by Leanne Hall
‘Nuh-uh,’ I say. I’ve seen her dance before, at Little Death. She knows how to move, and I like watching her move, but—‘We’re not here to dance, we’re here to find blue people.’ I catch a glimpse of Blake looking up at the chain dancers in their skimpy outfits, her mouth open. I point it out to Nia.
‘You think she’ll be okay?’ she asks.
‘Sure. She’s tougher than she looks. She had to be to survive the Kidds.’ I have to sit really close to Nia to make myself heard. I sneak a look at her while she watches Blake. She’s counteracted the drabness of the blue uniform with glittery blue eye shadow and two small silver sequins stuck next to each eye. I don’t know if it’s the bass making my heart pound or something else.
When I spoke to her last night I lay with the phone down next to me on the pillow. It sounded as if she was lying right beside me when I closed my eyes. It was a nice illusion.
‘You know, after that night,’ she’d said, her voice wispy over the phone line. ‘It felt as if everything in my life was rebooted. So I asked my mum again about my dad. I didn’t get angry this time. I asked nicely. And she told me about him.’
‘What did she tell you?’
‘She said she got together with him when she was really young. She was working as a waitress and he was the chef. When she got pregnant with me they tried to make it work, but it didn’t take her long to realise he was a total arsehole. He used to hit her.’
‘That’s fucked,’ I said.
‘I know, right? So she wasn’t hiding who he was to hurt me, she was doing it to protect me. Now that I know that, I can’t believe I thought otherwise.’
‘And she also wanted to forget about him,’ I added, thinking also of Ortie and what she’s told me about Gram, and how she went overseas to get away from the mess. The difference is, Gram would have never hit Ortie.
Going over this phone call now in my head, I realise something. I turn to Nia. ‘Did you speak to your mum before she left?’
‘No. I don’t feel like forgiving her yet.’
‘Well, don’t leave it too long. You know what you told me last night, about your dad. It makes sense that your mum is overprotective.’
Nia makes a maybe-face, which morphs into something more alert. She leans in. ‘Don’t. Turn. Your. Head,’ she says. ‘We have blue people in the house.’
‘Where?’
‘Over there, on the dancefloor.’
I straighten up, and casually look to the right, adjusting my glasses so I can see properly. A cluster of blue-clad people dances among all the others. Looking at the real blue people I realise we look pretty authentic. I forgot for a minute what we’re here to do.
‘What do we do?’ Nia sits up straight. ‘Do we go talk to them?’
‘Nope. We sit here and watch and play it cool.’
‘What? No way. Let’s go talk.’
She stands, and I drag her down.
‘Trust me. It’s better if we can get them to approach us. It’ll seem more natural.’
‘How are we gonna do that?’ she asks.
‘It’s like when I first saw you at the Diabetic. I went up to you, but really you made the first move.’
‘Shut up!’ She remains unconvinced. ‘How?’
I don’t answer. I sit still. Then I look at her slyly out of the corner of my eye, before looking away. I look at her again, for longer this time, then drop my eyes. For my final look I stare, and bat my eyelashes provocatively.
I must do a good job because Nia laughs. It feels good to know I can do that.
‘You look like such a dufus in those glasses! It’s not sexy at all!’ She puts her hands to her reddening face. ‘Oh. Did I really do that?’
‘It worked, didn’t it?’
We look at each other too long, both smiling. I slide over, and then I put my hand up to her hair, lean in and place my mouth on hers. She parts her lips like she was expecting this, and we kiss. The glasses are crushing into my nose, so I pull them off quickly, not wanting to miss a second. I press myself closer until I can feel Nia’s heat against me. Everything about her is so soft. I close my eyes and I’m nowhere at all. Drifting without gravity.
I have no idea how long we kiss for.
When I finally pull away, out of breath, Nia is still smiling at me.
‘Hello, Wildgirl,’ I say.
She sighs with satisfaction and leans against me, linking her pinkie finger with mine. We watch the dancefloor together. The cluster of blue people has drifted closer, moving almost directly in front of us.
Even though the music has got deeper and dirtier and faster, the blue people dance with their arms at their sides, looking at the floor. Most hop from side to side, completely out of time with the beat.
