“No,” Riley says witheringly, hands on hips. “With the bags.” She plops down on the grass next to Finn, eyes wide. “And they both did it. First Patter, then Banjo.”
“Ah, yes, the great pooping chain reaction.” Finn nods slowly. “It’s a classic.”
“It was so gross.”
Willa hands Riley a donut in the hope that it will stop her talking. It works. She sprawls on the grass, feeding her face, surreptitiously passing morsels to the dogs.
A kid on the other team kicks a goal. The mums let out a cheer.
“You know, I didn’t even realise they weren’t cheering for Jack’s team,” Rosie says, eyeing them. “Now I resent them even more.”
Riley turns to Willa, sugar all over her mouth. “Dad’s here.”
“Really?” Willa frowns and wipes it off for her. “Where? What’s he doing?”
“Other side. Watching.”
“Did you say hi?”
She shrugs and rolls over to pat the dogs.
Willa guesses that means no. She doesn’t blame her.
When the game’s over and Jack’s team has won by a couple of goals, he heads straight for them. Willa can tell from his self-conscious half smile that he’s pleased people have been watching. And that he can’t wait to meet his new geek-boy hero. There’s an instant flash of guilt that she hasn’t come to more matches lately. If this is the way Jack expresses himself, she needs to be there for it.
He’s still puffing when he gets to them.
“You were awesome,” she tells him, passing him the donuts and a can of drink.
“Yeah, you were so great,” Finn says. “Totally the star.”
He ducks his head and grins as he opens the can.
“I wish I possessed an ounce of your coordination,” Dan tells him with a shake of his head.
“Jack watched some of your videos with me last night,” Willa tells him, because she knows her brother won’t.
“You like sci-fi?” Dan asks him.
Jack nods, wiping his mouth with his arm.
“Good man.”
“Have you seen Stellarn?” Jack asks him in his squeaky little-boy voice.
“Stellarn? That animation made from the Chinese graphic novel?”
Jack nods.
Dan looks around at them all, feigning shock. “We have a budding aficionado on our hands, people.”
And Willa’s heart swells at the pride in Jack’s smile.
CHAPTER 37
Finn
Willa takes her hand and holds it tight as they stroll away from the soccer field. Finn smiles, remembering when Willa was too shy to show her feelings in public.
In the time it has taken them to pack up their picnic and say their goodbyes, the light’s turned that pretty, late-afternoon golden. The breeze has abandoned them too, leaving something gentler behind.
Up ahead, Jack and Riley lead a dog each up the tree-lined path. Today’s probably the best time Banjo and Patter have had in weeks, between the exercise and the attention and the doughnut scraps.
It’s the best day Finn’s had in a while too. She liked watching Willa and Dan quietly like each other, in the way she knew they would when they finally met. Finn had prepped Dan what to expect. She had to. Willa can be so tricky sometimes. The way her shyness so easily disguises itself as standoffish, and Finn didn’t want Dan to be put off. Because Willa’s not really like that. She’s just like an animal freezing when it sees danger. Only the danger isn’t something anybody else thinks of as danger.
“So what are you doing now?” she asks Willa hopefully. Because she doesn’t want the day to end yet.
“Groceries. And then I have to finish my Geography assignment, an infographic explaining weather patterns, so that I’ve got time to visit Nan tomorrow. Boring. You?”
“I should probably go home and work on Speech Night, but…”
“But what?”
“I can think of a thousand things more fun.” She yanks Willa closer until their shoulders are touching. “Like hanging out with you.”
“I wish I could. Anyway, you can’t be shirking your captainly duties.”
“I guess not. Zehra’s probably been working on it all weekend. Probably even decided what colour paper the programs should be.” She sighs loudly. “I shouldn’t complain. There’s a lot to do.”
“So why haven’t you been working on it?”
“Because this is way more fun.”
“But isn’t that what you were worried about? That if you weren’t focused enough, that Zehra might show you up?”
“I was…I am.” Finn shrugs. “I have been working on it, but this Speech Night stuff is just so boring. It’s not like we’re doing anything to improve the school, really. I swear they only get us to do it so the teachers don’t have to be bothered. They just act like it’s some big honour so we’ll take it seriously.”
“Do you know what Nan says when Riley complains something is boring?”
“What?”
Willa gives her a sly grin. “That not everything was put on this earth to entertain you.”
“Gee, thanks. And now I feel like an eleven-year-old.”
“Sorry.” She doesn’t sound it, though. “I know, that stuff can be boring, but just remember where it’s going to get you. When I’m in those painful curriculum meetings, I just think of how great it will be when I’m at uni, or applying for a graduate position, and I have this to list on my resume.”
“You always say that. And that motivates you because you know what you want to do.” Finn doesn’t even know what she wants to study at university, let alone what she’ll do after that. Who knows whether it will ever mean anything that she was a school captain or not?
“Finn, it doesn’t matter if you don’t know what you want to do yet,” Willa says, squeezing her hand. “We both know it will be something awesome.”
“Do we?”
