‘Are you OK?’ I put my arms around his neck, where I know I won’t hurt him, and think about telling him about his dad’s visit to school.
No, not now, not yet.
‘I’m OK.’ He kisses me. ‘Are you?’
‘Uh-huh.’
I gave him a piece of my mind, to be honest.
‘Have you had lunch?’ Bailey’s hands drop to my hips. His breath smells like coffee and chocolate. I press my lips into the side of his neck.
‘Not yet. Have you?’
He pushes his hand beneath my school shirt. ‘Not yet.’ And now his fingers are brushing over my belly, travelling beneath the waistband of my shorts.
‘Are you sore?’ I ask, my breath quickening.
‘Not too much,’ he says, and kisses me again — slowly, deeply. No time to steal now, just forty minutes, no one else here, hurry-hurry. Bailey unbuttons my shirt and I drop my arms, letting it fall onto the floor. I push his t-shirt up and help him pull it over his head. There’s the bruises, don’t look, pretend it didn’t happen.
Time turns, a spiral, fast and yet slow. We strip off all our clothes in the hallway, just skin and sunlight and how solid we are. How alone, how together.
Taking his hand, I lead him down the hallway to my bedroom. The bed is made, as if he was never in there. One hundred and fifty-nine minifigures stare at us. I could turn every one of them away, so their eyes wouldn’t be looking at us, but that would be weird. So I don’t.
Here I am, lying on the bed. Here is Bailey, lying beside me — on his left side, because his right side is broken. I’m scared to touch him, in case I hurt him. But he’s smiling, extending his hand.
‘Two is the first prime number,’ he says.
It is, it is. I push him gently, until he’s lying on his back. Then I start kissing him, everywhere I’ve kissed him before and more, more, more. Now I know why it’s called making love, because that’s exactly what we’re doing — creating something beautiful and pure that no one can take away from us, not ever.
And now we’re winding around each other, mirror images, convex-concave, so slowly, and then faster, faster.
Fractals of light spill into my eyes. I’m made. I’m undone. I’m the first prime number.
We don’t have long after that. I stay in bed for a few minutes, listening to Bailey’s slow breathing, the jagged edges from yesterday gone.
‘Breathe invisibly,’ I murmur. Bailey is spooning me, his arms around my still-naked body.
‘No, not anymore.’ He sounds drowsy. Me, my whole body feels as though it’s humming, as if I’ve been touched by lightning.
‘What do you mean?’ I ask.
‘I mean, I don’t want us to be invisible anymore. I don’t want us to hide. Do you?’
‘No,’ I say, and we fall silent for a moment. It’s not an easy thing we’ve just decided. But it feels right. And yet my brain is still racing, puzzling, wondering.
‘Two?’
‘Hmm?’
‘What did you say to Zero?’
Bailey hesitates. ‘I don’t know — I don’t think I can tell you.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t want you to fall out of love with me, Five.’ He doesn’t sound sleepy anymore. I turn to face him. His eyes are closed, his breathing irregular.
‘That will never happen,’ I say, but he’s already withdrawing from me, shutting me out. Sighing, I slip out of bed and walk into the hallway to retrieve my clothes. I’ve just finished dressing when Bailey’s hands come down on my shoulders.
‘I wish you could stay.’ He slips his arms around my neck and kisses me on the ear.
‘Me too.’ Turning to face him, I kiss him back, my hands on his bare chest. He’s put his shorts back on, but I can tell if we kiss like this for much longer, then we’ll end up back in my bedroom. Devious thoughts flit through my head. What if I didn’t go back to school today? What’s the worst that can happen?
‘You have to stop kissing me like that,’ Bailey whispers, but he doesn’t let me go, not yet. Then I hold him tighter, and he gasps a little. I drop my arms.
‘Sorry.’
Bailey shakes his head. ‘’S’OK. I’ll see you later.’
‘After school.’ I open the front door. It’s not long, two and a half hours at the most. When I glance back at Bailey, I see his face has gone chalky white, as if all of his blood has drained into his feet.
‘Shall I get you some painkillers?’ Oh man, I really have hurt him.
