This is Shyness

by Leanne Hall

  ‘Why are you called that?’

  ‘The long blinks happen right before you go to sleep, when your mind fights it and your lids are heavy. The long blinks…’ Wolfboy demonstrates. His eyes are an amazing arctic blue, and his lashes are criminally long.

  ‘Why would you fight it?’ I love sleeping. Going to work straight from school and trying to write essays afterwards has something to do with it.

  ‘Because it’s terrifying.’ Wolfboy’s face darkens. Honestly, it’s like a cloud has parked over his head. ‘Every time I go to sleep I don’t know if I’m going to wake up again.’

  I’m about to take him to task on this weird statement when I sip my drink and almost spray the entire mouthful. There must be at least four limes in this thing. Silver-hair is still watching us though, so I force myself to swallow, and raise my glass appreciatively in his direction. It’s a beautiful piece of acting, if I do say so myself.

  I lean back into my chair and watch the cold front pass over Wolfboy, catching him in an unguarded moment. He wouldn’t look quite so wolfish if he wore his hair shorter and shaved more often. Not that I’m complaining. I love that bit in King Kong, the black-and-white 1930s version, when Fay Wray’s clasped in King Kong’s hairy fist at the top of the Empire State Building. Doesn’t everyone secretly want to be in the clutches of a big animal? Or is that just me? I’m not sure it would work in my case, though. I’m not little and blonde like Fay Wray.

  ‘So, what’s so interesting about this place?’

  Wolfboy leans forward and lowers his voice. ‘That guy who bought us drinks? Well, I don’t know him and I doubt he knows my band either.’

  The drink gets better once I’m used to it, especially if I don’t let it sit in my mouth for too long.

  ‘People like knowing Locals. It gives them cred. Waving at me will probably get that guy laid tonight.’

  ‘Locals…people who live in Shyness?’

  ‘Yeah. They’re easy to spot. You look for the moon tan.’ Wolfboy looks around the room. He points carefully, with his hand held low at his waist. ‘See those two over there? The girl with the curly hair and the guy with the goatee?’

  I follow his finger. The girl with the curly hair is a porcelain doll in army pants. Goatee guy looks half drowned in an oversized black jumper. Their skin is so luminous I can see spidery blue veins just below the surface, even from this distance.

  ‘Now check out this group over here.’

  Two couples in their mid-thirties sit at a round table. The women are skinny, pale and dressed in black. The men are pretty much the same, but have shorter hair. One of the women sees me watching her and stares back, a smile playing at the corners of her mouth. She knows I’m under-age for sure. The alcohol buzzes around my body. This place is getting stranger and stranger.

  ‘No moon tan, but a whole lot of make-up and designer clothes. They’re the converted warehouse crowd. They pretend they’re doing it tough on the dark side of town, but they don’t cross Grey Street, not even if their pure-bred wolfhound runs across the road and pisses on a homeless person.’

  It’s no wonder I can’t read this place. There are different rules around here, things going on that I know nothing about. This must be what it feels like to be in a foreign country: confused and excited and unsure all at the same time. I shift in my seat and feel the sharp edges of the bankcard dig into me.

  ‘I found something in the bathroom,’ I say.

  Wolfboy leans forward, interested for a millisecond before he is distracted by something over my shoulder. Or someone.

  A woman stands at the foot of our table, her head tilted at just the right angle to set her shiny hair swinging around her face. A skintight catsuit the colour of gunmetal zips all the way from her bellybutton to her throat. She is teeny-tiny and beautiful and I desperately want to look exactly like her.

  ‘Jethro.’ She smiles at Wolfboy and ignores me. ‘I knew it was you.’

  Jethro?

  ‘Jethro?’ I say out loud.

  The woman turns to me. Her hair cups her ears in a smooth Louise Brooks bob. ‘I’ve never gotten used to calling him Wolfboy.’

  Wolfboy doesn’t return the smile. ‘Wildgirl, this is Ortolan. Ortolan, Wildgirl.’

  5

  Ortolan joins us at our table, pulling up a leather cube that I’d assumed was decoration, not a seat. When I look at her closely I realise that she’s the woman from the powder room. She perches on the cube with a cocktail in her hand. Her waist is so small I could circle it with my hands. What kind of name is Ortolan?

