‘You ever wondered where the drains go?’ I asked.
‘Nobody wonders that, Monty. Geez! Just for once, try not to be a total freak,’ she said.
‘I wanted to talk to you. About last night.’
‘There was no last night.’
‘You don’t mean that,’ I said.
‘I can’t do this anymore.’
‘Why? Because of them? I thought you didn’t care what they think.’
‘Well, maybe I do.’
She tried her best but I could see she was lying. She didn’t care about them at all, quite the opposite. For the first time, I could see into her. I was the one who could read minds.
‘No, you don’t,’ I said. ‘There’s something else. I know you want to tell me. Otherwise, why would you come over last night?’
‘Monty, you wouldn’t understand.’
‘I understand more than you think. I know who you are, Eliza.’
‘You don’t know anything about me, Monty!’ she hissed. ‘Not one single, damn thing!’
Chapter Twelve
Alias: @The Full Monty
Date: Friday August 1, 3.33AM
There are so many things I don’t know. Like, I don’t know what happens on the other side of the cosmos, or what happens in the middle of the sun, and I sure as hell don’t know what’s in her mind. But there’s got to be a way to find out, right?
Hello?
Anybody there?
@Gutentag
I am of here. But a blink will send me towards night.
@The Full Monty
I know the feeling. I’m tired too.
@Gutentag
I am in your domain. You pull me down with you.
@The Full Monty
What did I do?
@Gutentag
This is the final time we speak.
@The Full Monty
Don’t be like that. You’re my only friend.
@Gutentag
I’m sorry. It’s over, Monty.
@The Full Monty
Hey, your English is getting better :)
Hello?
Please don’t leave me.
*
‘Morning, Monty!’
Pippa Wilson stared at me with her wide rabbit eyes, and flashed her wide rabbit teeth. She had me cornered by a recycling bin and was pressed in close to me. I could feel her quick breath pant in my face. She smelt of toothpaste and Weetbix. There were certainly no strawberries on Pippa Wilson.
‘What do you want?’
‘Oh, you know. I just saw you walking past, and I thought I’d say hi. So … hi!’
‘Is that it?’
She seemed nervous. I didn’t get why at all. I looked around for Becky, to see if Pippa was under orders or something, but she seemed alone.
‘I like your hair,’ she blurted. ‘I mean, it’s growing back again now and it looks really cool. I always liked it long.’
A sudden pang of panic swept through me. She was flirting with me! Pippa Wilson smiled patiently, waiting for me to respond with some equally lame compliment about her pigtails. She teetered on the edge of hope, I could see. She had put herself out there. But why? For me? It didn’t make sense.
‘How did you go with the science assignment?’ she asked.
‘Huh?’
‘With Tony? That must have been hard. He never gets anything.’
‘You do science?’ I asked.
‘Well, yeah. I’ve only been sitting behind you all year.’
She looked disappointed I hadn’t noticed. I’d spent so much of my life trying not to be seen that I didn’t really notice other people, I supposed. Had she been trying to get my attention all this time, without me having the slightest idea? It was possible, I thought. She and I were cast from the same awkward gene pool. Where she had made the best of her looks, by trying to look like a pretty Viking girl in plaits, I had done nothing special until my recent attempts at personal hygiene. Apparently, that was good enough to gain some interest. Still, I had my doubts.
‘I’m sorry,’ I told her. ‘I should take better notice.’
‘It’s okay. I understand,’ she said. ‘You’re shy. Like me. But there’s a lot more to me than meets the eye!’
She seemed to relax a little and I could see she was right. There was more to Pippa Wilson than I first thought. Sure, she was Becky’s underling, aspiring to the life of the queen bee, but Pippa Wilson also had her own unique hopes and desires and fears and neuroses and other little bits and pieces that made her altogether her own person. I wanted to know more about her.
Guilt crept into the backs of my eyeballs. I thought of Eliza. The beach. Midnight in the dance club. Our dark embrace. We had shared so much. And yet there I was enjoying the attention of another girl. A gob of sick rose in my throat. I didn’t know what to do.
‘There’s a party tonight,’ Pippa said. ‘At my place. Do you want to come?’
