“So? I’m allowed to know what we’re having.”
“I don’t know yet,” Willa lies, frowning at the screen. Her laptop is taking forever to start up.
“Not spaghetti. I’m sick of spaghetti.” Riley leans out the window, taking in big breaths of air. “It’s so hot. Want to go to the park? I could put my feet in the fountain.”
“Go stand under the sprinkler.”
“It’s boring by myself.” Riley claps her hands together, eyes wide. “Please.”
“I can’t.” Willa stares at the screen, waiting for something to happen. “I’ve got an essay to finish.”
“You’re boring.” Stomping over to the desk, she plonks herself down on the edge and kicks her feet against the drawers.
“Can you please go and watch TV or something?”
“No.” Riley starts singing under her breath, testing her.
Willa gives her a warning look, but Riley just keeps singing, the smallest of smart-ass smiles dancing behind it.
She bites down on her irritation. Why does Riley have to pick today to pull an evil-little-wench act? “Go downstairs, please.”
“No, it’s my room. I can be in here.”
“I’m trying to work.” When she taps at a key, nothing happens. The start-up window just blinks at her, unchanging. “Go downstairs to play.”
“But there’s nothing to do. It’s boring. You never do anything with me.”
Something spills over inside Willa. “Yes, I know I’m boring. Completely freaking boring! But you,” she points at her, “you’re being a spoilt brat! I’m boring because I spend all my time looking after you. I have to scrub your cereal bowl because no matter how many times I ask you, you can never just rinse one dish. Then I have to make your dinner and help you with your spelling, and then I have to listen to you whinge about how you don’t want to eat this and that and how you’re not allowed to stay up late enough and how you don’t want to go to bed. Believe me, you’re just as boring! So, please, go downstairs and let me do my essay.” She picks up her sister’s schoolbag, which she’s dumped in the middle of the small stretch of carpet, and tosses it into the corner. “And clean up after yourself for once!”
Riley’s eyes are saucer wide, but Willa just sits down in front of her computer, ignoring her. It’s still deliberating on that same screen, the cursor blinking, as if it can’t make up its mind. She swears. Loudly.
Riley jumps down from the desk, her mouth fixed in a little purse. She doesn’t say a word as she pulls on a pair of leggings, but Willa can see she’s fighting tears. Guilt flickers at the edge of her frustration. Riley doesn’t cry.
“Hey,” she says softly.
But Riley’s already running down the stairs.
CHAPTER 32
Finn
Finn’s feeling good as she leaves the community centre. The sun’s shining, she’s got an idea to save the centre that the others like, and today she finished a painting she really likes in art club. And it’s Thursday. Which wouldn’t be as good as a Friday, except her school is having a pupil-free day tomorrow. Finn doesn’t know who’s happier, the teachers or the students.
Ready to plan her next move, she whips out her phone. There’s a double-parental assault.
Dad: I miss you, kiddo. When do you think you can make it for another visit?
Mum: I’ll be stuck here until six. See you at half past.
Finn’s footsteps slow. Surprise. She’s coming home to an empty house again.
Instead of replying to either of them, she messages Willa.
Okay if I drop by for a minute and say hi?
Finn likes being at Willa’s house, being around the chaotic, cosy groove Willa and her siblings have worn with one another. And she loves how patient Willa is with her brother and her sister. And they seem to love her like no siblings Finn knows. Not like Dan and his brothers, who are locked in constant combat. And just yesterday Rosie told Finn that she and her two older sisters never talk to each other, except to fight.
It’s nothing like that at Willa’s. Even Riley at her worst listens when Willa says the word. And Willa’s so patient, considering how ratty Riley can be sometimes. She loves how Willa’s always looking out for Jack too. Asking him questions to draw him out when he doesn’t talk. Sitting with him while he does his homework, giving him a chance to ask the questions he won’t seek out on his own. Watching weird cartoons with him because he loves them. Finn would never have believed that the forthright, take-no-prisoners girl she met at camp would be capable of such softness. But Willa is.