‘No, I can — they’re by the bed.’ When I move towards him, he kisses me one last time, and whispers, ‘I love you,’ in my ear. He leans against the doorframe as I walk down the steps and across the lawn.
When I turn around, the front door is still open, but I can’t see Bailey anymore.
CHAPTER 24
BAILEY: WOLF WIND
I should have known it wasn’t going to last. The Catalans’ house has been an oasis, the eye of the storm. But now there’s a ute parked across the road.
Not just any ute. Dad’s ute.
Leaving the front door open, I walk into the kitchen to get my phone, where it’s charging by the kettle. There’s a message from Felix I didn’t see before, and don’t have time to read now.
I don’t have time because someone is knocking on the door.
Steeling myself, I walk back into the hallway. Dad is standing on the doorstep, twisting his cap between his hands.
‘Hey, Bailey,’ he says. As if nothing ever happened.
Say it, you are nothing.
No thing.
He glances over my shoulder. ‘Anyone else home?’
I hesitate, shake my head. Dad takes a deep breath.
‘I’m sorry I lost my temper. But you can’t say things like that to me and expect me to just take it. You know that, right?’ He steps inside, pushing the door shut. I stay where I am, frozen to the spot as he raises his hand.
‘Jesus,’ he whispers, his fingers alighting on my face. ‘Jesus.’ I flinch when he touches my bare chest. All I’m wearing is Felix’s boxers. In a way I’m glad, glad he can see the full extent of the damage he’s inflicted on me. No, not the full extent. He can’t see what’s inside me, my broken ribs and fragmented heart.
And oh God, there’s nothing worse than seeing your dad cry, even if he is an asshole. Actually there is, but I don’t want to think about that right now. There’s nothing I can say. Certainly not I forgive you.
Dad’s hands are shaking. ‘You were just winding me up, weren’t you? It wasn’t true, what you told me yesterday.’
I hold his gaze for a moment then move away, still clutching my phone.
‘I’ll just get dressed,’ I say.
In Felix’s room, I move slowly, trying to think. Dad coming to take me home was inevitable. He’ll probably keep his hands off me for a few days, at least until the bruises fade. I’m safe for now.
After dry-swallowing a couple of painkillers, I pull Felix’s t-shirt over my head. There’s a picture of Green Day on the front, so I figure it must be one of his favourites. Next I put on the shorts he lent me, which are slightly loose around the waist. I’ve lost weight over the past week, I think. Lastly, I send him a text: I’ve got to go, Five. Thank your mum and Doc McKenzie for me. And thank you for the best thing that ever happened to me.
I lean against Felix’s desk, casting my eye over the bed we just made love in, the minifigures, the guitar propped against the wall in the corner.
I’m sorry I had to go. Just remember I loved you, Five.
I walk back into the hallway, back to my father.
We’re pulling away from the kerb when I feel something bump against my feet. Looking down, I see it’s a glass bottle, half filled with a clear brown liquid. No, half empty. When I inhale I can smell it, the sickly scent of alcohol on my father’s breath.
‘Do you want me to drive?’ I ask, my heart speeding up. Surely he can’t have his licence back? Surely he’s over the limit?
It’s not true that history never repeats. My whole life feels like it’s on repeat.
Dad’s hands tighten around the steering wheel. ‘No.’
History repeats. Nothing changes. Nothing will change unless I do something about it.
But what?
I clamp my lips together and stare out of the window. We turn out of Felix’s street and drive down the main road — past the school and up to the traffic lights.
‘Where are we g-going?’ I ask when Dad turns right rather than left, away from rather than towards our house.
‘For a drive,’ he says. ‘Thought we could clear our heads.’
Blinking, I stare straight ahead again. I want to ask why he’s not at work. I want to ask how much he’s had to drink.
No, no, I don’t want to know the answers to these questions.
We’ve just turned onto the motorway when my phone vibrates.
Felix: Have you gone home?? You said you’d stay one more day. You SAID.
‘Who’s that?’ Dad swings into the passing lane, overtaking a van.
