by J. C. Burke
‘Back to me having to see Paris this weekend.’
Evie hangs up the phone in the kitchen then goes and says goodnight to her father. Robin’s still not back from university.
‘See you in the morning, Dad.’
‘You okay?’ he asks her. ‘Bit distracted?’
‘Yeah.’
‘I’d really like you to see Victoria.’
‘I will, Dad.’
‘When?’
‘Soon,’ Evie grunts. ‘Anyway, haven’t you and Mum been speaking to her on the phone almost every second night?’
‘It puts our minds at ease,’ Nick replies. ‘Well, maybe not at ease, but it helps.’
‘Sorry,’ Evie shakes her head. ‘I didn’t mean it like that. You guys have been really good. Really good.’
‘So you’ll see Victoria this weekend? For us?’
‘I’ll try, Dad. I promise.’
In bed, Evie smooths out the sheet then lays her diary to Athena on her lap.
‘November 16th,’ she writes.
Hi, it’s been a while. No doubt you’re aware of what’s going on. I wish you could just whisper in my ear what it all means because I can’t get on with my life till it’s over. The way I’m going, I could be a granny by then.
Yet a part of me sort of doesn’t want it to end ’cause then I wouldn’t have an excuse to see Seb all the time. Especially in the middle of the night! That was exciting. I’d do that again. He’s taking the whole thing very seriously which is good. I find myself thinking about him all the time, well, when I’m not thinking about Caz and Paris, that is.
I just don’t think I could make the first move with Seb. I spent so many years ignoring him and thinking he was the biggest loser ever that he probably doesn’t even realise I like him. Really like him. As in like like. Not just friend like. That’s four ‘likes’ in a row. Caz’s messages are making me look at words differently.
Seb said that thing again this morning – you can’t stop your friends from being fools and getting used and hurt. It was a passing comment but it stuck in my head ’cause he’s said it before and I’m sure he means it to mean something more. He seems to say it when he’s talking about Zac and Alex. But I can’t imagine Zac ever getting hurt or being –
There’s a knock on her bedroom door. ‘Evie?’ It’s her dad.
‘Yeah?’ She slips the diary under her knees. ‘I’m awake.’
He opens the door and holds the phone out to her. A little smile is curling on his lips. ‘It’s Seb.’
She waits for him to close the door then takes a deep breath. ‘Hi.’
‘Sorry if it’s late.’
‘Doesn’t matter,’ Evie tells him, ‘I was just … doing some work.’
‘Me too,’ he answers. ‘At least I was trying but I kept going back to the messages and –’
‘Poppy rang. Guess what! Oh, sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt.’ Evie screws up her face. ‘You first.’
‘No, you first.’
There’s a second of silence.
‘Caz couldn’t have been pregnant. I’m kind of surprised. She was a …’ The skin on Evie’s cheeks starts to burn. ‘She was a virgin. Definitely. According to Dana.’
‘Well, she’d know.’
‘What were you going to say?’
‘I have been staring and staring at these words and I missed it every single time,’ he tells her.
‘Missed what?’
‘All the words in all the messages start with the same letter. The same nine letters.’
‘Oh my god!’ Evie squeals. ‘You’re a genius.’
‘I still have to figure out the word. But at least I have the letters now.’ Slowly Seb recites the nine letters. ‘S, P, N, H, C, T, I and two As. Nine letters. That’s how long the anagram is. It’s the only thing that makes sense.’
‘That’s brilliant, Seb.’
For the next forty minutes, Seb and Evie shuffle the letters around, trying to form a word. They come up with nothing.
‘I’ll get it, Evie. I promise I will.’
‘I know you will, Seb.’ There’s a silence. Evie waits for Seb to fill it but he doesn’t. ‘Well, we’ve got to be getting closer. And now we know Caz wasn’t pregnant, thanks to Poppy. She’ll make a good detective one day. She got the info just in time.’
‘Yeah?’
‘Zac turned up at Roxy’s.’
Seb says nothing.
Evie keeps talking. ‘She said it ended up being a weird night. Zac and Dana disappeared. Poppy said it was … Seb? Are you there?’
‘Mmm.’
‘Oh, I thought –’
‘No, I’m here.’
