“Yeah? That’s a great business to get into,” Mike said, but I wasn’t sure who he was talking to. “Especially now with all the developments in graphics and, not to mention, you can actually make more money in the gaming industry than the film industry.”
“Dad doesn’t agree.” Sam’s eyes dropped their hopeful glimmer. “He says I need to be serious. That designing games isn’t gonna get me a stable income.”
Mike just laughed. “It won’t—if you don’t have a good education. How many companies do you think will hire a kid who can’t even commit to homework?”
Sam looked puzzled. “What difference will that make?”
“Well, it’s not just about what you learn at school. It’s also about proving you have the ability to put your head down and do the work, especially if you care nothing for it. If you can’t do that, Sam, you don’t have the right to a job you love doing, and I can tell you”—Mike scoffed—“even in a job you love, there’ll be moments you hate.”
Sam became smaller in his chair.
“Point is, mate, you work hard through the crap so you can enjoy the other eighty per cent that’s good. Not to mention, if you want to design games, you will need English—and math.” Mike winked at me. “Creativity, passion, and some mad computer skills won’t be enough if you want a stable income. You need that piece of paper they call a degree, and the only way to get that is to do this ‘pointless’ work they give you at school. That’s all there is to it. So, in that way, your dad’s right. But”—he held a finger up while he shoveled a spoonful of potato in and swallowed—“if you just do all the hard work while you have nothing else to worry about except being a kid, when you grow up and you want the job stability you care nothing for now, you won’t have to fight for it, it’ll be yours.”
Sam’s eyes changed, narrowed with thought, then he stood up and dumped his napkin on his beef and gravy.
“Sam, where are you going?” Vicki asked.
“I just realized I didn’t do my essay,” he called from the stairway, before we all heard his bedroom door close.
Dad grinned and patted Mike on the shoulder. Then the conversation went on without me again, while I pushed the food around on my plate a little more. I just wanted to go upstairs and be alone. Despite enjoying watching movies with Mike, I found myself checking the length of the shadows outside his window for most of the day, just waiting for night to fall.
“You okay, baby?” Mike asked quietly, leaning closer.
“Mm-hm.” I nodded, forcing a smile. “I’m just tired.”
“Maybe you should get an early night.” He pushed my bangs off my face.
Vicki held back a smile, watching us.
“You do look a little tired,” Mike added after a lengthy silence. “Why don’t you head up now and take a shower? Doesn’t look like you’re getting any closer to consuming your dinner by transforming it into a plate.”
I looked down at my canvas of mash and gravy. “Can’t yet. Gotta do the dishes first.”
“Ara.” Mike’s brows lifted, sarcasm hovering in his tone. “I’ll do the dishes for you. Just go get some rest.”
I shook my head. “No way. You’re a guest. Guests don’t do dishes, right, Dad?”
Dad looked at Mike, then shrugged. “I don’t see why not—if he’s offering.”
“Dad! You never side with me!”
“I’m sorry, Ara, but Mike’s not really a guest, is he?”
“Then what is he?”
“He’s practically family.”
My mouth hung open, allowing only a breathy scoff to show my disapproval.
“Besides, Ar, you always made me do the dishes at your old house,” Mike added with a cheeky grin.
“That’s different.”
“Why?”
“I don’t know. It just is.”
“Ara?” Mike scratched his eyelid and sighed. “Go to bed.”
“Make me,” I said playfully, folding my arms.
He merely glared at me with one brow arched and a look of intent behind his half-smile, and I knew that if he did ‘make me’, it would have slightly humiliating consequences.
“Okay, going.” I stood up quickly, darting up the stairs before he could begin the chase.
My room greeted me with the crisp scent of fresh linen and a diluted waft of strawberry shampoo, but no orange chocolate. No vampire. I didn’t really expect that he’d come back after getting his answer the way he did. It was only a hope.
But he did say he would never leave without saying goodbye. And I wasn’t sure I’d ever move on with my life if he broke that promise. So why wasn’t he here?
