Valentine

by Jodi McAlister

  ‘I do lots of stuff wrong,’ I say, running my hands up his chest to hook behind his neck.

  ‘Really?’ Kiss. ‘Name one thing.’

  His lips on mine, open mouth on open mouth. ‘I might have a chance if you would stop kissing me,’ I say.

  ‘You want me to stop?’ His hair tickles my nose, his lips against the pulse in my neck.

  I am, for the first time in my life, incapable of speech.

  It’s only the sound of another car pulling up outside that brings us back to ourselves. ‘You really do have to go now,’ I say, taking my hands out from under his shirt.

  He sighs. ‘I really do, don’t I?’

  ‘’fraid so,’ I whisper, as another key grates in the door. ‘But you should . . . when it’s safe . . . you should come around again sometime.’

  He sighs. ‘When it’s safe,’ he repeats heavily. ‘I don’t know if it’s ever going to be safe for you and me, Linford.’

  ‘We’re going to get through this,’ I say, interlocking my fingers with his. ‘We will. I promise. There’s a way, and we’re going to find it, and everything is going to be all right.’

  ‘I can’t let you do it,’ he says. ‘I – Pearl, I can’t let you risk your life for me. Not any more, not after Marie and Cardy. I have to own up. I have to tell Them they’ve got the wrong person. I have to tell Them it’s me.’

  ‘Finn, if you think I’m letting you run off to tell a bunch of crazy fairies you’re their long-lost baby so they can whisk you away to live in some fairytale castle, you don’t know me at all.’

  ‘If you think I’m going to let you get killed by a bunch of crazy fairies who are after me, you don’t know me at all.’

  ‘It has to be this way,’ I say. ‘If we’re both going to keep our lives, it has to be this way. And if you start getting all emo about this again, I will punch you in the teeth.’

  ‘I reckon I could take you.’

  ‘And I will cut you off.’

  ‘From what?’

  I kiss him.

  There’s silence for several long moments. His hands are cool against my skin.

  ‘. . . what were we talking about again?’ he says dazedly.

  ‘Is Pearl up?’ I hear Disey ask Shad.

  ‘Go, go!’ I whisper. Before I tear your shirt off with my bare hands.

  He kisses me quickly again and then jumps out the window. ‘Mask!’ I hiss.

  He shakes his head. ‘There’s nothing here. I’d be able to feel it.’

  ‘Do it anyway,’ I say. ‘Please.’

  ‘All right, all right,’ he says, suddenly wearing the body of the busker from outside Woolies again. ‘Talk to you soon.’

  ‘Um, yeah,’ I say.

  He grabs my hand and presses it to his lips. ‘Thinking of you all day,’ he says intensely.

  ‘Me too,’ I whisper, and he flashes a smile, and is gone.

  I close the window quietly. The sun has almost completely risen over the trees and I watch it, unable to stop myself from smiling.

  Finn.

  I leave the curtains open so the sunlight can stream in and flop back on the bed. I’m almost glad he’s gone, because he’d cane himself laughing if he could see the goofy grin on my face right now. But then he’d lace his fingers with mine and kiss that grin away – okay, calm down now, Pearl, or you’re going to need to take another cold shower.

  I feel like I’m floating on top of a cloud, the world airy and frothy beneath my feet, everything bad falling away. There’s just him, just Finn, just –

  Wait.

  I sit up and rub my eyes vigorously.

  ‘You can’t think like this, Pearl,’ I say to myself.

  I can’t start walking around in a dream when there are so many important things to worry about – like the fact that, oh yeah, the Seelie want to kidnap me, the Unseelie want to kill me, and Cardy and Marie have already died, and Disey and Shad . . .

  I shake my head, trying to shake the last of that pleasant fog away. Right. Life. Life with problems in it that need to be solved. Last night was very – very pleasant, but it’s time to get my Veronica Mars on.

  I catch sight of myself in the mirror as I get up off the bed. My face is – well, in one of those romance novels I secretly like reading I’m sure they’d say it was flushed with a delicate colour or something like that, but I look red and blotchy. My hair is like straw, standing on end. My lips are swollen, beestung, like someone’s punched me. And . . .