‘They dance like Dreamers, don’t you think?’ Nia says. ‘I know the music’s different, but they move the same.’
One of the blue people hops until she faces us, lifts her head quickly and winks. It’s Blake. I didn’t recognise her at all. I’m suitably impressed. She’s done much better than we have.
‘Did you see that?’ I ask. Nia nods.
‘If Blake’s on the job, do you think that means we can, you know?’ She gives me a cheeky look with her bluerimmed eyes. I lift her hand and kiss it.
‘I think we shouldn’t get too distracted.’ I hate myself for saying it. ‘We should pull our weight. Blake can’t do everything.’
‘Tonight’s not all about us, is it?’ she says close to my ear.
‘You’re still having a good time, though, aren’t you?’
‘Yeah, of course.’ She turns to me. ‘It’s just different. That was then, this is now.’
20
I knock four times on the
end cubicle, using the code: rat-TATAT-tat. The bathroom lights give my sore eyeballs a break. The music is so loud out there I’m pretty sure my insides are bleeding. Even in here the red walls vibrate.
‘Blake!’ Wolfboy stage-whispers when the door doesn’t open. He’s jumpy as hell, being in the ladies loos. He checks there’s no one behind us. ‘It’s us. Come on.’
The door swings open. Blake still holds her notebook, a regular girl spy. She’s not alone. There’s a boy in blue clothes sitting on the closed toilet lid, blinking at us.
‘Blake, you saucy minx,’ I say. ‘Should we leave you two alone?’
Blake flaps her notebook. ‘Shhh. Come in.’
Wolfboy and I squeeze into the cubicle and lock the door. Quite frankly, I’m dismayed to find it necessary to stand very, very close to him. There’s so little room in here that Blake has to sit on top of the cistern.
‘Who is this?’ Wolfboy asks.
‘This is Sanjay.’ Blake nudges the guy with her foot. ‘Sanjay, these are my friends, uh, John and…Mary.’
She looks pleased at having thought up such convincing aliases.
‘What’s he doing in here?’ Wolfboy is stressed out. He makes to pace up and down, before realising that he’s got nowhere to go.
‘Sanjay’s from the institute. You know, like we are. Members.’ She leans down and tugs on the sleepy Sanjay’s arm. ‘He loves it so much he even got this tattoo.’ She shows us the inside of his wrist.
The two white flowers show up as ghosts on Sanjay’s dark skin. They’re datura flowers, identical to the flowers on the calling card Wolfboy showed me. Sanjay mumbles and yanks his hand away.
‘I’m running late and I didn’t study,’ he says. ‘I never learn. Should prepare.’
Blake turns to us, her plaits falling apart after the dancefloor. ‘Who wouldn’t love the Datura Institute, right? I mean, we all love to dream, right? That’s why we go there to take part in the Program. To help with the important sleep research. And for the good drugs.’
Blake raises her eyebrows significantly. Luckily Sanjay is oblivious to her bad acting. I look impressed, pretty much because I am. Blake has come through with the goods.
I turn to Wolfboy and say quietly, ‘Didn’t I say they danced
the same as Dreamers?’
His beautiful face is one big scowl. ‘Paul hates Dreamers. Or at least he used to.’
‘So, Sanjay is at a much higher level than us,’ Blake interrupts. ‘On the inside and stuff. He was telling me all sorts of interesting things about what they do with his dreams.’
‘Pay in dreams.’ Sanjay stares at the cubicle wall directly to his left. ‘Harvest dreams, pay in dreams.’
‘What does he mean?’ Wolfboy asks Blake.
‘I don’t know. I can’t figure it out. But he keeps saying that they take his dreams away.’
‘Do you tell them about your dreams?’ Wolfboy asks. ‘Does Doctor Gregory write them down?’
That makes Sanjay titter. ‘Collect. Record. Harvest like fruit. Put them in a jar.’
‘What for?’
‘Don’t know. Don’t care. I have them on loan and then I give them away.’
Wolfboy looks up at Blake. ‘This is useless. He’s too out of it.’