“Of course we do.” She says it with her special Willa brand of certainty. “And I guess I’m saying maybe you should be making sure you have every chance to do that awesome thing when you finally decide on it. And being able to say you were in student office is one of those things that could give you an advantage.”
“I know.” If it was Finn’s mum or dad saying something like this, she’d just sigh. But if Willa has one power in this world, it’s to make people listen to her. Besides, Finn knows she’s right. It’s so hard to make these things immediate, though. Things like university and job applications seem like centuries away. Especially while Willa and the sunshine are right, exquisitely, here.
Their steps slow as they get closer to the edge of the park. “I’m sorry if I was being a nag,” Willa says.
“Don’t worry.” Finn swings their hands gently between them. “I probably need it.”
Still, when they part ways, she finds herself heading for Dan’s house. Partly because she doesn’t want to face Speech Night boredom, but also because she doesn’t feel like going home to no one.
CHAPTER 38
Willa
She finds him out the backyard staking the tomatoes.
“Nan asked me to do it,” he says with a small grin. “She knew they’d be ready, even without seeing them.”
“Of course she did.” Willa fidgets with her jacket zipper as she watches him wrap binding around the stem of a plant. “Riley said you were at the park today, watching the soccer.”
“Yep. That kid’s quicker than he looks.”
That kid? He makes Jack sound like someone else’s child.
He nudges another post into the damp earth and picks up a mallet. It’s driven into the ground with three short blows. “I was the same.”
“Really?” she asks, even though she knows this already. Ninety-nine per cent of the photos of him in Nan’s albums are action shots of him in shorts, charging around on grass, or holding a bat or ball. She asks because she figures she better make the most of it while he’s actually offering up words.
“I played foo
ty and cricket, though. Wish I’d played soccer, but only the Greeks and Italians in my neighbourhood played it back then.” He gives the post a tap, testing it. “I was on track for the Vic Under-19s at one point.”
“What happened?”
“Your mum happened.”
She waits, hoping he’ll say what kind of “happened” it was. Willa’s never really known the shape of their marriage.
But that’s all he says before he picks up another stake and hammers it into the ground. And because she doesn’t know how to ask him a question like that, she leaves him there in the garden and goes inside.
CHAPTER 39
Willa
Willa’s pen crawls over the page. She wishes she had maths or science to do today. Anything but this.
In English they read a short story about a girl who came to the Perth colonies in the 1800s. Within months, the girl has lost her mother and father to an accident and endured all kinds of hell. The story was small and sad and beautiful. Willa liked reading it. What she doesn’t like is the “response” she has to write for homework.
She never knows what to say in assignments like this. She feels the things she knows she’s supposed to write, but she never knows how to put them down on the page. Not in words she’s willing to share with her teachers, anyway.
Usually, she just ends up treating the exercise like some kind of mini-essay, pretending she didn’t quite understand the task. Homework evasion, geek-style. And Willa knows her English teacher will write what he always writes. Nice analysis, Willa. However, this was supposed to be a response, not an academic treatment. Then he’ll give her a high mark anyway.
She’s nearly finished it when Riley comes in, sliding her feet over the carpet, her lips pursed into a small frown. She stands there, her big toe nudging at a scuff in the carpet, like she’s waiting for something. Her hair has gotten even longer, thinned out at the end to frizzy straggles. They’re going to have to talk about getting it trimmed. But not today. It’s Sunday. Willa’s not in the mood for that kind of battle. “What are you up to?” she asks.
“Nothing.” Riley perches on the edge of the bed next to her. She hugs her knees and stares at her feet. The blue polish Finn put on her the other night has already chipped at the top of her big toe.
“Why aren’t you playing at Britt’s or Lefah’s?”
“They’re both away.” Riley’s finger traces the edge of a scab on her knee as she frowns.
Willa stares at her. “What’s up? You’re quiet. It’s weird.”
“No, it’s not.” Her finger keeps working slow circles. “I’m quiet sometimes.”
“Okay, whatever you say.” Willa pulls gently at a strand of Riley’s hair. “Maybe when I finish my homework, we can go somewhere. Finn said something about walking to the creek with the dogs this afternoon. Why don’t you watch TV for a bit until I’m finished?”
“Dad’s watching.” Riley screws up her nose. “Car races.”
“Where’s Jack?”
“Watching too.”
“Okay, so read a book or play a game.” Willa tucks Riley’s hair behind her shoulder. “I won’t be long. Promise.”
“Why doesn’t Dad ever talk?”
Willa stares at her. Riley never talks about him. Never even seems to notice him much. “I don’t know,” she says finally. “He’s just quiet, I guess.”
Riley presses her finger hard into the middle of the scab. The skin turns angry around it. “He talks to us even less than Jack does.”
“I know.”
“And why doesn’t he ever do anything with us?”
“I don’t know.” Willa’s heart hurts a little. She watches Riley’s fingernail edge under the ridge of the scab. “Don’t pick.”
The finger slides away.
“Do you want him to do stuff with you?” Willa asks her.
“Maybe. No.” Riley shrugs, still staring at her bare feet. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
No matter how hard she searches, Willa can’t think of a single thing to say to make her sister feel better, so she just folds an arm around Riley’s shoulders and pulls her in close.
