Cloudwish

by Fiona Wood

  Michael jumped to his feet and spoke over her. ‘Ms King, I took the photograph.’

  Billy and Vân Ước and Ms King all looked at him, surprised.

  ‘Are you sure, Michael?’ Ms King asked.

  Michael continued calmly, ‘I borrowed Vân Ước’s camera, but she had no idea what I wanted to use it for.’

  She was touched by how quickly Michael – thinking all the time that the scheme was stupid and her involvement in it risky – had come to her defence once he realised she was about to speak up.

  Ben Capaldi stormed into the common room, pouring rain and sweat, saying, ‘Billy, where the fuck were you?’ before he registered Ms King’s presence and was also subjected to the snap-freeze gaze. ‘Apologies for the language, Ms King,’ he said.

  ‘Where was Billy Gardiner supposed to be?’

  ‘We just had some lunchtime ergos; it’s no big deal, we’ll have another session after school.’

  ‘Well, immediately after school, he and Michael Cassidy will be in the principal’s office with me, talking about appropriate discipline for this potentially dangerous prank,’ said Ms King.

  ‘How’s it dangerous?’ Billy asked, incredulous.

  ‘You could have broken your neck setting it up. People have been smoking in here – which is a health risk that contravenes the school’s clean air environment policy, and breaks the zero-tolerance smoking rule, and had there been a security problem with this room, no one would have known about it.’

  Billy’s face showed his contempt.

  Leaving the room with a final stern look at Billy and a puzzled one at Michael, Ms King said, ‘Four-thirty in Dr Dryden’s office, both of you.’

  ‘Big fucken deal,’ said Billy. ‘Seriously.’

  ‘You better not get kicked off the first eight,’ said Ben.

  ‘Or what? You sound just like my dad,’ said Billy. He turned to Michael. ‘Thanks, man.’

  ‘It’s for Vân Ước, not you,’ said Michael.

  ‘You should have told the truth,’ said Holly to Vân Ước. ‘Dishonesty isn’t nice. But I guess it’s what you’d expect from a thief.’

  ‘Shut up, Holly,’ said Billy. ‘I told her not to. And stop saying she stole something.’

  Vân Ước wanted to say, I’m not a thief, and, I tried to speak up about the photos. I was prepared to own my part of the punishment. But she said nothing.

  She saw Michael’s eyes flick over to Holly and glance around the room. He seemed satisfied to see it so crowded. He loathed bullies, and hypocrites, and Holly had clearly been in his sights ever since he’d been collateral damage of her betrayal of Sibylla. He put his book down, stood up and cleared his throat. ‘Dishonesty isn’t nice, Holly. You’re right.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Holly, in the tone of someone who has finally been heard.

  ‘In fact, it’s despicable. But it’s not Vân Ước who is dishonest. It’s you, isn’t it?’

  Holly looked uncomfortable. ‘No.’

  Michael pressed on, pinning Holly like an insect with the intensity of his look. ‘You stole the label Vân Ước told you about. You took the evidence that she was telling the truth. You set her up. You deliberately tried to make her look bad in front of everyone else.’

  Because Michael so rarely spoke to the gathered masses, everyone was listening, just for the novelty value. So everyone saw Holly’s face go pale under its tan and then flush bright red.

  Michael smiled grimly. ‘The CCTV has its uses after all. Did you know there’s one in the locker area?’

  All eyes were still on Holly.

  ‘Why would you do that to Vân Ước?’ asked Billy.

  ‘For a laugh,’ Holly said.

  ‘You have a very ugly sense of humour,’ someone said. It was Vân Ước. She’d said it out loud! She was gathering some looks of approval.

  Holly walked out.

  Michael wasn’t looking happy, but grimly satisfied.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Vân Ước.

  ‘Yeah, good work, man,’ said Billy. ‘Did you hack the CCTV file?’

  Michael smiled enigmatically. ‘I didn’t need to.’ He looked at Vân Ước. ‘Holly knew what was written on the label, but you never told her what it said. I was just waiting for the right opportunity to denounce her.’