  ‘How have you been, Jethro?’

  Wolfboy pushes back in his chair and crosses his arms, tense from the tip of his boots to the top of his hair. ‘Good.’

  ‘How’s the band going?’

  ‘Good.’

  ‘Have you played any gigs recently?’

  ‘Nope.’

  Ortolan nods like Wolfboy’s said something really interesting. I look from her to him and back. I’m getting a weird feeling, like…Ortolan seems too old for Wolfboy, but who knows what goes on in this place? I finish my drink in one face-puckering gulp. Maybe it wasn’t just my weak bladder that brought us here tonight.

  ‘How’s the shop going?’ Wolfboy looks around the room like he doesn’t care about her answer.

  ‘It’s going well. I’m always busy, so that’s a good thing.’ There’s another awkward pause. Ortolan’s smile slips as she plays with the stem of her glass in lieu of conversation. I feel sorry for her all of a sudden. She’s making an effort, which is more than I can say for Wolfboy. What’s gotten into him?

  ‘What sort of shop do you have?’ I ask. Ortolan’s eyes are the same grey as her catsuit.

  ‘I design clothes.’

  ‘Wow.’ No wonder she looks so great. ‘Is this one of yours?’ I point at her outfit. If I had her body I’d get around in skintight lycra too.

  Ortolan nods. ‘Don’t be too impressed. It’s only a small shop, and I sew everything myself. Are you from the city, Wildgirl?’

  To her credit she says my ridiculous alias without a hint of sarcasm. But it seems like one thing for Wolfboy to call me Wildgirl, and another to hear it from the mouth of an adult. I blush.

  ‘Is it that obvious?’

  ‘It’s a compliment. I’d kill to have gorgeous skin like yours.’

  ‘Yeah, everyone around here looks like they could stand to eat a steak or two.’

  Ortolan’s laugh seems genuine. ‘To be honest, I find this place a little pretentious, but I meet a lot of my customers this way. I have some regular clients who invite me out, and it’s good to say yes sometimes.’

  ‘They’re kind of stare-y though. I feel like I’m on display.’ ‘They envy your youth. You two are like exotic creatures from the land of the young.’

  I’ve never understood all that these-are-the-best-years-of-your-life crap. If this is as good as it gets then I might as well quit now. Let me get to the shimmery oasis of adulthood.

  ‘What a joke.’

  ‘They don’t remember how confusing life was when they were your age.’

  I’d almost forgotten about Wolfboy and his sulks, but he’s obviously bored or irritated by our conversation because he stands up suddenly, all agitated and mumbly. Ortolan glances up in surprise.

  ‘Excuse me, I gotta—I’m gonna—’

  He walks off without finishing his sentence. Ortolan puts her empty glass down on the coffee table. Her eyes glisten like a road after rain. A silence spreads that doesn’t seem like it’s going to be filled by anyone but me. I have to ask. ‘Is this an ex thing?’

  ‘No.’ Ortolan blinks her tears back. I’m relieved. If this is the sort of woman Wolfboy goes out with, I don’t have a chance. That seems like all she’s going to say, but I must look confused enough for her to feel like she has to explain. ‘Sort of. I used to go out with Wolfboy’s older brother. A long time ago.’

  ‘Is that all? That’s no reason to be so rude.’

 
; ‘Don’t be too hard on him…It was a difficult situation. Whenever I see Jethro, I always think for a split second that it’s his brother. I’m always glad to see him, but…’

  I crane my neck, trying to find Wolfboy. I spot him at the bar, talking to the guy who bought us drinks. As long as he doesn’t leave without me. I turn to Ortolan again; her face is still pale with sadness.

  ‘So you grew up in Shyness as well?’

  ‘I did. But I left in my twenties and lived overseas for a few years. I moved back when I heard about the Darkness.’

  ‘You moved back here? To live in the dark?’

  ‘Well, close enough. I live just over the border, here in Panwood. Everyone thought I was crazy to return. I can’t explain it, but I knew I had to come back. It was the right thing to do.’

