‘Felix, are you OK?’ Mum calls from outside my door.
‘I dropped something,’ I say, trying to keep my voice even. I’m not sure if I’ve fooled Mum, but obviously she’s too tired to question me any further.
‘It’s late,’ she says. ‘You should go to sleep.’
‘I am going to sleep,’ I lie. I look back at my phone, even though it’s giving me a hot feeling behind the eyes, and read through Zero’s stupid profile. His friends include pretty much everyone I know, including Coke and Bindi — confirming my suspicions that Facebook has nothing to do with who your real friends are. If only I could put a comment on the post to get back at him, but it looks like only his so-called friends can comment. What would I say anyway? And who would listen to me?
My profile is pretty pathetic. The only friend I have so far is Bailey. After friend requesting Coke and Bindi, I look up a few people I know and put out requests to them too — Dallas, Joel, Krusty. I even include Ethan. Barely three minutes pass before two notifications pop up: Bindi and Dallas accepting my friend requests already. By the time I get back from brushing my teeth, Coke, Ethan and Joel have accepted too. Social media is fast.
I sit cross-legged on my bed, staring into space. Facebook is the perfect platform for my revenge … but how?
You’re the smartest person I know. I’m sure you can think of something.
After a couple more minutes, I log out of my Facebook page and create a new account. New account, new password, new profile, yes.
The first name of my new persona is easy: Ruby, because that’s what Mum was going to call me if I was a girl rather than a boy. Trying to think of a surname, I think of the train stations we passed through on the way to visit Dad today, and settle on Waterloo. Ruby Waterloo. Perfect. I set up a new Gmail account, and move on to the next step.
Ruby Waterloo’s Facebook profile doesn’t take long. Her birthday is the month before mine, and she goes to a Catholic school in the city. Next, a photo. I find a girl on the net with bouncy blonde hair and blue eyes.
It’s time to make Ruby’s first friend request. I fire one off, and text Bindi. She’s obviously not asleep yet either, because she replies: Who is this person?
Me: Zero’s nemesis. Just accept the friend request, will you? And see if you can get Dallas to accept too.
Bindi: I don’t know what nemesis means, but if this is part of your revenge then I’m all for it. Friend request accepted
Five minutes later, Ruby has two friends. I send out more requests, to mutual friends of Bindi’s and Dallas’s, and wait for the notifications to start flooding in.
My phone begins to beep. I smile.
Joe ‘Zero’ McCarthy has no idea who he’s messing with.
CHAPTER 12
BAILEY: LESS THAN ZERO
The caravan door is rattling. Stupid wind, does it ever let up? I roll onto my side, pulling the bed covers over my head. The dream-fog clears from my head — something to do with winning gold in judo at the Commonwealth Games; damn, I want to get back in that dream — and I realise the door is rattling because someone’s knocking on it.
Someone. Mum. ‘Bailey, wake up.’
Scowling, I walk to the door and unlock it. Mum’s dressed already, although from the pink streaks in the sky I’m guessing it can’t be later than seven a.m.
‘What’s g-going on?’ When I see her blotchy face, my stomach starts churning. Has he hit her? If he’s hit her, I’ll kill him.
‘I need you to look after the kids. I’m going to pick up your dad.’
‘From where?’ I peer over her shoulder. The driveway is empty, toetoe plumes waving in the breeze. ‘Where’s the ute?’
‘With your dad. He was breathalysed this morning, on the way home from Ed’s.’ Mum’s voice is trembling. ‘He’s just past the shops. It won’t take long.’
‘Fuck.’ I lean against the doorframe, my gut twisting so hard I feel like I’m going to throw up. Mum doesn’t even tell me off for swearing, just says, ‘Maddy’s at a sleepover. Libby was stirring before.’ She turns and walks down the driveway, her handbag clutched at her side.
I sink onto the top step, shivering in the cool morning air. Dad must have crashed at Ed’s last night, after their work drinks. I’m not sure I like Ed. He stinks of cigarette smoke, and he’s full of weirdo opinions.
Dad’ll be in a right mood when he gets home. I don’t want to be here.
‘Mu-um. Mum.’ Libby’s standing on the back doorstep, her nightie clinging to her legs. I shake my head at her.