Her phone buzzes a response.
Sure.
Choosing to take the shortness of Willa’s response as sweet, Finn changes course for her house.
Willa’s hunched on her bottom bunk, still encased in her uniform. She’s pushing loose strands of her ponytail back with one hand as she smacks at the keys of her laptop with the other.
“I don’t think they like it when you do that,” Finn jokes.
Willa barely looks up as Finn perches next to her. “There’s something weird going on with my laptop. It’s been starting up for, like, twenty minutes.” She clicks her tongue. “I don’t have time for this. I have an essay due tomorrow.”
“Maybe it’s doing updates. Just give it a minute.” Finn curls her hands around Willa’s arm. “Anyway, I won’t distract you from your homework. I really just came to say hi. And to nag you.”
“Nag me?” Willa drags her gaze from her screen. “About what?”
“Let’s just say there’s been a little pressure from the best friend department. And perhaps there’s been a few conspiracy theories about you not actually existing, of my supposedly staging photos, etcetera, etcetera.” Finn grins.
Wait, what?” Willa blinks at her, like she’s still trying to tune in.
“Dan’s dying to meet you. I know you’re really busy, but I was wondering if you’d maybe have a minute to go for a coffee after school sometime? You know, so he’ll shut up.”
Willa taps at the keyboard again. “It’s like it’s just…stuck here.” She shakes her head briskly, like she’s trying to reset her thoughts. “So hang on. You want me to meet Dan?”
“Yes.” Finn tries not to let the fact that Willa’s barely listening bother her. Why did she even want Finn to come over if she’s not going to talk to her? She sits up. “But you know what? We can talk about it another time.”
This time, Willa doesn’t even answer.
Finn frowns. Maybe she should just leave Willa to it. It’s like she’s not here anyway.
“I maybe can on the weekend,” Willa says finally. “It depends on Riley and Jack.”
“What’s up with Riley, anyway? She barely looked at me when I came in.”
“Don’t ask.”
“Okay.” Finn leans against Willa’s shoulder, staring at the laptop. It really is doing a woeful job of being a computer. “Can you force quit?”
“Tried it.”
“Taken the battery out?”
“I don’t even know how to do that.” She lets out another exasperated moan and punches her fist into the mattress. “It was working fine yesterday.”
Finn’s phone buzzes. Another text from her dad.
Seriously. Let me know which weekend, and I’ll book you a ticket, pronto.
She lets out a hiss. He’s clearly not going to let this go until she answers.
Willa turns her computer over and peers at the bottom. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. It’s just Dad. He keeps hassling me about when I’m going to go over to visit him again.” She shoves her phone into her pocket and goes over to the open window. It’s so stuffy in this tiny room, cloyed with both the heat of a windless day and Willa’s frustration.
Outside, Riley’s pouting and digging a stick into the ground. Loud music thunders from one of the neighbours’ houses. “Why do I have to fly to all the way to Tasmania because he wants to see me? Why can’t he come over here? I mean, he’s the one who l
eft, not me. But somehow I’m the one who has to make all the effort.”
“Oh, come on, Finn.”
“What?”
Willa’s frowning at her, the computer still clutched in her hands. “How often does your dad call and text you?”
Finn rolls her eyes. “All the time.”
“And this is a problem because?”
“Because he just keeps nagging about me visiting.” Has Willa even been listening? “I’m really busy with school and the community centre and stuff. I can’t just run away every weekend that he wants to see me.”
“Do you know,” and now, suddenly, Willa’s gaze is unrelenting, “that I’ve seen my dad seven times since I was eight? I counted the other day.”
Finn presses her lips together. “I’m sorry,” she mutters.
But it’s like Willa doesn’t even hear her. “You know what else? My dad lives in the same house as me right now and barely knows how to talk to me. In fact, ever since I told him you’re my girlfriend, he barely even looks at me. So you should stop complaining just because—oh, poor you—your dad wants to hang out with you. I mean, what an asshole, right?”