Riley leans into her embrace. “I wish Nan would come home.”
Willa swallows hard. “Me too.”
CHAPTER 40
Finn
The library is a sodden mess of purple-striped students avoiding the rain. It sounds like a football stadium, not a place of hallowed place learning. The librarians don’t even bother trying to maintain the “shh” rules when the weather’s like this.
Finn drags out her folder and pen and leans in so Zehra can hear her over the roar. “So I messaged all the kids who helped for Careers Night, and they’re mostly willing to help with Speech Night. We just need to find someone for sound. And for social media, though we could probably do that ourselves.”
“Okay.” Zehra stares down at her notes. “I’ve been looking at the old run sheet, and I was thinking we should shuffle it a bit.”
Finn pulls it out of her folder. She hasn’t even looked at the run sheet again. She’s been too busy with the filibuster at the community centre. They’ve been working on their version all week. “Really?”
“Yes. I was talking to some of the kids about how it went the last couple of years,” Zehra explains, “and they gave me some good insights.”
“Like what?” Finn wishes she’d thought of that.
“They all say that the worst part is the principal’s speech at the end, that it drags on and on until even the parents’ eyes are rolling back in their heads by the end. People are dying to go home.”
“So it’s just like all his other speeches, then.” Mr Burgess is not known for his ability to read a crowd. Or his capacity for entertainment. He’s mean with a signature, though. “We can’t exactly tell the principal he can’t speak on Speech Night. And we probably can’t tell him to make it shorter or jazz it up either.”
“That’s not what I was suggesting,” Zehra says in this tight voice.
Finn fights an eye roll. Then she reminds herself that Willa seemed this uptight when they first met, and look how awesome she turned out to be. Maybe there’s some fun in Zehra somewhere. “So what can we do about it?”
“I think we should put him on right at the start. As the opener.”
“But then people will be bored and annoyed right from the beginning.”
“Sure, but then they have all the fun parts to enjoy after, like the awards and the student and alumni speeches. They’ll leave happier—and with better memories of the night.”
“That’s true.”
“And maybe he’ll keep to his allotted time better if he knows there are lots of people waiting to go on after him.”
“Maybe.”
Zehra purses her lips and tightens her ponytail. “I think it could work.”
A crowd of Year 7s are playing keepings off with a kid’s phone. Finn stares at them as she pretends to think about it. Then she checks herself. Why is she being so resistant to this idea? It’s a good one, and she knows it.
Actually, Finn knows exactly why. It’s because she didn’t think of it herself. And it’s exactly the kind of solution she would usually come up with. Only she didn’t because she’s paid precisely no attention to Speech Night until now. Zehra, on the other hand, has been mulling over this stuff for weeks. So get over yourself, Harlow.
“No, you’re right,” she says finally. “It’s a good idea. We should totally change it.”
Zehra smiles and sits up straighter. “I thought of something else too. For the social media. We could use photos from last year to promote it on Facebook, and we could contact the seniors from last year and ask for their memories for captions.”
Finn forces another smile. “Also an awesome idea. Let’s do it.”
CHAPTER 41
Willa
Nan’s pensive frown turns to a smile when she sees Willa coming down the path. She’s parked on a wooden bench in the yard, cornered by a silvery hedge of la
vender, their purple heads scratching the air behind her.
Willa passes Nan the bunch of bright blooms she’s carried all the way on the tram. “Your sweet peas are going mad.”
“To think I’m missing the show.” Nan twirls the flowers in her hands and tuts. “What are you doing here? You should be out in the sunshine enjoying yourself.”
“I am in the sunshine.” Willa stoops and kisses her cheek. “Besides, I’m pretty sure you can nag if I don’t do my homework or if I stay out too late, but you can’t nag if I bring my grandmother flowers.”
“You wouldn’t do those things even if I told you to do them, and you know it, my girl.”
“I know.” Willa settles on the bench next to her, a flicker of pleasure rising at the sight of Nan’s wrist without a bandage. The bruise above her eye has faded to nothing too.
“What are the little ones up to?”
“Jack’s at the pools with Tyler and his dad, and Riley’s going to some hip-hop class with Bella.”
“I have no idea what that means, and I don’t want to.”
“It means more impromptu dance recitals in the kitchen, probably.”
“Wonderful,” Nan says, pulling a face. “And how’s Finn?”
“Good. She’s coming to see you tomorrow.”
“Good.”
Willa hands Nan a plastic shopping bag from her backpack. “There’s some spinach and lettuce and a couple of lemons from the tree too.”
Nan peers into the bag, feasting her eyes. “Lovely. I’ll make a little salad at dinner. You’d think a medical facility would feed people better, but look at us all.” She tips her chin at all the people shuffling around the yard with sticks or frames. “The bionic hip brigade. Sad, aren’t we?”
Willa laughs dutifully, but it is kind of depressing seeing Nan here. These people look so old and fragile, and she’s never thought of Nan like that. She’s always been so quick and strong. Always commanding everything on her own, wrestling her garden and her grandchildren into being. Now she seems more like them.
“So, how are things at the house? Are the kids behaving?”
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