Blue Water High

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Blue Water High Page 6

by Shelley Birse


  Heath picked up one of the sausages and snapped it in half. ‘Wow. That’s quite a feat.’

  ‘Someone told me eating burnt stuff gives you cancer,’ Perri added.

  ‘I mean,’ said Heath, ‘to cook them to the point of being snappable without actually causing a fire … Amazing, really.’

  Edge glared and shoved some more of the black sticks of meat into his mouth. Fly could actually hear the sausages crunching in there.

  Bec clearly wasn’t going to touch hers. She was sending a text instead: an emergency call to home. They needed something decent to eat, and they needed it now. Fly wished that the emergency going on at her house was the same level of importance, but she doubted it.

  The phone rang again at 7.30. This time it was for Anna. Fly could hear a leathery old woman’s voice, but she couldn’t tell what she was saying … She stared at the noticeboard again. She saw the word Grossmutter and put two and two together. It was Anna’s grandmother calling from Germany. Anna didn’t want to talk to her caller either; she loved her dear granny, but that didn’t mean she wanted to spend an hour on the phone every day assuring her that she was looking after herself.

  Fly peered at the note Anna had left and clumsily started to speak the German words. Anna gave her a smile, and a thumbs-up.

  ‘Um … Anna est im … bahn wahn! ‘

  And then Anna’s face changed, she was waving her arms in alarm. She jumped up and grabbed the phone from Fly, talking away in high-speed German.

  Fly looked to the others – she just said that Anna was in the bath, didn’t she?

  Matt shook his head. ‘You said bahn wahn not bad wane … Anna’s in the railway for mad ideas.’

  Fly just nodded slowly. Everyone was staring, waiting for her to say something. ‘I just don’t understand why they’re not calling back!’

  Jilly marched through. ‘Why don’t you have a shower, Fly. If they call, I’ll come right up and you can wet my floor all over again.’

  She could see them all feeling for her. And it was enough to send her up the stairs. If she was going to cry she didn’t really want an audience.

  Heath came and sat on her bed after she got out of the shower.

  ‘Thought you might like a wrestle.’

  ‘A wrestle?’ It was the weirdest suggestion Fly had heard in a while.

  Heath bounced on the bed a bit, like he was warming up.

  ‘Always helps me when I’m feeling a bit toey. Or a pillow fight. Excellent for getting rid of some antsy energy.’

  Fly let herself think about it for a moment. Her and Heath, rolling around on the floor … She didn’t think so …

  She was about to politely decline when she copped a pillow – BAM! straight in the face. It shocked her into a laugh.

  ‘See? You look better already.’

  He was right and she suddenly liked him enormously for it. It seemed that Heath was going to be an excellent friend to have.

  Jilly appeared in the doorway. ‘Your mum left a message on the phone while Anna was talking to her grandmother.’

  Fly could feel the laughter falling away fast.

  ‘She doesn’t want you to panic. Your sister Nell has glandular fever. Maybe also hepatitis …’

  Fly’s stomach sank. ‘She’s in the middle of doing her final exams!’

  She was off the bed in a flash, headed back to the phone, but Jilly barred the way.

  ‘They’re at the hospital. The results will come back at nine and they’ll call you as soon as they know anything.’

  Fly was already doing the maths. There was a three-hour time difference between Sydney and Western Australia. Nine o’clock there would be midnight here. She was going to die waiting. But unless she could work out a way to reach up into the night sky and give the world a bit of a spin, she was just going to have to wait.

  Those snail-paced numbers, slowly ticking over, were all Fly could think about. She knew every time she looked at the clock she was making it worse but she couldn’t help herself. She tried to eat. Bec’s emergency call had delivered excellent results. Within half an hour Bec’s little brother Ben appeared in the doorway with a basket from Bec’s mum. There was a seafood bonanza, including crumbed prawns and calamari and the sweetest little pieces of fish – all those critters the Tangaroa was supposed to be protecting. For dessert there was a blueberry crumble and ice-cream. Jilly pretended not to notice, but as they were finishing up she passed by the dining table and let them know this was a oncer. She hoped they’d enjoyed it, because tomorrow the chef’s hats were on Perri and Matt. Bec’s mother was not going to be taking over cooking responsibilities for a year.

