The Secrets We Keep

by Nova Weetman

  ‘No you can’t. It’s all gone,’ I say, picturing the blackened lumps of my life.

  ‘Clem …’ he says, his voice so soft.

  ‘Dad …’ I say, mine so not.

  He nods. ‘Okay, roast potatoes it is.’

  Watching my dad pull the frilly white apron over his head tonight doesn’t make me smile. Instead it makes my face feel hot. So I peel the potatoes as fast as I can and bits of dirty potato skin fly everywhere.

  BTF I had a beautiful house that I’d lived in my whole life.

  BTF I had my own room full of my stuff.

  BTF I was at school with Bridge, not out here in some suburb with some super tall girl who’s decided I’m her new bestie.

  It’s not Dad’s fault. It’s Mum’s. Now my head feels like it might explode and my toes are all tingly. Not only did I have to watch my life burn down in front of my eyes, now I can’t even replace the bits that were replaceable.

  Dad is staring at me. ‘There’re a couple of movies on TV tonight. Feel like watching one?’

  I know he wants me to nod, to agree, to get all excited about his idea. But I can’t.

  ‘Not tonight. Might just eat and go to bed. Been a weird week,’ I say.

  Dad reaches out to give my arm a rub, but even that doesn’t help.

  ‘Oh, I nearly forgot,’ says Dad. ‘Bridge rang my mobile. She wants you to stay over tomorrow night.’ He grins like that news could erase the fire. But it doesn’t. Right now the prospect of staying with my best friend and her loud, crazy family doesn’t cheer me up. In fact, the thought of pretending everything is fine makes me feel even worse.

  ‘Maybe another night. Can you text her back?’ I ask, dropping the peeled potatoes into the baking dish.

  ‘You can,’ he says, handing me his phone.

  I haven’t spoken to Bridge since we moved into the flat. BTF we spoke about a hundred times a day. My fingers are all clumsy hitting the keys and I realise I can’t text her now.

  I put the phone back down on the bench. ‘Tell her I’m sick. I’m going to bed, Dad. I don’t feel well.’

  I trudge off to my room, expecting Dad to come after me. But this time he doesn’t. I’m half glad and half not.

  I shut the door harder than I mean to and the walls rattle. This whole place could be made out of paper it’s that flimsy.

  I flop down on my bed and look up at the stained ceiling. A week ago this place was just temporary. Just until things were sorted out. Now it’s all I’ve got.

  I’ve only cried once since the fire. BTF I cried all the time like whenever I watched a sad film with Bridge like Because of Winn-Dixie or Bridge to Terabithia or whenever we won a netball final. I even cried reading some of my favourite books.

  But now my tears just won’t come.

  Chapter 9

  ‘Clem.’

  I can hear someone calling my name.

  ‘Clem!’

  I roll over.

  ‘Clem, wake up.’

  I finally manage to open my eyes and, when I do, I leap up and get all tangled with the doona.

  ‘Bridge?’

  There’s a laugh and my best friend throws her arms around me in a tight hug.

  ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Your dad texted and said you weren’t well. I figured it meant you just needed company, so here I am.’

  See what I mean about having a friend who can read you perfectly? I push her off me and look at her properly. Even though I know it’s only been seven days since we said goodbye, she looks different.

  ‘You look different,’ I say.

  ‘Yeah, Mum cut my fringe!’

  I smile. Bridge’s mum is always cutting her fringe. And mine, if she can get close enough.

  ‘But it’s actually straight,’ I admire, running my fingers along the super-straight fringe.

  ‘I know. She got new glasses.’ Bridge laughs. ‘So, guess what? I’ve got a late birthday present for you. I checked with your dad and he said it was fine, but you have to get up and not wear my pyjamas.’

  ‘My birthday was more than a month ago, Bridge.’

  ‘Yeah and with everything that was going on, we didn’t get to celebrate. So today we are!’

  And then I can’t help it. I start sniffing, like the tears want to flood out of me, but I don’t want them to come. Bridge looks worried and cuddles me until eventually I wipe my nose with the back of my hand and can speak again.

  ‘That bad, huh?’ she asks.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say. ‘Kinda. Maybe I’m just in shock because you’re here.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll take that as a compliment.’

