‘Dad . . .’
‘What about him?’ Her voice is suddenly so weary that I can’t speak.
‘Stell? You there?’
I take a deep breath. ‘I found him at the track.’
‘The track?’
‘He’s gone home now.’
‘He’s home?’
‘He won a lot of money . . . I’ve got it in my shoes.’
‘Your shoes?’
‘My shoes.’
‘I hate it when he wins,’ Mum says, almost to herself.
‘Mum? I’m sorry. I just thought you’d want to know.’
Suddenly her voice sharpens, becomes steel-edged. ‘Why were you at the track?’
‘What?’
‘What were you doing at the track, Stell?’
‘I . . .’
‘Stella.’
‘I was looking for Dad!’
‘You were looking for your dad?’ Her voice softens again. ‘Do you do that a lot?’
‘Sometimes.’ I glance sideways at Clem, who’s still holding my hand with both of his but looking the other way, like the top of his neighbour’s plastic basketball hoop is the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen.
‘I’m with Clem. I’ve gotta go.’
‘Was Clem with you?’ She sounds panicked now. ‘Stell? Was Clem with you at the track?’
‘Bye, Mum. I love you.’ I end the call and look up at the basketball hoop. I feel overwhelmed, like everything we’ve been trying to do to stop Dad gambling has been some sort of pathetic joke. I think of us tracking him around town; of Taylor yelling at the manager of the River Pub. How can any of that make a difference when he’s so determined to destroy everything?
‘Fairy bread and crappy movies?’ Clem suggests, giving my hand a tiny squeeze and then quickly letting it go.
‘Fairy bread and crappy movies,’ I say, my nails bloodied where I’ve chewed too far.
***
I spend a majority of the afternoon trying to ignore my cramping middle and the tension headache that’s building behind my right eye. Fairyland, Dad, the pokies, my biological mother being taken advantage of. I’m just glad I’m good at compartmentalising things like that. It’s a handy skill – I’d teach more people about it, but mostly they don’t seem interested. I go into the kitchen, where I open up the pantry – large enough to walk into – and stare at all the perfectly neat shelves and labels. Clem’s house is a place where things don’t go missing.
Zin and Lara turn up. Zin’s become weirdly nostalgic about everything now that we’re about to start Year Twelve, and she leans against the living-room doorway, tearfully staring in at us.
‘Zin,’ says Lara. ‘Not cute. Creepy.’
‘You guys, these are the best days of our lives,’ Zin says as she walks into the living room and flops down next to Clem. ‘We have to make the most of them.’
Clem closes his eyes and holds up a finger.
‘What are you doing?’ she asks.
‘Counting to ten so I don’t yell at you.’
‘Make it twenty,’ Lara says darkly. ‘She’s been nagging me non-stop about going to Lee’s tonight.’
‘Gross,’ says Clem.
‘He plays soccer,’ Lara agrees wearily.
‘I play soccer,’ Clem says.
‘Don’t remind me.’
‘Oh, c’mon! Let’s go! Lee’s isn’t far from here. You’re with me, right? Stell?’
‘What? No! We’re watching movies!’ I say.
‘I’m not going to Lee’s,’ says Clem.
‘See?’ Lara points at us, looking gratified. ‘Sensible.’
Zin pokes Clem. ‘C’mon! We need to get out there and enjoy our youth, Clements!’
‘Do not Clements me.’ Clem crosses his arms. ‘Lee’s annoying.’
‘I hate parties,’ Lara says.
‘That’s because you haven’t been to one since you were six,’ Zin says. ‘They tend not to be held at indoor play centres these days.’
‘Hey,’ Lara says, wounded. ‘I have too! I have too been to parties!’
‘C’mon. We don’t have to stay late. I told Tahlia I’d be there – she’s staying over after. You guys can too if you want.’ Zin latches onto my arm. ‘Please?’
We all stare at her.
‘Please! We can even get sushi on the way! There’s a sushi bar near Lee’s!’