‘Felix,’ I say. My heart’s still pounding and my chest feels heavy. Maybe it’s because the median barrier looks really close, I don’t know, but I’m starting to feel really off.
‘Felix.’ Dad’s voice is soft. ‘He didn’t seem to know where you were this morning. Funny, that.’
What? Digging my fingers into the top of my thighs, I say, ‘When did you talk to him?’ And why didn’t you tell me, Five, why?
‘At school.’ He glances at me. ‘Your mother is going out of her mind with worry. I said I’d try and find you. And —’ He spreads his hands. ‘I did.’
‘S-s-steering wheel,’ I blurt, and he clamps his hands back around the wheel.
‘Relax, bud, I’ve been driving for twenty-odd years. I think I know what I’m doing.’ He winds down the window. The wind rushes in.
I can’t bear to look at him, can’t bear to look at the way we’re weaving between the lanes, so I turn my attention back to my phone. Another message from Felix stares up at me: Are you at home?
There are so many other ways I wish I’d answered that message, because straight after I fire back No, Dad plucks my phone out of my hands and throws it out of the window.
‘No more,’ he says. ‘Do you hear me?’
‘No more what?’ We’re going fast, so fast, and I’m so angry I can hardly breathe.
‘This would never have happened if that little faggot hadn’t led you astray,’ he says. ‘You’re not to see him anymore, not if you want to remain under our roof.’
Never would have happened? Does he mean trying to bash my head in with a cricket bat? I’m so close to yelling at him right then, but I’m worried if I do then he’ll lose it and we’re going so fast. Everything is going too fast. I wind down my window a crack, gulping air.
Just have to get through this car ride. Get through this and get out.
It’s clear to me now. There’s no way I can go home. Not now, not ever.
‘Where are we g-going?’ I ask again.
‘Somewhere we can talk,’ Dad says, veering back into the left lane.
And now we’re driving up the hill, climbing high above the valley. Wind howls around the car. Not a kahikatea-whisper, no, this is a wolf wind. Wolves in my ears and a mammoth on my chest. I need to lie down. I need to not be stuck in this ute with my batshit-crazy father. Higher and higher we climb, until finally Dad pulls into a lookout.
‘Let’s get some fresh air, shall we?’ He jumps out, slamming the door behind him. Happy to get out of the death trap, I follow him into the gravel, moving slowly, because every step is killing me. Maybe my ribs really have poked holes into my lungs.
I lean against the front of the ute, watching the wind move through the toetoe fronds. Concentrating on inhaling, exhaling, inhaling, exhaling. Not because I’m trying not to cry, but because I seem to have forgotten how to breathe. Dad’s lighting a cigarette, which is weird, because I haven’t seen him smoke since I was a little kid. It makes me wonder if I’m back in Felix’s bed, having delirious dreams. Maybe Felix will crawl in beside me and hold me and say You’re OK now.
Stay one more day. One more night.
I tried, Five. I tried.
Dad leans next to me. ‘Take a look around, tell me what you see.’
I narrow my eyes at him. ‘What d-do you mean?’
‘Just tell me what you see.’ He sweeps his arm across his body. ‘It’s not a trick.’
I run a hand over my clammy forehead.
‘Hills.’ Hills above and below, in front of and behind us. We’re in the middle of nowhere.
No-where. No-thing.
‘Anything else?’
I go to shrug, but I’m too sore to even do that.
‘The road.’ ‘The road,’ my father says, smiling. ‘That’s right. And you know what happens if you take a wrong turn on this road?’
‘You crash.’
‘That’s right. But if you follow the road, that shouldn’t happen, right?’
‘Uh-huh.’ My heart is racing again, oh-God-oh-God-oh-God. My body knows something my mind can’t yet comprehend.
Something bad is going to happen, something terrible.
‘The point is,’ Dad says slowly, ‘sometimes you need to be redirected, to get back on the right road. And this Felix boy, well, if you’re not careful you’ll end up down there.’ He’s pointing straight ahead, at the steep drop in front of us. What, does he mean literally? Is that why he’s brought me here, to push me off the edge if I don’t agree to stop seeing Felix?