‘A party?’ I asked, looking dumbfounded.
‘Well, yeah. You know, people get together, have some laughs. Maybe, I don’t know … have a little fun.’
She was teasing me a little. Her gentle sarcasm only drew me closer. I didn’t mind. There was no malice. Pippa smiled at me playfully and the promise of a little fun was intriguing. I’d never had a little fun.
‘Well?’ she asked. ‘You coming?’
Her hand slipped into mine and I felt her quick warmth. Her touch was soft and energetic and her little finger tickled the palm of my hand.
‘You want to go? Then go,’ Eliza said.
Eliza took the news of the party with her customary aloofness. She held her true thoughts close, hidden away. She looked down to me from her high tower, confident behind her defences.
‘I’ve never been invited to a party before,’ I told her.
‘And why is that, Monty?’
‘Because I’m a freak and nobody knows who I am,’ I said.
She shook her head in frustration and sighed, as if I was a child who just didn’t get it.
‘Look, go to the party,’ she said. ‘Hang out with Pippa Wilson, if that’s what you want.’
‘That’s not what I want,’ I refuted.
Her cutting glare dissected me in two. She knew exactly what I wanted. She dared me to want it. She dared me to leave her, even after everything we’d shared. What did we share anyway? Everything was on her terms. Everything was some kind of one-way road to oblivion. I didn’t know where we were going, or if we were already at the end.
‘Why did you come over that night?’ I asked.
‘Go to the party,’ she said. ‘And do me a favour. Don’t ever talk to me again.’
The end then, I thought.
The dog watched as I laid out a clean shirt. It was the only one I owned with a collar and long sleeves. It was bright orange with some weird off kilter pattern, but at least it was a proper shirt.
‘Maybe you should try another one,’ prompted the dog.
‘What’s wrong with it?’ I asked.
‘Besides ugly?’
I frowned. My father had passed this shirt down to me. It was the only thing I could ever remember him giving me. I wanted it to mean something, I guess. I hoped it had some power of manhood contained within it. Then again, maybe Dad just hated it too and wanted it out of his sight? Maybe the dog was right? It was just an ugly orange shirt. Still, I didn’t want the dog making choices for me, not yet anyway. I put the orange shirt on, as much to spite it as declare my taste in fashion.
‘Very well, but you’ll have to work harder,’ the dog said.
‘For what?’ I asked.
‘You know what,’ it grinned.
‘I don’t know if I can do this,’ I said.
‘She told you to go,’ it reminded me. ‘She doesn’t want you anymore. Despite all my help, you’ve managed to ruin things.’
‘Me?’
‘Yes, you. And you alone. After all, it is your actions, not mine, that she has seen.’
True. I
had damned myself to this fate.
*
The music was loud. Pippa Wilson lived in a sprawling three-level mansion that put Eliza’s place to shame. It was simply huge, bigger than any place I’d seen before. The entranceway alone could swallow my entire house. I made my way in through the large double doors at the entrance, which were casually laid open to the street. I went to the party, orange shirt and all.
Music lured me towards the back of the house. Mixed among the beats, were the hoots and hollers of teenagers. Boys jeered each other. Girls offered delighted squeals.
Out back was a games room with a pool table, home theatre and a swimming pool complete with a bubbling hot spa. It was more like a fancy hotel than someone’s house. I couldn’t imagine what Pippa did when there was no party going on. Did she have to take a cab to get from one side of the house to the other? Who knew?
Pippa was among a group of girls from school, decorated in make-up and short skirts. She looked like a completely different person. Older even. Her little girl braids were gone and she had styled her hair into long curls. There was one notable omission to her party.
‘Where’s Becky?’ I wondered.
‘Who? Oh, she couldn’t make it. Some family thing,’ said Pippa. ‘Why?’
‘No reason,’ I said. ‘Just thought you two were really good friends.’
‘Yeah, right. Friends,’ she said dryly. ‘Look, forget about her will you? Come in.’
She led me towards the others and hugged into me, dancing as we went. She skipped and frolicked, as if everything in the world was suddenly right.
