by Carrie Mac
“And the other?” Oscar asked, eyes still on Eva.
“Huh?” Fawn looked up.
Eva smiled. Phoenix let out a breath of relief, and with it her anxiety receded a little. All of them, seated around the table as normal as could be, while the atmosphere in the room rolled and shifted back to normal, like a weather pattern only Phee could sense. “When you say ‘for one thing’ it’s usually followed by ‘and for another.’”
“Huh?” Fawn said with her mouth full.
“Don’t talk with your mouth full,” Oscar said.
“And don’t say huh. Ask properly.”
Fawn shrugged. “Okay.”
Phoenix surveyed her breakfast plate. A lone waffle, quickly cooling, the butter collecting into gelatinous pools. Two slices of bacon, the fat dabbed off by her father beforehand. A wedge of orange, like a fake grin at the bottom of her plate. She didn’t want any of it. She was categorically unhungry. In front of the window over the sink hung a mobile of colourful origami cranes, bobbing and spinning in the breeze, the thin bamboo sticks and thread holding it together staying untangled despite each bird’s chaotic spin. Her family was that mobile, with secret folds and nothing to grab on to, each of them spinning in the wind, with useless paper wings.
RAVE
Yet again, Gryph came in second at the surfing competition. None of his friends minded, and Oscar and Eva couldn’t have cared less if he’d come in fortieth, so it was only Phee and Lex who seemed concerned. Lex, clearly because his star was apparently fading, and Phee because she knew that Gryph had thrown away another win. He’d let the other guy take the best wave, and that had made all the difference. The old Gryph would’ve fought him for it.
The whole day had been weird anyway, starting with the family meeting, and then getting weirder when Gryph had brought Clea to sit with everyone and introduced her to their parents as his “girlfriend,” which made Eva embrace her in a joyous flustered hug. The announcement made Phee fume. He could do way better than her. She’d glared at the back of Clea’s head the whole afternoon, annoyed at how she sat so tanned and glowing among the rest of the pale, sunscreened group, like royalty deigning to sit among the paupers.
And then, the after party.
They were all dressed up, or the girls were anyway. The boys had put a little effort into the evening, exchanging their board shorts and T-shirts for pants and button-down tops. And cologne. All of them wafting competing smells. Gryph had told Phee and Nadia to dress “older,” so they’d put extra care into their makeup in the hope of getting in without being hassled for being underage. Gryph and his buddies never had a problem, not even with Neko. But then Gryph was famous. Different rules applied to him.
The unofficial after party for the surf competition was a late-night rave being held in an old warehouse in the two-per district, and when Phee asked why it wasn’t in a three-per zone, it was Clea—dressed like a supermodel in a tiny sheath dress and perilous heels—who set her straight.
“Better drugs,” Clea said with a grin as they exited the train. “Don’t you know that?”
“Sure I do.” Phee fumbled for a fast answer that wouldn’t make her look as naive as she felt. “But Gryph doesn’t do drugs, so why should that matter?”
“Gryph’s not the only one at the party, honey.” Clea winked at her. Phee was surprised at how badly she wanted to slap her, as in some over-the-top girl fight scene in a bad movie. Thankfully, Gryph pushed between them, breaking the moment.
Gryph gave her a dirty look. “Keep your mouth shut if you’re only going to ask stupid questions, Phee. Remember”—he took Clea’s hand and steered the group across the train station to a set of dark stairs—“I didn’t want you to come. And if Mom knew you were here, she would disown me.”
“Newsflash, Gryph. You’re not the boss of me.”
“That’s really mature, Phee.”
She knew she really should shut up. Nothing she said came out right. Exasperated, Phee fell back to walk with Saul and Nadia. Saul had never barked at her like that, and he was way more tolerant of Phee’s questions.
“Where are we going, exactly?”
“Dunno.” Nadia shrugged.
“Saul?” Without thinking, Phee gave him a playful shove. “Where’re we going?”