‘She’s gone out. What’s up?’
Libby pouts. ‘I’m wet.’
Sighing, I stand up and walk towards her.
‘I’ll run you a b-bath.’
As soon as the ute pulls into the driveway, I slink down the hallway and out through the front door. Once I’m pretty sure Mum and Dad are inside, I walk around the house to the caravan.
I can’t bear to be around him, can’t stand the strain of trying to keep my resentment from showing. It’s not long before the kids make their escape, too, spilling out of the house to play in the back yard. After turning up my music, Red Hot Chili Peppers to match my aggressive mood, I pick up my phone. My heart leaps when I see a message from Felix, but shrivels to raisin proportions when I read what it says: In bed with suck tonsillitis so can’t hang out today. Sorry.
Grimacing, I reply: I’ll miss you Five. Hope you’re feeling better soon. (#2)
Next I try to make a start on my essay for English, but I can’t focus, so I cruise through all the time-waster social media feeds I’m hooked up to: Instagram, Twitter, Facebook.
There’s a new friend request on Facebook from some blonde chick called Ruby Waterloo. She goes to a private school I’ve never heard of, but apparently we have a lot of shared friends. Maybe she was at Joel’s party, who knows? Shrugging, I accept, and have a look at her most recent post.
Whoa. This chick is not happy.
H-E-R-P-E-S spells Zero, and that’s what you’ll get if you hook up with Joe McCarthy. #HowtoscorelessthanZero.
‘Ha.’ Serves him right, the prick. I hum along to Blood Sugar Sex Magik as I scroll through the comments.
Oops Zero looks like you pissed someone off big time!
Zero you stud I didn’t know you had it in you. That includes the herpes ha ha.
Is that the same as crabs?
Love is forever and so is herpes.
Burrnt!
And, after about twenty comments, Zero’s pathetic comeback: What the fuck, I don’t even know who you are.
Yeah, right.
Dad’s hulking frame fills the doorway.
‘How many times have I told you to mow that lawn?’ A two-day growth of stubble darkens his jaw and his eyes are bloodshot to hell.
I curl my fingers around my phone, wanting to tell my father that the correct answer to that is zero, but his fury is curdling the air around us. He must have been completely wasted last night; I can smell the sour scent of alcohol from a metre away.
‘I’ll mow it soon,’ I say, my gut tightening. There’s no correct answer to his questions when he’s like this. He’s itching to hit something or someone, I can tell. Dad drums his fingers on the outside of the caravan.
‘I’m getting sick of hauling you out of here to do your chores,’ he says. ‘I could sell this piece of shit. Don’t think I won’t. God knows we could use the money.’
I bite the inside of my cheek so hard I can taste blood.
I hate you. I hate you. I hate you. Can you hear me?
Dad’s trying to stare me out, but I’m not going to play that game. I examine my hands, waiting for him to leave. Growling beneath his breath, he takes off, stopping briefly to yell at Harley for something or other before hurtling back into the house.
I stand up, looking at the calendar on my wardrobe. Today is the third-to-last day of February. In three days, I’ll flip to March, and Piha will be gone, replaced by Rangitoto Island. Now I know why homesick
ness is called a sickness. I’m homesick for Auckland. I’m sick of home. After crossing off yesterday, I walk into the garage to get the lawnmower.
It’s seven minutes past ten.
At midday, I message Ethan to ask if he wants to practise kata, but he replies to say he’s stuck at his grandad’s eightieth birthday party all afternoon. Next I text Wiremu to ask if he wants to shoot some hoops. By one p.m. he hasn’t got back to me. When I slink inside to get some food, Maddy’s in the kitchen, pouring a cream-coloured mixture into the fry pan.
‘Want a pancake?’ She’s wearing her hair piled on top of her head and her eyelashes are thick with mascara.
‘Sure.’ I sit at the table, remembering the selfie Felix showed me. With his black-rimmed eyes and spiky black hair, he’d looked like that singer Adam Lambert, who is pretty damn hot. I stare out the window, thinking of the taut muscles in Felix’s belly, his firm lips.
Felix is pretty damn hot, and he doesn’t even know it.
