I nodded and then went back to my drawings.
‘I’ve got more, my wife . . . well, she likes them.’
Miss Banks clasped her hands and gazed at Dad. ‘Your wife likes Lorne Solvornia? I wouldn’t have picked that.’
I glanced back up at him. It was a sad smile on his face, but I didn’t know why. ‘My wife’s hard to pick,’ he agreed.
‘That reminds me.’ Miss Banks dropped her voice. ‘I’ve noticed some rainbow colour in Gwen’s hair?’
Dad reddened, looked embarrassed, started shuffling a little. ‘Yeah . . . yeah. My wife . . .’
But Miss Banks just nodded.
Dad smiled at her and then turned to me.
‘Come on, kiddo. It was lovely to see you again, Miss . . .?’
‘Biddy. Just Biddy.’
CHAPTER SEVEN
‘I don’t want to go,’ I said. I was curled up on my bed with the clay mermaid in my hands. I kept looking at the unevenly written name. Pearl. It didn’t feel like my name anymore. But it had, with my mum. It had felt more mine than Gwendolyn did. I couldn’t remember what had happened. How Pearl had ended up disappearing with all my mother’s things.
Across the room, Loretta was in her new Nellie Go dress with her hair up. She looked pretty amazing.
She put her hands on her hips. ‘We’re going.’
I shook my head.
She threw her hands up in the air and sat down on the edge of the bed. ‘What’s that in your hand? You haven’t put it down since we got home.’
I passed it to her without speaking, and I watched her turn it over and over in her hands and then look at me. ‘You made this for your mum?’
I nodded.
Loretta was quiet for a moment, staring down at the mermaid. ‘And you’re wondering how it got there? At the op shop, I mean.’
‘Yeah. And, like, where’s all her other stuff? I’ve never even thought about it. What sort of crap person am I? That I’ve never thought even once about all her stuff?’
‘You’re a good person,’ Loretta said. She patted my head. ‘My favourite person, actually.’
‘Thanks, Rets.’
‘So, what’s the plan? Stay curled up in a ball with this weird clay thing? Neuroticising over all your mum’s stuff?’
I flopped down on my belly. ‘Do you reckon Dad threw it out? Or Biddy?’
Loretta put the mermaid down on my bedside table and tugged at my arm. ‘Does it matter? Don’t start spiralling on me, Gwendolyn. We’re going! You need a distraction.’
‘I bet it was Biddy,’ I muttered.
‘Gwendolyn Pearl, don’t make me pick you up.’
‘I’m double your height!’
‘Don’t care.’ She dragged at my arm. ‘C’mon! Get your butt up! We’re going to be late! And I mean flat-out bad late, not cool late.’
I groaned and slowly sat up. My head throbbed. I didn’t feel like a party, not even with my gorgeous new dress. ‘First the history project and now this. You owe me so bad.’
***
That night, the weirdly angled front gate of Songbrooke was already open and we could hear music all the way from the road. I clucked at the grey horse, who was standing in his paddock, and he snorted and wandered over. I’d never seen him up so close before.
Loretta hung over the fence next to me. ‘C’mere, horsie!’
‘Rets!’ I snapped.
‘What?’
‘You’re scaring him off!’
‘Am not.’ She made a smooching noise. ‘Horsie!’
The fences, which I remembered being rusted and drooping from our various creeping trips over the years, had been freshly restrung. The paddocks were rocky and sparse, but I could see big bales of hay in the shed. It wasn’t the fancy place that Amber had been telling everyone it was.
The grey horse ambled up to us. He snorted at me and rubbed his massive head against my shoulder. Gordon grabbed my arm and pulled me away. ‘You’ll get horsehair all over your new dress!’
There were quite a few old sheds and studios that were locked up, with tattered curtains pulled tightly over crooked windows, but we followed the sound of music and giggling. A big shed had been thrown open, strung with fairy lights and filled with hay bales and tables.
‘There is not a single alcoholic beverage in here,’ Loretta hissed in my ear as we walked in.
I nodded towards what looked like the house a hundred metres away. Martin’s car was parked out front.
Loretta looked wistful. ‘Well, probably for the best. My mum can smell a drop of booze at ten paces, so it’s not like I can drink anyway.’
‘I’m getting a Coke,’ Gordon said.
