by Em Bailey
Lachlan didn’t seem to notice my sarcasm. ‘You keep to yourself a lot,’ he continued. ‘But you didn’t always, did you? I’ve seen the school blog – you used to be on it almost every day. You and Katie Clarke.’
‘You should stay away from that blog,’ I said, grimacing. ‘It’ll rot your brain.’
‘I didn’t recognise you at first,’ said Lachlan. ‘You look so different now. Your hair, I guess. But you’re also much more …’ His eyes swept across me and it was suddenly like I was standing there in bathers, not him. I felt horribly exposed. Actually, I just felt horrible.
Lachlan coughed and looked away – like I was too hideous to look at anymore. ‘I guess I’m curious,’ he said. ‘What happened?’
I felt a burn of irritation. All these personal questions. First Miranda. Now this guy. All this snooping around, pulling up stuff I wanted to forget. I fixed Lachlan with the sort of look that in ancient Greece would’ve turned him instantly to stone.
‘I guess I got more picky about who I mix with,’ I said frostily.
Lachlan stepped back, like he was steadying himself after a push. Good, I thought, pleased that I’d caused him at least one moment of discomfort. Except a second later I realised it wasn’t me that had made him react that way. He was looking at someone over my shoulder.
‘Oh no,’ he muttered. ‘Not her again.’
I turned to see who he meant and started laughing. ‘No guy has ever said not her again about Katie Courtney Clarke!’ I said. ‘Especially not when she’s swishing her way towards them in her bathers.’
Drips of pool-water ran down Lachlan’s face. ‘She’s trying to set me up with one of her friends.’
‘Ooh,’ I said, clasping my hands together. ‘You are lucky.’
Lachlan wore the same panicked expression I’d seen on Ralph when he thought I’d forgotten about his walk. ‘I have trouble telling those girls apart,’ he said. ‘They all look the same.’
‘That’s awkward,’ I said sympathetically.
‘Hey, Lachie,’ Katie said, positioning herself in front of him and blocking me out completely.
‘Your back certainly is lovely,’ I said.
Katie didn’t seem to hear. ‘Come and sit with us,’ she said to Lachlan. ‘Paige has saved you a space.’
‘Ah,’ said Lachlan, retying his towel like that would somehow protect him. ‘I –’
‘He’s busy helping me with something,’ I heard myself say. Not to help out Lachlan, though. It was strictly a Katie-tease.
Katie turned slowly. ‘Helping you with what, exactly?’
I took off the stopwatch and dropped it on the concrete floor. The screen shattered. ‘Busted stopwatch,’ I said.
Lachlan’s shoulders started doing these uppy-downy movements and I realised that he was trying not to laugh. He bent down and picked up the watch, shaking his head. ‘This thing is really stuffed,’ he said.
‘Especially as I’m such a weirdo,’ I pointed out. ‘It takes me forever to fix stuff.’
Katie glared. ‘I never said you were a weirdo.’
‘Not out loud maybe.’
Katie exhaled rapidly through her nose. As our friendship had crumbled, she’d made that noise more and more. ‘Why are you like this, Olive?’
A voice boomed through the PA. ‘Competitors in the girls’ 100-metres backstroke, please take your positions.’
Katie adjusted the straps of her bathers and they cracked like whips against her back. ‘Pathetic,’ she flung at me as she headed off. ‘Just pathetic.’
The words seemed to echo, bouncing off the tiled walls of the pool complex. Pathetic. Just pathetic. I heard a movement nearby and realised with a start that Miranda was standing right near us. She was paying no attention to me, though – her head turned to follow Katie and I saw that her mouth was moving, forming silent words. Almost like she was practising her lines.
As Katie stepped up on her block, Miranda moved – surprisingly quickly – to the end of Katie’s lane, stopwatch raised.
‘Hey!’ said Lavinia. ‘I’m doing this lane.’
But Miranda clearly had no intention of budging and after a moment, Lavinia huffed and went over to where Miranda was supposed to be.
With no stopwatch, I couldn’t time the girl in my lane. Not that it mattered. From the moment the race began, Katie was so far in front that no-one else had a chance. On it went until the predictable ending. Katie pulled herself neatly out of the pool, took off her swimming cap and shook out her hair. She took the towel that Paige was holding out to her and the praise everyone else was offering in exactly the same way.