I look closely at Sanjay, who looks pretty young to be getting tattoos and messing with dreams. His mouth smiles but his eyes look worried. Wolfboy is right. Sanjay is totally out of it. I shuffle my feet. The floor is sticky and gross.
‘I’m late for the exam.’ Sanjay tries to stand up. ‘I have to get top marks.’
‘Wait, you haven’t told them the most interesting bit.’ Blake pushes him down. ‘Sanjay, tell them about Paul.’
Sanjay rakes his cheek with his fingernails. ‘Paul Kim. Teacher’s pet. Paul Kim does not have to pay in dreams. Teacher’s pet.’
‘How does he pay?’
Sanjay manages to look at Wolfboy directly for a few seconds. ‘He tells him things.’
‘Tells who? Doctor Gregory? What sort of things?’ Wolfboy kneels close to Sanjay, who winces.
‘Okay, guys,’ I say, unable to stand by any longer. ‘Seriously, this isn’t right. Sanjay’s out for a good night, and we’ve locked him in the interrogation booth.’
‘It’s fine,’ says Blake. ‘We haven’t even touched him.’
‘No, it’s not all right,’ I tell her. ‘I’m not comfortable with this. I think we should let him go.’
Wolfboy stands up. ‘She’s right.’
‘But Sanjay is going to get us some stuff,’ Blake says. ‘Some institute prescription stuff. We’re meeting his friend in ten minutes by the front door.’
We all look at Sanjay. His blue shirt is buttoned incorrectly and buckles in the middle.
‘If we get the pills then we can find out what Paul’s been taking.’ Blake’s eyes shine. ‘We can find out if that’s what’s making him act strange. And find out if they’re addictive. Or we could sell them to another blue person in return for more information.’
There’s a sudden surge in the volume of the music. The bathroom door slams shut. Another cubicle door bangs. We hold our collective breath.
‘I guess it would be useful to have the pills,’ I say after a few seconds. Sanjay staggers to his feet and I grab his elbow, lending him some support.
Wolfboy helps me. ‘We’re not going to get you in any trouble if we do this, are we, buddy?’
Sanjay shakes his head.
‘Blake, we’ll keep your meeting. But then we’re out of here. Twenty minutes max.’
Blake pauses and squints at Wolfboy. ‘Why do you have glitter on your face?’
I stay behind while the others leave. My eyeshadow has migrated south, so I use toilet paper to tidy it up.
A girl comes out of the end cubicle and joins me at the hand basins. She has dark pixie hair and is wearing a very cool black silk playsuit. I accidentally catch her eye in the long mirror when she leans in to wash her hands.
She’s extremely pretty, and familiar. What are the chances? I smear some balm on my lips.
‘Is your name Ingrid?’ I’m going to look royally stupid if she’s not.
‘Yeah,’ she says, to my relief, although she doesn’t seem that keen on talking to a stranger. ‘Sorry, have we met before?’
‘No, but I think you used to go out with a friend of mine. He’s more of a friend-of-a-friend, actually. Paul?’
‘Oh. Right.’ She goes to the hand dryer. I can tell she’ll leave as soon as her hands are dry, if not before, so I jump in quickly.
‘You haven’t seen him recently, like in the last few days, have you?’
‘We don’t really talk anymore.’
‘Exes, huh? Sometimes you gotta avoid them.’ I sound convincing, even though I’ve never managed to go out with someone for longer than three weeks.
‘Yeah.’ She smiles wanly. The dryer cuts out. I only have seconds.
‘I wouldn’t ask, it’s just that my friend is really worried about him.’
That holds her attention. ‘Why?’
‘Do you know anything about the blue people?’
She looks me up and down.
‘Please don’t think I’m crazy,’ I say. ‘My name’s Nia, and I don’t normally dress this way.’
When we emerge Wolfboy is waiting at the far end of the corridor. He hasn’t bothered to put his cap and glasses back on.
‘What took you so long?’ He spots Ingrid behind me and immediately puts his guard up.
I motion Ingrid forward, taking a split-second to appreciate how hot Wolfboy looks leaning against the wall. His shirt makes his eyes look insanely blue.
‘Wolfboy, this is Ingrid. As in Paul’s ex-girlfriend. Ingrid, this is Wolfboy.’