I tugged at Loretta’s arm. ‘He’s brought his sketchbook along.’
‘Of course he has! He’s Gordon!’ She grabbed my hand. ‘Let’s find Simon and Handsome Ben.’
It didn’t take long to find Ben. He was cornered by the surfer girls, while Amber was busy flirting with some really tall guy who looked very, very familiar.
‘What the hell is Tyrone doing here?’ I spluttered, pointing him and Amber out to Loretta.
‘Flirting with Amber. Gross.’ Loretta marched me over to the food table, where we dumped the chips and lollies we’d brought. Gordon had already settled down in a corner with his sketchbook out and nobody took any notice. We were all used to Gordon and his sketching.
‘Ew,’ I said. ‘Ew! Rets, they’re kissing!’
Loretta made a retching noise. ‘Oh, I thought Tyrone had better taste than that! Doesn’t he know how mean she’s been to you?’
‘Of course not! Since when do Tyrone and I talk about that stuff?’ I rubbed my eyes. ‘Gah! I can’t unsee it!’
We hurried outside and around the side of the shed.
I leaned my head against the corrugated-iron wall. ‘Well, this is looking like a bigger bust than I thought it’d be.’
‘And you thought it would be a big bust.’
‘I did.’
Loretta craned her neck towards the driveway. ‘I don’t even think Simon Figg’s here. Did you see him?’
‘No. But I was distracted by a truly horrible person with her tongue down my stepbrother’s throat. Gah.’
‘Keep it together. Let’s focus our attention on Handsome Ben.’
‘You’re right. Ben.’
‘We need to get him away from the—’
‘We’ll never be able to! We may as well go home, Rets. Please? I’ve had enough.’
‘We’re not admitting to defeat. Simon Figg’s not even here, yet! C’mon, Gwen. We can rally!’
‘Alright. Fine. What’s your plan?’
‘Okay. So, you’re going to go in and walk past Handsome Ben and pretend you’ve rolled your ankle and, like, land draped all over him and pretend to be faint.’
‘No way. That’s revolting.’ I crossed my arms. ‘I’m not going to pretend to be some damsel in distress to get his attention.’
‘Gwen . . .’
‘No! I’m not draping!’
‘Do you have a better idea?’ she snapped, as people drifted in and out from the shed.
I glared at her. ‘If you stop talking for more than ten seconds I might have time to come up with one!’
‘I thought I saw you come out!’ Ben said, emerging from the shed and smiling at us. ‘It’s getting pretty stuffy in there, hey?’
Loretta craned her neck towards the shed door. ‘Gwen! Simon’s here!’ she hissed, elbowing me hard in the ribs. ‘I’m going in!’
I turned and watched as she took off at high speed towards the shed door, stopping about two inches in front of Simon Figg, who was startled and jumped backwards, tripping over the edge of a hay bale. Simon Figg was pretty good-looking, but Gordon was right. He wasn’t smart. Which would be fine, but he also wasn’t very nice. Once, he’d doubled over laughing when a year seven had peed their pants in assembly.
‘She’s a force to be reckoned with,’ Ben said, sitting next to me. ‘You having fun?’<
br />
‘Yeah,’ I lied. Even Ben wasn’t enough to jolt me out of the weird mood I’d been in since finding the mermaid. ‘Amber won’t be very happy about this.’
He looked at me blankly. ‘Huh?’
‘She told me to stay away from you because I’m too sad.’
Ben’s eyebrows shot up. ‘She what?’
I heard a whinny from the paddock and cocked my head. ‘Is your horse okay?’
‘Elsa’s horse.’ He cocked his head, too. ‘I dunno. Let’s check.’
‘Sure.’ I stood up. My heart was pounding. How many scenes had I read in books where the guy made a move once the girl had gone outside with him? Of course, that only happened when the guy actually liked the girl. And I was pretty sure Ben wasn’t interested in me, despite all Loretta’s proclamations. Except maybe as a friend to go running with.
‘Oh, no,’ I said, as my eyes adjusted to the gloom of the paddock. I could see Tyrone clinging onto the grey horse’s back. Normally very docile when it was tracking up and down the beach, the horse was obviously spooked by the loud noises and the crowd inside. It was galloping and bucking and I was impressed that Tyrone was still on it. Amber was screaming, which wasn’t helping anything.