  Bec’s mum rocked up after dinner to pick up the plates. She was a carbon copy of Bec, just a little bit worn around the edges. She was wearing shorts and a tank top that Fly wouldn’t have been surprised to see on Bec. She was sure there was probably a fair bit of wardrobe swapping in the Sanderson household. It made her miss her mum, standing there watching Bec and her mother gossiping about family affairs. Not that she’d be seen dead in anything she’d raided from her mum’s wardrobe. Sandy Watson was seriously addicted to beige. But it didn’t matter, Fly missed her all the same.

  By 10.30 she was exhausted with worrying and crawled into bed. She knew she wouldn’t sleep till she’d had the phone call, but at least her body could pretend. Anna headed in, toothbrush still in her mouth. She put her mobile phone down on Fly’s bedside table.

  ‘Call the hospital and leave them the number.’

  Fly hesitated, she wasn’t used to taking favours, especially ones that cost money, but Anna insisted.

  ‘I’ve got cheap rates at night. And let’s face it, I don’t know anyone here yet to call.’

  Fly smiled. ‘If I had a mobile, you could call me.’

  Anna smiled back. ‘Better get you one, then.’

  Fly left the message and then, too restless to stay in bed, got up and wandered the house. She didn’t turn any lights on in case she woke the others. After that morning’s torture session with Deb and Simmo, Jilly had been proved right. No-one needed to be talked into the sack that night. Even as she thought that, there was an explosion of boys’ laughter from upstairs. She couldn’t help herself, Fly found herself magnetically drawn to it. As she moved up the corridor she could hear a truly awful sound.

  Fly had been around the land long enough to have watched big trees being felled. It always made her want to cry, when the giants came down. And it was one of the only things she and her father argued about. They argued until they were black in the face. They argued until Fly’s mother made a rule that there were to be no environmental discussions inside the house. It was hard, loving your parent and hating what they thought. Fly’s dad had been brought up in a different time. In a time before global warming, before wildlife funds, before it was reasonable for grown men in koala suits to harass you in the street for money. In Fly’s dad’s opinion, the land served the man, not the other way round …

  Anyway, the point was that she’d seen enough tree felling to know that, without a doubt, the noise coming from the boys’ bedroom was exactly the sound a woodchipping machine makes as it tries to break the evidence of the crime that’s just happened into a million little pieces.

  Fly arrived in the doorway. It wasn’t a woodchipper. It was Edge. Snoring like – well, like a woodchipper. Heath and Matt were in the middle of something they were clearly very pleased about. Heath was holding Matt’s phone close to Edge’s mouth. Matt had one of those fancy-shmancy numbers which had a video camera on it and the boys were recording Edge’s woodchipping. Fly watched them, conspiring as if they’d been friends since kindy. Everyone seemed so settled here …

  After a moment of fiddling with buttons Heath placed the phone on the pillow beside Edge’s ear. He and Matt exchanged a last glance of pure pleasure before Edge’s snoring erupted and he shot up in bed like he’d been zapped with a cattle prod.

  Edge did not have a long fuse. When he was woken fro
m sleep it was even shorter. But Fly couldn’t stay around to witness the fallout because Anna’s phone was ringing, and that could only mean one thing. Either Anna had a friend in Australia she didn’t know about, or it was news from home.

  Fly sprinted up the corridor into her room and pounced on the phone.

  ‘Hello?’

  ‘Hello, Sis.’ It was Nell. Fly was sure she’d never heard a sweeter sound.

  ‘I’ve been so worried!’ Fly said.

  ‘Everything’s alright. No hepatitis. I’ve got glandular fever but I’m allowed home tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s great.’ But Fly couldn’t help feeling, somewhere deep in the pit of her stomach, a glimmer of disappointment. Had she been hoping for a bigger drama? A reason to have to go home? She threw it out there anyway, just in case.

  ‘You don’t think I should come home? ’Cause I can.’