‘Hey! Someone get Monty a drink,’ she called.
A beer was passed my way. I stood there looking at it, dumbfounded. I’d never had anything like that before. Pippa smiled.
‘My dad leaves heaps of them in the fridge,’ she said. ‘He never notices if there’s some missing. You don’t have to drink it, if you don’t want to.’
‘It’s okay. I can handle it,’ I boasted.
I sipped the beer. It was cold and bitter. It made me gag a little and it warmed my insides with a blanketing glow. I didn’t like the effect at all. I had enough trouble concentrating without something like that assaulting my senses. The other boys by the pool table chuckled knowingly and turned back to their game. Pippa giggled and took the beer.
‘You can drink lemonade with me,’ she said. ‘We can go crazy on a sugar rush!’
She made her way over to the sound system, flicked through the playlist, and selected an eye-popping dance track. The boys in the corner groaned, preferring the harder guitar music they had on. But Pippa knew how to make them come around. She danced in the centre of the room like a wild thing and flung her hair around in wide swathes. She circled, drawing the boys in, and they began to dance too, mesmerised by her.
I had Pippa Wilson all wrong. She was not the demure little mouse, desperate to please. Out of school, Pippa Wilson was a force to be reckoned with. She was witty and soulful and in control of her own destiny. And man, she could dance.
I watched the dancing along with a couple of Pippa’s friends. Until now, I had only known them as names on a morning roll call. Kristen and Allegra peered at me curiously over their sculpted mascara.
‘Don’t worry, it’s happened to me before too,’ said Kristen.
‘What’s happened?’ I asked warily.
‘Being told it’s a dress-up party. And when you get there, you’re the only one in costume.’
She caught my confused look. What costume? I thought.
‘Your shirt,’ she explained. ‘It’s totally hideous! Where’d you get it? Out of your dad’s bottom drawer? Come on, what are you supposed to be, some guy from the eighties or something?’
‘Yeah. Something like that,’ I lied.
‘I like it,’ said Allegra. ‘Kind of retro.’
They seemed to think I wouldn’t actually come to a party dressed like that seriously. I was either playing a joke, or it was some kind of deliberate rebellion against fashion. I wanted to tell them I actually just liked my weird orange shirt because it reminded me of my dad. That clearly was not an option. So I did the next best thing: I said nothing. That actually worked. My cool silence made them think twice, I suppose. They suddenly looked uneasy, as if I knew something they didn’t.
‘First time?’ quizzed Allegra.
Again, I didn’t know what she was talking about, so I just gave her a silent nod. It had the desired effect. She stammered nervously and explained.
‘At Pippa’s house,’ she elaborated. ‘She puts on a great party, huh?’
‘Yeah,’ I covered. ‘Not bad. How about you?’
‘We’re here a lot,’ said Kristen. ‘Pippa likes to have people over most weekends. Her dad’s never around much. She likes to have some company, I guess.’
‘She lives here just with her dad?’ I asked.
‘Yeah,’ said Allegra. ‘He works a lot of nights and stuff. When he is home, he’s always stuck in his office. She’s got the run of the place really. Cool, huh?’
I thought it was pretty sad actually. I imagined Pippa coming home from school alone in that giant house, talking to herself for company. How was your day dear? she’d ask herself. Oh, good. Got an A in Biology. Wow. That’s fantastic, she praised herself. You’re really going to do great things, I just know. Did I ever tell you how much I love you? Yes, all the time. Well, I do. I love you. And I love you too, she’d tell herself, as she’d sit down to her usual night of toast and television. Poor Pippa. No wonder she invited everyone over on a Saturday night. Anything, just to avoid that chasm of silence.
‘Come on, Monty. Don’t just stand there!’ called Pippa.
She spun around in the middle of that great hall and her arms flung out wide like an Olympic ice-skater. She looked so free and happy out there. How could I have not known about her? I wondered. How could I have passed her by? How could I have sat in the same classes, walked the same halls, and not even noticed her until these last few weeks? Then it hit me: Pippa Wilson was just like me. Perhaps she’d been practising her own art of camouflage all these years and had expertly hidden in the shadows? Perhaps she, too, had a friend like Tim Smith when she was younger? Tina Smith, maybe?