Surely my dream, or even Mike’s confession, wouldn’t be enough to make him leave without at least saying goodbye. Not forever. It just seemed too final.
In one sweep, I sent my orderly homework into a spread of disarray across my floor then climbed over the desk and tucked myself into a ball against the cold glass of the window. Pale blue light filtered in from the world outside and lit the edges of my knees, while the streetlight below seemed to sing loneliness down onto the vacant sidewalk. There was nothing out there that resembled life tonight, and strangely, though my heart was beating, there was nothing here that much resembled it either.
With a long, dejected sigh, I lowered my head onto my knees and closed my eyes, but a loud chime set my heart ablaze with a start a moment later. I looked up from my knees, instantly regretting having moved my stiff neck, and I scanned my empty room, then the street, counting the chimes I heard in my head: one, tw—
There were only two! There should’ve been more than that. I came to my room at seven. It couldn’t be two in the morning.
My window was still shut fast into place, no sign of any vampire having entered, and as I rubbed the tingle of pins away from my toes, realization sunk right into my heart. It really was two in the morning.
David never came.
He just left me without giving me a chance to memorize his skin, his hug, his green eyes. It felt too sudden, and I panicked for a moment as I tried to remember his face, a tear rolling down past the tip of my nose and onto my thigh. But the gentle sobs of my heart breaking stopped abruptly when the door handle twisted and light spilled into my room, creeping in a yellow line along my floor, up my desk and over my toes. I rubbed my nose and eyes into my knees to dry the tears, feigning sleep.
The deep, husky voice of my best friend reached me with a breath of concern. “Baby girl, what’re you doing asleep here?” he whispered to no one in particular.
His wide, broad arms fixed a hold under my knees and around my back, then swept me off the windowsill, over the desk and into his body like he was some kind of ultra-hot fireman rescuing me. I stayed floppy in his arms, breathing long and deep as if I were asleep, until the softness of my bed—much warmer than the cold glass my elbow was leaning on—cocooned my body safely. Mike tucked my feet under my quilt and brought it up around my shoulders as I rolled away.
“Night, baby.” He pressed a quick kiss to my temple and left the room, closing the door behind him.
“Thanks, Mike,” I whispered quietly, allowing a smile to appear for one second before it melted away in the darkness.
* * *
“It’s alive!” Mike waved his hands dramatically as I zombie-walked into the kitchen and sat on the stool.
“Barely.” I laid my head on my arms, watching him by the stove.
“Hungry?” He held up a spatula.
“Not for plastic kitchen utensils, if that’s what you’re offering.”
“Oh, a comedian today, huh?” He turned back to the stove, grinning. “So, are you hungry or not?”
“A little.” I grabbed an apple and took a bite. “Where is everybody?”
“Sam’s at school, Vicki’s gone to the movies with her friend, and your dad’s at work.” Mike turned back and winked at me. “It’s just us.”
“Okay, so is that why you think it’s acceptable to wear a pink apron?”
He laughed, untying it. “Thought that might cheer you up a little.”
“What makes you think I need cheering up?” I turned my wrist over in question, the apple still in hand.
“Ara, I know you better than you know yourself. You need cheer. So,”—he grabbed the fry pan and tipped the contents onto two plates in front of me—“I made your favorite. Pancakes!”
I glared at him skeptically. “Is there maple syrup?”
Mike grinned, placing his hand on a bottle of brown liquid right by my elbow, and slid it over. “Would I forget the syrup?”
“It wouldn’t be the first time.” I snatched the bottle.
He walked around the counter and sat on the stool next to me, dumping a fork by my plate. My moodiness fizzled away completely when the first bite of his light, fluffy pancakes touched my tongue. Like sugar-coated puffs of heaven, the golden exterior of the pan-fried breakfast melted with the syrup at the perfect ratio of sweet and savory, sending trickles of warm delight down my spine.
I stopped eating and studied him: the chef, the wonder-cook, the man who knew no failure. The man who made it incredibly easy to be in love with him.
