by J. C. Burke
'Davo wanted me to give her a message.'
I wiggled some life back into my fingers. 'Why couldn't he give it to her?'
'Because he couldn't!' Dad sighed. 'Okay? What does it matter, Kia?'
I patted the sand around Charlie's neck. As if I was interested in Micki anyway. 'So when you spoke to Carla did she say how we were going?'
'She said the coaches are very impressed with all of you.'
'How good was it getting into the top group?'
'I know. And with Georgie too,' Dad said. 'Sounds like a conspiracy.'
'Did Carla tell you Georgie got a big score for one of her waves?' Perhaps it was easier if I brought it up instead of waiting for Dad to, 'cause I knew he would.
'She did,' Dad replied. 'And she even showed me the footage from the relay.'
'Really?'
'She was very impressive.'
'Yeah?'
'Very, very impressive.'
It was just a matter of waiting till the lights were off and everyone was asleep. There was nothing else left to do. The bad thoughts wouldn't go away unless I made them go.
I'd thought I'd been getting better but twice in one week was almost back to my old ways. It meant I wouldn't get to model our bikinis in the fashion parade and that meant I'd have to come up with another excuse. But I was tired. If I didn't deal with it, then I wouldn't be able to focus on my surfing.
Georgie was on the other side of the room but her snores were rumbling from her bed. Micki was asleep. As the youngest, she was always the first one to crash. Ace, I wasn't so sure about. She'd thrashed around a bit and sat up and looked out the window a few times but now she seemed quiet.
I turned my pillow lengthways and shoved it further down the bed so it resembled a body. Heel-toe, heel-toe, I crept without a single sound to the bathroom. Once inside, it was automatic.
I took my towel off the railing, stepped out of my drawstring pants and settled myself on the floor. Then I put the towel under me and stuffed toilet paper between my thighs and into the elastic of my undies.
The morning that Ace left me here, I hadn't been very thorough. The relief hadn't rushed through my body like it usually did. So tonight would be different. There was no rush. No video analysis session to run to.
My nail scissors sat in the bottom of my toiletry bag. I liked using scissors. The idea of a razor freaked me out. I took them out and polished their blades on my singlet. Slowly I breathed in and out, then pierced the tips of the scissors into my flesh until the first bubble of blood emerged.
For a second I waited as the feeling of peace landed lightly on my skin. Then I dragged the blade along my thigh. The tears made me blind. But I didn't need to see. I knew this path well.
MICKI
It was twenty-one past eleven when Kia went into the bathroom. Somehow I'd known she was awake. Sounds weird, but I could just feel it.
Kia hadn't said a thing about her dad coming up to camp today. Maybe she didn't know or, more like it, didn't care.
Patiently, and I was good at being patient, I waited for Kia to finish brushing her teeth or whatever she was doing. There was much to write in my diary tonight. Even though it wasn't good stuff it kind of wasn't bad stuff either. I was still here and I'd been sure – positive – that they were going to tell me I had to go home.
It all started after lunch while I was on clean-up duty. Megan had already bolted, saying she'd done her fair share and didn't want to be late for the expression session. I didn't either but someone had to finish the wiping up or Brian would've gone feral.
The minute I saw Carla walk into the dining room I knew something had happened. I felt it like a 'pop' in my stomach. Then Reg came in after her and my stomach crashed to my feet.
'Everything's okay, Micki,' Reg said. He could read my face. Years of practice, I suppose. 'Everything's fine.'
'Go into my office,' Carla said. 'I'll just go whisper to Shyan and Taylor to start without Micki.'
I waited till it was just the two of us to ask, 'What's happened to Dad?'
Quickly, Reg said, 'He busted.'
The first thing that came into my head was, At least I got a week here.
'Someone found him sleeping on the footpath outside the council building,' Reg explained. 'He was stoned.'
The cycle of hospital, rehab and hope had circled the best of my twelve years. I didn't know any different.
'I'm so sorry to have to tell you, Micki.'
'I only spoke to him two nights ago. He seemed . . . good.'