Evie feels embarrassed. Maybe she’s been talking too much. Maybe Seb’s tired and wants to go to bed. She thinks about asking him what he meant about Zac earlier today but decides against it. She fakes a yawn. ‘I better go. Thanks, Seb. Thanks for everything.’
‘Hey, that’s cool. I’m a bit, um –’
‘Huh?’
‘Oh, nothing.’
‘What? Tell me.’
‘Nothing. ’Night, Evie. See you tomorrow.’
Evie lies down, balancing the phone on her knees. What was he going to say, she wonders? Again, the butterflies flitter in her tummy.
Evie see-saws between consciousness and sleep. Her mind is ready to dive in to the sweet rest it craves but their whispering voices keep her senses teetering on the edge.
It sounds as if they’re outside her room but they can’t be. She hasn’t heard them come up the stairs.
‘She was distracted tonight.’
‘Do you think she’s okay, Nick?’
‘She seems to be handling it but that could be just for our benefit.’
‘I wish we could help.’
‘We can’t. I know that for sure. We just have to be here for her.’
‘For when she finally falls apart?’
‘Maybe.’
Gradually her mind surrenders to the blackness of sleep.
Now the footsteps up the stairs.
Deliberate, heavy. He knows she’s in there – waiting. The timber floor moans and squeals. Only three steps to go till he’s at the door. She feels his hands, icy cold, as he peels the sheet off her body. He lifts up her shirt and runs his thumb across the scratch marks on her chest. His face looms towards her as he says her name over and over in an accent that’s thick and deep.
She opens her eyes but doesn’t see his face. Instead it’s Athena, bending over her, gently smoothing the hair from her ear. She leans in closer, her lips just open. ‘It’s played simply.’ Her voice tickles the hairs on Evie’s neck. ‘Always the anagram contains his name.’
Evie sits up, holding the side of her head. The words still sing in her ear like a mosquito at night. ‘Always the anagram contains his name.’ She repeats it again and again. ‘It’s played simply. Always the anagram contains his name, contains his name.’
Exhausted, Evie stares out the window of the bus as Poppy and Seb discuss every possibility for a word containing all nine letters.
‘P I T A N S C H A.’
‘I got spinach.’
‘That’s seven letters, Poppy.’
‘Well, what’ve you come up with, Einstein?’
They don’t know about Evie’s dream or what happened last night. It still sits uneasily on her skin. His voice, his thick accent as he calls her name, curls the hairs on her arms and turns the flesh on her neck to goose pimples. She’s not ready to talk about it. Not yet. So she lets them continue with the guessing.
‘Just say the word’s in Romanian?’
‘Well, we’re stuffed then, aren’t we?’
‘It’s impossible, Seb.’ Poppy passes the pen back. ‘We’ll never get it. Evie, have you … God, you’re pasty, girl. Maybe you’ve got that bug Alex had last week.’
‘Was she sick?’ asks Seb.
‘Sick in the head.’
Seb turns to Evie. ‘You feel all right?’
; Poppy’s still talking. ‘Alex so wanted you there on Saturday night, Seb, to take care of Roxy.’
‘Huh?’ he grunts, putting the pen in his top pocket.
‘I think Alex is scared Zac may run off with Roxy. Why are you looking at me like that?’ Poppy frowns at Seb. ‘Is that a totally –’
‘Let’s just say you couldn’t be more off the mark.’ Seb folds his arms. ‘If I were you, I’d tell Alex to ditch him before he really stuffs her around.’
‘Is that a joke?’ Poppy scoffs. ‘Alex’d ditch Evie and me for suggesting it. I told you she’d trade in her best girlfriends for Zac. And that’s a definite!’
‘I wouldn’t want one of my friends going out with him and I’m saying that about one of my best mates.’
‘So he really is giving you the major shits?’
‘He’s a fool. But you can’t tell him.’ Seb starts queuing in the aisle with the other Wolsley students. ‘Are you going to hack it tomorrow, Evie?’
‘Huh?’ She’s thinking about what Seb’s just said.
‘Paris! Duh!’
‘Oh god, yeah.’ Evie remembers. ‘I hope so.’
‘Well, if you change your mind about going on your own …’
‘No. It’s better if I go alone.’