  Nell clearly did not think her sister should come home. She just wanted Fly to relax. She couldn’t talk long on the hospital phone because they charged a fortune, but Fly wasn’t ready to let go. Remembering Anna’s cheap night rates she told her sister she’d call back. It wouldn’t be a long call, but she wasn’t ready to let go of this voice from home. Not yet.

  Fly called back, nestled in bed properly now. She kept her voice low, careful not to wake Anna. Nell pummelled her with questions about what it was like, and Fly did her best to sound cheery, to hide the homesickness.

  ‘I’m loving it, Nell,’ she said. Yeah right, if you love coming last.

  ‘School’s great,’ she said. If you love people thinking you should be in Year 10.

  ‘The other guys are great.’ She meant this bit. She really thought they were. She had no trouble talking them up at all. She told Nell about what a wicked freestyler Edge was – that he’d been followed around by surf magazines for years. He mightn’t have always been on the podium but Fly knew that surfing photographers only hung around people whose stuff was spectacular to look at. She talked about Bec, who was one of the most hardcore, together girls she’d ever met. Not frightened by anyone or anything. There was no question for Fly that Perri was a goddess. She’d been modelling for five years and if she didn’t get a place on the circuit she’d basically already sewn up a career in sponsorship. Matt was the King Island brainiac – completely fearless. His home break was the heaviest wave in Australia. Then there was Anna – the full kiteboarding professional and kind beyond words.

  Fly trailed off.

  ‘That’s only five,’ said Nell. ‘I thought there were seven of you.’

  ‘Oh yeah, I forgot Heath.’ As if. Fly just didn’t know what to say. Nell always knew when Fly wasn’t telling the absolute truth so it made her nervous. ‘Heath’s … a nice guy … He’s part Maori. And he’s making a doco about the year. Everyone reckons if he doesn’t make it onto the circuit he’ll be like a surf director or something.’

  Sounded alright to Fly; maybe she’d actually pulled it off. But Nell knew her too well. ‘And?’ she asked.

  ‘And nothing.’ Fly sounded defensive, but she couldn’t help it.

  ‘He’s nice. He’s been a good friend to me since I got here.’

  ‘Good,’ said Nell. ‘Though at some point you’re going to have to move past the “good friends” thing with guys.’

  Fly knew Nell was probably right. But she wasn’t ready. Not yet. Heath was a friend. End of story.

  Nell finally let the Heath issue go, and she and Fly chatted about life on the farm and what was going on around the town. It was good for Fly. It made her feel real. When they’d been on the phone for twenty minutes, she very reluctantly admitted that it was time to go. She sent Nell the biggest telephone hug imaginable and told her to have sweet dreams.

  Before rolling over to sleep, she pressed the button to end the call. At least she thought that’s what she’d done.

  But she hadn’t done that at all.

  Chapter 10

  An alarm clock screamed. And then another. And another. All the way down the hallway. Fly rolled out of her dream. She’d been involved in some sort of investigation on the farm – missing sheep or something weird. She yawned and let go of the sheep mystery, reaching out with one arm to check that it really was five am, and not some horrible joke.

  On the bedside table by the alarm clock sat Anna’s phone. It seemed to be flashing. Fly reached over and picked it up.

  CALL ON HOLD the phone flashed.

  On hold?

  Fly’s head was spinning. She could sense someone talking to her but there had been a serious meltdown on Fly’s hard drive and the connection between her brain and her ears was on fire. She looked across the room and saw that it was Anna who was talking to her, asking if her sister was okay, but the words were a long way away. And they were a long way away because there were other words screaming in the front row: OH MY GOD, WHAT HAVE YOU DONE?

  She must’ve mumbled something vaguely sensible because Anna just nodded and headed off to the shower. Fly sat there staring at the evil mobile in her hand. She sat there alone, shaking, punching at buttons on the phone – dialled numbers, call costs …

  Fly closed her eyes, then opened them to look at the amount glowing on the screen. Her family were skint and she had run up a mobile bill of $274.74!

  Double Oh My God, with Hellfire on top.

  Everyone could tell there was something weird going on with Fly that morning, but with Simmo bouncing around hurrying them up there wasn’t time to push it. Simmo was extra bouncy today because Deb had organised a special army-style training session for them. No-one could decide whether he was getting some sick pleasure out of the pain he knew was in store for them, or whether he was just excited about having the morning off to read the paper in peace.