‘What was my time?’ she called to no-one in particular. That was the kind of relationship Katie had with the world. She asked it for things and they appeared, as if by magic.
‘A minute twenty-four,’ said Miranda.
Katie nodded. Totally unsurprised. ‘My best time yet.’
‘Your best time yet.’ Miranda copied Katie’s inflection perfectly.
Katie’s forehead folded. ‘Are you imitating me?’
Miranda frowned too. ‘Are you imitating me?’ Her voice rang with the exact same note of disbelief.
Katie’s eyes narrowed and began a slow and thorough scan of Miranda. It didn’t take long for her to spot the pink thread poking out from the sleeve of Miranda’s jumper.
Katie’s hand shot out and yanked up Miranda’s sleeve. The thin pink thread was fully revealed, bright and sharp as a razor-slash.
‘Why are you wearing that?’ said Katie.
A few girls from the race had formed a ring around Katie and Miranda. You could feel everyone tense up, waiting to see how the hell Miranda was going to get out of this. I had no idea why either of them cared about stupid pink threads but I still found myself holding my breath. I don’t think anyone was expecting her to say what she did. The truth.
‘Because you are.’
A new word would be needed to describe the look on Katie’s face. Angry isn’t strong enough. She was thrombtipic with rage. Murashable.
‘Take. It. Off.’
Miranda paused for a moment – mulling it over. Then she shook her head. ‘No. I like wearing it.’
I felt uneasy then, knowing that Katie was capable of tearing someone to shreds when she was truly enraged. Where were the responsible adults? I glanced around. Miss Falippi was standing on the other side of the pool, chatting with another teacher, oblivious. My ears began to ring. Maybe I should do something. I used to be able to calm Katie down – often the only one who could. But things moved so fast then I couldn’t have gotten involved, even if I’d wanted to.
Katie grabbed Miranda’s wrist so tightly her knuckles blanched. But Miranda didn’t even flinch. In fact, she smiled, which of course sent Katie off into the stratosphere of fury.
‘Who do think you are? Trying to be like me? You’re a no-one, don’t you get that? Nothing but a pathetic, tragic road accident.’ With her free hand, Katie hooked her fingers under the thread and yanked.
A few of the girls nearby actually cheered when the thread broke. Like Katie had done something heroic. It made me want to puke. Yeah, I know Miranda was stupid to turn up wearing that thread. But the fact Katie cared was stupid too.
From across the pool, Miss Falippi glanced over and smiled. Who knows what she thought was going on. Maybe that there was some spontaneous school spirit being displayed.
Katie let go of Miranda’s arm and it fell heavily to her side. Boneless. Miranda stood there as Katie marched over to the pool and flicked the thread in. There was this almost peaceful moment as the thread floated, turning gently, before disappearing into a filter.
When Katie turned back, she had an ugly, triumphant look on her face. ‘I hope you enjoyed trying to be like me for five minutes,’ she said to Miranda. ‘Because that’s the closest you’ll ever get.’
Katie walked off then – doing her victory walk – with Paige and Justine trotting along behind. Gradually everyone else just drifte
d away too until I realised with a jolt that it was just me and Lachlan left standing there. Even Ami had disappeared. Somehow during the whole Katie-Miranda chaos we’d ended up right next to each other – so close that his arm brushed mine, soft and cool. I moved away quickly, my heart beating out some crazy rhythm and my skin suddenly covered in tiny bumps. Lachlan had gone a bit red. Probably from the shock of touching me.
‘Katie is such a freakin wonk,’ I said. It came out way louder than I’d intended.
Lachlan’s head tilted. ‘What’s a wonk?’
I could’ve kicked myself for blurting that out. ‘It’s just a word I came up with,’ I told him. ‘Because so far I haven’t come across one word in any language that does the same job.’
Lachlan nodded – not laughing as I’d been expecting. ‘What about the new girl? Miranda. Is she a wonk too?’
‘No.’ That was one thing I was sure of.
‘So what is she then?’
‘I’m not sure,’ I admitted. Which was true. I hadn’t yet figured out what Miranda really was.