It was a long moment before he answered, during which Phee realized he hadn’t actually talked to her since revealing his secret to her the other day. She’d miraculously and momentarily forgotten about all that, caught up in tonight’s adventure as she was. Her plan had been to give Saul the wide berth he was so clearly claiming, but here she was now, getting into his face out of habit more than anything. But apparently Saul was okay with that, or didn’t want to act like an ass in front of Nadia.
“It’s an old surfboard factory. Down by the port.”
“Really?” Nadia turned her heavily made-up eyes to him, the glitter on her cheeks catching in a square of light from a building as they passed. “Is that safe?”
“Safe enough.” He levelled a quick, critical glance at Phee. “It’s a two-per zone, Nadia. We’re not slumming with the one-pers tonight.”
“I was just asking.” Nadia pulled her hand away. “I know you wouldn’t take us into a one-per zone. That’s just crazy.” She cast a glance at Phee. “Not saying your dad was crazy to take you to a no-per zone.”
“It’s okay,” Phee said. “He knows it was stupid.”
“Let me make myself clear.” Saul scanned the road ahead. “We didn’t want you two to come at all, so if anything goes down, keep that in mind.”
It was true they’d had to beg. But in the change room, after the competition, when Nadia found out that Clea was going with them, she freaked out on Saul until he relented. And if Nadia was going, Phee was going. She didn’t care what Gryph had to say about it. She was not going to be the only one left behind. Everyone’s parents had been told they were at one another’s respective houses, and they all had their phones in case any of the parents checked in.
The old surfboard factory was at one end of the Cannery, an industrial district down by the docks that was made up of fish-packing plants and seafood distributors, a part of the city Phoenix had never had reason to explore. The stench of fish and rot had hit them right off the train, but as they got closer it was getting worse. Phee made a face.
“Perfect to keep Crimcor out of the way,” Saul explained, laughing at her and Nadia, who was holding her nose with two pink-lacquered nails. “Makes sense, doesn’t it?”
Nadia whined about the smell, feigning a theatrical retch every few steps. Phee ignored it as best she could, focusing her thoughts on why the guys had relented and let her and Nadia come along that night. Maybe they shouldn’t have begged quite so convincingly.
PHEE WONDERED if it was Neko who had made Gryph agree to let the girls come. Neko was only fourteen, and Nadia always worried about him. Maybe he figured that if Nadia came along for once, she’d relax a little about Neko. Neko was walking up ahead with Tariq. When they passed under the street light, she saw Neko lean in to Tariq, hanging on his words. What were they talking about? Tariq said little at the best of times. And what would he have to say to Neko, anyway? Phee could hardly get Tariq to talk to her at all, but there he was, hands gesturing, clearly engaged in whatever subject he and Neko were talking about.
The street light at the next corner was dark, its globe smashed, the glass in shards on the pavement. They caught up with everybody else. Clea, the essence of glamorous spindly model, with her impossibly high heels, clung to Gryph’s arm. She wasn’t complaining, though. Her face was almost expressionless, her slight pout and half-lidded eyes making her look at once clueless and intriguing, and, as always, beautiful. She offered a little wave to the girls.
“She better not think we’re ever going to be friends,” Nadia said as they both gave a pissy little wave in return.
“Do you think she practises that look in the mirror?” Phoenix muttered to Nadia as the boys led the way down
a narrow alley. The smell was far worse here, boxed in as it was by the tall brick buildings on either side. Phoenix’s eyes practically watered.
“Spends hours and hours, is my guess.”
“Sorry?” Clea said over her shoulder. “I didn’t quite hear you, Nadia.”
“It was nothing, Clea. Never mind.”
Gryph shot her a look.
“What?” Nadia gave him a sneer. “We were complaining about the godawful stench around here.”
“Let’s go, guys.” Saul cut in between her and Gryph and took Nadia’s hand, redirecting her before she could give Gryph more reason to regret his decision to let them come along.
THEY HEARD THE AFTER PARTY long before they saw it. When they were still a block away Phoenix could feel the bass in her gut, thumping along her bones. Her heart quickened. She’d never been to a rave before. Half-terrified, half-delirious with anticipation, she followed the others to the end of the alley and up to the front of the line, where a burly man wearing shades—even though it was dark—unhooked the chain across the door, greeted Gryphon with a discreet nod, and let them all in, no cover charge, no waiting. Just like that, they were in. And the smell was gone. Phee glanced up at a pair of enormous extractor fans near the ceiling. She gripped Nadia’s hand and squeezed.
