Pan’s Whisper

by Sue Lawson

  Bitch! Glad I tried to treat her okay.

  In the family room Ian is on the computer. “Hey,” I say. There’s a government department logo at the top on the screen. “What are you up to?”

  “Paperwork for Zara.”

  I look around. “Is she here?”

  “Yeah, she’s here.” He sighs. “Well, not right now, but she’s been here.”

  “And?”

  He rolls his eyes. “Can’t say we weren’t warned, I guess.”

  The back door slides open, Rose leads the way, holding a schoolbag and paper bags. Nate edges around her, backpack hanging from his shoulder by one strap.

  “Hey, Nate,” I say.

  “Hi, Pan.”

  “How was school?” asks Ian.

  “Good.” He keeps going towards his room.

  “Back here, mister,” says Ian, closing the computer page.

  Nate does a little kid whine and flops his body to a stop. “But I’ve met her.”

  “Collect Livia from her room and come back here,” says Rose.

  So where is she? Rose isn’t big enough to hide anyone. But when Rose moves to dump her load on the bench, I see Zara.

  Zara’s scrawny with cropped hair. Her eyes dart around as though she’s desperate to escape. She reminds me of the litter of feral kittens Morgan and I found in the garage when we first moved to Shelton Grove.

  Rose smiles. “Zara, this is Pan.”

  “Hello, Zara.” The way I say it reminds me of someone, but I can’t think who. “What did you think of Nate’s school?” And I realise. I sound like Morgan.

  “Sucks.” Zara hisses. “I’m not going.”

  Livia enters the room and sits on the arm of the sofa. “Hi, Zara.”

  Zara scowls at her.

  “Told you,” mutters Nate, standing behind her.

  Rose carries a bottle of soft drink, glasses and a plate of Ian’s muffins – chocolate this time – to the coffee table. “Have a seat, Zara.”

  “No.” She folds her arms.

  Ian stands and offers her the muffins. “Double chocolate, Zara. Delicious.”

  The howl she gives is like one from a horror movie. She reaches out her twiggy arm and slaps the plate out of Ian’s hand. Muffins tumble to the carpet. Zara sprints back to the door and is gone. It happens so fast, I’m not sure I’ve even seen it.

  “Bloody hell,” I say.

  “You can go meet Teagan, Livia.” Rose sighs and follows Zara.

  After a while Rose returns with Zara and takes her to her room, where Zara stays for the rest of the night. According to Rose, after she checks on her later that night, Zara slept in the wardrobe.

  Once things have settled, Ian and I go to buy fish and chips for dinner. We sit on the pine bench and wait for our order.

  “Ian, can I ask something?”

  “Sure.”

  “Is Zara the worst kid you’ve had?”

  He frowns and stares at the strips of white fish behind the glass. “Yeah. For a while. There was this boy who’d been … well, badly treated. He set fire to his bed the first night.”

  “I still don’t get why you do it?”

  “Do what?” asks Ian.

  “Take in kids like Zara. And me?”

  “Because most of the time it works out.”

  “Do you reckon Zara will work out?”

  “Hard to say this early. We’ll know in a couple of months.”

  “Bloody hell, what if she’s like that the whole time?”

  He rubs his chin. “Zara’s mum has bipolar, and because Zara’s the only child, she’s never been shielded from … you know.”

  I nod, but for a moment I can’t say anything. I shift on the wooden bench. My skin is icy cold.

  “You should wear more red. It suits you.”

  “Thanks. I guess.”

  The hot guy behind the counter calls our number. “You get it,” says Ian.

  Dear Morgs,

  A new foster kid has arrived. She’s nine or something – young. Know what she reminds me of?

  Remember those four kittens we found in the garage? Scruffy, scratchy things. What were we searching for? Anyway, this kid is just like them – mangy, feral and wild eyed. At least, that’s how she looked the only time I’ve seen her. She’s been in the wardrobe since she arrived.

  Morgs, her mum has bipolar.

  Zara didn’t have any grandparents around. Or a sister.

  Love,

  Panda

  xx

  On the flora sofa, Morgan burrowed into Grandy’s side. He wrapped his arm around her and tapped the beat of the music on her shoulder.

