Girl Saves Boy

by Steph Bowe

  Jewel frowned and whispered to me again. ‘Is June related to Al?’

  ‘No, she’s his dad’s girlfriend. His mum and dad are split up but they all live under the same roof,’ I explained.

  ‘Seems a bit weird.’

  ‘I thought so too, at first. But everyone’s weird. You see past their weirdness and they’ll see past yours,’ I said.

  Jewel smiled at me. ‘They should put that on a bumper sticker.’

  Our heads were close together as we whispered. It was such a perfect quiet moment—the moon hanging low in the sky, being a part of the raucous family that was joyful if a little weird, the smell of barbecue in the air, whispering to Jewel. Somehow, the ordinary school basketball court had become magical.

  I wanted to be able to capture it, keep it as a last happy memory, be able to come back to it and relive this moment. I wanted to be able to lean a little closer and kiss Jewel. It would be stupid and embarrassing in front of Al’s family, but, God, I wanted to.

  Mason returned with our sausages in bread, piled high with onions and sloppy with tomato sauce. Jewel and I sprung apart abruptly.

  ‘Took you long enough!’ said Al.

  Mason ignored him. ‘They’re hot,’ he warned.

  ‘Thanks,’ said Jewel. ‘How much?’

  ‘My shout,’ he replied.

  ‘Can you hold this for a sec? I’m going to get a Coke,’ I said, handing her my sausage in bread. ‘Wait here.’

  ‘Okay,’ Jewel said. ‘Can you get one for me?’ She handed both sausages in bread to Little Al, and fumbled in her bag.

  ‘It’s all right, it’ll be, like, five dollars. I’ll pay,’ I said.

  I headed towards the drinks tent. Weaving between groups of people, I bumped into someone.

  ‘Sorry,’ I mumbled. Then I looked up. ‘True?’

  True and I stared at each other.

  ‘Hi,’ she said. ‘I haven’t seen you at all today.’

  ‘Funny,’ I replied. ‘Al and I saw you.’

  Her expression didn’t give anything away. No hint of guilt.

  ‘I have to go, Sacha. Mum’s giving me a lift home—’

  I interrupted. ‘Who was that guy?’

  True rolled her eyes. ‘Oh, God. Don’t tell me Michael’s all depressed now.’

  ‘He is, as a matter of fact,’ I said. ‘But that’s kind of beside the point. I thought you weren’t getting involved with boys.’

  ‘Are you in love with me as well now?’ Her tone was sharp.

  ‘You know what I like about you, True? Your humility, kindness, consideration of other people’s feelings…’

  ‘Maybe I changed my attitude the other night. Decided, hey, maybe I ought to start living my life to the full.’

  ‘And next thing you were pashing some guy on the oval, today? You work quick, True.’

  ‘Oh, dear God,’ she muttered. ‘I’ve known him for ages, okay?’

  ‘When I said “Have fun” it wasn’t code for “Go pash some guy you’ve known for ages and break Al’s heart.”’

  ‘He’s not heartbroken,’ she said. ‘He’ll get over it soon enough. He’s being a drama queen.’

  ‘He was practically catatonic,’ I said. ‘Then he became hysterical. I don’t know which was worse.’

  ‘Maybe you should stop speaking for him,’ True said. ‘Maybe you should give up on trying to set us up.’

  ‘I’m not,’ I said, indignant. ‘I never have.’

  True frowned. ‘Sacha, I don’t want to have this conversation here or now—’

  ‘True—’

  ‘Stop interrupting me!’ she hissed. One of our teachers came by and threw us a concerned glance. We both smiled at her and she moved on.

  ‘I have something important to tell you,’ I said.

  True sighed. ‘You just don’t get it, do you? You’re always so melodramatic. Not everything is about you. You can’t force people to do what you think they should do. There’s such a thing as free will. Ever heard of it?’

  ‘Stop being so difficult and listen to me,’ I said, my voice low. As she’d spoken, her voice had become higher and higher. Cool, collected and calm True Grisham was nervous and agitated. It was bizarre. The planets must have been out of alignment.

  True sighed again. In the distance, a kid squealed. Another band started to play. The drumbeat reverberated through the asphalt basketball court beneath our feet; I could feel the vibration spreading through my body.