“Something wrong, baby?” Mike asked, mid-shovel.
“I uh—I just remembered I have rehearsals today.”
“Rehearsals?”
“Mm. For a benefit concert we’re doing to raise money for this kid who died.”
“Oh. Okay. What time?” he asked.
“Dunno.” I shrugged. “I don’t think I’ll go.” David wouldn’t be there, and that meant I’d have to perform my duet with someone else. I couldn’t face that today.
Mike sat taller, eagerness replacing his grin. “Wanna go for a run with me instead?”
“Yeah. Actually, I’d love that.”
“Great. Maybe we can make a picnic out of it. What d’ya think?”
I nodded and filled my gob again. “Yeah. I’d like that.”
We finished up, cleaned up, and then dressed up in our running gear and headed out. And it felt good to be out in the sun again, hearing the sounds of people and cars, as if there were still a world existing outside of my head. But, for the most part, I had gone back to pretending to be happy—putting on the mask; the facade that kept me safe from a padded cell in the past.
When we pulled up in the driveway at home, and all my problems piled on top of me again, I promised myself I wouldn’t think about it until after I’d gone to bed. The last thing I needed was for Mike to catch on to how I was feeling. If I let one long sigh slip or got caught in an absent stare at a wall, he’d push and push until I told him the truth and, in my emotional state right now, I was sure the words ‘vampire’ and ‘eternity’ would slip out. And it wouldn’t be my fault. What had David called it? Self-preservation. I needed to release the pressure of my grief, and if it didn’t come out in words to a confidant, it was going to come out in hysterics. I could feel it.
A finger appeared in my periphery then, and Mike nodded at my foot. “Might wanna tie that up so you don’t trip.”
“Uh, crud.” I bent over my legs and twisted my lace into a bow, then looked up as the car door popped open.
“Thanks,” I said, unbuckling my seatbelt and jumping out, only noticing the odd look on Mike’s face as the door closed. “What?”
“Ever since you became friends with that man-hater in the eighth grade, I get in trouble for opening doors or paying for your movie ticket.” He stepped away from the car like it was diseased and making him see things. “What just happened here?”
I laughed. “Sorry. Would you like me to yell at you for opening my door? I—”
“Please don’t.” He placed his hand firmly on my shoulder. “I like this new you better.”
With my arms folded, I made an obvious point of scanning his broad shoulders and the rest of his very impressive body, giving the nod of approval. “And I like this new hot-guy you.”
“You think I’m hot?”
“Don’t flatter yourself. I was joking.”
He faked a pout and we walked up the newly fixed porch step.
“After you, my lady.” He bowed, opening the door for me.
“Thank you, kind sir.” I ducked through, my voice lilting upward playfully.
“You are more than welcome, my pretty friend.”
“Hey there,” Dad said as he came down the stairs.
“Hi, Dad.”
“Did you have a good day?”
I looked at Mike, then back at Dad. “Actually, yeah.”
“Good. That’s good,” Dad said, smiling softly.
“Anyways, I’ll go unpack the picnic basket,” Mike said. “I’ll see you upstairs for a movie?”
“Yeah, sure.”
He walked away, and Dad’s gaze seeped into my skin.
“What, Dad?”
He leaned in, kissed my cheek and said, “I’m just happy to see you happy again.” Then he followed Mike into the kitchen, leaving me alone in the wake of his mistaken belief.
I was glad he’d fallen for the illusion that I was happy; he needed it—needed to relax a little and not worry so much about me. And even though I could feel a small sliver of happiness right now, when I looked up to the coming night through the small window above the front door, I knew that feeling was fleeting. I knew that if David didn’t come last night, he wasn’t coming back tonight. Or ever. And I would never be truly happy again.
25
It might’ve been a dream, but it was as close as I’d been to him in two days. I rolled over in bed and flipped my pillow to the dry side, wiping the moist layer of ageing tears from my cheeks.
Outside, the thunder rolled again. It’d been that way all night. Bad weather was brewing, but it hadn’t the strength to burst out and become a storm.
