by S. K Munt
‘Oi!’ Hunter was in his bedroom with the cordless phone pressed to his ear, staring through a crack in his blinds out the window which looked into Callie’s own. They’d always been neighbors. Once, Alannah Givers had lived on the other side of Callie, but she’d moved to a less-affluent neighborhood years ago when one of the mines had closed and her father had been laid off.
There were only two ‘wealthy’ streets in Horizon, and Callie and Ryan lived in Sunrise Court, which was built into the base of the mountain that loomed over the town. All of the houses were similar, as they formed an estate; all were built of dark timber and were braced by stilts on the front end, with the back-ends shoved into the forest behind. All had wide, open porches looking out over the town, the valley surrounding it and the ocean in the distance beyond which was little more than a blue smudge above the trees which quickly blended with the sky. All had yawning windows, inviting natural life and light in and yards which were so sharply slanted that they were basically useless. Callie’s room was at the back, right hand corner of her house and Hunter’s at the back left-hand corner. Only a squat, stone hedge ran between their properties, so low that it served no purpose but to decorate. With the shades up and the lights on, Hunter was practically able to copy the answers out of Callie’s homework if she left it open on her bed.
Hunter lived in Sunrise court for one reason alone; his father was the architect who had crafted every single house upon it. Their home had been the first built and had been replicated again and again along the hillside. That had been exactly nine years ago. When Callie had moved into the house next to his, she and her parents had been its very first occupants.
Ryan lived up on Solar terrace, the most exclusive neighborhood in Horizon which was nestled within a grove of trees halfway up the mountain. There was only one heavily gated road in, and aside from his family, and Meredith’s, Hunter didn’t know a single person who lived in the other four mansions because they never seemed to be around. They kept their gates locked and their tinted windows tightly shut.
Hunter loved hanging out at Ryan’s place, because he had a pool and a music room, and because his mother, a solicitor, worked so many long hours that his parents actually employed a cook who would bake them cookies and whip up mocktails for the kids, which they’d then spike using Mr Weaver’s liquor cabinet. Hunter didn’t like Ryan’s parents- they were as attractive as their son, but nowhere near as nice. Ryan’s mother Jade was from Japan and had a very formal manner and John Weaver was a Magistrate in Araulen Valley, so they were intense people who always seemed to be too mentally preoccupied to bother with small-talk or their son and they both looked at Hunter like they’d just scented curdled milk. Hunter knew that Ryan got lonely, and yet Ryan kept himself as occupied as his parents did, usually with an instrument in hand.
Hunter’s parents on the other hand, treated Ryan like a second son. He came over every Sunday for roasts and sometimes, when Ryan’s parents went overseas for a couple of weeks, visiting Ryan’s mother’s family in Japan, Ryan would come stay with them.
Yes, Ryan and Hunter were close. Closer even, then Callie was to either of them, and he couldn’t help but feel irked by how they’d both abandoned him that night together. If anything, he and Callie were always the ones who went home together; a habit born from proximity. But the way she and Ryan had left without saying a word hurt. One minute he’d been making out with Meredith and the next thing he knew, Callie and Ryan were gone and he had not liked the way it had felt.
‘What the hell happened to you guys tonight?’ He demanded, lighting one of the candles on his windowsill. He had a line of three, all protruding from empty Malibu Rum bottles that he’d scavenged after his father’s fortieth birthday party from the ruin that had been their front porch. Over the years, he’d lit so many different colored candles within them that multicolored wax now dripped down the sides, obscuring the labels. He moved onto the next, lighting it, and then the next. ‘I look away for twenty minutes and you ditch me?’ When he was done with the candles, he hit the play button his stereo and Pantera’s Walk blared out too loudly for a few beats before he turned the volume back down.
Callie yawned. ‘Vulgar Display Of Power?’ The words were distorted by her loud, chasm-like breath. ‘Geez Hunter, we ditched the party, not you- there’s no need for mood music.’
‘It’s the same thing!’ He saw Callie’s silhouette rise from her bed and pass before the window, hunching over. He heard a thunk down his end of the line and saw the cause of it- the L-shaped shadow of one of her Doc Martens being placed up on her shoe shelf on the wall facing him.
