Invisibly Breathing

by Eileen Merriman

  Frowning, I set my mug down, and message back: Where are you, Two?

  Bailey: Up the top of the Loop Walk.

  The Loop Walk? If it’s the one I’m thinking about, it’s in the bush above Joel’s house. I wonder if Bailey’s lonely, sitting up there all by himself.

  Be careful, Two.

  Bailey: It’s OK, Five. I’ve got an infinitude of stars to keep me company.

  You’re lucky. I’ve only got 200.

  Bailey sends me another photo, later. It’s twelve minutes past nine and I’m back in bed. In the photo, the stars are no more than a silver blur. I can imagine Bailey lying on his back, his eyes full of the Milky Way. Are Bailey’s parents worried about him? Have they even noticed he’s gone? I don’t want to worry about him, but I am.

  But then his next text arrives, and all I can think about is how to reply to this boy whose words fall into the centre of me and set up echoes in my soul.

  It makes sense that two is the first prime number, because without you I’m nothing. I’ll see you 200 stars, and raise you infinity. B.

  By Monday, I feel at least fifty per cent better, but Mum says I should stay home from school.

  ‘I’ll call you at lunchtime to check you’ve remembered your antibiotic.’ She’s standing in the doorway to my room, her handbag slung over her shoulder.

  ‘I won’t forget.’ I hold up my phone. ‘I’ve put an alarm on here.’

  She smiles. ‘I should have guessed.’ But she doesn’t leave, not yet. Instead, she sits on the end of my bed and says, ‘That was nice of Bailey to visit you yesterday.’

  ‘Yeah, you said that before.’ I wish she’d hurry up and go. I’m dying to have the house to myself.

  Mum fiddles with the zip on her handbag.

  ‘You two seem to have become quite … close?’

  I don’t know where to look when she says that, but my heart is flip-flopping all over the place. What am I meant to say to that? Does she know we’re more than friends? What if she comes straight out and asks? I’ve got three choices: (a) lie; (b) tell the truth; or (c) evade the question.

  (a) isn’t an option. Apart from Ruby, who doesn’t count, I’ve never lied in my life.

  (b) isn’t an option either. I’m not ready to tell Mum about me and Bailey — not yet, maybe not ever.

  ‘He seems like a really nice boy,’ she says, when it’s clear I’m not going to reply any time soon.

  ‘Yeah, but his father’s an asshole,’ I say, and duck under the covers. I can hear Mum going on at me anyway, telling me off for my bad language. But it’s enough to stop her questions about my relationship with Bailey, for now.

  Once Mum and Alfie have left, I blast Green Day’s Dookie album through my speakers while I have a shower. I’m thinking about Bailey, of course. Any worries I’ve got about being found out melt away once I start thinking about what we got up to on Saturday. By the river, in my room, mouths and hands and swollen flesh, and all I can think about is what will come next.

  Nothing is more tender, nothing is more violent than love.

  I’m excited and terrified, all at once.

  After putting on jeans, a black t-shirt and the red tie, I create my best smoky eyes yet. I use eyeliner on both my upper and lower lash line, two coats of mascara, and grey eye shadow from one of Mum’s old make-up sets. I’m so pleased with the result that I take a selfie and send it to Bailey, with a message: Still stuck at home today. Then I have a minor freak-out, because what if someone else sees the message flash up on his phone?

  I don’t relax until I get his reply a few minutes later: You look HOT, Five. We should hang out after school tomorrow, if you’re OK by then.

  That would be super awesome, I message back. I spend the rest of the day alternating between playing my guitar, reading and working on my physics project.

  Bailey messages me a few more times, and I message him back. I still haven’t come up with a reply to his message from last night, one that would make him feel the way I felt when I read his.

  Bindi messages me too: OMG Ruby Waterloo makes her move! Zero is LIVID!

  Livid how? I want to ask. Maybe I don’t want to know. So I just text back, checkmate.

  On Tuesday morning I walk out of our house at eight a.m. exactly. I’m surprised to see Bailey sitting on our front lawn, his feet in the creek. His scuffed shoes are next to him, stuffed with his grey school socks. I sit beside him, crossing my legs.

  ‘How long have you been here?’

  ‘Only a couple of minutes.’ There are dark shadows under his eyes. ‘How are you?’