‘Hel-lo.’ Maddy dumps a plate under my nose, a humongous pancake draped over the sides, and pushes the golden syrup tin towards me. ‘Who are you daydreaming about?’
I scowl at her. ‘No one.’ How can she tell? Has she seen my cell-phone messages? I don’t think I’ve sent anything too incriminating — or have I?
‘Just joking. Why’s everyone so grumpy this afternoon?’ Maddy’s smile has vanished. I’m about to tell her about Dad when Jack and Harley run into the kitchen, yelling, ‘Pancakes!’
‘Smells good,’ Dad says, walking in from the hallway and opening the fridge door. I tense.
Please don’t start again. Please don’t.
Dad closes the fridge, yanks open the cutlery drawer. ‘Anyone seen the bottle opener?’
It’s thirteen minutes past one.
Sitting on the back doorstep with my pancake, I message Felix.
How are you feeling?
I wish I could tell him how I’m feeling, my thoughts so black I want to claw my skin off, but I don’t want to scare him. From inside, I hear the kids squabbling over the golden syrup, the murmur of the TV, Dad’s muffled tones.
Felix: Even worse after a visit from the Doctor Without Borders. How are you?
The Doctor Without Borders must be the guy Felix’s mum is dating, which he isn’t too excited about. I wouldn’t care if my parents broke up and my mum started dating someone else, as long as he made her happy. That doesn’t sound too sympathetic, though, and besides, I’ve got more important things on my mind.
My syrup-sticky fingers stab the keypad: Are you up for a visit? I have to get out of here RIGHT NOW.
Felix’s reply makes me smile, for the first time since I left his house last night: Sure, see you soon.
Alfie answers the door, rolling a tennis ball between his fingers.
‘Hey,’ he says. ‘Cool t-shirt.’
Shrugging, I look down at my faded t-shirt with the phases of the moon on it. There’s a hole in the armpit that I keep meaning to sew up, but haven’t got around to.
‘My sister made it,’ I say, spotting Felix over his shoulder. ‘Hey.’
‘Hey.’ Felix is wearing shorts and a singlet top; his cheeks are flushed, his eyes unusually shiny. Even so, I don’t feel guilty for coming to see him when he’s not well. That’s how desperate I’m feeling right now.
Alfie says, ‘Cool,’ and winds his arm around his head, as if he’s about to bowl. ‘Want to play Xbox? We’ve got Grand Theft Auto V.’
Irritation flits over Felix’s face. ‘Aren’t you meant to be mowing the lawns?’
Alfie smiles. ‘It’s only quarter to two.’
‘Maybe later,’ I say. ‘Thanks.’
‘I’m playing in my room if you change your mind,’ Alfie says, and bounds down the stairs.
‘Little brothers,’ Felix grumbles as I follow him down the hallway.
‘He’s OK.’ I close the bedroom door and sit beside Felix on the bed. ‘You do look sick.’
He reaches for a tissue and blows his nose. ‘You shouldn’t come near me. I’m probably contagious.’
‘I’m not worried.’ I trail my fingers up and down his arm. I’m so happy to be here rather than at home that I’ve got this weird feeling behind my eyes, like I might start crying or something. Fighting it back, I kiss him on the forehead. ‘You f-feel hot.’
‘Thirty-nine degrees,’ Felix says.
‘Whoa. You should lie down, Five.’ I pull the covers over him and flop down beside him, staring up at his ceiling. It’s covered in stars. I’m not sure why I never noticed that last night — maybe because we were too busy making out.
‘That’s a lot of stars, dude.’
‘Two hundred. I even made a constellation, Canis Major.’ He points out the main stars that make up the formation, with Sirius at its head.
‘Canis Major, I like that,’ I say, but I can’t get excited like I did when we were discussing constellations on the walk home from Joel’s party. There’s too much else going through my head right now, like how Dad’s going to be able to work if he can’t drive, and where he’s going to get the money to pay the fine.
They’ll suspend his licence this time, I’m sure of it.
‘Why were you busting to get over here so fast?’ Felix asks. His eyelids are closed, his long eyelashes fluttering against the smudges beneath his eyes.
‘You would, too, if you lived at my house.’