Lachlan looked at the stopwatch in my hand. A piece of it clattered to the ground. ‘Do you really want help with this?’
‘Nah, it’s OK,’ I laughed. ‘I’ll figure out an explanation for Miss Falippi. I’m good at making stuff up.’
Lachlan raised an eyebrow and grinned. ‘You mean, for a weirdo?’
He was teasing of course, but not in an awful way. In a pretty freakin cute way, actually. I had to admit he was funnier than I’d expected. Smarter too. And I could see how other people might find Lachlan quite attractive. You know, if you like that perfect, god-like look. The old Olive probably would have thought he was. Scrub that. She definitely would’ve thought he was. She would’ve gotten all giggly and simpering over Lachlan Ford. But the new Olive – me – wasn’t interested in boys, especially not ones like him. Which was lucky, because he wouldn’t have found the new Olive attractive either.
What happened next took me off-guard. Lachlan raised his hand, like he was saying goodbye. He even said something about seeing me in class. I stood there, waiting for him to go. But he didn’t. Instead he shuffled his feet around and drew wet lines on the tiles with his big toe. His words finally slid out. ‘Isn’t there a formal coming up?’
‘You tell me,’ I said. ‘You’re the one who reads the school blog.’ I mean, obviously I knew there was a formal, but since coming back from the clinic I’d prided myself on not knowing the details.
Lachlan did a few more tortured movements, and just as I was about to ask if he was having a fit, he said, ‘Do you … think you’ll go?’
In my peripheral vision I became aware of someone dancing around frantically. Ami, of course, looking like she was about to explode. I knew what she was thinking – that Lachlan was about to ask me to the formal. But that was impossible. You don’t smile mockingly at someone one week and then ask them out the next. But all the same, I felt a little dizzy. Must have been the chlorine fumes. Lachlan was looking at me expectantly. Like my answer mattered to him. Despite the sweltering heat, I shivered.
‘Um … well …’ I grasped around for something that would jettison me from this weird situation. ‘Yenope.’
I heard the faint sound of Ami groaning.
Lachlan regarded me in silence. ‘I like the way,’ he said after a moment, ‘you made “no” almost sound like a “yes”.’
‘It’s my speech impediment,’ I said. ‘Thanks for drawing attention to it. Look, I’ll probably be working at the Mercury anyway. On the night of the dance, I mean.’
Lachlan dipped his head slightly. It was almost a bow. ‘Understood,’ he said. He raised one of those winner’s hands in a goodbye gesture. ‘Adios, Olive. And thanks. You know. For saving me from the – the –’
‘Wonk?’ I said. ‘No problem.’
As he turned to walk off his words replayed in my head. Olive. It was nice the way he’d said my name. He’d said it as though he liked dark, salty, intense little things – not like someone who picked them off their pizza.
I was fully expecting Ami to let me have it once Lachlan had left. But she was staring at something behind me.
‘She’s still there,’ she murmured.
Miranda was standing in the same place she’d stood during the fight with Katie, one arm cradling the other. Her jumper sleeve had been pushed back and, even from where I stood, I could see red marks from where Katie had gripped her – almost like burns against her pale skin.
‘Most people would be curled up in the foetal position after the public humiliation she’s been through,’ Ami muttered.
But Miranda didn’t seem upset. She was smiling to herself, like everything had gone exactly how she’d hoped. It made me uneasy, that smile.
When the next race was called over the PA system, Miranda seemed to wake up. She adjusted her sleeve and walked off.
It was strange. Her walk seemed different. Bouncier. A victory walk.
When Miranda was out of view, Ami looked at me. The furrow between her eyebrows had deepened.
‘So,’ I joked. ‘Your Miranda-is-an-alien theory looks good.’
Ami didn’t laugh. ‘Let’s get on a computer,’ she said seriously. ‘I want to find out what’s going on.’
Ami and I ditched the rest of the swimming and headed for the computer lab. It was a Friday anyway, so school was basically out for the week. Technically, I decided, it wasn’t breaking any promises. And anyway, I was desperate to do something that would stop me replaying the conversation with Lachlan in my mind.
The lab was down in the basement of the old wing. It was stuffy and reportedly haunted, so no-one was likely to disturb us. Even the computer tech guy avoided the place.