  ‘I’m good. Heaps better.’ I want to touch him, but Alfie will be bounding out of the house any moment now. ‘How are you?’ For once, it’s not an empty greeting. I really do want to know how he is.

  Bailey rubs at his eye with the palm of his hand. ‘Yeah, I’m — OK.’

  ‘Where’s your bike?’

  He pulls his feet out of the creek and reaches for his shoes.

  ‘I had time to kill, so I walked. It’s just easier not to hang around home at the moment. I can’t wait until I can head away to uni.’

  ‘That’s two years away,’ I say, watching him yank his socks over his dripping feet.

  ‘Do you have to keep reminding me?’ He ties his laces, using a funny knot on the left lace, because it’s broken.

  I frown. ‘Sorry.’ Is he in a bad mood? If he is, then I wish he’d just tell me.

  Bailey shakes his head. ‘Well, anyway. I’m not sure I’ll last that long. We’ll see.’

  ‘What do you mean, last that long?’ This conversation is giving me a funny feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  ‘Nothing. It’s just a f-figure of speech.’ We’ve barely walked ten metres before there’s a slap of feet behind us and the whump-whump of a basketball hitting the pavement.

  ‘Yo, Hunter.’ Wiremu Wright bounds up to us. ‘Didn’t know you lived ’round here. Hi Felix,’ he adds, almost as an afterthought.

  ‘I don’t.’ Bailey drifts away from me, towards the edge of the pavement. ‘What’s up?’

  Wiremu tosses him the ball. ‘We’re short a player for our game after school. Want to step in?’

  ‘Sure.’ Bailey lobs the ball back. ‘Where are you p-playing?’

  ‘Home game.’ Wiremu starts pounding the ball into the concrete again. ‘Thanks man.’ He jogs off, dribbling the ball ahead of him.

  I shove my hands in the pockets of my shorts and scuff my feet through the grass. ‘I thought we were going to hang out this afternoon.’

  Bailey runs a hand through his hair. ‘Yeah, sorry. I just — I’m still making friends, you know? But we can hang out another day.’

  I want to ask him how he needs more friends when he’s got me, but I don’t want to sound jealous and possessive.

  ‘Another day,’ I say, swallowing back my disappointment. ‘Sure.’

  Bailey moves closer, his elbow bumping against mine. ‘Hey, maybe I could have a sleepover at your house?’

  ‘What about your caravan?’

  He sighs. ‘Like I said, it’s not such a great place to hang out right now.’

  ‘Oh yeah.’ I accidentally-on-purpose bump my arm against his. ‘All right, a sleepover at my place. Friday night — is that OK?’

  ‘It’s a date,’ he says. Then we cross the road, and there are school kids all over the place, so we stop talking about us. But throughout my first class, biology, all I can think about is his musky-cocoa scent, and how he promised me infinity, just two nights before.

  It starts raining during third period, when I’m in calculus. By the time the bell rings for lunch, the wind is blowing sheets of water beneath the awnings of the classrooms. I’m scuttling between the prefab buildings and the main block, head down, when I glimpse a lanky figure running across the quadrangle. It’s tempting to turn around and walk back the way I came, but it’s too late. Zero is right behind me, following me through the puddles and into the side door.

  �
�Hey, Catalan,’ he calls. I try to ignore him, but his voice has caught me like a fish. I turn and a girl walks into me.

  ‘Watch it.’ The girl pushes past me, nudging me towards Zero. Now we’re standing in the stairwell, staring at each other. Crap.

  Zero lifts his chin. ‘So, Freak-out, I need to talk to you about your friend, Ruby.’ A droplet of water trickles down from his hairline and winds down the side of his face.

  ‘She’s not my friend,’ I say. ‘I’ve never even met her.’ Oh crap, did I send myself a friend invite from Ruby? I didn’t think I had, but now I’m not so sure.

  His top lip curls. ‘Funny, because I’m pretty sure you’ve got something to do with the bullshit comments she’s been posting about me on Facebook. Or are you going to pretend you don’t know anything about that either?’

  I tighten my fingers around the strap of my bag, my chest so tight I can hardly breathe.

  ‘I guess you’d know all about bullshit comments.’

  Zero narrows his eyes at me. ‘You still smarting over that one? You’re a bit sensitive, aren’t you?’

  ‘Everything OK here?’ Bailey is standing a couple of feet away, his eyes pinging between us.