  Vân Ước wondered about the coincidence of weather; rain was the only reason Michael was putting up with the common room noise to eat his lunch on this particular day. What would she be feeling right now, and what would be the consequences, had the day been fine and her confession heard? Not only had he saved her from possible expulsion, he’d also managed to exonerate her from Holly’s false charges in such a satisfyingly public way.

  And for once, she’d managed to speak up.

  She met Billy on the way out of school, after his session with the principal and Ms King, and he walked a little way with her, debriefing.

  Michael had got off lightly. He had a perfect record. He wasn’t a natural fit at school, but he put up with everything either stoically or, where possible, taking the absent-minded path of least resistance, not interested in exercising teenage rebellion, exerting his preference not to take part in certain activities in ways that were acceptable to the school. He was reprimanded. He apologised with apparent sincerity, and left. No punishment. She was touched that he had exploited his perfect record for her sake.

  But Billy was another story. He was way down at the other end of the behaviour scale. In fact, he was Mr Final Warning. He was disrespectful to teachers. This wasn’t his first elaborate prank, and, according to Dr Dryden, Billy had to learn that these pranks he considered to be so funny wasted valuable time, and upset people.

  He had been late more than a few times to rowing training as well as missing the lunchtime ergo today, and had already been the subject of conversation between Dr Dryden and the rowing coach. They weren’t prepared to be lenient anymore.

  Billy’s behaviour, according to Dr Dryden, was defiant, complacent and arrogant. Didn’t Billy realise that there were other able rowers who were very motivated to make the first eight, who would turn up punctually, who would respect their fellow crew members?

  ‘I’m so fucking sick of everything,’ said Billy. ‘I just want the world to go away so I can spend some time with you.’

  This was not comforting, nor was it romantic, as he had perhaps intended it to be, and it made resolving the wish investigation even more pressing. What if his ‘fascination’ with her was at the expense of all the things that were formerly and should perhaps still be really important to him, like rowing? Was she unwittingly warping his world view? Messing with his whole life trajectory? She didn’t want that kind of power.

  ‘What did you say to Dr Dryden?’

  ‘Well – I probably shouldn’t have said what I said.’

  She had to push him.

  ‘Dryden threatened me – he said if I put even one hair out of place, I’d be off the crew.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And I said, Consider me off the crew, then, because odds are I’ll have more than one hair out of place before too long.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And then I didn’t say, Fuck you and fuck school – there’s restraint for you. I just walked out.’

  ‘You didn’t!’

  ‘It felt . . . great.’

  ‘But you love rowing.’

  ‘I have loved it, but I’ve been thinking about it since we talked on Friday – and, no kidding, this feels like a weight off. It’s just got so intense. Too important. And the Brown thing – sure, kudos, but do I really want years more of it? Right now – no. So, stand back and wait for the shit to start pouring down.’

  ‘Did he ring your parents?’

  ‘He will have spoken to them by the time I get home.’ Billy pulled his buzzing phone ou
t of his pocket. ‘Yeah, right on cue: Mum, Dad and – no doubt they’ll get Harry – my sister – to ring too, but she’s in Boston, so I’ve got a few hours’ reprieve. Full family disapproval coming my way.’ Billy kissed Vân Ước. ‘Wish me luck.’

  ‘Luck. Will you call me?’

  ‘Yup.’

  He walked off, looking back with a rueful smile. She blew him a quick kiss and walked home alone, chewing it all over. She, enthralled with Billy though she was, had no wish for the world to go away. She was just hoping he could be fitted into the few spaces she had between all her other commitments. Maybe there’d be a time, some time, when the other stuff would be finished and, sure, then she’d happily see the world disappear for a while.

  chapter 45

  She’d been memorising French verbs out loud after dinner, so her parents wouldn’t register when she answered her phone to talk through stage two of the Billy saga: The Family Disapproves.

