by J. C. Burke
‘So, you’re like drawing a person that’s sitting in front of you.’
‘Yes, that I’m looking at. I mean their face is right there. Well, I was drawing with your photo but the face that ended up on the paper is a face I’ve never seen before.’
‘Far out.’
‘It’s happened a few times now.’
‘The same face?’
‘Every time.’
‘You could lie.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘You could tell Powell you decided not to draw me. You could pretend it’s an abstract portrait of your … emotionally tortured cousin?’
‘I don’t think so, Al.’
‘Well, how would he know what your cousin looks like?’
‘What about Mum? She’d figure it out, she’s so bloody suspicious. She keeps asking if she can see my drawings. Like she really gives a shit.’
‘Tell your mum it’s someone else from school, someone she doesn’t know.’
‘Good try, Al, but it’s too complicated. What happened with Antonia has changed everything. You don’t know what it’s like, everyone watching you all the time, especially your mother, waiting for you to do something spooky.’
‘So, what are you going to do?’
‘I think I’ll have to drop art.’
‘What!’
‘Maybe I could just drop my drawing elective. I could do photography, like you.’
‘That’s so sad. You love drawing and you’re so talented.’
‘You’re right about me loving drawing,’ Evie says, closing her eyes and finding pictures in her head. ‘I think it has something to do with being an only child. When I was a kid I would sit there for ages, in my own little head space, drawing and chatting to myself. I didn’t have anyone to play with, so I played with the people in my pictures,’ she pauses. ‘God, I was weird even then.’
‘They should have flushed you down the loo at birth, girlfriend.’
Evie manages a little chuckle. She knows Alex is trying.
‘Please don’t tell anyone, Al. Not even Poppy. Okay?’
‘Promise.’
‘It’s cold,’ Evie pulls up the doona. ‘My mother’s about to get home.’
‘Shit, it’s nearly six o’clock,’ Alex picks up her school bag. ‘I’ve got to run. Are you going to be okay?’
‘No,’ Evie snorts. ‘But I’ll try and be. This is something I’m going to have to work out on my own. But thanks, Al.’
Downstairs the front door unlocks.
‘I told you.’
‘Hello?’ they hear her mother call.
‘Piss off,’ Evie sings back.
‘Come down with me,’ says Alex. ‘Your mum’ll be wondering what we’ve been doing.’
‘Who gives a.’
‘Come on,’ Alex throws off the doona, takes Evie’s ankles and starts to drag her off the bed. Evie holds on to the mattress.
‘I’ll drag you downstairs on the bed,’ laughs Alex. She tugs hard. Evie and the mattress land on the floor. The girls squeal.
‘What’s going on?’ says Robin, walking into the bedroom. ‘Hi, Alex. What’s the mattress doing on the floor?’
The girls can’t control their giggling. They’re becoming hysterical. Robin looks around the room. Her head stops as it spots Evie’s pencils and sketchpad on the chair.
‘So this is why you haven’t managed to hand in your assignment. I thought you’d be taking it a bit more seriously.’
Powell has already phoned her.
Alex sneaks Evie a look. Evie rolls her eyes but her ears absorb the words.
‘What’s wrong with your eye?’ Nick asks at breakfast time.
‘Do you want coffee, Nick?’
‘Thanks, Rob. Have you seen Evie’s eye?’
‘Do you want sugar or is this health-kick week?’
‘No.’ Nick shakes his head. ‘Evie, come where the light’s better. You probably have something in it.’
‘An eyeball?’ She steals Alex’s pathetic joke.
‘Robin? Can you have a look at Evie’s eye? I can’t see anything.’
‘Look up. Down. To the side. The other side. No, I can’t see anything,’ she sighs, walking back to the coffee.
‘Is it sore?’
‘Not really,’ replies Evie. ‘But everything’s a bit blurry.’
‘Rob, do we have any eye drops?’
‘Have a look in the bottom drawer of our bathroom.’
Robin drinks her coffee and reads the paper. She’s still pissed off.