I pressed my fingers against my lips. It was just habit. I didn't cry about it anymore.
If I didn't ask Reg what time the train or bus left for back home, then maybe he'd forget about it.
I watched my finger circle my mozzie bite scar, my constant reminder of who I really was. 'So am I going home now or in the morning?'
'Going home? You're not going home,' Reg replied. 'I convinced him to go to hospital. Sorry, darl, I should've said that first.'
'But, but, is it okay for me to stay?' Suddenly I was confused. In my head I'd been going through my drawers and packing my bags. 'I thought he'd need me to go home.'
'He's going to be in for at least a week,' Reg said. 'There's no need for you to be there. I just wanted to tell you in person that he's in hospital, rather than them calling you or you trying to call him at home and him not answering.'
My tears caught me by surprise. Quickly I wiped them before Reg saw.
After I left Carla's office, I bypassed the video of our expression session and headed for the beach.
Jake was tidying up the board hut. If I'd known I wouldn't have gone in but he was way in the corner and I didn't see him.
'Hey,' he said.
'Jake!' I jumped a bit.
'Are you okay?'
I tried to smile but it didn't come out right. Did he know?
'My dad was an alcoholic.' Jake did know. 'A really bad one.'
He came over and put his arm around my shoulders, and as he did the sadness drained from my chest, leaving a hollow shell. To let Jake comfort me I had to be like that, or I'd start crying and what scared me the most was that I didn't know if I'd be able to stop.
So while Jake hugged me and said things like 'It must be hard' and 'From the moment I met you I knew you were a special girl,' I stood there like a floppy doll with only my skinny legs to support my emptiness.
*
Tonight the first line in my diary would be 'I didn't have to go home!' All day I had imagined writing it in BIG letters.
It was five minutes past midnight and I'd obviously dozed while Kia had finished in the toilet and gone to bed. So much for my discipline, of being able to stay awake until the others fell asleep. I blamed it on the exercise and sun.
I took my diary out of the pillowcase and, being careful not to trip on Ace's ever-growing mound of dirty clothes, tiptoed to the bathroom. I had a real knack for gently closing the door and letting the handle go without a sound.
When I saw her there sitting on the floor, I didn't scream. I couldn't. My lungs clamped shut. Not even a squeak escaped.
Kia held out her hand like she didn't want me to come near her. But I had to.
My fingers gripped on to the basin as I edged forwards. Breathe. Breathe, I told myself.
So badly I tried not to look but the red was there; trickling down Kia's thigh, sliding into the little crease of her knee.
'Kia?' I whispered, fighting the seasickness churning in my tummy. 'Kia? What happened? What have you . . . done?'
Concentrating on the line of starfish running up the wall, I carefully got down on my knees and leant over her.
My brain was blabbing at a million kilometres a minute, Keep your eyes on her face. Don't look down. Don't look down, while in slower than slow motion, Kia was whispering and turning away: 'You can't tell. You can't tell.'
The towel underneath her legs was stained.
She was clutching a roll of toilet paper. I prised it out of
her fingers and started pulling it to pieces.
'Kia!' Kia, come on!' She'd rolled herself into a little ball. Gently, I turned her shoulders and steered her around to face me. 'Come on. Let me help you.'
From my almost thirteen years of experience I knew that for both our sakes, I needed to keep my voice calm and soft.
I got the toilet paper and the corners of the towel and pressed them hard against Kia's thigh. Apply pressure, that was basic first aid. I could do that as long as I didn't look down.
'Does it hurt?' I whispered.
'He doesn't love me,' Kia mouthed. 'I'm never good enough. Never.'
'Of course he loves you.' She didn't need to tell me who 'he' was. That conversation she'd had with Reg on the first day of camp now made sense.
'He's your dad. He loves you. He tells me how much he loves you and how proud he is of you. I promise.'
Kia's gaze fell down to my hand that was pressing on the towel. Quickly, I went back to staring at the starfish.
'I'm okay now.' Her voice had become steady and clear. 'I'm fine. Really.'
'I'm not sure,' I told her.
