All the Invisible Things

by Orlagh Collins

‘Seeing anyone?’ I ask, standing now. It’s a stupid, you-asked-for-it kind of joke and I’m about to make some crack about Jennifer Lawrence but I don’t know if he fancies her any more.

  ‘Guess I am,’ he says, quietly.

  I lift the heavy black camera body in my hands, willing it to weight me down because suddenly I’m drifting up and up, feeling like I might float out of the open window like a sad balloon. So, Pez has a girlfriend AND a Nikon D5300 Digital SLR now? ‘Yeah?’ I say, gripping the camera tightly in my hands.

  ‘But it’s not that serious,’ he says, tapping his foot off the bed frame.

  What does this mean? He’s seeing someone he’s not serious about, or he’s seeing someone but it’s not that serious yet? Does he even take photographs? Either way it’s as though I’ve invited one of his enormous high-tops to kick me in the stomach.

  I brush my finger over the Nikon logo, then hold it to my eye and face the window. ‘Just wondering, that’s all.’ I take a deep breath in through my nose while rotating the lens in my hand, acting like I’m trying to focus the lens. ‘It’s not like—’ I’m not sure how this sentence ends, so I stop. I don’t trust my mouth very much right now.

  I don’t know what I was expecting but it wasn’t the sharp pain in the centre of my chest. It’s probably just indigestion from inhaling my lunch. It’s not like I’d ever expect Pez to fancy me. It’s not like I want Pez to fancy me. Breathe! Of course Pez has a girlfriend. Why wouldn’t he? And I’m hardly the only person allowed to take photographs. I carefully place the camera back on the shelf, wishing I had something that cool hanging around my bedroom. A double shot of jealousy, please, bartender. I quickly swallow this down before opening my mouth. ‘Anyone I know?’ I ask, breezily, but my voice is giveaway high. I know hardly anyone around here any more and Pez and me never went to the same school, so there’s zero chance of me knowing or pulling this breezy business off.

  ‘She’s a friend of a friend,’ he says. ‘It’s only been a couple of months.’

  A couple of months! That’s practically a lifetime. That’s virtually a proper girlfriend.

  ‘It’s kind of casual,’ he says, but the way he budges about on the bed makes me think otherwise. ‘How about you?’

  I shake my head. There’s nothing to tell. I’ve kissed a few boys since Arthur but nobody significant is the truth and Arthur was too long ago to mention. I’m not sure I’ve ever had a proper relationship and I’d actually really like to talk to Pez about this but I’m not ready to get into the why of it all right now. When we were kids, feelings came easy and quick. Like if emotions were a superpower, I would have been a freaking Avenger. But I’ve gotten so used to pushing that stuff down. It’s not that I’ve been afraid of the feelings, it’s more that I haven’t been ready to announce that I have them.

  Pez looks at his watch. ‘Let’s go out?’

  ‘Out?’

  ‘C’mon,’ he says, already up. ‘I’m looking at house arrest once Harland gets here. Besides, you should meet some people.’

  I’m all for meeting people, but now? What if she’s one of them? I’m suddenly tired, like I might need to lie down in this bed and overthink for a while, but then he digs my arm, quite hard, and I feel a bit better.

  7

  Outside in the air, it’s easier to breathe.

  I look down at my wheels, still caked in mud from the farm tracks near Wendy’s, and I worry my tyres look strangely big and wrong next to his. I never thought about having to share my half-arsed hobby with Pez and I never thought I’d have to share him with anyone before, particularly another girl, and I’m not sure I know how. It sounds selfish but it’s just that I could really do with all of him. I quickly hop on but when I look up from the handlebars he’s already shot off down the road. He stops by the narrow exit on to Agar Grove and turns around. For a split second it looks like nothing has changed. We’re both here, back on our bikes again.

  ‘In your own time!’ he says.

  ‘Where we headed?’ I ask, but as I get closer he takes off again.

  ‘You’ll see,’ he shouts out. ‘C’mon!’

  He takes a right, wheeling on past the open-all-hours Best Buy; the one with the stale cornflakes. Best-Buy-Never, Mum used to call it. Pez goes left on to St Pancras Way, and I trace his huge arc, following under the railway bridge and freewheeling down the road all the way to the path that leads to the canal.