  I began, ‘I—’

  ‘Wait,’ said True. ‘I just want to explain something first.’ She paused and gathered her thoughts. Then she said, ‘As much as I care about you, Sacha, things have been incredibly difficult for me lately, and you’ve been doing weird, random things. I want to be there for you, for whatever you’re going through, but you’re making it difficult.’

  I laughed, but it sounded fake, and my whole attempt to seem flippant fell flat. ‘You sound like my mother.’

  True visibly cringed at the reference to my mum. When she regained her composure, she asked, in a quiet voice, ‘What happened, hey, at the lake?’

  ‘It’s kind of tied in with that important thing I had to tell you—’

  True massaged her temples, and said, ‘Spit it out, Sacha.’

  ‘I can’t tell you here and now, okay?’ I spluttered. I swallowed and reminded myself to breathe. Inhale. Exhale.

  True opened her mouth to speak—her forehead lined, a pleading look on her face—when suddenly Jewel appeared at my side. ‘Hey, drinks?’

  There was a split-second of silence, but it seemed to drag on forever, like I was caught in a single frame of claymation.

  ‘I have to go,’ True said. ‘Let’s have this conversation another time.’ She smiled fleetingly at Jewel, but it was a distracted smile. Then she turned and left, disappearing to the parking lot. Jewel and I watched her go.

  Sacha’s favourite times of day

  The moment just before the sun appears over the horizon at dawn

  The end of the day, after the sun sets but before the moon rises

  Midnight, on a clear, still night, when everything is quiet

  Jewel

  I sat with my knees to my chest, and my arms wrapped around them. Little Al and his family had all got up to dance. The new band playing was louder than Al’s dad’s band. So it was just me and Sacha sitting together.

  Some parents with young kids had gone home, and new people had arrived. Teachers I recognised from school wore more casual clothes, and a couple of them were stumbling drunkenly and laughing a little too hard.

  Sacha noticed me watching the Maths teacher. ‘It’s always entertaining when teachers get drunk. She’ll have a couple more red wines and the students will never let her live it down,’ he said.

  ‘Yeah,’ I laughed.

  He turned and smiled at me. ‘Are you cold?’ he asked.

  I was wearing only my dress, Volleys and knitted gloves. It was pretty chilly now; I could see my own breath, a whispery cloud in front of me.

  I nodded.

  He shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to me.

  ‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I layer.’ He pointed to the long-sleeved shirt under his T-shirt.

  I smiled and pulled the jacket on. It was fleecy and still warm from him.

  We watched Little Al spinning to the music with his baby sister.

  ‘What I love about Al,’ said Sacha, ‘is the way he just doesn’t care what you think. He does what he loves and what he wants to do, and who cares what happens. I wish I had that sort of…is the word unselfconscious? Unselfconsciousness? It’s bloody long.’

  ‘I don’t think he’s that self-assured,’ I said. ‘The people you usually think are the bravest are often the most scared. He probably works really hard to be the person that he is.’

  ‘I think I know what you mean,’ he said. ‘Like when he freaked out today.’

  ‘What did he freak out over?’


  ‘We saw True kissing a stranger earlier today,’ he said. ‘Unexpected, right?’

  ‘Ha, there’s a bit of gossip to spread,’ I said. ‘Why did Al freak out, though?’

  ‘He’s kind of in love with her.’

  ‘Are they…together?’

  ‘No. And they never have been,’ Sacha said. ‘It’s a five-year unrequited crush.’

  ‘Does she know about this crush?’

  ‘She’s known from the start. He announced it over the loudspeaker during term two of Year 7.’

  ‘But shouldn’t she be allowed to go out with guys even so?’ I asked. ‘It’s not as if she’s obliged to return the feeling.’

  He swallowed. ‘I guess. I just thought…I don’t know, maybe she could have said, ‘“Look, I’m going out with this guy. You’re going to have to get over this crush.” She’s never said anything to him outright.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you just let them sort it out on their own?’

  He frowned. ‘Do you have to be so clever? God, I’ve been trying to figure this out for five years, and now you come along and you’ve got all the answers.’ His eyes were twinkling as he spoke.