'Please don't tell anyone, Micki. Please? I won't do it again, I promise.'
How often had I heard those words? Hundreds, thousands of times?
Kia uncurled herself and sat up straight.
'I've been feeling really, really – you know, under pressure here and I just . . . lost it. I don't know why I did it.' Kia's voice was stronger but her jaw was trembling. 'Oh, I've never done this before.'
Kia lifted my hand and peered under the mess of tissues. 'It's almost stopped,' she said. 'Can you hold it again for a sec?'
Kia opened a toiletry bag and took out a tube of cream and little strips of bandaids. Although I couldn't actually watch what she was doing, I could tell by the way her hands efficiently worked that she had done this before. Maybe even many times before.
'Kia,' Ace said for about the fifth time, 'we've got yoga in five minutes.'
But Kia answered by digging herself further under the covers.
'Leave her,' I said to Ace. 'I think she was sick through the night.'
'I thought I heard noises in the bathroom,' Georgie said, stretching and touching her toes, 'but I fell back asleep.'
On purpose, I moved slowly. I wanted to check on Kia but I had to get the other two out of the room first. Also, my tummy was still gurgly from last night.
Obviously not the worst bit about last night, but nevertheless something I didn't want to do again in a hurry, was cleaning up the blood that was smeared on the floor and around the toilet. That's when my tummy had really started churning badly. A few times I had to stop and take deep breaths.
In the mirror, my skin had looked green like I was some sort of amphibious creature that had just emerged from a swampy lake.
Now, I could check my clean-up job in the better light.
Kia was still a lump in the bed. Surely she knew it was only her and me in the room now.
'Kia?' I said gently. 'Kia, are you okay?'
No movement. No sound.
'Kia? Are you coming to yoga?'
Quickly she snapped: 'I'd like to be left alone, please.'
I took the bloodied towel out from under my bed, stuffed it into a plastic bag and left the room.
In the relaxation, at the end of the yoga class, Shyan took us to the top of a mountain. Our mountain, she called it.
'Stand at the very top of your mountain and look down at the view.' After a few seconds she said, 'What do you see? You're standing on the apex, way above anything else. What do you see? Look around. Take in the view. What's down there that you can leave behind? You left your fear down there because you got to the top. What else is down there? Visualise it. Name it.'
Most of the time I felt stupid doing this kind of thing – pretending to be standing on a mountain, when you were really lying on the floor in a room with a bunch of girls.
Maybe it was because of everything that'd happened in the last twenty-four hours, but today I looked down from my mountain and realised that at the bottom, way below me, were two people: my dad and Kia.
Who knew what that meant? Not me. I only knew how it made me feel: up here, I was free.
ACE
'Come in, girls.' Carla led us into her office. 'Close the door after you, Georgie.'
Carla was looking serious, which was strange 'cause we were the ones who said we wanted to talk to her, not the other way around.
'Sit down, girls.'
Georgie crinkled up her nose at me. She was obviously thinking the same way.
'So?' Carla asked.
'It's about Micki,' Georgie said.
'I thought so,' Carla said, nodding at us. 'It's a very – unusual – predicament for a young girl to be in. Really, really sad.'
'Um?' Like me, Georgie was totally lost.
'Well, we were thinking' – I took over – 'that we'd like to do something for Micki.'
'Right,' Carla said, frowning. 'What did you have in mind?'
Before I got to answer, Carla raised her hand and said, 'I mean, it's a lovely idea, girls, but it's a very sensitive situation. I'm not sure Micki would want the others knowing. I'm actually surprised she's told anyone at all.'
Georgie and I exchanged a glance and a shrug.
'Are we talking about the same thing?' Georgie asked.
'Oh?' Carla sat back in the chair, her head wobbling to the side. 'We're talking about Micki's dad. Aren't we?'
'Um, no,' Georgie replied.
Silence.
Awkward.
Georgie's foot nudged mine.
'We were talking about wanting to raise some money to get Micki a new board,' I offered. 'You know how she's only got one. Um, yeah. That's all.'