  If Dad was right and Pez really did follow me everywhere once, it looks as though this, like everything else, has changed. Still it feels good and I push my arms up straight off the handlebars, holding my chest high into the wind. My hair blows behind me and my ears fill with the fizz of spinning spokes. It’s a flash of that full-heart eleven-year-old feeling again and I hold my face to the sky, eyes closed to feel it more.

  We haven’t been cycling for very long but as we weave through the slipway barrier and walk our bikes down the slope towards the water, my limbs throb like we’ve been pedalling for hours. As we enter the canal from our usual spot the water curves and coils, twisting out on either side of us. I can hear music ahead. We wheel on past a man crashed out on the grass between two traffic cones and in a few more steps we’re under the curved slope of the tunnel where even whispers echo. I push my bike along behind Pez in the half-dark but soon we’re standing in sunlight on other side. I spot the crowd of bodies gathered by a small speaker further up on the grass and without a word from Pez I know this is his crew. Bass beats boom, warning of what I’m not sure, but warning me all the same. If I thought my bike seemed out of place, it’s nothing to how I feel now.

  I keep close, pulling my shorts out of my bum as we approach, trying to do it as subtly as possible as I quickly count the faces that tilt in our direction: three boys and one girl. The couple on the far side of the speaker, with their feet dangling over the water, are deep in a kiss and have only a fleeting interest in our arrival. The boy has ginger hair and the Indian girl with her long black braids and beat-up leather jacket looks like some sort of punk princess. My palms sweat on the handlebars. There’s a strong smell of weed coming from somewhere else close by and I want to get rid of my gum, which suddenly feels too big in my mouth.

  Pez shapes towards them with a new swagger, the apology gone from him like I only imagined it earlier. He hugs and hand-slaps the two boys who are sitting on the grass and I stand behind, flicking my ponytail off my shoulder, waiting for Pez to introduce me. Then I pull my sleeves down over my hands, which aren’t quite sure what to do.

  ‘Kyle, Lucas, this is Vetty,’ Pez says, eventually.

  The boy with the dark skin pulls his hood down and smiles at me like he might mean it. ‘I’m Lucas,’ he says, but the other, smaller boy with the floppy brown hair over his eyes, who must be Kyle, seems less polite. Still, I grin back, feeling next-level self-conscious.

  Pez points to the couple. ‘Amira?’ he says. The girl looks over. ‘And that’s Nick with her,’ he says to me. ‘Oi,’ he shouts, ‘say hi to Vetty, yeah?’ His accent sounds a lot more London than it does when he’s at home.

  They wave and quickly return to each other. I wonder if Amira might be the friend of the friend of a friend.

  A pretty houseboat passes us and I’m thinking how much I’d like to hop on and sail it somewhere far away from here, when another boy crosses the path to join us. Dirty-blond hair sits high off his pale face and the neck of his T-shirt is wide and low, so low that I can see the top of his chest and a string of brown glass beads tucked in behind the faded grey cotton. He looks strangely out of place but for different reasons than me. With his angular face and easy smile, he’s like an actor who’s stepped into the wrong scene, like he’s meant to be in some American TV show but ended up here instead.

  Pez sets his bike down on the grass and takes the guy’s arm in a practised hold.

  ‘Good to see you out,’ the guy says, patting the back of Pez’s puffer, then he reaches his hand towards me. ‘Vetty,’ he says, shaking mine. ‘
I’ve heard a lot about you.’

  I smile back but no words come out.

  ‘Well, now you’ve met Rob,’ Pez says, taking a step closer to the guy who must be Rob and giving him a gentle thump in his stomach. ‘That’s pretty much it.’ He sits down cross-legged opposite Kyle and Lucas so I sit down too, wishing I could think of something to say.

  Pez leans over. ‘Here,’ he says, stooping to check my eyes as he offers me a Red Stripe from a pile by Rob’s feet. Despite the heat, the can is cold, like it hasn’t been there long. Normally I don’t drink beer, but I take a slow sip, hoping it might soothe the hard edges beneath me. Besides, it’s not bad when it’s this cold and I’m grateful to have something to do with my hands. I take another drink and look around, enjoying the bubbling between my ears and the sharp taste at the back of my mouth.

  I knew every inch of this canal once. We used to cycle to the zoo and Little Venice on one side, and then for miles past Islington in the other direction, but nothing is as it was then: not Regent’s Canal, not Pez, not me. The boys around me talk quick and everything feels so fast. Their voices soup together like a strange new language I’ve to strain to work out. I look back the way we came, where an old man fishes from a plastic crate on the other side of the bridge. My eyes follow his rod into the dirty water, then latch on to an elegant duck gliding along.