  I laughed, shaking my head. ‘I guess that was why she was being weird just before,’ I said.

  ‘Probably a contributing factor to her weirdness,’ he shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’

  After a few moments he smiled at me and asked, ‘Do you want to dance?’

  ‘I can’t dance to save my life,’ I said.

  Sacha nodded towards adults and kids laughing and twirling, a few drunkenly.

  ‘I highly doubt that matters,’ he said and stood and grasped my hand, pulling me up with him.

  He dragged me over to where there was some free space and where the music was noisier. As soon as we got there, the song ended.

  ‘Oh,’ I sighed. I tried to walk back to our seats, but Sacha held tight to my hand. And, as much as I wanted to go and sit down, I didn’t want to let go.

  ‘We’re waiting for the next song, Jewel,’ he said. ‘You’re not getting out of this.’ He grinned.

  ‘Seriously, I look like a fish having an epileptic fit,’ I said. ‘Not pretty at all.’

  He just grinned wider.

  The band started the next song, and it was slow. Awkwardly, I put my hand on Sacha’s shoulder. He put one hand on my waist and grasped my other hand in his. We swayed slowly, barely at all, and I looked everywhere but at him.

  Little Al caught my eye and came over. He was cradling his sister’s baby boy.

  ‘Hey, kids,’ he said, ‘guess who’s the designated driver tonight in my family?’

  Al nodded in the direction of his mother, who was loudly recounting an anecdote to a couple of cornered teachers. David and June—Al’s dad and his girlfriend—were laughing just a little too hard to be sober.

  Sacha smiled. ‘You?’

  ‘Yes.’ Al grinned back and bounced the baby. ‘If I’m lucky, they won’t tell everyone their names; otherwise, people will start associating me with the funny drunks.’

  ‘Hey, it’s the best kind of drunk to be,’ said Sacha.

  ‘I beg to differ. Every time Mum goes over the limit she retells the birth of each of her children, thinking she’s being funny. It was okay until she did it at her work Christmas party and got sacked.’

  ‘They fired her for telling everyone about having children?’ I asked.

  ‘It was pretty gory. Plus, she projectile-vomited in the office. Ruined a couple computers.’

  ‘Nice.’

  ‘My family’s got style, Jewel Valentine,’ Al winked. ‘Anyway, I think it’s a bit loud here for Bobby.’ He smiled at the baby, who was looking around, expressionless but alert.

  I’m not sure whether the song was especially long, or if it only felt that way, but it sure seemed as if we’d been dancing there for ten minutes already.

  It wasn’t as if I didn’t like it; I did—Sacha’s smile, his hand warm in mine, his other hand against my waist, the night itself, the music—but, God, my heart was going to leap out my throat if I wasn’t careful. When we moved, I panicked that I’d step on his foot, or I’d lean too close. I was nervous the whole time. I worried my palms were sweaty or my breath was bad. That this close it’d be completely obvious how terrible my skin was.

  I had one memory of my parents dancing. It was after my brother had died, and my parents had been sleeping in separate rooms (if they were sleeping at all). Everything was upside down and inside out. Then one afternoon I came out of my room to find them slow-dancing silently in the living room. There were three drained wine bottles on the kitchen bench, and they were dancing to an old CD. From this, my eight-year-old mind concluded that things were getting better, my parents would be happy again, we could re-form as a family around the hole that Ben had left.

  I was wrong.

  As always, I was incredibly, achingly wrong.

  After my parents slow-danced in the lounge room, three things happened in quick succession, so fast I barely had time to register what was going on: my dad disappeared, my mum overdosed, I was sent to live with my grandparents.

  ‘I really like you, Jewel,’ said Sacha. When he spoke, his breath was warm against my face.

  ‘I really like you, too,’ I said.

  I wanted to lean in and kiss him right then. I think we both were thinking it. But we both hesitated, and the song progressed to another verse, and we continued to dance. The moment disappeared—it didn’t pass; it just vanished.

  ‘Have you seen Groundhog Day?’ I asked. ‘Where Bill Murray keeps on reliving the same day over and over?’

  ‘Yeah, why?’ Sacha said.

  I shook my head. ‘This is the day I’d choose to relive, if I got the option.’