I ventured out to meet her and we spun together like a pair of whirling dervishes caught in a tornado. Time seemed to drift and my head began to lift, bubble-like, off my body. It was happening again, the out of body experience. I watched myself from above. Down below, my body danced along with Pippa and her friends. I did a reasonable job of not falling over, I guess. Dancing was a trance. I loved it, right from that first time with Eliza in the club. It was freedom personified. The body took control. The mind slipped. Time fell away, turning all gooey and slow. Everything was good. Nothing else mattered.
But my thoughts solidified. Pippa and her friends merged into one, fluid organism. The lights dimmed and the music pumped louder. Arms and legs gyrated all around. We were one creature, moving to the beat. Out of that storm of flesh and blood stepped Eliza. She emerged from the dancers and moved towards me. Her lips were full, and her eyes sad.
‘Why did you leave me?’ asked Eliza.
‘I didn’t leave you. You left me,’ I said.
‘You’re right. I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘But you forced me to go.’
‘I just want you to be honest.’
‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘Don’t you understand? I thought you knew. I thought you could see me, that you could read my thoughts.’
‘I can’t,’ I admitted. ‘You’re a mystery.’
‘And so are you, Monty.’
Eliza smiled and disappeared.
Suddenly, there was blue all around. I was underwater, back under the waves. The music fell away and I was transported, to some other realm. I searched around to take hold of the shipwreck, but it was gone. There was nothing to take hold of. Air burned hot in my lungs. Bubbles escaped. Ahead, a clear white light beckoned. I floated towards it and reached out.
I wondered, was this life? Was this bright light the end of all things? It was beautiful. I touched it. It was hard and dome-like and felt oddly industrial. My mind came back into focus and I realised I’d just found some underwater lighting. I was in a swimming pool.
I rose up, gasping for air and looked about. I was in Pippa’s swimming pool. How I’d fallen in there, I had no idea. I paddled around, lost, as my confusion ebbed away. Pippa swam up behind me and wrapped her arms over mine.
‘Pippa? Where is everyone?’
‘Oh. Around,’ she said. ‘Crashed in the bedrooms. Some went home. It’s pretty late.’
She gave me a tender smile. My head ached. I’d only had one sip of beer, so it couldn’t have been that. Still, my gut roiled and a rise of vomit readied to purge.
‘Are you okay?’
‘Yeah. I’m fine,’ I lied. ‘I’m just a bit cold, I guess. How’d we end up in the pool?’
She laughed and recounted our entire evening. The story made no sense to me at all. Apparently, we’d had a great time. I was a party animal. Everyone was so surprised at how much fun I was. We had danced on tables and thrown food at each other and went generally out of control. After all that dancing, I had simply jumped in the pool. I had no recollection of this at all.
‘And you were so sweet,’ she said. ‘You told me I was a mystery.’
‘I said that?’ I asked. ‘To you?’
‘Well, yeah. It’s the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me, Monty.’
She swam closer and pulled me towards her. I realised I was swimming in my underwear, and so was she. She pressed herself against me. Her lips kissed mine and I dissolved under her spell. I was making out with Pippa Wilson. I didn’t resist. She was gentle and honest. She didn’t make me feel bad for wanting her. She didn’t make me feel like an unworthy fool. It should have been a moment of change for me. I could have had something good with Pippa Wilson. It might not have been as deep and all consuming like Eliza, but at least it would have been real. She wouldn’t reject me for no reason. She would be caring, like real people are meant to be.
I began to cry. Sobs burst out of me like stuttering firecrackers. I couldn’t go on. All I could think about was Eliza. The dancing. The water. My every thought was for her. Regret shone its harsh light upon me. We stopped kissing and Pippa looked at me, all confused. Her make-up ran down her cheeks from the water and she smiled curiously, baring those enormous teeth. She suddenly appeared so bizarrely rabbit-like that I couldn’t help but laugh, and cry, and laugh at the same time. She knew then that I was totally insane. Her brief attraction to me was over and she cautiously paddled away.
The Hounded Page 13