  Zero steps back. ‘How about you, Hunter? Do you know who Ruby Waterloo is?’

  ‘Not as well as you,’ Bailey says. ‘Apparently.’

  I wish I could send Bailey a telepathic message: Don’t provoke him, you don’t know how dangerous he is. I wait for Zero to shoot him a poison arrow, to start imitating his stutter or worse.

  But Zero just looks at Bailey, who is flexing his fingers at his sides, and says, ‘You should watch the company you keep, Hunter. People talk … you know?’

  ‘No,’ Bailey says. ‘I don’t.’

  Zero’s top lip curls. ‘Don’t say I didn’t warn you.’ He pushes past me and strides up the stairs.

  ‘If he’s hassling you,’ Bailey says, his eyes flitting after Zero, ‘then I want to know about it.’

  ‘Don’t worry about it.’ The last thing I want is for Zero and his mates to get their hooks into Bailey.

  ‘You don’t have to put up with that,’ Bailey says.

  ‘It’s fine,’ I say, not looking at him. ‘I don’t need your protection.’

  Bailey is silent for a moment. ‘OK,’ he says. ‘If that’s how you want it.’ He turns and walks down the corridor, not looking back to see if I’m following him.

  So I don’t.

  After that I’m in a foul mood for the rest of my classes. It’s still raining when school finishes, and by the time I get home I’m soaked. I have a long shower, then curl up on my bed. My phone remains in my bag. I don’t want to see if there are any new notifications on Facebook. I don’t want to see if Bailey has messaged me … or not. All I want is to live in denial for the next seventeen hours, until it’s nine a.m. and time to start the school nightmare all over again.

  At four thirty-nine, the front door slams, announcing Alfie’s arrival. He’s not alone. He and Alex stampede into the kitchen, talking in loud voices and slamming cupboard doors before thundering down the hallway to Alfie’s room. Three minutes later, the house starts vibrating in time to Alfie’s vile music.

  Here are some facts about sound: (1) The speed of sound is 1230 kilometres per hour. (2) Sounds moves about four times faster through water than it does through air. (3) Sound can’t travel through a vacuum, which is an area devoid of matter. This is probably similar to the inside of Alfie’s head, and no doubt why he can’t tell how loud his puerile music is.

  The only thing to do is to turn my own music up even louder. So I do, strumming along on my guitar. But when I look at myself in the mirror, I feel incomplete. It’s not just that I don’t dare to put on make-up when Alfie and his mate are here. I’ve suddenly got a really powerful urge to get something pierced, like my eyebrow. Facial piercings aren’t allowed at school, though, which leaves either my ear or my tongue.

  I know the pharmacy down the road does piercings, because I’ve seen the sign. I’ve still got the forty dollars my grandma gave me for my birthday in my wallet, even though I’m meant to be putting it towards my electric guitar.

  The torrential rain has turned into thick, saturating drizzle. My head bent against the wind, I pedal hard to the small set of shops on the corner. There’s only one other customer inside the pharmacy, an old woman sitting on a stool by the dispensary who looks about ninety-nine years old.

  ‘Can I help you?’ the woman behind the counter asks. She’s got silver hair with red streaks in it. I don’t know why middle-aged ladies like doing that to their hair.

  ‘Um, I want to get a piercing. Here.’ I tug on my left ear..

  She nods. ‘Can I just check how old you are?’.

  ‘Sixteen.’ Do I need my parents’ permission? I hadn’t thought of that. The lady seems satisfied, though, because she reaches to the left of the counter and angles a piece of card towards me.

  ‘Which one do you want?’

  After staring at the array of studs and hoops for half a minute or so, I point at a silver hoop. Red Streaks asks me to pay up-front, in case I run away, I guess. It’s more than I thought, thirty dollars, but I don’t want to go back on my decision now.

  ‘Great,’ she says. ‘Come sit over here.’

  I want to ask her if it hurts much, but don’t want to sound like a wimp. People get piercings all the time, how bad can it be? I follow her over to a stool behind the counter and wait as she washes her hands and gets everything ready.

  ‘This will feel cold,’ she says, wiping my ear with a strong-smelling swab. She picks up a needle. I close my eyes.

  ‘Scratch now,’ she says. Scratch? Yeah right. I grip the edges of the chair. When I open my eyes, she holds up a small mirror.