  ‘Why today?’

  ‘Well, the weather’s been perfect. It’s the weekend. There’s this awesome fete to attend. You’re here—’

  ‘I know. I’m wonderful, right?’

  ‘Shut up,’ I laughed. ‘If I did it over, I wouldn’t spend most of the day up a tree, and I’d get my face painted.’

  Sacha didn’t laugh this time. He just smiled. ‘You know they have fetes and carnivals everywhere, all the time, don’t you? There’s probably one on next weekend somewhere, where you can get your face painted.’

  ‘Isn’t it your birthday next weekend?’

  ‘Yeah,’ he nodded. ‘Did you do anything special for your eighteenth?’

  I shook my head. ‘I’m not really a party person. Have you got anything planned?’

  ‘Kind of. Well, no. It’s hard to work it when you’ve got two friends and one hates the other. And I’m friends with you, too, now. But you like them both, don’t you?’

  I nodded.

  ‘So we just need to stop True hating Al,’ he said. ‘Then after that we can bring peace to the Middle East, stop global warming and then, I don’t know, go bowling for my birthday.’

  ‘I like bowling,’ I said.

  ‘As long as you enjoy peacekeeping, we’re good to go.’

  I paused for a moment then a whole lot of words tumbled out of my mouth without permission.

  ‘When I was about eight, my dad left. But in those weeks beforehand, before he left, he and my mum fought. A lot. There were alternating periods of this all-out screaming, violent fighting, and complete silence, where they’d each sit in a separate room and cry and cry and cry.’

  Sacha asked, as softly as he could without the music drowning out his words, ‘Did other things happen? Like, what led to them being like that?’

  ‘There are always other things,’ I said. ‘I tried to be peacekeeper. I was eight. I tried to talk to them when they were crying, tried to help. Then, when they shouted and threw things, I hid. I blamed myself, always, for them eventually breaking up. I thought I could have fixed things, could have sensed things going bad earlier and stopped them, stopped it from ripping our family apart.’

  ‘You know what they always say,’ said Sacha. ‘“It’s not
your fault.” Your parents still both love you; the problem’s just between them.’

  ‘I never got that talk. My dad disappeared.’

  ‘Oh, Jewel,’ he said. ‘I’m not going to say I’m sorry for you, because everyone says it so much, it’s lost its meaning. But I am. I really am.’

  ‘Shit,’ I mumbled. ‘I shouldn’t be telling you all this. You don’t need it. And after your mum…’

  ‘Hey, this is what friends are for,’ he said. ‘That’s another thing everyone says too much, but it’s still true.’

  The song had ended, and another, more upbeat one had begun. Still, we didn’t break apart. My hand remained on his shoulder and his hand on my waist gripped tighter. We were close—much closer than we had been at the start of the song.

  Suddenly, someone else gripped my arm and turned me to face them. Al’s mother flung her arms around me and hugged me, then leant away, smiling broadly.

  ‘I wish my son was going round with a girl as lovely as you—what’s your name again?’ she asked, then winked at Sacha. ‘That True Grisham’s so… aloof? Is that a word? Aloof?’

  ‘She’s nice when you get to know her,’ offered Sacha. ‘Both Jewel and True.’

  Sal grinned at him. ‘I love you, kid. Have I told you that?’

  Just then, it suddenly began bucketing rain.

  SACHA

  The rain was hammering down.

  Everyone ran and squeezed under the covered veranda at the front of the school, or in the marquees, grabbing picnic blankets and chairs, scrambling as they tried not to get drenched.

  I lost sight of Al and his family almost straightaway; I couldn’t see an arm’s length in front of me. Big fat raindrops were cascading over me, the rain coming down fast. In moments I was completely soaked.

  Jewel grasped my hand and began pulling me along, as the downpour became torrential.

  We were running in the rain, and I couldn’t see, and the asphalt underfoot was slippery, so I was convinced we would slip, but still I followed her.

  We got to the stairs at the back of D-block. Jewel tried the door and, for some reason, it was unlocked.

  She grinned at me—we were shielded by an overhanging roof above, so I could actually see her now—her hair was sopping wet and clumped around her face, her clothes drenched.