  A voice crackles close to my ear. ‘Trailer for that new Darkzone looks banging.’ I turn around and it’s Kyle talking, but I still can’t see his eyes. Pez does a soft snort and looks off towards the water. He’s not being unfriendly, but I can tell he doesn’t really want to talk about Luna. He leans back with his elbows on the grass, closing his eyes to the low sun.

  Rob moves in closer to the group. ‘The best bits are already on YouTube,’ he says, holding out his phone to the two boys. Kyle takes it, his hands cupping the small screen to shade out the light, and Lucas looks guiltily to Pez before huddling closer to the phone. Kyle slumps forward and nods like he likes whatever it is he’s seeing.

  ‘Who’s the bloke with the beard?’ he says, to nobody in particular.

  ‘The guilty one,’ Lucas explains, then he looks up, like he’s not sure whether to get stuck into this conversation but he does anyway. ‘He’s the one she’s supposed to be banging up, not getting busy with.’

  Whatever they’re watching, Kyle is gripped. ‘Real talk though, Pez. Your mum – I mean, I would. We all would,’ he says, eyeing the other boys, looking for their agreement. He doesn’t have to look too hard. It’s obvious Pez’s friends are just messing around but I don’t know how he can stand them talking about Luna like this. His face twitches in a half-smile but then the muscles in his neck go tight. He looks up and breathes in through his nose, like he’s struggling underneath those eyes, but he holds it together. I’m tempted to say something to change the subject when Lucas reaches for the phone. ‘Enough of the sexy stuff, yeah?’ he says to Kyle.

  ‘It’s as close as he gets to seeing any action,’ Rob says, kneeing Kyle hard in the back.

  Kyle glares at Rob. ‘’Cause there’s only one Romeo round here, right?’

  ‘You know it, man,’ Rob says. God, he’s fond of himself.

  Kyle shoves the phone into Rob’s hand. ‘Your battery’s dead.’

  Rob puts the phone in his pocket. ‘That contraceptive personality of yours really holds you back—’

  ‘Jesus, you two, leave it!’ Pez says, getting up. He kicks at the grass by his feet like he’s had enough but I can see he’s relieved his friends have at least moved on from his mum. He’s got his back to the water now and he looks left, further up towards the next bridge. I’m watching him, wondering what we’re really doing here, when something extraordinary happens to his face, smoothing all the deep lines above his eyes. I track his stare as a girl emerges from the blackness under the far bridge, looking like I don’t know what. Bicycles and pedestrians pass as she glides towards us, like the elegant duck, letting all the stinky junk float by on either side of her. There isn’t the slightest hesitation in how she moves and I pull my sleeves down further and tighten the base of my ponytail because I know exactly who she is. As she gets close I see her better but nothing I see is good news. Still, I can’t look away and I’m not the only one. Everything around us stops; cans are held halfway to mouths and hair freezes mid-flick as we drink her in. Jet-black corkscrew curls shoot wildly about her face and her knee-length dress is moulded on to her curves so she looks like some kind of sculpture. The Adidas zip-up draped over her shoulders might as well be ermine trailing behind her. Her whole aura is next level. If Amira on my right is a princess, this girl here is the queen.

  She’s looking at Amira but I saw her check Pez out first and my heart is doing crazy things. It was a fleeting flash, but I caught it and I can only imagine his eyes. It’s not hard to see why Pez told me about her. She sits down beside Amira and Nick, crossing her legs, shifting position and then sitting up straight the way a dancer might. Eyes like large symmetrical almonds and full mouth half open in an irritating pout. It seems wrong that all these features were used up on the one face. ‘Alright,’ she says.

  Amira elbows her. ‘Eight o’clock, you said.’

  The girl shakes her head, making her curls bounce. ‘Sorry, babe. Had to help with a delivery.’

  ‘It’s almost nine?’ Amira is trying to sound cross, but she seems as taken with her as everyone else around me.

  ‘I’m here now,’ the girl says in a voice that manages to be both smooth and husky at the same time. ‘I only finished five minutes ago, and I ran most of the way.’

  Either she’s lying or she doesn’t run the way I do.

  Amira looks at her phone. ‘But I’ve gotta leave,’ she says, standing up. ‘Dad will freak if I’m not back soon.’