  ‘How’s that?’

  I smile, and touch the tip of my finger to the hoop..

  ‘That’s awesome,’ I say, only half listening as she starts telling me how to clean it. I’m one step closer to the person I want to be. I’m one step closer to being me.

  CHAPTER 14

  BAILEY: A BIRD WITHOUT WINGS

  By the time we’ve finished being pounded at basketball, ninety-nine to sixty-three, it’s four-thirty. I should go home, but I’m feeling guilty about going back on my promise to hang out with Felix after school. I really want to see him, so much that I’m even prepared to risk Dad’s wrath. It’s like a wild animal stalking around our house. Dad’s licence has been suspended for twenty-eight days.

  ‘Point oh seven,’ he keeps saying. ‘That used to be legal before some bleeding heart changed the rules.’

  By the time I got home on Sunday night, Dad was snoring on the couch. Yesterday I woke with my stomach contracted into a tight ball, because all I had for dinner was a peanut-butter sandwich. It was so beautiful up the hill, though, with the fresh scent of pine and ponga ferns and the slow grind of the cicadas. After building a bivouac with old branches and twine, I fell asleep beneath the infinitude of stars, spiralling into forever.

  On Sunday night, I filled my lungs with possibility. On Sunday night, I dared to dream.

  I don’t message Felix to ask if it’s OK to come over. I’m worried he’ll say no, that he’s still pissed-off at me after our encounter with Zero this afternoon.

  There’s a green Kia parked in the Catalans’ driveway, the bonnet still warm when I trail my fingers over it as I walk past. I’ve barely knocked on the front door before it flies open. Felix blinks at me.

  ‘Oh,’ he says. ‘Hey.’

  ‘Hey.’ I shuffle my feet, trying to think of an excuse that sounds less pathetic than I really needed to see you. ‘I thought I’d drop around my physics and English notes from yesterday, since I forgot to give them to you earlier.’

  ‘Oh,’ he repeats, turning his head as his mother walks out of the kitchen. ‘Thanks.’

  ‘Let the poor boy in, will you?’ Mrs C says. ‘We’re having cannelloni for dinner, if you want to stay, Bailey.’ When I grin, sh
e adds, ‘As long as you grate the cheese, that is.’

  I’m relieved to see Felix smiling too. There’s something different about him, but I’m not sure what it is.

  ‘Cool,’ I say, walking inside. ‘I’ll let Mum know.’

  Once Felix’s mum walks back into the kitchen, Felix leans against the wall, watching me text: Having dinner at Felix’s, catch you later.

  ‘Sorry,’ he says, his voice low. ‘About before.’

  ‘Me too,’ I say, and now I see what’s different about him. Smiling, I move closer, lifting my finger to the hoop in his left ear. ‘Did you g-g-get this today?’

  ‘Uh-huh.’

  ‘Did it hurt?’

  Felix turns his head. ‘A bit.’ His cheek is so close, I can’t resist pressing my lips against his skin. He whirls, shoving me so I stumble against the wall. What the? Turning my head, I see Alfie walking out of his bedroom, Alex McCarthy on his heels.

  ‘Oh,’ I say, my head spinning. ‘Hi.’

  ‘What are you guys doing?’ Alex asks, elbowing Alfie.

  ‘J-judo,’ I say. Damn it, damn it. ‘I’ll teach you some, if you want.’

  Alfie grins. ‘That’d be awesome, eh, Alex?’

  ‘Awe-some,’ Alex says, and cuffs Alfie around the head. ‘Gotta go. Catch you tomorrow, Alfster.’

  My heart racing, I follow Felix into the kitchen and sit next to him at the counter.

  Please, please don’t let them have seen me kissing him.

  ‘Here,’ Mrs C says, handing me the cheese and a grater. ‘Felix, you can stuff the cannelloni tubes.’

  I grate the cheese, watching Felix out of the corner of my eye. He’s arranging the cannelloni tubes in rows of four in the baking dish, in his usual OCD way. I’m dying to sneak another tube into one of the rows to see if he’ll notice.

  ‘So where did you say you were from, Bailey?’ Mrs C drops a knob of butter into a pot and puts it on the stove.

  ‘West Auckland,’ I say. ‘Near Piha.’ Beneath the cover of the bench I push my thigh against Felix’s.