  I try to smile. ‘So, what’s my present?’

  She gives me a very cheeky, Bridge-style grin. ‘Not telling. But the bus goes in about twenty minutes so you’d better hurry!’

  My tired striped leggings and yesterday’s patterned top and shorts are on the floor. I sniff them and figure they’ll do for another day. I strip off without caring that Bridge is still in the room. It takes me about half a minute to get ready and another two to calm my hair down from the crazy state it’s in.

  ‘I don’t really have any money for the bus, Bridge,’ I say, knowing my friend won’t care if I’m honest.

  ‘I’ve got money so don’t worry about it,’ she says quietly. ‘Mum gave me enough for us to have a great day. She sends her love. And she made you heaps and heaps of dumplings. I put them in your freezer. You just need to steam them in a pan.’

  Bridge’s mum is the reason I can use chopsticks. She’s been making me dumplings full of pork and ginger and garlic since I was five. Sometimes Bridge and I tried to help her make them, but she’d always have to reseal ours because the filling would all fall out if we cooked them.

  ‘Yum,’ I say, dreaming of eating a hundred dumplings.

  ‘Yeah. Make sure you share them with your dad! Mum wanted to drop me off today, but I insisted on the bus. I had to show her the route and explain that it would be really easy for me to get on and off alone. After all, we can’t always have our mums driving us around.’ She gulps when she realises what she’s just said. ‘Clem, I didn’t … I’m sorry …’

  I shrug. ‘It’s fine. You’re right. And I like buses.’

  Then I remember Dad’s forty dollars. ‘I’ve got money, too!’

  I grab the two twenties from under my pillow and shove them into my orange backpack, along with a plain black jumper Dad found at the op shop, my Myki card and the denim cap covered in badges that Bridge made me after the fire.

  ‘How do I look?’ I stand with my arms out.

  ‘A bit like me!’ She jumps up and stands next to me.

  Bridge is taller than me. Not tall like Ellie-tall, but tall like a normal height. But aside from that, we do look sort of alike. We have similar brown, messy hair, striped leggings with shorts and patterned tops, matching big smiles and freckles. Even though Bridge is half Chinese and has nearly black eyes whereas I have brown, we could almost be sisters. We’ve always liked pretending we’re related. She has four siblings and BTF she always wanted to come and live with me to escape them all.

  ‘Let’s go,’ she says, pulling me out of my room.

  Dad is drinking tea and reading the paper when we walk into the lounge. He holds up a paper bag.

  ‘Peanut-butter sandwich. Figured you’d probably be hungry, Clem, since you didn’t have any dinner,’ he says.

  ‘Thanks, Dad.’

  ‘Have fun, you two. Don’t hurry back. I’m going to master a curry recipe for dinner. No chilli, I promise! If I need to talk to Clem, can I call your phone, Bridge?’

  ‘Of course. It’s practically glued to my hand!’ Bridge laughs as she unlocks the front door.

  Before I can go, Dad stands up and pulls me in close, giving me one of his best hugs
. ‘Have fun today,’ he whispers.

  ‘I will.’

  Dad lets me go and I hurry after Bridge, who is already outside the flats and heading down the street.

  BTF we were only allowed to walk to school together and occasionally go to the shops if we wanted to buy new stationery or clothes. But since Mum’s been gone, Dad lets me have more freedom. I suppose he has to, with everything else that’s going on.

  The bus is pulling up as we reach the stop. We let a couple of ladies hop on before us and then we jump on, swiping our Myki cards. We hurry to some empty seats near the back as the bus takes off.

  ‘Where are we going?’ I ask, unwrapping my peanut-butter sandwich.

  ‘You’ll have to wait and see,’ replies Bridge cheekily.

  I rip my sandwich in half and hand the smaller piece over to my best friend. As far as sandwiches go, it’s a good one. The peanut butter is spread so thick that we struggle to talk while we eat.

  ‘How’s school?’ I manage to ask through the last of my sandwich.

  ‘Not the same.’ Bridge gives my hand a squeeze. ‘How about yours?’

  ‘Weird. So weird. But they do have an awesome oval and two classes of PE a week!’