  Billy said his mother was mostly ‘very disappointed’ and it was left to his father to use the heavy artillery: Do you realise what you’re giving up? Do you have any idea how many boys would kill for this opportunity? How dare you presume to walk away from a job half done! Are you a winner or a quitter? You’ll never achieve anything in life if you’re complacent about the head start you’ve had. How do you think this is going to look on your school record? If you had any strength of character, you’d stick with it. You made a commitment and now you’re letting everyone down. You owe the principal, your coach and your crew an apology. It’s hard to recognise you’re my son.

  ‘That’s all so . . . harsh, and critical.’

  ‘I’ve had versions of the talk before, but it’s the angriest I’ve ever seen my father.’

  ‘What about your sister? What does she think?’

  ‘She was cranky because my mother’s call woke her up too early. She thinks I should take the path of least resistance, put up with it till the end of school and decide then.’

  ‘That sounds like okay advice.’

  ‘Only I’ve already decided. Jeez, it’s not like I’m dropping out of school, or using heroin.’

  ‘Your dad’s reaction does sound extreme.’

  ‘Yeah, for someone so smart, he’s really dumb. It just boils down to why can’t I control you anymore?’ He sounded tired. ‘They’re so into me achieving their goals.’

  ‘They just want you to be successful, as they are. My parents want me to be successful, as they are not. When I tell them the artist plan there will be a tsunami of disapproval. They want me to study medicine too.’

  She could hear Billy smile. ‘We could run a course.’

  ‘Letting your parents down in ten easy steps. Are they punishing you?’

  ‘My dad’s giving me time to think it all over. He still thinks I’ll fold. And that’ll happen when – never.’

  ‘Wow, I don’t get why it’s hard for him to recognise you as his son.’

  Billy laughed. ‘Okay, we’re both stubborn arseholes. I’m guessing I’ll be grounded for a while. So that’ll make two of us who aren’t allowed out.’

  ‘I was kind of joking with the whole, date night the final frontier, but . . .’

  ‘We’ll find a way.’

  The English portal, open on her screen, stepped up with a possible solution. ‘Do you know when we could do it? Maybe?’

  ‘When?’

  ‘That notice we got today – the film screening.’

  ‘Genius.’

  ‘Goodnight.’

  ‘Night.’

  She smiled as she hung up. So long as she could get Jess on board for a little extra insurance, her parents should let her go on a school-sanctioned outing.

  chapter 46

  ‘Just taking these into Jess for her camp,’ said Vân Ước the next morning as she walked past her mother, holding up a pair of hiking boots and a rain jacket.

  ‘Come back for some breakfast. I’m making bánh ăn sáng.’

  ‘Is there one for Jess?’

  ‘Yes. Okay.’

  Her stomach rumbled at the thought of her mother’s egg bánh ăn sáng – yeasty buns from Liên Luu, filled with scrambled eggs with crispy shallots, chilli and heaps of fresh coriander.

  Vân Ước knocked and walked in just as Jess’s mother was leaving for work.

  ‘Thanks, Vân Ước,’ she said, looking at the gear. ‘She’s still asleep. Go in and get her to wake up!’

  She walked into Jess’s bedroom. ‘Hey, wake up – it’s camp day.’

  Jess groaned. She was never a morning person at the best of times, and on a day that her class was heading off for a two-day camp for bonding and hiking in the bush, she was even less enthusiastic than usual.

  ‘I need a favour,’ Vân Ước said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Come to see a film with me, so my parents feel okay about me going?’

  ‘What movie?’

  ‘It’s a filmed National Theatre production of King Lear, screening at the Nova.’

  Jess was awake properly now. She got up and headed for the kitchen as she processed the request.

  ‘I guess.’

  ‘Only, I won’t be there for the actual film.’

  ‘Too early for mysterious talk.’

  ‘Because I’ll be with Billy. Pleeease say yes.’

  Jess thought about it. ‘I could really do with seeing a production of Lear – sure, I’ll go.’

  ‘I love you.’

  ‘I know it. Do you want coffee?’

  ‘Come back with me, we’ve got eggy bánh ăn sáng.’