Carla suddenly looked like she'd been overcooked in a solarium. She must've known too, as she sunk her head into her hands.
Another silence.
'What have we done?' Georgie mouthed to me.
If the situation didn't have such a serious edge hanging around it, I would have got the giggles for sure. But whatever was really going on was no laughing matter.
'Okay, girls.' Finally Carla spoke. You could tell she was being really careful about what she said. 'I think what's just happened is that we've had a little . . . misunderstanding. Please, respect Micki's privacy and keep this conversation to yourselves. I'm sorry, this is totally my fault. I'm not able to explain the details, either. Okay?'
We nodded yet I wanted to shake my head and say, 'No, I don't get it. I don't know what you're on about. This is totally weird.'
Carla stood up. Meeting adjourned, obviously.
'What about our idea?' Georgie said. 'We haven't told you about it yet.'
'Not now.' Carla opened the door. 'Another time, girls. I'm sorry.'
Once we had opened the sliding door and stepped back into the normal world of surf camp, Georgie and I eyeballed each other and yelled, 'What the hell was that about?'
'You know what just happened?' Georgie said.
'No. I don't,' I told her. 'Do you?'
'Carla was about to tell us something we weren't meant to know, except that she thought we already knew. It was obviously about Micki's dad.'
'Yeah, I got that bit.' I may be blonde but I'm not totally brainless.
'It must've been serious too.'
'Well, I told you he was weird.' We sat on the grass near the tennis courts. 'I wonder what it was?'
'Micki told me the other day, when we were on kitchen duty, that her dad can't work.' Georgie was pulling up little blades of grass then tickling her nose with them. 'She said he had some disease and he was on medication. It was something like that. I wish I'd listened better.'
This probably wasn't the most sensitive option but the curiosity was bugging me. 'Should we just come straight out and ask Micki?' I suggested. 'I saw her dad have some kind of weird turn at the Gromfest in Coolum. Maybe if I ask her about it, that might get her talking.'
&nb
sp; 'No way!' Georgie replied. 'You heard what Carla said. We're not allowed to mention it to anyone.'
Georgie and I stretched out on the grass.
'Micki has been quiet today, hasn't she?' Georgie said.
'Dunno.' I yawned. I wasn't exactly a dedicated Micki watcher.
'Actually, come to think of it . . .' Georgie sat up. 'This morning after our surf session with Jake, I was walking up to the bungalow with her –'
'And . . .' I yawned again.
'She just ran off saying she needed to get her washing from the laundry.'
'What's that got to do with anything?'
Jules and I had arranged to meet at the lagoon, which was on the other side of Coolina beach. Apart from accidentally-on-purpose bumping into him the other day, this was our first proper meeting and I was feeling like I needed mouth-to-mouth rescucitation, I was so nervous. Of course, I wanted the mouth-to-mouth from him, except that's what I was nervous about!
Even though I wasn't talking about Tim anymore (I was working on trying to wipe his memory out of my head) the girls still were. Except Georgie, of course, who'd become an expert on changing the subject for me.
Like at lunch, Megan said, 'How do you know Tim's a good boy when he goes away, Ace? Don't you get worried about the other girls? I would.'
Once, a sneaky comment like that would've freaked me out for the next three days.
'We trust each other,' I lied and smiled, remembering that's what we'd said in the magazine article.
'So, Megan?' Here came the Georgie Elwood Ross diversion. 'What's the weather like in Tasmania today? Is Eaglehawk beach pumping?'
Had I trusted Tim? I wondered as I munched my tuna salad. I had. I must've. I gave him myself. But had Tim thought that I owed him? That being his girlfriend gave me some kind of status and in return he could take anything from me? Or was it me who thought like that?
Did I have sex with him because I was scared if I didn't he'd leave me and then I'd be a nobody?
It wasn't like that, though. Ocean Pearl had sponsored me while Tim Parker was still a poster stuck up inside my bedroom cupboard. They didn't take me on because of who my boyfriend was. But sometimes Tim made it feel that way. So why did I let him when I knew it wasn't like that?