‘Found some,’ he calls. ‘Now let’s see,’ he says, reading the directions. ‘Two drops in affected eye every four hours.’
Gently, he pulls down the lower rim of Evie’s left eye and squeezes in the drops.
‘One, two. There we go.’
‘Thanks, Dad.’
‘Are you coming with me this morning?’
‘No. I’ll get the bus.’
‘Evie?’
‘Yes, Mum.’
‘When’s your next parent teacher meeting?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Well, I want to know when it is. Okay? So could you find out for me?’
‘Yes.’
‘How come?’ asks Nick. ‘Are we due for one?’
‘Well, until Mr Powell phoned me yesterday it’d been a while since we’ve spoken to any of the teachers or seen the school counsellor.’
Evie senses that her mother is trying to calm her voice. It isn’t working.
‘I’d like to know how things are going, seeing Evie doesn’t seem to tell us. Is anything wrong with that?’
‘I wasn’t saying that. You could …’
Evie doesn’t hear their words. When the walls start closing in and their noise gets too loud, she presses the off button and doesn’t feel a thing. It’s all they seem to do these days – argue and blame. She knows she’s their burden.
Alex is waiting for Evie at her locker. Her locker space is new. The old one has been stripped back, the hurtful words scrubbed away. It’s now used as a second locker for a girl in Year 12 who plays the saxophone.
The only other time Alex waited at her locker this early was to announce she’d pashed Wazza Enright, one of the meathead footy players from Wolsley College.
‘What’s happened, Al?’
‘I’ve got to show you something.’ Alex’s eyes flash and her voice sounds breathless. ‘Hurry up!’
‘What is it?’
‘I had an early morning photography class. It was another developing session.’
‘So?’
Alex’s fingers are tapping her lips. ‘Remember that night at my house, after the markets and I took some photos of you in my bedroom?’
‘Yes.’ How can Alex imagine Evie could forget that day?
‘Well, this morning I finished developing those photos.’
‘And?’ She doesn’t know what Alex is going on about but there’s a fear in the air she can almost touch. ‘Just – tell – me, Alex.’
‘Look, I’ve got to show you. It’s completely freaky. Follow me.’
Steady and monotonous, the hum sings in Evie’s head. The panic starts at her toes and creeps up her spine. She gulps the urge to start screaming and shouting.
Alex charges up the stairs, along a corridor and into the library. Evie runs behind holding the red cardigan tightly around her. She can hardly breathe. They go to a corner cubicle in the study room. Alex glances around, taking a small folder from under her jumper. Her eyes still flash and her hands shake as she tips the fresh black and white photos onto the desk.
‘These are the ones of you.’ Alex’s hand slides the pile towards Evie. ‘Have a look at them. Quickly.’
Evie picks up the photos. The sweat from her hands rubs onto the back of them, leaving a black smudge. She holds them up. Her left eye is still fuzzy but her right eye focuses clearly. She remembers the evening well. In the photo, she is sitting on Alex’s bed looking surprised by the flash.
‘Can you see it?’ Alex whispers.
Evie hands the photos back. Alex slips them into the folder and under her jumper.
‘Who do you think it is?’
Evie shakes her head.
‘It’s definitely there. Isn’t it?’
Evie says nothing.
‘Do you think it’s a woman?’
Evie shrugs.
‘Do you know anyone with that sort of hair?’
She shakes her head again.
‘Think!’
‘I haven’t a flipping clue who it is.’ Evie tries to calm her voice. The panic is throbbing in her throat.
‘Sorry, Evie.’
‘Just say it.’
‘What?’
‘Come on!’
‘What?’
‘Just say it, Alex.’
‘Say what?’
‘Just say what you want to say!’ shouts Evie.
‘Shhh, Evie.’
Evie waits for her to speak. Alex stares at the ground.
‘Ok, I’ll say it,’ she says eventually. ‘Do you think it’s the same girl as in your drawing?’
‘I’m not sure.’ Evie crosses her arms. ‘Do you?’
Alex shrugs. ‘No idea.’