  I can’t imagine wanting to return to Plexus. Once I leave I won’t come back until I’ve become something. A different person who won’t get trapped there ever again.

  ‘And you’re a success here. I mean, you have your own shop. That must be so cool.’

  ‘I don’t think I could make the same clothes in another place. If I need inspiration all I have to do is walk the streets. You should drop by my shop sometime. I’ve got some pieces that would be great on you.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ I reply, meaning it. On first sight I thought Ortolan would be cold and aloof, but I couldn’t have been more wrong about her.

  Ortolan slides a phone out of a pocket I hadn’t even noticed at her waist.

  ‘Sorry, I’m just seeing if the babysitter’s called.’ She flips her phone open. ‘No. I’m imagining things.’

  ‘You have a kid?’ I can’t help sounding surprised. Ortolan laughs as if she’s used to that reaction.

  ‘A daughter. I don’t leave her alone at night much so I’m a bit anxious. She’s the reason I live over the border, not in Shyness proper. Do you want to see a photo?’ Her face is alive. I can’t imagine my mum’s face ever lighting up like that when she talks about me. Ortolan passes me her open wallet.

  Her daughter poses with a cardboard sword in one hand and a torch in the other. She wears a too-big tunic and a lumpy foil helmet. Her expression is halfway between goofy grin and ferocious battle-face. I remember playing dress-ups when I was little. I would spend hours making different costumes and acting out scenes with my soft toys. ‘She’s adorable. What’s her name?’

  ‘Diana.’

  A shadow drops across the table.

  We both look up at Wolfboy looming over us. His eyes are dark, and I follow his line of sight to the photo of Diana. Wolfboy’s face twists and he seems on the verge of speaking, but instead he steps back and kicks out hard at the coffee table, turning it upside down with a crash. He pauses for a moment, looking as shocked as we are, then turns and runs.

  six

  I hit Grey Street running, boots bashing concrete, blood hammering in my skull. The gutter nearly trips me, I’m so desperate to get away. I’m choking, spitting clouds of breath, and not because of the running. A howl nearly forces its way past my lips and I have to bite hard to keep it down.

  The toilet and the blazing convenience store lurch into view. The light sears my eyeballs. They must be tapping. No one has that much legal electricity.

  I need darkness.

  I leave them alone for one minute and Ortolan has to tell Wildgirl every little detail of her life.

  Welcome shadows beckon on the next side street. The six memorial gardens are further along, down the slope that rolls all the way to the river. Orphanville sits to the right. The high-rise buildings are scattered with lights. My steps gradually slow until I find a vacant lot.

  I sit on gravel and clumps of dead grass, digging my fingers into the stones and feeling dirt clog under my fingernails. I’m motionless now but my insides still race. I drink the night air in, taking each breath down as deep as I can, trying not to shudder. It gets colder in Shyness when it’s night all over the City, even if it can’t get any darker here. It’s not fair that Ortolan would show Wildgirl a photo of her kid when I haven’t even met her. Did they talk about Gram as well?

  Gradually my blood cools, my heart slows. The Darkness is a heavy blanket that keeps me hidden from view.

  I slip my hand inside my pocket and clutch my lighter, shutting my eyes as if I’m making a wish. The metal is cold and smooth against my fingers. Sometimes I think Lupe is right: my brother isn’t far away. I can see him clearly if I concentrate. Out he comes from the darkness, sharpening quickly. Scruffy hair, an eagle tattoo on his bicep. He’s leaning against his Valiant smoking, squinting into the bright sunlight. He flicks his cigarette butt onto the ground: Let’s go, Little J.

  The gravel crunches. My eyes snap open. At the far edge of the lot there’s a patch of pink in the darkness, and two white legs. A pair of black boots walk towards me.

  Wildgirl moves carefully. Her eyes are big, too big. She stands at a distance, using her bag as a shield.

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘How did you find me?’ I sound pissed off. What I should be doing is apologising, but the right words aren’t coming.

  ‘I asked a few people. You’re pretty distinctive so you weren’t difficult to find.’

  ‘Did you get chucked out of the bar?’

  ‘No. We pretended it was an accident. The table wasn’t even broken.’