“Okay, I get it. I’m sorry.” Finn frowns, a perplexing mix of guilt and anger competing inside her. “But what did I do wrong?”
“Well, for starters, you’re being a big baby about this.”
“A baby?” For a second, Finn can only blink. Then anger wins, clenching her stomach like a fist. It clenches even harder when Willa just shrugs and starts to pound her finger on her keyboard, like she’s done with the conversation.
Finn waits for her to apologise, but Willa just keeps staring at her computer, giving her nothing. She hasn’t seen this arctic version of Willa since camp. And she hated it as much back then as she does right now.
“You know what?” Finn scoops up her schoolbag. “It’s not my fault your computer’s died. And it’s not my fault your dad doesn’t visit you. And it’s definitely not my fault you’re in a foul mood. Don’t say I can come over just so you can take it out on me.” She stalks out the door and dashes down the stairs.
Outside, the world is bright and clamorous as it battles its way home in the form of peak hour. Finn marches down the street, rigid with anger. But by the time she reaches the end of the street, it has faded to something else, something stiller and contemplative. And as she stands at the corner, waiting for the lights, recognition takes form.
She knows what this is. She’s seen it before, at camp. This is just Willa shooting word bullets because she’s afraid of the feelings that will consume her once she stops firing. This is Willa rubbed raw with stress.
The lights change, but Finn doesn’t move. She remembers that day at camp, when Willa did the same to Drew in front of a crowd of people just because she was scared and worried about her sister.
Finn draws in a deep breath and turns slowly. Because her heart won’t let her do anything else.
Riley answers her knock.
“Hey, thanks. I forgot something.”
Riley just gives her a glum smile and stalks away into the depths of the house.
Finn frowns. Is anyone in this house happy today?
Upstairs, Willa’s a demoralised hunch on the bed, her face pressed into her hands. The computer is now completely blank screened, like it’s surrendered too.
She leans on the doorjamb. “Will, what’s wrong?”
When Willa finally lifts her head, the anger has completely evaporated, and now she just looks miserable. Tears have turned her eyes liquid amber. “I’m really sorry,” she whispers.
Finn crosses the room and sits gently next to her. “Hey, it’s not like you were wrong. I know I’m lucky. I shouldn’t complain just because my dad wants to see me.”
“But I was being awful. You’re not being a baby.” Willa shakes her head, her eyes insistent. “I know it’s hard with him gone.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Finn tucks a fallen strand of hair behind her ear. “Are you okay? I mean, clearly you’re not.”
Willa presses her face into her hands again. It muffles her voice as she says, “I yelled at Riley too. Just because she wanted to go to the park and put her feet in the fountain.”
“She’ll live.”
“But I want to take her to the park.” Willa swipes at her eyes. “I never do anything with them anymore. Nothing fun. But I can’t, because I have this stupid essay to write. And now my computer’s broken. And I need to cook dinner because Dad never does. Then I have to help Riley with her spelling and finish my maths and figure out what to do about Eva, and then there’s—”
“Hey, stop.” Finn grabs her shoulders. “One thing at a time.”
“But there never is.” Willa lets out a charge of breath. “There’s never just one thing at a time anymore. There are too many things. All the time.”
She looks so helpless that Finn just grabs hold of her and squeezes. Squeezes her like she’s trying to push all the stress out of her. No one’s head should be this crowded with worries. No one their age, anyway.
“I’ve never yelled at Riley in my life,” Willa whispers.
“Which is why she’ll forgive you for it.”
She lets out a little moan. “And how am I going to get this essay done?”
“Is the only version on the computer? Please say no.”
“No, I’ve got a print-out of the last draft in my bag. I could have handed that in, but I wrote all over the margins.”
“Okay, listen,” Finn sits up. “I’m going to go home and get my laptop for you. Do your maths, and by the time you’re finished, I’ll be back with my computer, okay?”
“Really?”
Finn smiles at the small bloom of hope in Willa’s eyes. “Of course. Easy fix.”
