  ‘Hey. Um, how’s it going?’

  By some miracle, Ella actually smiled. ‘All right, thanks. How are you?’

  This time Caleb was quicker on the response. ‘Yeah, good thanks. What about yourself?’

  ‘Um, yeah. I’m good.’

  Caleb realised he’d asked the same question twice. He turned bright red, but luckily the backyard was dark. ‘That’s good …’

  The two stood for a moment in excruciating, awkward silence. The only thing Caleb could think of saying was, ‘How are you going?’ And he didn’t think he could get away with it a third time.

  ‘Are those bowls?’ Ella asked.

  Caleb looked down at the porcelain cup-substitutes he was holding. ‘Yeah … I prefer them to glasses. Easier to spill on your pants that way.’

  Ella giggled. It was a beautiful giggle. One that came from the roof of her mouth and undulated between low and high notes, kind of like the word ‘giggle’.

  ‘So, I heard your song again the other day at the supermarket.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s everywhere.’

  Caleb felt himself turn red again, but he didn’t mind this time. ‘Yeah, it’s been a weird few weeks.’