‘Jump off!’ I yelled to Tyrone.
But he couldn’t. Or he wouldn’t. And everyone came out of the shed, because Amber wouldn’t shut up. Ben had to quietly clamp a hand over her mouth, but by then Martin and their aunt had come out of the house.
‘What in blazes!’ Martin stormed into the paddock and turned on his torch. It was the final straw for the horse, which immediately did this strange leaping thing that sent Tyrone flying. Unfortunately for Tyrone, one of the horse’s hooves caught him as he landed on the ground. Right where Loretta’s foot had caught him after he’d cut off her hair.
He made a strange squeaking noise and cupped his hands over his injured bits.
Amber started crying and I saw Ben roll his eyes. Martin shone his light down on Tyrone.
‘Tyrone Banks,’ he said. ‘I had a feeling we’d meet again.’
‘It was an accident!’ Tyrone said, his voice very high-pitched. He sat up, still cupping his bits. ‘I didn’t mean to ride it!’
‘So, you just sort of climbed onto its back by mistake?’
‘It looked better than the fence railing,’ Tyrone said miserably.
Ben ducked into the paddock and clucked to the horse, which ambled over and stuck his head into Ben’s armpit. Ben stroked him and murmured reassuringly. ‘He’s fine,’ he called over to his aunt.
‘Good,’ his aunt said, visibly relaxing.
‘You’re coming with me,’ Martin said to Tyrone.
Tyrone groaned. ‘Oh, c’mon!’
‘Up you get. I’m taking you home.’
‘I only had a couple!’
‘Of what? Slabs?’ Martin heaved him up and half-dragged, half-walked him over to the police car. ‘You stink!’
‘I do not.’
‘Yes, you do.’
‘That’s so mean, Martin! And I’m over-age. I can have a beer if I want.’
‘Not if you’re going to get thrown off strangers’ horses!’
‘They’re not strangers!’ We heard Tyrone wail as Martin stuffed him into his car. ‘They’re our neighbours!’
***
Loretta mostly liked to act like she was really tough, but things bothered her a lot more than she let on. For instance, when Simon put his arm around Lana Crossing, Loretta just pursed her lips and drained her lemonade. Lana Crossing was very clever, obsessed with jewellery design, loved drama and hated surfing. She and Loretta should’ve been besties, but I doubted Loretta would say two words to her for ages, now.
‘My feet hurt,’ Loretta said, like none of it really mattered. Except I could see her lower lip trembling. It was the tiniest tremor, but I saw it. I looped my arm through hers and rested my head on her shoulder. She smelled like flowery body spray and sickly sweet lemonade.
Ben sat down with us, glanced from Loretta to Simon and back again. He cleared his throat. ‘Cheeto?’ he said, holding up a bag.
I could see a group of surfer girls watching from the other side of the shed, looking politely surprised, as though they couldn’t quite believe that the cute new boy was hanging out with us and not them.
‘No, thanks,’ Loretta said glumly. ‘My feet hurt,’ she said again.
‘You know,’ said Ben, very slowly. ‘I’m in English with that guy. Simon, right? He doesn’t seem that bright.’
‘Just because he’s not academic, doesn’t mean he’s less worthy,’ Loretta said tartly, apparently forgetting she was speaking to Ben. ‘He’s smart in other ways.’
Ben grinned and ate a Cheeto. ‘Well, honestly, we’re talking about a guy who got his sleeve stuck to the ceiling fan. While it was on.’
‘He tripped,’ Loretta said.
‘Upwards?’ Ben shook his head. ‘Forget him, Loretta.’
Loretta huffed. We sat like that for a bit, me leaning on Loretta’s shoulder, Loretta staring at Simon Figg but pretending not to, and Ben placidly eating Cheetos and occasionally glancing sideways at Amber, like he was watching out for her.
I turned to Ben. ‘You grew up in Sydney, right?’
He glanced at me and didn’t answer.
‘Where’d you learn to handle horses like that in Sydney?’
Ben opened his mouth, but before he could answer, Loretta got to her feet.
‘Where’s Gordon?’ she grumbled. ‘It’s time to go home.’
‘It’s only early,’ Ben said, his voice airy.
Loretta gave him her glariest glare and he meekly stood up. ‘Think he’s over there.’