  “What did you think of Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, Morgana?”

  “I didn’t like the child catcher. He’s scary.”

  “Who was your favourite?”

  “Hmmm, Truly Scrumptious. And Jeremy and Jemima. They were brave.”

  “Very.” Grandy kissed the top of her head. “Time for bed, nearly-school girl.”

  Morgan giggled. “Only seven sleeps.”

  “Kiss Grandma goodnight too.”

  Morgan wrapped her arms around Grandma’s neck and kissed her soft cheek. “Night-night, Grandma. Love you.”

  “Sweet dreams, Kylie.”

  Morgan opened her mouth to correct Grandma, but Grandy made a strange noise, so she stopped.

  After cleaning her teeth, Morgan snuggled under the blankets and listened to Pan’s soft breathing.

  Grandy tiptoed into the room. He pulled the blankets up to her chin and sat on her bed. “Sleep well, Morgana.” He kissed her cheek.

  “Grandy,” she said, watching the shadows from the tree outside the window dance across his face. “Am I brave?”

  “Very brave.” He looked to Pan curled in a ball, sucking her thumb. “You’ll need to be brave, always, Morgana, to look after Panda.”

  Morgan nodded. “Because Mummy is sick.”

  “That’s right, Morgan, and Panda isn’t as big and brave as you.” He bent down and kissed the top of her head. “Sweet dreams, precious girl.”

  Forty-One

  Sunday morning, I shuffle into the kitchen. Nate is at the table, playing his DS. Rose sips coffee and reads the papers. In the family room, Livia watches a music show, a bowl of yogurt and muesli balanced on her knee. I figure Ian is cleaning his golf clubs out the back. I could hear the hose from my room.

  I shuffle to the bench.

  “Morning,” chirps Rose.

  “Hey.” I chuck raisin bread in the toaster. “Any sign of life in Narnia?”

  Rose chuckles.

  “What are you talking about, Pan?” says Livia. She places her empty bowl in the dishwasher.

  “You know The Lion, The Witch and the Wardrobe,” says Rose. “Narnia is the land they enter through the wardrobe.”

  Livia rolls her eyes. “I’m going for a shower.” She pads out of the room, scratching her shoulder.

  I’m spreading margarine on my toast when she yells. Bellows really. I can’t make out what she’s saying, but I know she’s swearing.

  “What on earth …” Rose pushes back from the table and goes to investigate.

  “She’s going to pay for this!” spits Livia.

  Nate lifts his head from the game. “What did you do?”

  I shrug. “Nothing. Went to bed, slept, came out here for breakfast. Oh, and I went to the loo, but that’s it.”

  Nate slips from the kitchen, leaving me at the table listening to Livia rant. He sticks his head around the corner, eyes as round as my plate. “Pan, you gotta see this.”

  Toast in my hand, I follow him to Livia’s room and peer over his shoulder.

  Her room is pretty grotty. At least that’s my first impression, but after a moment I realise it’s more than untidy. The bedding is strewn across the floor and the wardrobe mirror, white pillowslip and wall behind her bed and desk are covered in scribble. Not texta or pen, but lipstick and eyeliner. All her posters of musicals have been ripped down.
/>   Livia is in front of me, tears streaking her face. “Why Pan? I know you don’t like me, but–”

  “Hey, I didn’t do this.”

  “You did. You hate me.”

  “Livia, stop it,” says Rose.

  Nate pushes past me and rushes down the hall to his room. He bellows Rose’s name.

  “Just a minute, Nate,” calls Rose.

  Nate returns, eyes filled with tears, holding a handful of brown Lego. “My ship.”

  Rose kneels in front of him. “Did you drop it, mate?”

  He shakes his head. “My room’s all messed up, like Livia’s.”

  Glass breaks at the end of the hall. My room. All of us jostle into the corridor, past Ian who stands in the kitchen doorway. His voice follows us.

  “What is going on?”

  I open my door and drop my half-eaten piece of toast.