  Bridge laughs. ‘Well then, sounds like you’ll be happy there.’

  ‘But I miss you,’ I say.

  She slides her arm around my shoulders and pulls me close. ‘I miss you, too.’ She sniffs and rubs her eyes.

  I really don’t want us both crying on the bus so I quickly change the subject. ‘This girl Ellie has befriended me. And she’s nice.’

  Bridge does a pretend shocked face. ‘How nice?’

  ‘Not as nice as you. Obviously.’

  ‘Obviously.’

  ‘Actually, her mum’s got cancer. I think Ellie’s worried she’s going to die. It’s pretty awful.’

  ‘Yeah. That would be horrible.’ Bridge shudders. ‘You really are trying to make me cry today, aren’t you?’

  I laugh and lean against Bridget’s shoulder, pointing out a dog chasing its own tail on the footpath. Pretty soon we’re back to mucking around just like we always do.

  Chapter 10

  ‘I don’t really know where we’re going,’ says Bridge as we walk through the crowded shopping centre. There are people everywhere: families and couples and kids just walking around like us. I dodge a lady with a pram and Bridge grabs my hand like she’s worried I’m going to get knocked over.

  ‘If you tell me what we’re looking for, I can help,’ I say.

  ‘I’m not falling for that,’ she replies sternly.

  ‘Well, then I think we’re lost!’

  We stop outside yet another shop in a mall full of clothing, shoe shops and hair salons. It’s been a while since I’ve been somewhere like this.

  ‘This shopping centre is almost halfway between your flat and my house,’ says Bridge, looking around. ‘So we need to know our way around because we can meet here after school sometimes.’

  ‘It’s huge.’

  She nods. ‘Yep. It sure is.’

  She grabs my hand and starts heading in another direction. I don’t mind being dragged around. It sure beats lying on my bed and feeling sorry for myself.

  Bridge pulls me towards what looks like a jewellery shop. We walk up to the entrance when I hear my name being called.

  ‘Clem!’

  I spin around trying to find out who it is. Then I see Ellie waving wildly. She’s standing with a kid who looks like a boy-version of her and a very tall man.

  ‘Who’s that?’ asks Bridge.

  ‘The girl I was telling you about.’

  ‘The one whose mother …?’

  ‘Yeah,’ I say quickly, not wanting Ellie to think we’re talking about her. Ellie is hurrying towards us.

  ‘Hi,’ I say as they walk up.

  ‘I was just telling Dad about you. That’s so weird!’ exclaims Ellie.

  ‘Oh,’ I reply, and smile.

  ‘This is Bridge. And this is Ellie,’ I say, to introduce them.

  Bridge smiles, and then Ellie smiles back, but they both keep looking at me as though I have to entertain them.

  ‘So, um, what are you guys doing?’ I ask Ellie.

  ‘Buying a nightie for Mum,’ says Ellie.

  Her dad walks away to browse in the window of a shop and Ellie looks after him.

  ‘And new footy boots!’ shouts Ellie’s brother, bouncing around on his toes as he bursts into the conversation.

  Ellie laughs and ruffles his hair. ‘And new footy boots. And a cream bun for lunch. And some cat food,’ she says. Then she adds, ‘Oh and this is my little brother, Finn’.

  ‘I am not little,’ he says, looking at his sister.

  She shrugs and then calls out, ‘Dad, this is Clem.’

  Her dad walks over and smiles at me, but his eyes are sad. ‘Heard you’re new.’

  ‘Yeah. I mean, yes,’ I say, remembering my manners.

  ‘Well, welcome,’ he says.

  ‘Thanks.’

  We all shuffle and smile at each other awkwardly. I don’t really have anything else to say.

  Then Bridge elbows me and elaborately checks her watch. ‘We have to go, Clem. It’s nearly eleven,’ she says.

  ‘Where are you going?’ asks Ellie.

  ‘It’s a surprise. For Clem’s birthday.’

  ‘It was a month ago,’ I add quickly.

  ‘Late birthday present. Lucky you,’ says Ellie.

  We say goodbye and I let Bridge pull me away past the jewellery shop.