‘I know I’ve never seen the girl in the portrait or the photo. I promise, Alex.’
‘I know. God, I wish there’s someone who could help.’
‘No way. Promise me you won’t show those photos to anyone.’
‘Promise. But, Evie, there has to be someone we can talk to?’
‘There isn’t. Trust me.’
The bell rings. The girls wander down to assembly in silence.
The hall is packed with the entire senior school. Girls are squealing, laughing and shoving each other. They stand there waiting to be seated while Evie concentrates on getting through the rest of the day.
‘Do you reckon you’ll say something to Powell about dropping your drawing elective?’
‘No, not today. The portraits and the stupid proposal are due Thursday. Maybe I’ll drop the bomb then.’
They pass the Year 12 CG from yesterday’s canteen line. Evie feels the girl watch her.
At a safe distance she asks Alex, ‘What did that girl say?’
‘Nothing.’
‘Tell me?’
‘Don’t you know?’
‘No.’
Alex chooses seats at the end, away from the other Year 11 students. Evie faces her. She is not giving up. ‘Come on. You have to tell me, Alex.’
‘She said the canteen doesn’t sell trips.’
Evie frowns.
‘LSD, okay? Acid. Stupid, isn’t it? I don’t know why you wanted to know what the bitch said. They don’t care.’
Evie thinks Alex is about to cry. She recognises the sign. The scar that runs from her nose to her lip is crinkled and trembles. Evie thinks about the times kids mimicked this twitching and chanted ‘bunny, bunny’. Evie would tell them to get lost and take Alex’s hand and lead her away from their teasing. She knows Alex has not forgotten this. They are bound together at the edge of the crowd.
‘Are you all right, Al?’
Alex nods. ‘Are you?’
Evie shrugs.
The headmistress arrives at the microphone and morning assembly commences.
‘Can I still come to your place after school?’
‘I thought you were anyway,’ Alex replies. ‘You can help me torture the brats.’
‘I’ll meet you at your locker.’
‘Okay. Don’t be late. I’ve got to get home quickly. Mum’s got a session with her therapist at four.’
‘Trevor Tryhard?’
‘No, she dumped Trev. Mum says he burped too much.’
‘Gross. I wonder if my mum thinks that?’
‘Now she sees some woman called Andrea Ausbach.’
‘Great name.’
‘Andrea Ausbach,’ Alex says again.
Alex’s mum emerges from the bathroom wearing her famous red lipstick.
‘You’re home,’ she says. ‘Hi, Evie. How are you?’
‘Good, thanks.’
‘Now, I’m off to see Andrea.’
A smirk curls Evie’s lip. If she looks at Alex she knows she’ll start giggling.
‘I’ll be back by six. Your hair looks good like that, Evie. Alex, you should try wearing it up like that. I’m on my mobile if you want me.’
‘Yes, Mum. I have done this before.’
‘Don’t forget to put the lasagne in the oven for the boys.’
‘No, Mum.’
‘Okay.’ She blows them a kiss. ‘Will you be here when I get home, Evie?’
‘Probably not.’
‘Well, bye, girls.’
‘Bye.’
Fifteen minutes later Alex’s brothers arrive home.
‘I was not,’ yells Tom, slamming the front door and stomping into the kitchen.
‘You were so,’ follows Dylan, chucking his bag on the floor. ‘What’s to eat?’
‘Good afternoon, Dylan,’ Alex says.
Dylan grunts. ‘I’m hungry.’
‘What’s up your bum?’ asks Evie. She loves the brats.
‘A dick, that’s what’s up his bum,’ calls Tom from the fridge.
Dylan runs at him and thumps him on the back. They end up rumbling on the kitchen floor. When Alex thinks Dylan is about to successfully strangle Tom with his school tie, she butts in.
‘Get up off the floor, boys,’ she yells. ‘What’s your problem, hey?’
‘Dylan said I was acting gay on the bus,’ pants Tom, smoothing down his hair.
‘Well, you were,’ spits Dylan. ‘Dancing and singing like bloody Kylie.’