  As they all stood staring at the obstacle course Deb had laid out for them, they decided Simmo was definitely sick. A large rope net was suspended from a frame. There were things to jump over, to crawl under, to shimmy around, to squeeze through, to carry on your back. Things to make you hurt and sweat and wish you’d never gotten out of bed for the trials in the first place. Deb ignored the misery on their faces – she knew they were only going to look worse at the other end. She blew hard into her whistle. No-one moved.

  Deb stared. ‘Did I mention this is a time trial? And that the points are going on the board?’

  The group burst into life.

  Edge was first up and over the rope netting. He had the kind of reckless energy that meant he just hurled himself at things and hoped for the best. Matt was right up there with him, followed by Heath, then Anna, with Bec, Perri … and Fly bringing up the rear.

  The next pleasure was to flatten themselves to the ground, crawling on their bellies under another large net. Once they reached the end there were enormous hessian bags full of sand which they had to carry on their backs while they darted in and out of a row of uneven poles. Deb had definitely been watching too much reality TV.

  Even though she was in physical pain, Fly couldn’t really feel it. The only thing she could think about was the phone call, and why she hadn’t just said something there and then, as soon as she realised what had happened. Fly wasn’t big on messing with the truth. It just wasn’t in her. But now, by keeping her mistake to herself, she kind of had lied. When Anna asked her if she was okay, she nodded. And that was as good as a lie. Fly couldn’t have been more miserable if this were a real war zone with real bullets.

  Edge was losing a bit of steam as they started to clamber over the stiles. By the time they reached the end and headed for the monkey bars Matt had taken the lead. Fly saw Heath looking back, clocking her progress. Yep, still coming last, thanks for checking! Her foot slipped as she came off the last stile and her ankle yelled at her in protest, but Fly wasn’t stopping. She ignored the pain and ran towards the monkey bars. The rest of them had almost finished before she’d even started.

  ‘Give Fly a leg-up, will you, boys?’ Deb called out.

  ‘I can do it!’ Fly yell
ed.

  She took a long running leap, eyes totally focused on the smooth grey bar she needed to reach. She launched, she flew through the air … she fell flat on her face in the sand.

  Unlike Simmo, Deb took little pleasure in their pain. She gathered them together at the end of the training session and told them how proud she was. They were the strongest team she’d seen yet. Bec pointed out that it was Deb’s first year at the academy, but none of them minded. They were all happy with a little praise. Deb had another announcement. She’d decided to get all her dastardly duties out of the way on the same day – that way they could hate her guts for a week and get over it. She needed to tell them about one of their other obligations.

  ‘So,’ she started. ‘Gorgeous beach. All the surfing you want. Great pad to live in. Pretty privileged life, isn’t it?’

  ‘Come on, Deb. Get to the bad bit,’ said Matt.

  ‘Solar Blue think it’s important for you guys to keep your life here balanced. Some of you will be going back home at the end of the year, and if you don’t keep your feet on the ground, that’s going to be tough.’

  ‘And the bad bit Deb?’ Matt prompted.

  ‘The bit you might not be thrilled about is that you have to do community service. Eighty hours throughout the year.’

  There was instant uproar. When would they fit it in between school and study and surfing? Blah, blah, blah. All the usual complaints.

  Deb heard them out but it was clear this was not negotiable.

  While the rest of them spent their spare time trying to work out how to deal with the community service issue, Fly kept right on obsessing about her own problem. Bec had come up with a plan to see if they could do their hours as voluntary lifeguards. That way they still got to be on the beach, they could do some extra training if they felt like it, and there was no chance it would involve wiping dribble off an old person’s chin. She couldn’t make any promises but she’d known the head of the guards, Casey Ryan, since she was in primary school, so she’d see if she could pull a few strings. Edge was thrilled by the idea. Fly couldn’t help noticing that Edge being thrilled seemed to thrill Bec too. Was something going on there? It was possibly the only thought Fly had all week that didn’t include the dim, green glow of a mobile phone, or the number 274.74. She needed a solution and she needed it fast.

 

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