  The girl gives a tight smile, piercing a sharp dimple into her left cheek. ‘I’ll come with you,’ she says, pushing her hands into the grass to get up.

  Amira draws air in through her teeth. ‘Got family over. All my aunties,’ she says, bending down to loop one of her friend’s jet-black curls around her finger. Then she leans in and whispers something in her ear, which could be considered rude given we’re all sitting around watching. ‘You stay,’ she says, louder now. Then she straightens and looks around the boys before her eyes settle on Pez. ‘Be nice to March while I’m gone, yeah?’

  I can’t see what Pez’s face is doing, but March’s eyes land on mine. Despite everything going on in my head, I smile back, mostly because I’m not sure what other face to make. No teeth, mind you. Soon side-eyes fly around me. Rob to Kyle, then Kyle to Lucas and then Rob to Pez. It’s like some intense telepathy. Kyle is the next to stand but Lucas pulls at his tracksuit bottoms, which are already dangerously low.

  ‘Where you going?’ Lucas asks.

  ‘Maccie D’s,’ says Kyle, brushing the dirt off one of his trainers. ‘And you’re coming too.’

  ‘Now?’ says Lucas. Kyle stares at him like he’s stupid and Lucas shakes his head. ‘How about Dixy’s? Or …’ He scratches his hair through his hoody, like he’s thinking. Even I can tell he’s being slow on the uptake.

  Rob rolls his eyes but Kyle’s face is more urgent. ‘Dixy’s is the wrong direction.’

  ‘But their wings are sick,’ Lucas says, pushing himself up and shuffling about.

  ‘Whatever,’ Kyle says. ‘Let’s get moving. I’m starving.’

  With a quick wave, Nick and Amira are gone. Then the music stops and Lucas is zipping the speaker back into a bag, fighting with Kyle over the quickest route to their food. For some reason I don’t want them to go, but soon they too disappear off down the towpath, leaving March, Rob, Pez and me sitting on the grass, like the four of us being here is some kind of accident. It’s not like I had a plan but if I did, this wasn’t it. When I turn back I’ve got a perfect view of Pez’s face as he steals a look at March and I wonder whether anyone will ever look at me like that. The only sound is my gurgling stomach. It migh
t be the looks Pez is giving March, or the way Rob is looking at me, or maybe it’s just March turning up in July, but something is seriously churning up my insides.

  Pez clears his throat. ‘Work busy?’ he says, obviously to her. There’s a slight tremble in his voice that nobody but me would notice.

  She blinks slowly. It’s only the tiniest flash of eye contact but I feel the current charging between them. ‘It’s always busy,’ she says. ‘But it makes the time pass quickly.’

  Pez motions to Rob. ‘Maybe you could find a job for this waster? He’s always complaining he’s got no money.’

  Rob lowers his head. ‘Not everyone’s parents are rolling in it.’

  ‘It was a joke, all right.’ The way Pez says it, I sense there’s more between these two. It seems like they’re close, but there’s a weird undercurrent in there too.

  March smiles at Rob, like she understands what’s unspoken. ‘How are your washing-up skills?’ Her voice melts the tension and the sides of Rob’s mouth widen.

  ‘Rubbish,’ he says, before thumping Pez on the arm. ‘See,’ he says. ‘It’s not that I won’t work. It’s that I don’t have the skills.’ Pez eye-rolls. ‘C’mon,’ Rob says. ‘Let’s go back to yours, yeah?’

  ‘If you’re looking for my mum,’ Pez says, ‘she’s not in.’

  Rob hits Pez’s shoulder again. ‘Kyle was winding you up earlier,’ he says. ‘Anyway, Vetty’s back, so you need to snap out of this slump of yours, quick.’ Then he twists his shoulders around to me. ‘So, what d’you like to watch on TV?’

  ‘She watches everything,’ Pez says.

  ‘Your favourites then?’ Rob says.

  March turns too and everyone’s looking at me. ‘Of all time?’ I ask nervously.

  Rob laughs, big and warm, then he nods. ‘Yeah, of all time.’

  I want to say Stranger Things because it’s the truth, but I want to save this until I’ve shared it with Pez and he’s part of it too. ‘Probably Friday Night Lights or … maybe Doctor Who.’ When I look up, March is looking at me with a new face. ‘But Pez is right, I’ll watch pretty much anything.’