I didn’t mind the thunder tonight though, because I understood its pain—how it beat at its cumulus confines but just couldn’t get free to be where it was supposed to be. It was trapped, caged in by the wrong conditions.
“Hey, you’re up,” Mike whispered softly, pushing my door open a crack. “You ready to leave?”
“What, you wanna go now?”
“Yeah, it’s a long drive.”
“You never mentioned leaving this early.”
“I know.” He grinned, opening my door fully. “I planned to wake you—figured I’d save my ears from all the whining last night about getting up early.”
“What makes you think I’d have whined?”
Mike just raised his brows, rolling his head down a little.
“Okay, fine.” I jumped out of bed. “I’ll get my bag.”
“Might wanna put some clothes on, too.” He nodded to my pajamas, and closed the door.
I threw on my bikini, shorts and a shirt, then slipped into my flip-flops and met Mike at the car, dragging my feet the whole way. We stopped off to grab an egg muffin from Macca’s, then took to the highway, leaving this sleepy little town behind for the day.
As the sun peeked out from the eastern hills, I rested my head on the window and tried not to fall asleep. “So, why are we going to a beach so far away?”
“Because.” Mike shrugged, tossing his coffee cup into the empty brown paper bag our food came in. “There’s better surfing conditions there.”
“Fair enough, I suppose,” I said, then reached for the dial on the stereo. “I wanna play that one again.”
“You liked that?” Mike put his window up as he spoke, and my cheeks tingled where my hair had been whipping my face.
“Yeah. I mean, it’s a little morbid for my tastes, but—”
“Hey. There’s nothing morbid about Metallica.”
“There is about that one.”
“It’s one song out of how many?”
I shrugged.
“Fine. I’ll play it again. But no more knocking the music,” he warned with a joking air to his tone.
We arrived at the beach just as the Sunday sun woke the rest of the world. Mike parked Dad’s car
in the only empty space left near the boardwalk and wandered casually around to open my door.
“Your Majesty.” He bowed, offering his hand.
“Merci,” I replied politely, returning the bow.
“Ah, so the neck-sucker finally got you speaking French, huh?”
“How’d you know he spoke French?”
He frowned at me for a second, his eyes falling on my silver locket. “I just assumed, because of the—” He pointed to his own neck.
“Oh.” I touched the locket. “Yeah. He did—does—speak French. But I don’t.”
“Well,” Mike said, sounding awfully cheery, “it suits you. You should speak it.”
“Nah. I don’t wanna learn it then wake up one day and realize all the disgusting things you’d been saying to those girls all these years.”
“Ha!” His whole upper body jerked toward the heavens with his laugh. “Yeah. On second thoughts, don’t learn French.”
I smiled, folding my arms across my body as Mike walked to the trunk, flipping the keys around on his index finger.
“Nice beach, isn’t it?” he said.
“Yeah.” I turned and faced the coast, the gentle breeze greeting me to the day. Down by the water, families built sandcastles and couples walked hand-in-hand, stopping to kiss and marvel at the horizon.
“Well, what’re you waiting for?” Mike offered his hand to the view before us. “Go ahead. I’ll catch up.”
“Really? You don’t want help carrying all that?” I nodded to the picnic basket, the surfboard and a dozen other things.
He closed the trunk and shook his head. “Just go, baby.”
Without further encouragement, I pulled off my shorts and shirt, threw them to Mike, and flew to the call of the ocean, my feet barely touching the sand before I hit the whitewash with the grace of an elephant. The waves enveloped my ankles, cooling the balls of my feet and leaving behind a tingle as they receded, like sherbet mixed with cola.
Standing here, I could almost believe I was back home in Perth. And even with my eyes closed, unable to see the origins of the noise around me, I could feel the brightness of the day filling me with the hope that some things in life were still good. I placed my hands to my knees and bent closer to the water to catch the light breeze coming off it, feeling my toes sink into the soft, grainy sand as the waves swam back out to sea.
Dark Secrets Box Set Page 50