“That’s better.”
“Thank God, is all I can say. I was going to puke.”
It was even darker inside than out, except for the pulsing lights that burst from strobes and lasers choreographed to the heavy bass. There was no dance floor per se, but the whole place was wall to wall with writhing bodies, sweat illuminated by the light show, hips grinding, eyes sparkling. Phoenix was transfixed. The music was not just music. Phee had never heard anything like it. It pulled at her very soul. More an emotion than entertainment. There was no way her body wasn’t going to move. She slid along with the others to the far side of the massive warehouse, where a bar took up one wall.
After checking with Nadia, Saul leaned toward her and yelled over the music. “Do you want a drink?”
“What’s Nadia having?”
“Some girly fruity thing with an umbrella and vodka.”
“Tariq’s okay with that?”
“He doesn’t have to know.”
“Oh. Okay. Uh …” Quite frankly, Phoenix already felt drunk on the atmosphere, the music. The beat. “I’m okay for now, but thanks.”
“No way,” Nadia said. “Come on, get something.” She grabbed Saul’s wrist as he turned to talk to the bartender. “Get her what I’m getting.”
“I’m okay for now. Really.” Phoenix just wanted to dance. She wanted to be right in the middle of that sea of people, cresting with movement as the music did the same. “Come on. Let’s dance.”
“No thanks.” Nadia pulled away. “You go. I’ll come find you in a bit.”
EVEN THOUGH she was there against Gryph’s wishes and with no promise that he’d look out for her, she still felt obliged to tell him where she was going. When she did, he just nodded. “Text me if you get lost. I’ll make sure to find you before we leave. And don’t leave your drink unattended. Your water, I mean. Because you’re not drinking, right?”
“Right.”
“I mean it about the drink. People will put all kinds of stuff in it if you’re not watching. Roofies, Special K. You name it.”
“Got it.” Phoenix gave him a double thumbs-up.
“Good.” He turned away, dismissing her.
With that, Phoenix was on her own. She slid between writhing bodies to a spot between the speakers. There wasn’t even a second of awkwardness, she just started moving.
HOW MUCH TIME went by, she had no idea. There was no break between songs, nor were there any songs, really. Just a trance- like soundtrack, created by drum and bass and light, bodies in motion. And then Tariq was beside her, off in his own world, eyes shut, dancing as if he was born to it. It so surprised Phoenix that she actually stopped for a moment. He must have sensed her staring, because he opened his eyes and, without missing a beat, handed her a bottle of water.
“Thought I’d check on you.”
“I’m brilliant! This is amazing!” She took a sip, and then a gulp, not having realized how thirsty she was until that very moment. He said something, but she couldn’t hear.
“What?”
“I said …” Tariq took the bottle and leaned in so close that she could feel his breath on her ear. She shivered at the sensation, her arms rippling with goose bumps. “You suit this place.”
And all of a sudden, despite the shivers, she was even hotter than she had been. She could feel her cheeks flare with red as Tariq took a swig of water. The music slowed, shifting into something Phee recognized. Under the bass crept an adagio her father played on the piano, but now it stretched into something massive. What would Oscar think of this place? She wanted to tell her father all about it. She wanted to bring him here, show him. How the music was prayer and exaltation at the same time. How the closest thing she could compare it to was religion. God himself. In shadowy rebel form, here among the shadows and secrets in long-forgotten alleyways. And it was clearly transformative, because here was Tariq, not only paying attention to her but talking to her.
“What?” she yelled again, realizing he was saying something else.
“I said you’re a great dancer.”
When she actually registered what he’d said, she managed a garbled thanks, and then immediately felt as if she’d accumulated a collection of unruly limbs. And on top of that, she had to go to the bathroom. She didn’t want to ask Tariq where it was, though, so she told him she’d be right back and made her way toward the bar.