Loretta marched off towards the corner of the shed.
Ben looked at me so closely that I felt my cheeks go hot with discomfort. ‘What?’ I asked.
‘What did Amber say to you? Exactly?’
‘Just that you’d been put through the ringer lately because of a crazy girl and I’m not the sort of person you should be hanging out with.’ I bit into a Cheeto.
‘I can’t believe she did that.’
I shrugged.
‘Just ignore her, okay?’
‘Alright.’ I thought about telling him. About the clay mermaid and my mother’s things. About how I couldn’t stop thinking about smashing glass, or fretting at my memories of Jamie. Over and over again.
‘You’re not really from Sydney, are you?’ I said instead.
He glanced around to make sure no one was close enough to hear him. ‘No.’
‘Okay.’
He tilted his head. ‘Aren’t you going to ask why I lied?’
‘You’ll tell me if you want to.’
‘I do want to.’ He sighed. ‘But I can’t. Not right now.’
‘It’s about Amber, isn’t it?’
‘Yeah. It’s about Amber.’
I narrowed my eyes. ‘And the person who put you through the ringer?’
‘That’s about Amber too.’
‘Okay. I won’t say anything.’
‘Thank you.’ He hesitated for a moment and then leaned forward. This close, he smelled like Cheetos and toothpaste and had horsehair on his shirt. I wanted very badly to pluck it off, but stopped myself. ‘Do you want to go for a run sometime?’ he asked, his voice changing.
‘Maybe,’ I said. Panicking, suddenly. I mean, what would Mum think of Ben? Would she like him? I bit my lip. ‘I’ve gotta go!’ I said; it came out as a yell. And then there was nothing left to do but get out of there as quickly as I could. And it turned out I could run, very fast, in Ben’s proximity. It just had to be away from him.
***
That night, Loretta and I curled up in my bed, staring out at the stars through the window. Loretta hadn’t said a word about Simon Figg and had instead said an awful lot about snow and how much she hated surfing, running, the cold, chocolate éclairs and people who walked really slowly down the main street in the middle of tourist season.<
br />
I was only half-listening. I was silent-panicking. This happened when I was so full of panic that I couldn’t actually move. I kept thinking about the clay mermaid. I stared at it on my bedside table.
‘Where’s my mum’s stuff?’ I asked Loretta, cutting her off mid-rant.
‘I don’t know, Gwen.’ Her voice was sad. ‘What could you have done with it, though? This house is jam-packed as it is. And your mum had a lot of stuff.’
‘I know.’
‘She . . . she wouldn’t have minded, Gwennie.’ Loretta turned to face me. ‘She wouldn’t have minded her stuff getting donated. It’s what she would’ve wanted.’
‘What about what I wanted?’ I asked, my voice coming out all choked.
Loretta squeezed my fingers. ‘No one seems to figure about that, do they?’
‘No.’
‘I do,’ she said.
‘I know.’
She stuck her feet out from the covers. ‘You like my candy-striped socks?’
‘They’re the most beautiful things I’ve ever seen.’
‘I’m going to learn how to knit socks soon.’
‘Impressive.’
Loretta nodded.
I was just drifting off to the sound of her grumblings when she tugged at my pyjama top. ‘Gwennie?’
‘Hmm?’
‘We can find it. If you want. We can track it down. Your mum’s stuff.’
My heart ached. For a moment, it seemed possible. Tracking down every scarf; every scrap of drawing; every teapot and fridge magnet and vase and doona cover. But, of course, it wasn’t.
‘Thanks, Rets.’
‘I mean it.’
‘I know.’
‘Hey . . . can you promise me something?’
‘Depends what it is,’ I said.
‘Can you promise to come to the mainland with me?’
‘Hmm?’ I blinked, waking up fully. ‘What? When?’
She rolled onto her side and propped up her head on her elbow. ‘When we go to uni.’
‘Oh, Rets. I dunno what I’ll be doing.’
‘Please? Please come with me? How am I supposed to face the Simon Figgses on the mainland without you? Or anything else?’ She wiped at her nose. ‘I don’t know how I’ll survive it without you.’
‘Well, look at the bright side,’ I said, yawning. ‘There’s still time. You might screw up your year-twelve marks so bad that you don’t get into any uni and we can live here forever.’
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