Callie was a metal-head like them, but not in the typical sense. She loved music, and she loved the festival lifestyle. She dressed in grunge and she wore her faded cap as religiously as the guys at school donned their own... but Callie Clay was no slob. She liked to keep things neat and orderly. She didn’t wear patchouli, she washed her hair daily, and she’d never so much as looked sideways at a bong in her life. Her room was as ordered as Hunter imagined Marnie’s or Meredith’s would be and she smelled cleaner than both girls, like fresh air and luxurious linens. She was a tomboy yes, tough enough to be in the thick of any mosh pit; and yet she was still very much a girl. Watching her shadowy-self line up her boots on her perfect little shelf in her perfect little room suddenly reminded Hunter of that.
No wonder Meredith was suspicious! Most girls like Callie, who had only male friends and hung out in dingy taverns watching acoustic gigs, tended to be of the dreadlocked and tie-dyed variety, with a face full of piercings, their beauty concealed behind thick dark eyeliner and a cloud of clove smoke. Those kinds of girls wouldn’t threaten someone as polished as Meredith, but the fact that Callie could play the drums while wearing her mum’s Chanel (something Hunter only knew about because his mother coveted it) sort of made Callie ideal for both him and Ryan, and probably, for every other guy who was lucky enough to get to know her.
Hunter smirked. The irony was that he had been as blind to Callie’s appeal as he had been to Meredith’s. He hadn’t spent his life pining over either girl, so it was weird that one almost hadn’t made her crush known because of the constant presence of the other!
‘No. If we’d left you alone, that would be bailing.’ He saw Callie’s shadow shrug. ‘I’m glad you rang though. I feel asleep in my clothes- that would have felt gross in the morning.’
‘Why did you leave?’ He asked, waiting expectantly at the window for her to turn around and open her blinds. More often than not, they looked at each other across their yards when they spoke on the phone. But Callie didn’t come to her window. Instead, he saw one of her hands move to her hip. The lighting in her room was low and had a purplish glow, which meant that only the lavender butterfly string lights which dangled over her dresser and bookshelf were on. Her hand began to ruck up her dress, and Hunter inhaled sharply and looked down at the flickering candles beneath him. Jesus! She had to be half-asleep not to turn and check her window before taking her clothes off!
‘We walked Marnie home and then Ryan walked me back here. What time is it anyway?’
‘Almost midnight.’ Hunter dared another glance up at the window, and then immediately wished he hadn’t, because her silhouette was glorious. And the way she was wriggling her hips to get her panties down reminded him of the way she had danced earlier that night to the hip-hop tracks and suddenly, he felt parched. He knew he should look away but he also knew he’d pour hot wax over his hand before he shut his blinds on the spectacle that was his best friend unwittingly doing a strip-tease for him.
It’s not wrong. It’s not like I can actually see her skin or anything, he told himself, even as he moved to the window for a closer look and prayed that she’d accidentally open her blinds as much as he prayed that she wouldn’t.
‘Wow, twelve?’ Callie’s voice lowered. ‘How long were you making out for?’
Hunter swallowed. Damn her and that voice! ‘Um, a couple of hours I guess.’
Callie laughed a low, throaty sound. ‘How many bases did you get around?’
‘Just the first.’ He sighed. As much fun as kissing had been, Meredith had kept him in a state of hyper-erection-awareness and lust for far too long. ‘Again and again…’
Callie clucked her tongue. ‘Poor Hunter. You must be feeling very frustrated right now.’ Hunter watched her reach behind her with one hand, unclasping her bra. She caved in her shoulders and the flimsy, lacy garment slid down her arms tauntingly-slowly. She tossed it, and the shadows of her breasts jostled from the movement. The effect that movement had on Hunter was instantaneous. He actually groaned and reached down to adjust himself where his jeans had become too tight. ‘That bad huh?’ Callie teased.
‘Huh? What?’ Hunter realized that he’d actually made that sound out loud just as Callie’s silhouette turned his way. He dropped to the carpet of his room like he was being shot at, silently mouthing: ‘Shit! Shit! Shit!’ Over and over again. His heart was going to fracture the floorboards beneath the underlay if it pounded any harder!