“But will your mum let you come back on a school night?”
“I don’t have school tomorrow, remember? I’m a free agent.” Finn goes over to the window and leans out. “Hey, Riles!”
“What?” Riley scowls up at her.
“Stop looking like that and come up here for a minute!” Finn points at the pile of textbooks next to Willa and puts on her best schoolteacher voice. “Maths. Do it.”
You can hear the drama in every step as Riley plods up the stairs. When she finally appears, she’s in full sulk mode, arms across chest, bottom lip out.
Finn pretends not to notice. “Hey, want to come for a walk to my house? You can meet my dogs.”
“Yes!” Riley turns and plucks some sandals from the bottom of her wardrobe. Then she stops and slowly turns to Willa, her voice turning monotone. “Am I allowed?”
Willa’s expression hovers somewhere between amused and sad. “Riles, come here.” When Riley obeys, she clasps her sister’s wrist and shakes it gently. “I’m really sorry I yelled at you before.”
“It’s all right,” Riley says as if it’s anything but.
“Hey,” Finn says. “Remember last week when you dropped a whole glass of orange cordial on the lounge room carpet because you were too busy staring at the TV to watch where you were going? Remember how Willa didn’t even get mad at you?” Finn jabs her side. “I’d have killed you.”
Riley hangs her head and grins. Then she leans in and gives Willa a ginger, one-armed hug. “We cool?”
Willa laughs. “We’re cool.”
“Okay, let’s do this,” Finn says. “Go see if your brother wants to come.”
“He’s at Tyler’s.” Riley bolts out of the room and down the stairs.
“And don’t worry about dinner,” Finn tells Willa. “I’ve got a plan.”
“What, no. It’s okay. I’ll make—”
“Spaghetti? Even I’m sick of your spaghetti. I mean, it’s good, but there’s such a thing as overkill, you know.”
Willa gives her a dirty look, but Finn just laughs. “I’m making dinner, and you have to let me. To make up for you being evil before.” When Willa’s expression turns doubtful, Finn bends right over her and says, “I want to help,
okay? I’ve got the day off tomorrow, I’ve got no homework, I get to be around you. Let me help you.”
Relief inches its way into Willa’s smile. “Okay.”
“Good. See you soon.”
Finn trots down the stairs, feeling like a superhero.
CHAPTER 33
Finn
When they get to Finn’s house, her mother’s putting away the shopping.
“Hey, Mum. You remember Riley?”
Anita spins, a can of tomatoes in her hand. She smiles. “Of course. Hello, Riley.”
“Hi.” Riley goes all shy, sidling closer to Finn.
Finn drops an arm around her. “The dogs will be on my bed, probably. First door in the hallway. And on the bottom shelf of my desk there’s a bunch of old DVDs. Pick one for us to watch. But be quick.”
“Okay.” She skates across the floor on her socks.
“Where did you acquire a child?” Anita asks from inside the pantry. “And will she be staying for dinner?”
“No. I’m going to Willa’s.” Finn pulls a snow pea from a bag and munches on it. “She’s really, really stressed about an essay, and her computer’s broken, so I said she could use mine while I watch a movie with Riley.”
“Am I a broken record?” Anita pulls a box of muesli out of a bag. “What do I always say on school nights?”
“It’s a student-free day tomorrow, remember?” Finn stares at the box of muesli in her mother’s hand. Why is Anita even buying it? Finn hates the stuff, and Anita doesn’t eat breakfast. She’s always forgetting and buying things only her dad eats.
“Oh, that’s right.”
“So I’m going to teach Riles how to make pizzas and help her with her spelling while Willa does her essay.” She grins. “Well, we’re making pizza toppings on a shop base because I know my cooking limitations, which are many.”
“Shouldn’t you be out doing something fun?”
“Can’t.” Finn picks out another snow pea and frowns. “Willa’s got school tomorrow, and we—”
“I meant you.”
“Since when do you tell me to go out and have fun? My sadly early curfew suggests you’re against it.”
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