  The picture of the tropical beach that hung above my head lies on the floor. The glass is smashed and the picture slashed. The photos, letters and other treasures I’ve kept inside Smocker are strewn across the bed. The photo of me, Morgan and Kylie rugged up in coats and scarves, standing by a lopsided snowman with gravel eyes and a twig nose, has been ripped in two. Grandy took that photo. It’s the only time I’ve been to the snow.

  I moan and pick up the first piece. Morgan and I on the right of the snowman, the tips of our noses and our cheeks red. I reach for the other half – Mum, also red cheeked, looks away from me and Morgan.

  My body swells until I feel like an overblown balloon, my skin stretched so thin it’s ready to burst. Then I see Zara, huddled in the wardrobe, rocking back and forth. She’s cuddling Smocker.

  Everything inside me goes icy. My hands shake and my mouth fills with a bitter taste. I push past Nate and Livia and rush outside, where I pace, pieces of the photo in each hand, gulping the fresh air.

  “Pan?” It’s Ian. “Are you all right?”

  “I … yeah, I think so.” My thoughts are thick and foggy. I flop on the outdoor seat and stare at the ripped photo. My whole body shakes. My leg spasms and my stomach contracts. I’m so … angry, sad, furious, scared, panicked, tired. I don’t know what I am. I’m everything, but nothing. I’m in pain and need to vomit, but I’m numb too. Sweat drips down my forehead.

  Ian sits opposite me. I feel the weight of his hand on my forearm. “Pan?”

  I fight with everything that’s churning inside me.

  “I’m sorry about your room – the photo.” He reaches for it, but I snatch the half with Morgan and I back.

  “I can take it to the camera shop tomorrow. Have it restored.”

  I shake my head. “It’s not your fault, Ian.”

  “She’s a psycho,” says Nate.

  When I look up, he and Livia are wandering towards us. Nate eases what is left of his Lego ship onto the table.

  Livia slumps in the seat beside me. “That kid is a hurricane on legs.”

  “You should be saying sorry to Pan,” says Nate. His white face is blank.

  Livia scratches the table with her thumbnail. “Yeah. Sorry, Pan.” She gives me a weak smile. “Now what?”

  I’m not sure if she means with us, or with Zara.

  Ian sighs. “We clean up, I suppose. When Rose is done.”

  I try to fit the two pieces of the picture back together. No matter what I do, they won’t join smoothly.

  “I’m bored.” Nate leaves the Lego ship hull and jogs to the garage, emerging with a soccer ball. He kicks it against the brick wall for a bit. “This is boring too. Come kick with me, you guys.”

  It’s not long before he’s talked Ian, Livia and me into playing with him – which would be okay, except Livia and I are still in our pyjamas. Pyjama elastic isn’t designed to cope with soccer games.

  Nate and I are leading three – one when Rose steps out the back door. “You can come inside, guys. She’s asleep.”

  Livia, Nate and I go in, but Rose and Ian sit at the outside setting and talk.

  Forty-Two

  Even though I’ve vacuumed the carpet three times already, I’m on my hands and knees checking for shards of glass. I’m pretty sure I’ve sucked it all up, but I’m not taking any chances. I’ve even vacuumed Smocker.

  Once I’m positive the carpet is glass-free, I stand and look around. Everything, except for the tropical beach picture, which was beyond fixing, is back where it should be and Smocker lies across my pillow. The stuff from inside him is stacked on my desk, the ripped picture on the top. I can’t bring myself to place them back inside Smocker.

  I wheel the vacuum down the hall to Nate’s room. He’s sitting on the floor, surrounded by Lego pieces.

  “Need a hand?” I ask.

  He shakes his head. “Nah, I have to do it.”

  “I’m guessing you won’t want the vacuum yet, then?”

  He pulls a “you’re an idiot” face and goes back to work.

  In the hall I stop outside Livia’s shut door. The sound of scrubbing and the smell of cleaning spray fill the air. I drop the vacuum hose and go to the laundry, where I grab rubber gloves, a couple of rags and a bucket of water.

  With my free hand I tap on the closed door.

  “Yeah.” The word is followed by a sniff.

  I take a deep breath and open the door. The scrubbing stops. Without speaking I dunk a cloth in the bucket, wring it out and begin cleaning the scribble on the wall above Livia’s bed. After a few seconds, she goes back to work on the wall behind her desk.