‘What about the caravan?’
‘Not far enough away from my old man and his drinking,’ I blurt. I roll towards him and push my forehead against his, feel his fever radiate into me. Felix sighs and presses his hand against my cheek.
‘Does he drink a lot?’
I breathe out. ‘Every day. In the weekends he starts at lunchtime.’ I feel as though I’m betraying my family, but it’s kind of a relief to tell someone.
‘Oh.’ He falls silent. I clench my eyes shut.
‘Welcome,’ I say, ‘to my f-f-fucked-up life.’
Felix runs his fingers between my ribs, and I feel my heart tapping against his fingertips. I think he might be counting my heartbeats. I wonder how many heartbeats I have left. Maybe it’s fewer than I think.
‘Sorry,’ I say, after a minute or so. Is he disgusted by what I’ve told him? I would be.
‘Why?’ Felix asks.
‘Just — never mind. It sucks that you’re sick, Five. I wanted to take you on a b-bike ride. To somewhere we could b-b-be alone.’
He smiles. ‘Alone?’
Someone raps on the door. Crap! There’s not enough time to get off the bed before the door opens, so I roll onto my back, making sure there’s a wedge of air between Felix and me.
‘Oh,’ Felix’s mum says from the doorway. ‘Hi, Bailey.’
‘Hey.’ I put my arms behind my head, then remember the hole in my t-shirt and lower my left arm again. Felix has slid over so he’s right next to the wall, and I’m sure we’re both glowing red now.
‘I was just dropping p-past,’ I say. ‘To say hello.’ I sit up, dangling a leg over the side of the bed.
‘That’s nice of you.’ Mrs C holds up a brown paper bag. ‘I’ve got your antibiotics here, Felix.’
‘OK …’ Felix mumbles.
I stand up, running my hands up and down my arms. ‘I should let you rest.’
‘That’s probably a good idea,’ Felix’s mother says. ‘But it was nice of you to drop by.’
Felix follows me down the hallway and out onto the doorstep.
‘Thanks for coming over,’ he says, pulling the door to, so no one can see us.
‘’S’OK.’ It’s not. Where will I go now? It’s so early, only quarter past three.
He brushes his hand past my jaw, where my latest bruise is. ‘Are you going home?’
‘Nah, I might go on that ride.’ After checking to make sure no one’s walking past, I lean forward and kiss him on the lips. ‘Get well soon, Five. I’ll message you.’
‘Are you OK?’
Hi
s forehead is furrowed. Maybe I should’ve kept that stuff to myself, about Dad’s drinking. I force a smile.
‘I’m OK. You should get inside, take those antibiotics.’
I walk down the steps and pull my bike away from the side of the house. Hearing the splutter of a lawnmower, I wave at Alfie, who is making a start on the lawn. Even their grass is greener than ours.
I need to go somewhere bigger, somewhere brighter. I think I know where that might be.
CHAPTER 13
FELIX: ONE STEP CLOSER
After Bailey leaves, I spend the rest of the afternoon sleeping, drugged up with painkillers and antibiotics. My throat is so sore that I even gargle Disprin, like Marcus said I should. It works for a while.
Damn you, Marcus Without Borders, for being a half-decent doctor.
I guess it was nice of him to do a house visit on his day off. Not so nice to see my mum’s hand on his back when he was writing my script. Ugh. I could have done without her feeling him up in front of me.
Every now and then, I check my phone to see what’s happening with Ruby’s Facebook post. I only posted it this morning, and it’s already gone viral. The comments keep coming, each thread expanding exponentially as others reply to it.
Sam: Next time put a wrapper on it, Z.
Will: What’s a wrapper?
Sam: A CONDOM. Have you heard of one of those? Or is your wiener sub zero too?
Will: Ha ha fuck you.
Ella: How do you get rid of herpes?
Molly: You can’t. That’s the whole point.
Ella: Oh. My. God.
By early evening my temperature has fallen, just like the sun behind the hill. I’m sitting on the couch, sipping on Mum’s French onion soup, when a picture flashes up on my phone. It’s a photo of a sky dappled with orange-tinged clouds. The message beneath says: I’ll send you another one when the stars come out, Five.
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