  I pull the left sleeve of my pyjamas down to reveal a big purple mark on my neck. I want to groan. The first time ever I really properly make out with someone – because let’s face it, the awkward kissing Dave and I used to do doesn’t really count – and I wind up with a hickey the size of Brazil.

  ‘Morning,’ I say cheerfully about fifteen minutes later as I sit down at the kitchen table, dressed in the only turtleneck I own, after having tried every type of concealer I possess without it making any difference.

  ‘Morning, Pearlie,’ Shad says.

  ‘Morning,’ Disey says.

  They’re both sounding subdued, quiet. Shad is hiding behind a book. Disey is busying herself in the kitchen making toast and – oh, typical Linford reflex – making tea.

  Right.

  ‘I heard you two fighting last night,’ I say bluntly.

  That’s got their attention. They exchange a glance of total horror. ‘Pearlie,’ Shad says, ‘you have to understand that –’

  I hold up my hand. ‘My turn.’

  He subsides.

  ‘I know I haven’t exactly been my old self lately,’ I say, ‘but you don’t need to worry.’

  ‘Pearl –’ Disey starts.

  ‘Still my turn,’ I say. ‘It’s not your fault and it’s not because I’ve been sick – it’s kind of the result of being sick. It’s changed my lifestyle, and I’m . . . I guess I’m frustrated because I haven’t been able to do all the things I normally do. I’ve just sort of been bumming around the house a lot, and I’ve got . . . what do you call it?’

  ‘Cabin fever,’ Shad says.

  ‘That’s the one,’ I say. ‘Anyway, I know none of this has been easy on either of you. And I wanted to say thank you, because you’re both great.’

  And there are some things I can’t tell you. Like how a posse of supernatural beings want to either a) kidnap or b) kill me, and, oh yeah, I spent most of last night when you were out of the house making out with Finn Blacklin.

  But there are some things you don’t need to know.

  ‘Disey, I don’t hate you, not even a little bit,’ I say. ‘I understand why you wanted me to stay in the house, I really do. And Shad, I’m sorry I used you to get out so much. I kind of played you two against each other without meaning to and that was wrong of me.’

  There is a long, even silence.

  ‘God, Pearl,’ Disey says, ‘I am so, so sorry.’

  ‘You have nothing to be sorry for,’ I say. ‘It’s . . . selfish, maybe, but I don’t want you guys to fight.’

  Disey smiles. Shad smiles.

  I smile.

  ‘I love you guys,’ I say. ‘I hope you know that.’

  I’m nearly bowled over as Disey launches herself at me. Shad makes impact a second later at the other side.

  It’s the best breakfast we’ve had since before my coma. Shad puts away the cereal and starts frying up bacon and eggs and hash browns instead. Disey flicks the radio onto an oldies station and we dance around the kitchen together, singing Frank Sinatra into wooden spoons. We have food and tea and coffee and orange juice and every good thing.

  I feel like something has clicked into place. If I do nothing else, I’ve put my family right.

  For now, a traitorous little voice whispers within me. Until you lie to them again.

  Fine, I say back to it. I won’t lie to them again.

  I won’t tell them the whole truth, sure. I certainly won’t tell them about the fairies or any of that stuff. But if Finn can go his whole li
fe without technically telling a lie, then I can do it with Disey and Shad.

  When the time is right, I’m going to tell them about him.

  ‘So . . . guys,’ I say. ‘Feel free to shoot me down if you are totally not okay with this. I know you don’t want me to go back to school yet and I get it, I really do. But . . . can I go back to music classes? Monday afternoons with Mr Hunter?’

  Shad and Disey exchange glances. ‘You shouldn’t over-extend yourself, Pearlie,’ Shad says.

  ‘I know, and I won’t,’ I say. ‘If I feel even the slightest bit woozy or whatever, I will stop playing and come straight home. But I feel fine, honestly.’

  ‘I suppose you look all right,’ Disey says cautiously. ‘You’ve got colour in your cheeks –’

  Hmmm, I wonder what I possibly could have got up to recently that would put colour in my cheeks?

  ‘– and even your hair looks like it’s growing back,’ Disey finishes.

  ‘So can I go? Please?’

  I know I probably shouldn’t leave the house. There is danger and bad stuff and I should really be sitting down to have a serious think about the way out of this situation I promised Finn I’d find. But singing lessons are at school.