‘So you’re not going with her?’ he says to Poppy.
‘I’m in Wollongong for the weekend. Family reunion. Lucky, aren’t I? My family chooses such exotic places.’
The boys start pushing out the door. ‘Well, see ya.’
‘Bye.’ Evie gives a little wave.
‘He so loves you,’ Poppy whispers in her ear.
Evie fiddles with the belt around her jeans. She can’t get the buckle to sit flat and her hair’s sticking up on one side of her head. A hat’s the go, she finally decides. Good as a disguise and stuff the hat hair, she won’t be taking it off anyway. It’s sneakers today too, instead of slippers or thongs, in case there’s the need for a quick getaway.
The shoes keep eating her ankle socks. Twice she sits at the bottom of the stairs, trying to dig them out and pull them over her heel.
‘You’re taking this.’ Nick interrupts the sock battle, handing her his mobile phone. ‘I don’t care what you say, Evie, you’re taking it.’ She rolls her eyes at him but he won’t let it go. ‘I think you’ll remember there was a day in Adelaide you were glad you had a phone.’
As if I could forget, Evie wants to say, but doesn’t. She knows her parents are struggling with the whole thing. So she takes the phone. ‘Thanks, Dad.’
‘If you need us, you call home or Robin’s mobile.’
‘Yep.’
‘I’m planning on picking you up at Victoria’s some time this afternoon. So give me a call when –’
‘I’m not definite I’ll go there, Dad.’
‘Evie!’
‘Maybe, maybe I’ll ring her or go see her tomorrow.’
‘Well, you make sure you call her if you’re not going there today.’ Evie watches his forehead and eyebrows crinkle with each word. ‘She has a life too. Maybe she’s got plans for tomorrow.’
‘Yes, Dad.’
‘And try and ring us every couple of hours.’
‘Dad! I’m not doing anything dangerous. I’m going to see a girl, my own age. Not an axe murderer.’
‘You know what I’m saying.’
‘I’ll be fine.’
She doesn’t tell him she vomited twice this morning and tipped the eggs he made her into the bin. She doesn’t tell him she can hardly breathe her heart is thumping so fast. Or the dark thoughts that are swimming in her head just at the thought of Paris. Instead she gives him a kiss and says, ‘Relax, Dad. I’ll see you this arvo.’
Evie has planned her arrival for five minutes before twelve-thirty, the time the girls start to file down the stairs and out onto the footpath. The same table she sat at with Alex just a few weeks ago is free. Evie angles the chair so she has a perfect view of the glass door. She waits. Waits and watches the Venus Cuza Ladies’ College of Deportment and Modelling.
The first girl appears at 12.34. The next two, a minute and a half later. Evie gets the coffee money out of her wallet and puts it on the table next to her latte that sits there untouched. It seems all the girls are leaving now.
A constant stream of made-up faces and bouffant hair descends onto the footpath, hopping into their lifts that pull up outside the front. Calls of ‘Bye’, ‘See you tonight’, and ‘Ring me’ are followed by car doors closing and engines starting.
Soon the entrance to the Venus Cuza College is deserted. Just one car, a convertible, waits for someone at the next corner. Evie crosses over in front of it and stands there. This is where she’ll wait for Paris.
A noise vibrates behind her. She turns around to see the black roof of the convertible closing over the car and driver.
As she walks past the car, her chest begins to hurt, just like last time. It feels as though a band is being pulled around her middle, tighter and tighter. Evie opens her lips for a mouthful of air but there is no way in and no way out.
Holding her ribcage, she creeps as close to the entrance as she dares, and peers up to the top of the stairs. There is no one there.
She walks back towards the car. Now the air is so tight and trapped in her chest she can barely think straight. The hairs on her arms tingle and stand on end while goose pimples crawl along her shoulders and up to her neck.
‘Go on, do it! Do it!’ a voice starts to whisper. ‘Go on. Go in.’
Evie stumbles a little closer to the door and warily checks her surroundings. There’s just her and the blue convertible. No one else. So she slips through the glass door and into the entrance of the Venus Cuza College.
There’s no sound. No sign of life. It’s as if the place is deserted and now Evie notices her breathing has eased. Suddenly a thought grips her. Maybe Paris isn’t here! Maybe she’s gone. But Evie’s sure she’s here. Upstairs. Hiding.