Wolfboy instantly regrets his exasperation and it’s a small moment of victory for me. You can try to distract me with your kisses, sir, but I will come through with the goods in the end.
He offers his hand to Ingrid. ‘It’s really nice to meet you. I don’t normally dress like this.’
‘That’s what Nia just said.’ Ingrid looks from Wolfboy to me. ‘Paul got more involved with the Datura people, then? Is that why you’re in blue?’
‘We’re trying to find out more about them.’
‘Wouldn’t it be easier to ask him?’
‘He’s gone AWOL,’ Wolfboy says reluctantly. ‘And the last time we saw him, he wasn’t particularly coherent.’
Ingrid puts her hands to her face. ‘Shit. This is my fault. I didn’t want to cut him off, but he kept calling me every day, trying to get back with me.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ I reassure her.
‘After we broke up, Paul told me he had started going to the Datura Institute to take part in some research. At first I thought it sounded interesting, but after a while I didn’t like the sound of all the drugs, even if they were prescribed by doctors. Paul started talking strangely about his dreams, stuff about remaking history and influencing the future.’
Wolfboy and I exchange worried looks.
‘That was the last straw for me. I told him we couldn’t even be friends, we couldn’t have any contact.’
We leave via the main door, my eyes soaking up the soothing darkness. I take Wolfboy’s hand as we cut through an open shed as massive as an airport hangar. I feel safe, even though I can barely see the ground.
‘It’s easier to walk in the dark with you beside me,’ I tell Wolfboy, but he’s lost in his own thoughts.
Blake waits for us in the laneway beyond the shed. She holds a ziplock bag containing two round tablets. They look small and innocuous.
‘Well done,’ I say. I want to smooth things over after telling her off about Sanjay. ‘You did really well tonight, Blake.’
She beams at me. ‘Wildgirl, do you think you could teach me to put on eyeshadow? Back at home?’
I try not to look too surprised. ‘Sure. No problem. I’ve got some gold stuff that would look great on you. But I have to go home tonight. I have school tomorrow.’
‘What if I won’t let you go?’ Wolfboy says.
‘I’m pretty sure that’s called kidnapping.’ I keep my voice light. I pick up my teacup from where I’d hidden it.
Wolfboy makes me take a taxi home from Panwo
od. He and Blake pool their money to pay for it, despite my protests. The driver watches me warily in the rear-view mirror, suspicious of my blue outfit and the teacup I’m carrying. When we reach Plexus I pay him with a fistful of coins.
Even though I’m used to coming home to an empty flat, it feels different tonight. It’s almost as if I live on my own, a time-travelling glimpse of being grown up and independent. I kick my shoes off and leave them in the middle of the floor among the shreds of ripped-up train ticket. I put the teacup on the windowsill, where it can get some morning sun. The plant’s plump fronds glow white with a tinge of opalescent blue. I touch them gently, smiling for no one but myself. The flowers are so delicate and otherworldly. I love them.
I’ve been asleep for minutes, it seems, when my screeching alarm wakes me. The first thing I see is my pillow streaked with blue eyeshadow. I go into the sunny kitchen with heavy legs and a furry mouth and fill a glass with water.
I take the dregs over to the teacup on the windowsill, only to find I’m too late. The plant is already dead; its beautiful pearly leaves have turned brown and withered. Shit. My first present from Wolfboy and I’ve killed it in less than twelve hours.
twenty-one
Blake and I drag our feet on
the way home from the border. Mist curls around our ankles as we turn into my street. When we let ourselves in I don’t even look to see if there’s a light on in Paul’s room.
‘I had an idea about what we could do with the pills,’ says Blake. ‘I think my friend will know what they are.’
‘This friend wouldn’t happen to be the Queen of the Night, would she?’
Blake nods.
‘Good. We’ll go see her tomorrow then. I don’t have anything else to do.’
Doubt flits moth-like across Blake’s face. ‘I’m not sure.’ She folds the pill bag into ever-smaller squares. ‘I could ask. I suppose.’
‘Doesn’t she like visitors? Is what she does illegal?’
‘No, of course not. She has a lot of valuable equipment, and…and things, at her house. She doesn’t want people to know how much she has.’