  That woke Jess up properly. She went back to her room, grabbed dressing gown and slippers and keys, and followed Vân Ước back to her place for breakfast.

  chapter 47

  Twelve Balmain Street, Abbotsford, was inked in the diary for after school Thursday, witchy-wish-writer-teacher visit, take two.

  The street wasn’t so deserted this time. As she pressed the doorbell, Vân Ước got a suspicious once-over from the next-door neighbours who were throwing a bird net over their fruit-laden fig tree.

  Ms Bartloch opened the door after one flat bing-bong chime from inside. She was retro-outfitted again; today, she was channelling Lois Lane, and carrying a big work bag – just arrived home, or about to go out.

  ‘Hello.’ She was clearly surprised to see Vân Ước.

  Now or never. ‘Ms Bartloch, I looked you up in the directory. I’m sorry to disturb you.’

  ‘Remind me – you’re from the year eleven class at Crowthorne?’

  She nodded. ‘I’m the one who lost the little glass vial – at the beginning of term? Sorry about that. My name’s Vân Ước.’ She’d rehearsed this, but couldn’t bring herself to deliver the next line, which was, Has anything unusual ever happened with the small wish vial before?

  The old dudes were there, talking softly: She’s standing there like a complete dummy/Good on her for coming back, though/Not if she can’t say what she needs to.

  ‘The most unusual things happen with that . . .’ Ms Bartloch was rummaging in her very large bag. She put it down on the veranda’s cushion-strewn bench, lifted out the box of prompts, and from the box pulled the vial. It was the one: the same handwritten word, wish, in the same spidery writing, trapped within.

  ‘But – I couldn’t find it that day in class. I really searched.’

  Ms Bartloch shrugged. ‘I guess someone else must have picked it up and returned it to the box.’

  Vân Ước said, ‘You don’t think – I mean . . .’ She laughed at the sheer ridiculousness of what she was about to say, then stopped, shaking her head. ‘No, don’t worry, it’s too silly . . .’

  ‘If you’re about to ask me, does this little thing have the power to grant a wish, you’re not the first student to ask, and my answer is .
. .’ She looked straight at Vân Ước. ‘My answer is, who knows?’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Put it this way. Officially, I don’t believe in magic. But a couple of times in England I’ve stayed in big old houses, and when there’s a bedroom with a big old wardrobe, I step in and I put my hand right up to the back of it. I’m checking for fur coats, snow and pine needles.’ She frowned. ‘And, as I say it, I realise I no longer seem rational.’

  ‘Have you read Jane Eyre?’

  ‘More than once.’

  ‘What do make of Jane Eyre hearing Mr Rochester calling her name?’

  ‘Exactly – you couldn’t meet a more sensible character, right? But she heard something.’

  ‘I rely on Jane, but she is fictional,’ said Vân Ước.

  ‘Hey, some of the best people I know are fictional.’ Ms Bartloch held the wish vial out. ‘Take it. Try again, and see how it goes.’ She gave Vân Ước the most reassuring of smiles. The smile said, I don’t think you’re crazy, I don’t think it’s magic, but I wish you luck.

  ‘I shouldn’t,’ Vân Ước said as her fingers closed around the vial. ‘I already lost it once.’

  ‘And yet here it is, finding you.’ Ms Bartloch zipped up her bag, slung it back over her shoulder, and said, ‘No big deal. I know the tree they grow on.’

  Holding the wish vial, Vân Ước watched as Ms Bartloch went back inside the house; she felt fifty per cent stupid, fifty per cent hopeful, and one hundred per cent terrified.

  She slipped the vial into the side pocket of her dress and zipped it.

  Jess was right, the phrasing of the wish was going to take some figuring out. None of the re-wishes she’d come up with would do. She didn’t want to accidentally wish for something dumb, as fairytale wishers always do, and end up with a sausage for a nose.

  She shook her head and seriously wondered if she should be making an appointment with Dr Chin to get a referral to a psychiatrist.

  When she got home to the flats, she was still worry-deep in wish land, and didn’t even notice the group of boys in the playground area again until she heard the cat-calling whistle.