Her trainers squeak on the tiles as she creeps to the bottom of the stairs and peers up. ‘Paris?’ she calls, careful to make her voice gentle. ‘Paris? Please, I just want to talk to you.’
Silence.
‘Paris? I know you’re up there.’
One, two, three, Evie hears the steps above her. At the top of the staircase Paris appears. For a second, she stands there, her bony knees knocking against the banister.
Evie goes to speak but can’t. The skeletal frame that is Paris Cuza is almost hypnotic. So Evie watches her as she descends, step by step, with such care and control Evie dares not breathe for fear of upsetting Paris’s balance. Now Paris is so close she can almost touch her.
Evie expects her to stop at the bottom. Stop so that Evie can tell her all the things she knows. But Paris glides past Evie and out the glass door.
‘No! Please, please!’ The desperation is choking. Evie follows her out onto the street. ‘No! Stop! Don’t go! Caz, Caz, your …’
It’s then Evie realises Paris is heading for the blue convertible. The roof is back down and the driver is leaning against the bonnet, waiting.
‘Come on. We’re in a hurry!’ his accented voice urges as he walks around to the driver’s side. It’s Ingy, the man Evie met at Victoria’s place.
As Paris opens the car door, she hesitates for a second and turns back around to Evie. Evie holds her breath. No words are said. Paris doesn’t even look at her. It’s just the tiniest movement of her head. Not a shake. Not a nod. Something in between. Then she’s climbing into the passenger’s seat, shutting the door and they’re driving away.
Again, Evie watches Paris slip by. But this time she knows – Paris wants to talk. It’s just that she can’t.
Evie is left standing there, frozen numb. It’s like she’s found the door to Caz’s secrets. Yet she can’t move, can’t speak. All she can manage is to stand there, balancing on two legs that want to give way. Something has just happened. That voice, his voice – it’s the one from her dream.
‘M
mmmmmm.’ A low hum starts its song in her head. ‘Mmmmmmmmm.’ And Evie starts walking. Where, she doesn’t know. It’s simply in the direction her legs take her. Decisions are not hers to be made. All her strength, all her resolve, is inwards, coaxing her senses to surface from the dark pit they have scrambled into. For the truth is filled with a terrible darkness. Just one look at Paris’s face tells her that.
Noises of cheering and clapping break her trance. Evie sees she’s standing in a circle. Two men with painted faces are walking on stilts, blowing trumpets and bashing tambourines. The crowd laughs, whistles and calls for more.
Evie looks down at her feet in their white trainers standing on grass that’s brown and sprinkled with dirt. She scans her surroundings. The scene seems strangely familiar. She leaves the clowns on their stilts and wanders to a bench where a lady in a yellow hat eats noodles from a plastic container. Closing her eyes, Evie sits there feeling the sun defrost her mind. Suddenly, she opens them. The Glebe markets, that’s where her legs have carried her.
Somewhere safe. Somewhere she knows.
Although it’s been months since she’s visited the Glebe markets, it’s still like coming home. Stall-holders wave and call ‘G’day, stranger’, and ‘Evie, how goes it?’ Weaving her way around the tables and vans, Evie makes her way to Petrina’s. Her favourite stall. The best vintage clothes ever.
‘Evie!’ Petrina holds out her arms and they hug. The familiar smell of camphor and mothballs tickles her nose. Evie can’t stop grinning.
‘Evie, I haven’t seen you for yonks.’
‘I know!’ They hug again. ‘It’s so good to see you, Petrina.’
‘Where have you been?’
‘Everywhere. Nowhere,’ Evie tells her. ‘Life’s been … strange. In fact, today’s been strange.’
‘Well, you look wonderful. You’ve had your hair chopped.’ A smirk curls Petrina’s top lip as she taps the peak of Evie’s hat. ‘You’re not hiding from the gorgeous silver boy, are you?’
‘Ben?’ Evie squeals. ‘I’m so over him.’
‘Well, I hope the crush has been replaced by a new one. Hmm?’
‘Petrina!’
‘You’ve gone red,’ Petrina laughs. ‘I hope he’s nice.’