  So is Finn. And his convenient after-school detention.

  As I drive Shad’s car to school, I go over all the reasons why this is a bad idea.

  First and foremost, there is risking death and abduction and all kinds of badnesses. Some rational part of my mind seems to have split off from the rest of it and is lecturing me furiously. Do you want to die? it says sternly, wagging its proverbial finger in my face. Go home where you’re safe! Remember the cat incident? You can’t save anyone if you’re dead!

  ‘I’m not letting Them dictate my life,’ I tell it, smacking the steering wheel with my hand for emphasis.

  Which sounds all well and good, but there’s really only the tiniest part of this that’s about being some kind of brave heroine standing up to the man or whatever.

  Finn Blacklin is reasons two, three, four and probably down to about one hundred and sixty-two why this is a bad idea.

  See? rational Pearl says sternly. When was the last time you got like this over a boy?

  Finn flickers into my mind like a candle flame, Finn Blacklin with his smile and his voice and his hair and his hands and lips on my skin, his face in the curve of my shoulder as his hands slide higher higher higher . . .

  I nearly run off the road.

  Whoa, whoa, Pearl. Settle. Finn is like cough medicine – do not use when operating heavy machinery.

  Have you ever stopped to think how out of character this is? rational Pearl demands. This thing with Finn has been going on forever. You might have tried to deny it but you’ve been hot for him for years and you know it.

  Your point? emotional Pearl snaps back.

  You’ve restrained yourself. Until last night, you restrained yourself.

  ‘He opened up to me!’ I find myself saying defensively out loud.

  After I opened up to him. After I’d undergone significant family trauma. After Cardy. After I’d nearly been dazzled and hypnotised by those goddamn fairies.

  It wasn’t you, rational Pearl says. It was you under their influence. You didn’t know your own mind.

  ‘I did,’ I say, but who am I trying to convince?

  I stop at a red light and rest my forehead against the steering wheel for a moment. What – what in hell – have I done?

  I have a brief mental image of my Facebook page. Name: Pearl Linford. Age: 17. Hometown: Haylesford, Australia. Relationship Status: In a Relationship with Finn Blacklin.

  And the endless posts on my wall. OMG u 2! I had no idea! wen did this happen? U 2 r such a weird couple . . .

  I swear.

  See, rational Pearl says smugly, he’s rubbing off on you.

  The car behind me honks their horn and I realise the light’s gone green. Flustered, I manage to stall the engine.

  This is so embarrassing. And I’m pretty sure it’s all his fault.

  By the time I pull up at school, I’m certain. This was just a case of lust and near-death situations and stuff gone wrong. Finn will completely understand when I sit him down and talk to him very seriously about how this was all a big mistake.

  Actually, he’ll probably cane himself laughing. Notch me up there on the metaphorical bedpost right next to Holly-Anne Sullivan. He’ll probably break up with me long before I ever get the chance to have a serious conversation with him. Break up with me while pointing and laughing and then spreading it round the whole school, and they’ll all point and laugh at me too . . .

  At least I didn’t tell him he was only the second boy I’d ever kissed. That would have been unbelievably humiliating.

  ‘I’ve never liked him,’ I mutter to myself as I walk across the oval to the music department. ‘I’ve never liked him, I’ve never liked him, I’ve never liked him . . .’

  Look how completely immature and irresponsible he is. After my coma, he totally avoided me, despite the fact that I obviously knew something was going on. What kind of action is that?

  A human one, emotional Pearl whispers.

  I want to throw my head back and groan. I wish rational Pearl and emotional Pearl could come to some kind of conclusion on this business. Because now I’m thinking of him as he was last night, with his vulnerable eyes and his fears and the way he held me when I cried. And I like that Finn. I like that Finn so much that I can feel it in every part of my body, tingling in every atom, and it’s like I can see him, feel him, and . . .

  CALM DOWN, Linford.

  I guess I’m only human. Whatever he might say about me shining or whatever when I come into a room.

  I pull out my phone and put my business-like fairy-beating hat on. Am at music school, I type in. Finish lesson at 4.30. U free?

  His reply is nearly instantaneous. U bet ;)

  I shiver.