‘What were you singing?’ Alex asks.
Evie bursts into laughter. ‘Yeah, which song was it?’
Alex starts singing. ‘I bet it was “It’s in your eyes”.’
‘Shut up,’ shouts Tom. ‘I was just singing.’
‘And dancing,’ adds Dylan. ‘I can’t wait for high school. I’ll never have to catch the bus with you again.’ He walks past Tom and pulls the stool from under him.
‘You bloody dickhead,’ shouts Tom. He chases his older brother through the house.
‘Another lovely afternoon at the Lester household,’ Alex says. ‘Would you like to move in with us, Evie?’
‘I like it here. You know that.’
‘Oh, to be an only child like you!’
‘Swap any day.’
‘Come on, let the brats commit homicide in peace.’
Alex’s bedroom is everything Evie’s isn’t. She has a four-poster bed with pink lacy curtains. Her teddies still sit on the windowsill and her walls are covered in posters of forgotten pre-teen idols.
‘So are you going to try?’ Alex asks.
‘I don’t know. What do you reckon?’
‘Well, you could sketch me while we talk.’
‘I suppose.’
‘Maybe you could see if the face …?’
Evie can guess what Alex is suggesting. She has already considered the experiment but it’s one she will do on her own.
‘So should we try it?’
‘I’m not sure, Al.’
‘It mightn’t happen this time.’
‘But maybe it will.’
‘Attitude, girlfriend.’
‘I know, I know.’ She hesitates for a second. ‘Al? If I tell you something, do you promise not to think I’ve gone completely psycho?’
‘Of course I won’t.’
‘I think …’ Evie presses her fingers on her lips. She is afraid of hearing the words herself. She wants to tell Alex. Alex has become good at handling this stuff, s
he accepts it’s part of their friendship. How lonely her life would be without Alex. ‘I think,’ she starts again. ‘Shit, Al, this is going to sound so ridiculous.’
‘Just tell me, Evie.’
‘I think someone is trying to like, tell me something.’
‘Who?’
‘I’m not sure. ‘I think I might mean like …’
‘Like who?’
Evie presses her fingers against her lips. Harder this time so she can feel the ridges of her teeth. ‘Like, like – a dead person.’
Alex screams but recovers quickly. ‘Sorry,’ she squeaks.
‘I told you you’d think I was weird.’
‘I don’t, I don’t! I just, well, I just hadn’t … hadn’t thought of – that.’
‘Look, it’s this feeling I have. It’s hard to describe. It’s like somewhere in the back of my head there’s a TV on that someone wants me to watch. But I don’t want to watch it.’ She pauses. ‘You know, sometimes it feels like Antonia’s brother was … was like my practice for this. If you get what I mean?’
‘Evie, what are you going to do?’ Alex gulps. ‘I mean, this is, like, serious shit.’
‘Let’s see the photos again.’
‘The photos?’ Alex gasps. ‘God, for a moment I forgot about those.’
As Evie lays the photos out on the desk she is struck by the fundamental difference between herself and Alex. It’s so simple: Alex could forget, Evie never will.
The image of a human standing behind her seems almost clearer. She traces her finger around the transparent figure. She’s certain this being wants to be seen. Like it masterminded the whole thing so it could show itself.
‘Alex?’ Evie must be careful with this request. ‘Can I have these photos?’
‘What? To keep?’
‘Yes, to keep.’ Again Evie concentrates on making her voice sound calm.
‘Well, they are mine, you know.’
‘I think it’s better if I have them.’
Silence.
‘Okay.’
Evie sees the wounded look on Alex’s face, but she cannot risk it. She puts the photos in her school bag, checking the zipper twice.
‘I wouldn’t have shown them to anyone, Evie.’
‘I trust you, Alex, you know that. I just think it’s safer if I look after them.’
The girls sit in silence. It’s already dark outside. The dread Evie felt yesterday starts to settle in her guts. And somewhere deeper than Evie has ever dared go she begins to understand that the dread will sit there until it’s dealt with.