The others were gone. She scanned the crowd in the intermittent slices of light but didn’t see the boys or Nadia. She headed for a glowing exit sign, figuring the bathrooms might be in that general direction. She was right, judging by the long line of girls formed outside a rusty door. She was of half a mind to go outside and pee in the alley, but not in a two-per zone, not at night, and not with thousands of inebriated partiers around.
It felt like forever before she was next in line. She glanced back at the mass of writhing bodies. Would Tariq still be dancing? Behind the rusty door was a small reeking bathroom with three doorless stalls. The third toilet was overflowing, the floor a slick puddle of putrid water. Hovering above a filthy seat, she peed as best as she could manage and then washed her hands, or rinsed them under the cold water. There was no soap, and nowhere to dry her hands, so she flapped them as she headed back out, only to find Nadia ten people behind the front of the line, Saul beside her, keeping her company.
“Hey!” Phee grabbed her in a hug. “Isn’t this amazing?”
“As in amazingly crowded, noisy as hell, and stinking of sweat and booze and smoke? And I don’t care what the guys say, I swear that I can still smell fish.”
“The music!”
Nadia shrugged. “It’s okay, I guess.”
“Okay?” Phee gripped her best friend’s shoulders and gave her a little shake. “This is way, way beyond okay! It’s miraculous. Can’t you feel it? Really feel it? Like in your soul?”
“Whatever.” Nadia pulled away. “Maybe I’d be enjoying myself a little more if I could go pee. Like, right now. And if you hadn’t abandoned me.”
“I didn’t! I told you I was going dancing.”
“That was three hours ago, Phoenix.”
“Really? Three hours?”
“Really. I’ve been stuck with Clea the whole time. We’re making an art out of snubbing each other.”
PHOENIX HUNG OUT with Nadia in the lineup, even though she really wanted to go back to the dance floor and Tariq. Saul stuck around for a few minutes, one hand shoved in his pocket, the other slung protectively around Nadia’s bare shoulders. He would not look at Phee, and no matter how she tried to get him to talk to her, he would only nod, or shrug, and even then only when Nadia pushed for a response. The line moved slowly. Saul grew visibly impatient, lookin
g around, not even pretending to listen to Nadia as she prattled on about Clea.
“She cannot dance,” Nadia said. “You should’ve seen her. All swishy hips and finger snaps. Lame. Right, Saul?”
He shrugged, eyes searching the crowd.
“You’re not even listening.” Nadia twisted out from under his arm.
“You’re right. I’m not. Sorry.” Saul gave her a distracted kiss on the cheek. “I’m going to go find Gryphon. You okay here with Phee?”
Nadia pouted. “I guess.”
“You’ll stay with her?” Finally, he looked right at Phoenix. “Until I get back?”
Phoenix could only nod. She wanted to ask him so many questions but knew he’d brush her off. The only reason he was even deigning to look at her was to make sure she wouldn’t leave Nadia alone in such a big crowd. Now was not the time.
THEY FOUND THE BOYS—Tariq included—and Clea at the far end of the warehouse, sitting on a banquette. Clea was wedged between Saul and Gryphon, laughing, one hand on Gryph’s knee, the other reaching for her drink. Phoenix watched Nadia home in on Clea’s thigh, which was pressed up against Saul’s. He wasn’t even talking to her, or even leaning in her direction. He had his head bent toward Tariq, his hands describing whatever he was talking about.
“Saul!” Nadia assumed her pissed-off position: arms folded, hip jutted out, chin cocked.
“Hey, baby.” He looked up and grinned. Why could Phoenix see that he was totally infatuated with her, and yet Nadia was so quick to doubt? He climbed over Tariq and Neko, toppled an empty beer bottle and a candle, and, once standing, pulled Nadia to him in a warm embrace. Phee smiled. That should calm her best friend a little. Nadia looked so perfect in his arms, and he took such delight in her. Seeing them in their familiar embrace, Nadia with her back against his torso, her head leaned against his chest, his muscular arms embracing her sparrow-like form, she resolved once again not to tell Nadia about Saul’s secret. Especially when he so plainly wanted to forget that he’d ever told Phoenix about it in the first place. She would forget about it too. Or try to.