‘Eek!’ A squeak sounded down Callie’s end of the line. ‘Oh! Oh you’re not at your window- thank goodness!’ She giggled and he heard her breath pant as she moved quickly, most likely out of sight. ‘I left my curtains open while I changed! That could have been shame!’ He heard a self-conscious giggle and then the swish of her curtains sliding across their tracks. ‘Are you still there? What was that thud?’
‘I took off my shoes- I’m lying in bed.’ Actually, I’m just lying. He thought, supporting his head which felt twice as heavy as usual with his lecherous thoughts. ‘So… did you have fun tonight?’ He asked, trying to change the subject and pressing his back to the wall behind him. Callie Clay was his friend, and that was the only thing he wanted her to be. He’d never spy on her like that again, even if it meant that he had to shove his bookshelf across his window to ensure it.
‘It was okay. A bit weird- I’ll tell you in school on Monday.’
‘Oh... so we’re not going to Wolf’s Breath for the open mic thing tomorrow night?’ He was surprised at how disappointed he suddenly felt.
‘Nah I can’t. I have a rehearsal tomorrow and Sunday; eight hours all up, and an English paper due. Which is why I would have preferred to just stay home with you guys and listen to your music tonight, you know?’
Hunter grinned, knowing that she actually meant that. Callie never lied to them; if they were off or out of tune, she’d always just say it. Music wasn’t just what she listened to, it was who she was, and she didn’t let anyone wreck it for her, not even her best friends. If she said they were good, then it meant they were good.
‘I would have liked that too,’ he admitted, and it was only half a lie. He would have liked to spend the night with his mates as always, but he’d enjoyed making out with Meredith too. Oh well, it looked like he’d have some free time to hang out with her over the weekend, if Cal was going to be so busy.
Callie yawned for the third time. ‘Anyway, I’m going to go to bed, okay?’ He heard her bedsprings squeak. ‘Sweet dreams.’
‘Sweet sleep.’
She chuckled at his standard evening farewell. ‘Thanks buddy.’
Hunter disconnected the call then immediately turned and looked over at her window, relieved to find it dark. And yet he was preoccupied by thoughts of Callie all the same as it occurred to him that though she had taken her clothes off, he hadn’t heard her open a drawer to grab something to put on. His face went hot. Was it possible that his tomboy friend, actually slept in sheets and nothing else?
Hunter groaned and pegged the phone onto a pile of dirty washing under his lava lamp, knowing that his dreams were probably going to be so sweet that he’d never be able to hear the song Too Close again, or look Meredith or Callie in the eye for days.
4.
Ryan and Callie were sitting silently across from one another at their usual table a few weeks later, both eating the sandwiches they’d brought from home, and both glancing across the campus to the concrete terrace seats with murderous gazes. After ten minutes, Callie sighed and turned down Garbage’s I would Die For You piping through her walkman.
‘Eighteen days in a row.’ Callie said, taking a sip of her Fanta. ‘Eighteen days, Ryan. I don’t know why we’re even looking over there- he’s officially crossed over.’
Ryan looked up at her, and a wry smile curved his lips. ‘Were you just plotting Meredith’s death as well?’
‘I was going to make it look like an accidental drowning at the gorge.’ Callie took a nibble of her silverside and pickle sandwich and then swallowed. ‘You?’
‘Kidnapping. That way we’d be able to ask for Marnie’s tuition in ransom.’
‘Ahh.’ Callie smiled appreciatively. ‘Clever.’
‘I thought so.’ Ryan put down his sandwich and rested his chin in his folded hands. His fingers were long; musician’s fingers, and a turquoise ring sparkled on his pinkie. He fixed his own eyes on her, which were the palest turquoise themselves- eyes that seemed shocking against his tanned skin and black, glossy waves which had to be a hand-down from his Japanese mother. He had it pulled back in a low ponytail that day, and Callie couldn’t help but notice the slight shadow along his sharp jaw. ‘This sucks, Cal.’
‘I know.’ But neither she, nor Ryan, had broached the subject of their missing third until then, and she didn’t want to talk about it now. So she leaned across the table and ran her hand along the fuzzy knot of his jaw, smiling in amazement. ‘In breaking news: have you started shaving?’