  Scrubbing the walls is hot and frustrating – the make-up smudges and swirls into blurs of colour before coming away. I’m coming back from emptying the murky water and refilling the bucket when Livia finally speaks.

  “Lucky Zara’s not tall.” She doesn’t stop work.

  “True. I couldn’t be stuffed climbing on and off chairs to do this.” I try to think of something else that would be safe to say, but Livia beats me.

  “Pan, you don’t have to do this.”

  “I know.”

  It goes quiet, except for the sounds of swishing water and scrubbing.

  Livia’s voice makes me start. “Are you working backstage for the production?”

  I sneak a look at her, trying to work out if there’s an attack coming. “Don’t know. No one’s asked me to.”

  “You should. I mean you helped make all the sets and stuff.”

  “Only because I had to hang out with Ari for detention.”

  “Still.” She wipes the strands of hair that have escaped her ponytail, away from her face. “Pan, I’m sorry, about, you know …”

  I nod. “Me too, Livia.”

  Forty-Three

  I’m sitting on the step in the sunshine. Sparrows hop along the path and flutter to the clothes line.

  Now I’m inside. It’s dark inside.

  Pounding.

  Thudding.

  Morgan’s yelling, “Open the door, Kylie.” More banging and yelling.

  The air is thick with the smell of dirty clothes and something else.

  Morgan’s face, twisted and angry, yelling.

  I’m sitting in the cupboard, clutching Smocker, rocking back and forth.

  I gasp for air and sit up. My pyjamas are drenched with sweat. Once my pulse slows, I try to piece the dream together.

  Forty-Four

  One minute I’m in English sitting beside Hunter watching the Romeo and Juliet DVD Grint is making us watch. The next, everything is black. I’m cold.

  It’s so dark. The air is still and smells of soap and shoes. I hold my hand in front of my face, but can’t see it. I reach out and meet something solid and smooth behind me. Fabric hangs above me.

  I’m scared and shivering. Footsteps approach. I whimper.

  A grating sound and brilliant light. I shield my eyes.

  Something touches my shoulder. I squeal and jump.

  And the image is gone. I’m back in our darkened classroom with the Romeo and Juliet DVD playing.

  It’s Hunter who
has touched me. “Panna, are you okay? You look sick or something.”

  His voice is muffled and echoey, like he’s on a bad phone connection, not right beside me. I scratch my scalp hard, hoping to erase the jumbled memory from my brain. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

  “Ms Harper,” warns Grint from the back of the class.

  I slump in my seat and try to focus on the screen, but my mind floats away, not back to that black place, but to a garden.

  I’m tucked under Morgan’s arm, something prickly sticks into my back – a hedge.

  Morgan is whispering. “So in this game, we have to be still and quiet so the bunyip doesn’t find us.”

  I’m scared, but excited. It’s a game. Morgan said so.

  The bunyip roars.

  Only it’s not roaring. It’s calling my name. And Morgan’s.

  The classroom air is thick and impossible to breathe. I stumble to my feet and run.

  “Pandora, come back here now,” yells Grint. Only I don’t hear her voice, I hear the bunyip. And the bunyip is Mum.

  I don’t care how out of bounds it is, I head straight to that spot near the woodwork room and crumple behind the hedge, hugging knees to my chest.

  Mum stomping through the house, ranting and punching walls.

  Morgan cramming me into the wardrobe and covering me with clothes.

  “Panna?” Hunter has followed me. He squats before me. “What’s wrong?”

  I can’t speak. A numb feeling is spreading from my hands to my shoulders.

  “Are you sick?”

  I force my head from side to side.

  Waking in the caravan annexe to yelling – Mum and Grandy, outside.

  Eating birthday cake with Morgan, wearing my new watch. Mum isn’t there.

  “Pan, Grint sent Molly to find Dutchy. You can’t stay here; it’s the first place he’ll look.” There’s pressure on my elbow and I realise Hunter is trying to pull me up. “I’ll take you to Merle.”

  I shake my head.

  “Then home, or my place.”

  “No!”

  “Come on.” He tugs harder. “Trust me.”