  That was lucky. I kicked it like I was trying to send it to the other side of the room. Wildgirl doesn’t move any closer. I’ve scared her. I scare even myself when I get like that.

  ‘Is Ortolan mad?’

  ‘No. She’s worried about you, though. She told me to come after you.’

  I don’t know what to say. The evening is teetering on the edge of failure. I don’t want Wildgirl to go home, but I wouldn’t blame her if she did. I can’t bring myself to ask her to stay. Getting angry and then grovelling about it won’t help. She doesn’t seem like the kind of girl who’d stand for that.

  ‘It doesn’t bother me that you got upset. I don’t need to know why. I just need to know that you’re…safe. I’m taking a risk here. Same as you are with me.’

  ‘I’m not dangerous. I don’t kill cats for fun, if that’s what you’re asking. I don’t bite people either.’

  Wildgirl’s face relaxes a little. ‘Unless they ask nicely, right?’

  My eyebrows knit. I’m always half a step behind her. I don’t know why she’s joking with me after what happened. I don’t believe her when she says she doesn’t need to know why I got upset. Maybe Ortolan already told her. I swallow. I don’t want to talk about this stuff; I don’t even want to think about it.

  ‘We got off to a bad start,’ I say. I push away the feeling that it would be easier to send her home.

  ‘I still want you to show me around Shyness.’

  Wildgirl comes closer and sits near me, her handbag next to her. She turns her hand over to show me something. A bankcard. She holds it out, gesturing for me to take it. ‘I was about to tell you before Ortolan showed up. I found it in the bathroom at the Raven’s Wing.’

  The card isn’t like any I’ve seen before, and I’ve never heard of FutureBank. It’s been a while since I’ve seen a bankcard. I use cash and I get paid in cash, like most other Locals. There isn’t a single bank branch left in Shyness.

  ‘What do you think?’ Wildgirl’s voice is anxious.

  ‘If we’re banking on the future, then I’d say we’re fucked.’

  Wildgirl smiles. Her teeth are small and neat like breath mints. ‘That was a good joke, Wolfie. You’d better watch it or I might think you have a sense of humour. What I meant was, do you think it works? Can we use it?’ ‘I guess so.’ I turn the card over again in my hand. I can’t see any reason why it wouldn’t work. ‘You didn’t think to turn it in at the bar?’

  ‘Haven’t you ever asked yourself: what would I do with a million dollars?’

  I try not to think about money too much if I can help it. I make some mixing other bands, and I’v
e gradually sold off the best bits of furniture from my house. I know if I cross Panwood and go to the bank, which I do only if I’m desperate, someone, Mum probably, will have been topping up my account.

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘I do. I think about it a lot.’ Wildgirl glows with excitement. ‘Sometimes I start with ten thousand dollars, and then I work my way up to a million.’

  ‘I doubt there’s a million dollars in this account. Maybe this person’s gone bankrupt and that’s why they’re leaving their card lying around.’

  ‘Still, we should see if it works.’

  I shrug. There’s no name on the card anyway, so it would be difficult to find the owner. ‘You’d better sign it then.’

  Wildgirl finds a pen in her bottomless handbag and leans against my back to sign the card. I try to ignore the feathery touch of her hair against my neck. She’s not scared of me anymore. When she’s finished she squats in front of me.

  ‘There’s one more thing I have to ask you before we go any further.’ Her cheeks flush. ‘Do you have a girlfriend?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘If I hang out with you tonight, am I, you know, going to get slapped by someone?’

  I shake my head. I don’t know whether to feel insulted or flattered.

  ‘Okay.’ Wildgirl stands up. Something has been decided between us. ‘I’m not calling you Jethro, by the way. You’re Wolfboy to me, and that’s what I’m going to call you.’

  It’s fine by me. I don’t like being called Jethro. It’s my name from before the Darkness, before everything changed. A name used by my parents and other people who haven’t moved on yet. There’s no point wishing that life could be like it was before.

  7

  We walk quickly through the backstreets of Shyness, but not quickly enough to stop me from half freezing to death. I pull my cardigan tighter around me. Mum would kill me if she knew I went out tonight without a jacket. It’s amazing how she worries about small things like that, but never notices the big stuff.