He wriggled his eyebrows at her, which had a gentle arch despite their thickness. ‘Have you?’
‘Oh!’ She threw the straw from her drink at him, but he batted it away before the juice dribbles could splatter his face. ‘That’s not an okay question!’
‘Why not?’ He challenged her, shrugging. ‘You’ve been peppering Hunter and I with equally embarrassing questions since his voice broke. Why can’t you answer them too?’
She rolled her eyes. ‘Because I’m a girl. Duh.’
‘I can see that.’ His smile was sly, his eyes heavy-lidded in a teasing way. ‘Now.’ He gestured to her upper body. ‘By the way, you’re outgrowing your uniform. ’
Callie looked down at her white, pressed Horizon High button-up blouse, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. ‘It fits me fine!’
‘You won’t hear me argue otherwise,’ Ryan stuck the tip of his tongue out at her between perfect white teeth in a cheeky poke then leaned forward and whispered: ‘But the problem is that all the guys are talking about how fine your uniforms are fitting now, Cal- when they think Hunter and I aren’t in earshot anyway. At some point soon, I’m gonna want to break my new bass over Reece Langtree’s head, so if you don’t buy a bigger shirt, you’re paying for the damages.’
‘Ryan!’ Callie was mortified, and also sort of delighted to know that guys were talking about her. But it was Marnie she would have maybe discussed it with, not Ryan. She scooped up her blue vinyl three ring binder which was covered with the band logos Reece had been scribbling onto it during Science. They were actually pretty good. Now, she used it as a Heavy Metal shield against herself. ‘Happy now?’
‘Yeah put band logos on your chest- that makes the view less appealing.’ Ryan’s eyes were still greener than blue, lit at her expense. Callie blushed furiously, not knowing what to say. Ryan was so naturally charming that almost everything he said while in a good mood struck her as flirtatious. But despite her discomfort, she was glad that he was making a joke about the way they were changing, lightening the issue.
She wanted to come up with a flippant retort to prove that she was just as casual about it, but Ryan stretched forward, gently tugging the ear bud out of her ear. Garbage faded away. ‘Actually Callie, speaking of chests, I need to get something off mine. Or, well- I need to ask you something...’
Callie instantly knew what he was talking about; she’d seen the perplexed expression on his f
ace every time he looked from her, to Hunter for weeks. ‘You’re going to ask me to sing your song with you, aren’t you?’
‘My song?’ Ryan blinked, frowned, then nodded. ‘Right. Yeah… the duet that’s not.’
Callie smiled sadly at him. Ryan had been working on a new song for months, one he’d hoped to play with Hunter when they had their open mic that Friday night. But the problem was, Hunter was skipping every other practice to hang out with Meredith, and the song had been written for a harmony and usually, when one of the guys was absent, Callie stepped in- both in rehearsals and when they performed. They knew she wasn’t a huge fan of singing in front of people, so they tried not to ask, and she could tell that Ryan was trying to ask that now. She felt bad for him, because he was afraid to admit just how much it meant to him. She reached across the table and loosely wrapped her fingers around his.
‘Don’t worry, I already saw it coming.’ She smiled tightly. ‘I’ll do it, okay?’
Ryan looked up from their hands, then to her. ‘You will?’
Callie shrugged. ‘Well, you’ve given him the lower part, which isn’t really in my range…’
Ryan beamed, squeezing her fingers more tightly. ‘Sing it how you want. Go up a key if need be- it might sound even better that way.’
Callie looked down at the table, shielding her pleased smile behind the brim of her cap. She knew she could carry a tune- well. She just didn’t get the rush from singing in front of people that she did when she was alone, or singing along to the songs of great artists. She was afraid that her voice would let Ryan’s beautiful music down. ‘I’ll try.’ She repeated. ‘But I need heaps of practice. Your place, this afternoon?’
He nodded eagerly, everything about him had opened up like a flower to the sun. He sat taller, and ran his fingertips along the back of her hand. ‘We’ve got a week to nail Are You Game then. It’ll be easy.’ He kissed her fingertips gently. ‘Thank you. But we should probably practice every day, right?’