  ‘She seems nice,’ comments Bridge.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘But she’s really tall!’

  I laugh, and with that Ellie disappears from our conversation. It’s back to just being us again.

  ‘There it is!’ My best friend takes off through the shopping centre towards … a chemist?

  I follow, slightly less excited than she is. A chemist is not quite what I had in mind. As I walk up behind her, I hear her explaining something to the shop assistant.

  ‘Here she is,’ says Bridge, pushing me forward.

  The shop assistant flashes a smile, and I notice two rows of braces on her teeth.

  BTF braces were on the cards for me, too. But now I may have escaped them. For a start, we can’t afford them, and secondly, I don’t think Dad is even aware I have crooked teeth. Teeth were more Mum’s area of concern.

  ‘Let’s start by choosing some earrings,’ says the shop assistant. Her words are slightly lispy so it takes me a second to realise what she’s saying.

  ‘Bridg-et!’ I yell, far too loudly. ‘Earrings? You’re getting my ears pierced?’

  My best friend grins and kisses me on the cheek. ‘Yep. And your dad is cool with it. In fact he had to come in and sign some permission slip because you’re not sixteen. Although he did say I couldn’t get you a nose or tongue piercing. Gross. As if.’

  I jump around. ‘Best late birthday present EVER!’

  Ignoring the shop assistant who is trying to get us to look at earrings, I grab Bridge and give her the world’s biggest squeeze. Then I whisper, ‘Thank you,’ into her ear.

  BTF Mum told me I could have my ears pierced for my eleventh birthday. Trust Bridge to make sure it actually happened now Mum wasn’t here.

  ‘I think you’re a purple stud kind of girl,’ says Bridge as we both lean over the tray of possibilities.

  ‘Or maybe that colour,’ she says, pointing to an emerald green stud.

  But I keep staring at a pair of strawberry red stones set in gold. They’re super-bright and not discreet at all.

  ‘Those ones,’ I say.

  ‘Really? You’ve changed. I would never have picked those for you,’ says Bridge, raising her eyebrows.

  I shrug. ‘I nee
d colour. Something obvious.’

  ‘Good for you.’ The shop assistant is clearly happy with my decision. She leads us across to a leather recliner and tells me to take a seat.

  I sit down, but I can’t get comfortable. Bridge stands next to me, holding my hand and chattering about all sorts of stuff. Tapping my foot, I don’t really pay attention to what she’s saying, but it’s nice to hear her voice. I realise how much I’ve missed her.

  ‘Okay, so this will hurt a bit. But it’s just like having an injection,’ says the shop assistant, holding what looks like a metal gun to my ear. ‘Ready, sweetie?’

  I nod even though I’m not so sure now and say, ‘Okay.’

  I grip Bridge’s hand tightly as the shop assistant wipes something cold on my earlobe and then pulls at it.

  ‘She’s sterilising your skin,’ explains Bridge.

  Then without any warning, the shop assistant fires a needle straight through. I scream. But she doesn’t check if I’m okay. She just gets stuck into the other ear. This one is far worse because, by now, my whole body is tense, waiting for the pain. Bridge leans down and whispers, ‘We could do our bellybuttons, too, and just not tell your dad.’

  I only manage a weak laugh because my ears are stinging so much.

  Then the shop assistant holds up a mirror so I can look at the piercings. I turn this way and that, examining them. My ears don’t look like they’re mine anymore. It’s as if they’ve been stuck on my face and they don’t quite belong. ‘Wow,’ I manage.

  ‘It feels weird at first. But you’ll get used to it,’ says Bridge. She grins at me.

  ‘Now don’t take them out for six weeks. The holes have to heal,’ says the shop assistant, plucking the mirror from my hand.

  We walk to the register as the shop assistant tells me a bunch of boring instructions about keeping my piercings clean to avoid infection.

  Bridge pays and I find myself wanting to touch my earrings, marvelling at the strangeness of the feeling.

  ‘Show me,’ Bridge says, lifting my hair gently. ‘Perfect. The colour’s awesome. You were right.’

  ‘You’re awesome. Thanks so much, Bridge.’

  ‘Your birthday extravaganza isn’t over yet. Now we have to go and eat doughnuts.’