  No, Pearl. None of that. You are meeting to talk. Holly-Anne. Hot coals. Fairy business. Self protection. Discuss. Do not, under any circumstances, let him touch you.

  ‘Hey, Pearl – Pearl!’

  I turn just as someone barrels right into me. ‘Oh my God, you’re back!’ Tillie says, hugging me. ‘I’ve missed you! This place hasn’t been the same without you!’

  ‘Hey, Tillie!’ I say, hugging her back. ‘I’ve missed you too!’

  ‘So, what’s up?’ she says, drawing away. ‘You don’t write, you don’t call, you don’t text . . . you totally fell off the planet for a while there!’

  ‘Oh – um – I saw Phil a lot,’ I reply. Crap, I still haven’t texted her back.

  ‘I know that, silly,’ Tillie says, smacking me in the arm. ‘It was the only way we knew you were still alive – oh wow, I can’t believe I just said that given the circumstances. Blank that bit out.’

  ‘Sorry, Tillie – I didn’t mean to go AWOL on you. It was just . . . I kind of needed a mental health break.’

  ‘Hey, it’s cool,’ she says. ‘I totally understand. We just missed you is all.’

  ‘I missed you too,’ I say, well aware that this is the only thing I have said to her today which is true.

  ‘So, are you coming back after the holidays? Phil said you were hoping to.’

  ‘Talked to my brother and sister this morning – I’ll be back here bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.’

  It occurs to me after I’ve said this that I probably shouldn’t advertise my movements loudly in an open space where anything might hear. In fact, I shouldn’t be in an open space at all. I look around nervously. I can’t see any black cats, but . . . crap. Posse of black birds in a tree.

  ‘Walk with me?’ I ask Tillie.

  ‘Sure,’ she says, falling into stride beside me. ‘What brings you here today?’

  ‘Singing lesson,’ I say.

  ‘First one back?’

  ‘Mmm-hmmm. Mr Hunter’s going to kick my arse. I haven’t been practising.’

  ‘You’ve b
een sick – he’ll understand,’ Tillie says, waving her hand airily.

  ‘You’ve met Mr Hunter, yeah?’

  ‘Good point,’ Tillie says. ‘So what’s new?’

  ‘Just, you know, hanging round the house, recovering,’ I reply. ‘Nothing exciting.’ Definitely not hunting fairies and pashing Finn Blacklin. Oh no. Not me. ‘What’s been going on here?’

  ‘Well,’ Tillie begins, and launches into a comprehensive account of all the gossip that’s been going on in the past two months. It’s like some kind of natural disaster, a whirlwind or a cyclone, and I can only pick out pieces. Simon Anelli has been hooking up with Layla Roberts, and everyone thinks it’s totally skanky. Cam got a tattoo and the school’s trying to make him get it removed.

  ‘Oh, and Holly-Anne is totally after Finn again, but he won’t have a bar of it,’ Tillie says, as we round the corner to the music department. ‘Apparently he’s shacked up with some girl from Derrigong.’

  I told you so! rational Pearl crows in my head.

  ‘What’s her name?’ I ask faintly.

  ‘Um, Angie, I think,’ Tillie says. ‘Annabel said they were at Club H the night that –’ she lowers her voice to a whisper, ‘– Cardy went missing.’

  Emotional Pearl slaps rational Pearl upside the head.

  ‘I think Jenny has something to do with it,’ Tillie says, suddenly dropping her voice to a hiss.

  ‘What?’ I say, very conscious of a black cat which has just appeared around the other side of the music department.

  ‘Think about it,’ Tillie says. ‘Marie . . . she goes missing at my party, where he was, and then her – her – parts turn up in the creek. Then, like five seconds later, Jenny suddenly moves to town. That can’t be a coincidence, right?’

  ‘But she was dating Cardy,’ I say. ‘I heard . . . they were pretty into each other, weren’t they?’

  Tillie shrugs. ‘Maybe it was all part of her murder agenda. Who knows. You should see how she is at school, Pearl – total stone-faced bitch. It’s like she doesn’t even miss him. She’s so suss.’

  I really wish I could believe Tillie’s theory. I really do. New girl that I instinctively hated and who stole Cardy out from under me? She would be such a convenient villain.