‘Do you understand what I’m saying?’ Dad exhales a lungful of smoke.
‘No,’ I manage. ‘No, I d-don’t.’ Because stupid people never learn, or maybe I’m just stubborn. Dad’s expression has gone stony, and I move sideways, to get away from him, to get away from the cliff, and that’s when I hear it.
A siren. No, two sirens. I guess Dad hears them, too, because he turns around and there are two police cars approaching, their lights flashing.
And my heart is going crazy. Surely it can’t be possible for my heart to go this fast. Something terrible is going to happen something terrible.
And the police cars are parking behind the ute, oh shit, and I think I understand why Dad brought me here now. He’s moving towards me, his hands out, and I can’t breathe I can’t breathe I can’t breathe and the wolf wind is howling and that’s when I know.
I know.
I’m going to die.
CHAPTER 25
FELIX: THE IMPOSSIBILITY OF BREATHING
Ten minutes into biology, and there’s no way I can concentrate on DNA base pairs and cell replication. All I can think about is the message I got back from Bailey.
Me: Have you gone home?? You said you’d stay one more day. You SAID.
All that Bailey has sent back is a measly No. What the hell is that supposed to mean? I send him another furious message: Please tell me you haven’t gone bush again.
Bindi, sitting next to me, gives me a sly smile. ‘Messaging Lucy?’
‘No.’ I’m so worried about Bailey I could explode. I feel bad for snapping at her, though, and all the almost-lies I’ve told over the last week are tangling together in my head like weeds. I don’t think there’s room for any more. I inhale. ‘I’m messaging Bailey. Trying to, anyway.’
And why hasn’t he replied yet, why?
Her eyebrows draw together. ‘Has he got glandular fever or something?’
Sighing, I look at the whiteboard, where Mrs Kumar is writing A-T, G-C, over and over.
‘He’s got broken ribs,’ I say. ‘And stitches in his head.’
Bindi sucks in a breath. ‘Was he in some kind of accident?’
‘It wasn’t an accident.’ Before Bindi can ask any more questions, the classroom door swings open. It’s Coitus, her head bobbing worse than ever. She whispers in Mrs Kumar’s ear, and they both look my way. Coitus hooks a finger at me. Surely Chris Hunter’s not pay
ing me another visit? Isn’t there some kind of law against harassing school kids?
‘Ooh, bad boy,’ Molly murmurs as I walk past. I flip her the finger behind my back, which is probably not something I’d have done a week ago, but I’m past caring about repercussions.
When I follow Coitus into the corridor, the first person I see is my mother. The second is Bailey’s mum. Her eyes are watery, her face red. My stomach plummets.
‘I know we’ve already asked you this once today,’ Coitus says. ‘But if you know where Bailey is, then it’s vital you tell us.’
Swallowing, I look at Mum. Did Mum call Mrs Hunter, or did Mrs Hunter call Mum? I don’t know if it matters anymore.
‘He was at our house,’ I say, and when no one acts surprised, I add, ‘but now he’s gone.’
‘But where?’ Mrs Hunter asks. ‘Did he tell you?’
‘I don’t know any better than you do. I already told Mr Hunter that this morning.’ When I say that, they all look at each other, like there’s something they’re not telling me. ‘What’s happened?’ I ask, my voice rising.
Bailey’s mum takes a deep breath. ‘I don’t know where Chris is. He left this morning, saying he was going to find Bailey, but he’s not answering my messages or my phone calls.’
I stare at her for a moment.
‘All Bailey told me was that he had to go.’ Fingering the still-silent phone in my pocket, I remember how Bailey looked when I left him, as if he was in pain or as if he’d seen a—
Oh shit. When I think back, there was a ute parked across the road when I left home at lunchtime. I didn’t think anything of it, but I noticed it because the sun shone off the side mirror and into my eyes.
He followed me. He must have been parked outside the whole time I was there, the whole time Bailey and I were—
Oh shit, oh shit.
‘How can you all just stand there?’ I explode. ‘Bailey’s got broken ribs and a broken head, and now his dad has kidnapped him.’
Invisibly Breathing Page 21