Ami and I pulled up chairs. Out of habit I almost logged on to Facebook and then remembered I’d deleted my account. It was tempting to check Pitchfork to see if there were any new band reviews posted, but that wasn’t what we were there for. I opened Google instead.
Mirror eyes, I typed in. Weird skin. Alien?
I started feeling excited when several thousand results came up. Maybe there was some neat, simple explanation for what the hell was going on with Miranda. Who better to help me than a whole community of people out there who saw things differently from the mainstream? People like me and Ami.
I shot Ami a grin and clicked on the first link. But the moment the site loaded, my hope dried up. It’s hard to take a site seriously when it’s covered in flashing banner ads.
The site was called Shifter World and the homepage featured pictures of celebrities – mostly actors and politicians. Below were words in red. Beware! These people are all shifters. That’s why they’re so successful.
‘Shifters, huh?’ said Ami, leaning in. ‘Scroll down a bit.’
There was a link to a quiz – Find out your shifter percentage – and a list of things to do if you meet one:
1. Avoid them!!
2. Don’t let them touch you!!
3. Don’t give them your shit!!
The forums section seemed to be mostly arguments about which famous people were definitely shapeshifters (just about every famous person, living or dead, seemed to be mentioned), and how you could tell.
‘Seriously, Ami,’ I said, pushing away from the desk. ‘This is pointless rubbish. Let’s go.’
But Ami – who usually had no time for this sort of stuff – hunched forward. ‘Not yet. Try the FAQs.’
I clicked and pulled up a list of twenty questions. The first one was: Isn’t ‘shapeshifter’ just another word for werewolf?
Another click and the answer appeared. Shifters vary from country to country. Werewolves are just the most well-known type. There are also legends from around the world about people changing into panthers, reptiles, dolphins, birds and even insects.
There are also humanoid shifters. They don’t transform into animals but take on the characteristics of other humans. Humanoid shifters ‘latch’ on to people (generally those with stro
ng personalities) and slowly drain them of their vitality and spirit. Gradually the shifter adapts to the physical attributes and mannerisms of the host until they can be difficult to tell apart. The shifter becomes the person they’ve latched onto.
Once the host is dry, the shifter rids themselves of the host (or what’s left of them) and enters a search phase. This is when they ‘fade into the background’ – presumably to be better disguised as they hunt for a new host. It is common in this phase for their eyes to become reflective, like mirrors.
The computer lab noises started up then, the slow clicking of the pipes expanding and contracting that some idiots said proved the place was haunted. There were also the website sounds, a loop of music playing over and over. La la di dah. La la di dah. So cheesy and tinny, and yet also somehow creepy. My head began to hurt.
‘It’s just a weird fantasy site,’ I said, pushing back from the desk. ‘It’s not the real world.’
This was Ami’s cue to grin and make some joke about how I actually looked like I was falling for this crap. But she didn’t.
‘I guess so,’ she said slowly. ‘But it sure would explain a lot.’
The next day was Saturday, and date night at the Mercury – busy and super-stressy. Lots of couples would turn up, buy crap food and tickets to crap movies and try like crazy to impress each other. I was supposed to turn up fifteen minutes earlier on Saturdays but somehow I was always late instead. Maybe it was subconsciously deliberate. Date night was pretty depressing.
How come none of them realised their relationships were doomed? It seemed so obvious to me that they didn’t match. Not just physically either. One of the pair would always be way more into the relationship than the other. Or they just had nothing in common. At first I made a little game of it – predicting how many more date nights each relationship would last. I stopped after a while. My accuracy was getting me down.
That particular date night, I’d just served my tenth jumbo tub of stale popcorn when Katie and Cameron came in. He had his arm around Katie and she was leaning into him. They were both laughing. I mean, if you were picking perfect couples in a magazine, the picture of Katie and Cam is the one most people would circle. They looked like a match. But they didn’t fool me. I happened to know that before they got together Cam had been chasing after another girl. Me. The old me, that is. I’d had fun stringing him along for a while, making him think I was interested while treating him like shit. Because that’s what I was like back then. It wasn’t until I hooked up with someone else right in front of him that he went after Katie.