‘I hate sushi,’ Clem mutters.
‘You’re half-Japanese!’ Zin says. ‘You can’t hate sushi if you’re half-Japanese.’
‘It must be my Chinese half, then,’ he snaps. ‘My Chinese half hates sushi.’
Lara narrows her eyes. ‘How can anyone hate sushi?’
‘Please, please can we go?’ Zin begs.
Lara sighs and rubs at her forehead as though she’s got a bad headache. ‘She’s not going to stop. She didn’t stop the entire walk here. I considered dodging down an alley to try to lose her.’
‘She’d notice,’ Clem says, shaking his head. ‘She notices all sorts of annoying things like that.’
‘I guess it isn’t that far away . . .’ I say reluctantly. I’ve still got the money I took off Dad pressed into my shoes. I suppose it’ll be safe down there. My shoes are laced on pretty tight.
Clem glances at me. ‘You want to go?’
‘To shut Zin up.’
Clem sighs. ‘Fine. We’ll go for an hour, but that’s it.’ He bends down to pull on his shoes.
Zin freezes. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Putting on my shoes so we can get this over with.’
‘In that?’
‘What do you mean, in that? These are my Saturday-night clothes!’
‘There’s a dried noodle stuck to your t-shirt,’ Lara says.
‘So?’ He plucks it off. ‘This is what I’m wearing.’
Zin shakes her head and stands up. ‘Oh, dear sweet Clements. No, no. It’s very definitely not.’
***
By the time we get to Lee’s place, it’s fully dark and we all smell like cologne. Clem’s freshly shaven, wearing a pressed shirt and a nice pair of jeans and scowling like he normally only scowls when the canteen sells out of his favourite ice-cream cups.
‘I’m going to get bashed, wearing this outfit,’ he mutters. ‘Do you want me to get bashed?’
‘Stop complaining,’ I say. ‘Nobody’s going to bash you.’
‘I hate to say it, but you look good,’ Lara says, elbowing him. ‘Stop sulking.’
‘He looks great!’ Zin says, spinning in front of us. She’s picked us all handfuls of flowers from people’s front gardens. Lara says it’s theft, but Zin says it’s fair game if it’s hanging over the footpath. The houses around this part of Sutherbend are all tired-looking. Tall grass and old cars. Broken flywire and faded garden gnomes.
Lara groans. ‘Can someone give her a sedative or something?’
‘She’ll tire herself out soon,’ I say. I’m sort of glad we’re going out. Taylor had texted me to say she’d taken off to Adam’s because Mum and Dad were having a very emphatic, low-volume fight over Dad being at the track. And it’s probably going to be easier to put all that stuff out of my head by going to a party than by watching movies I’ve seen a million times before. I smell the flowers. Daisies and lavender and a few others I don’t know. It’s a lovely thing, having someone pick flowers for you.
‘How’s the adoption stuff?’ Lara asks.
‘Lara!’ says Zin, utterly horrified. ‘You can’t just ask that!’
‘Ask what?’
‘Just ask about the adoption like that!’
‘Why not?’
‘Because you just can’t!’
Zin nudges Clem and he grins. ‘Yeah, Lara. Shame, shame, shame.’
‘Stell doesn’t care if I ask like that!’ Lara snaps. She glances at me. ‘You don’t care, right?’
‘’Course not. It’s good to communicate honestly and openly.’
‘See? There you go. She doesn’t want us to walk on eggshells aroun
d her,’ says Lara. ‘We’re her best friends.’
‘She’s right next to you,’ I grumble.
‘Right. Sorry.’
‘And I’m still processing the stuff – it’s a lot to emotionally digest. It’s not avoidance, it’s just a big-feelings meal.’
‘A big-feelings meal?’ Clem shakes his head. ‘Dear Lord, where do you get this stuff?’
‘The crash course they gave her on the mother ship before dropping her on Earth,’ Lara says. ‘They’ll be back to collect her any day, now.’
‘I resent that,’ I say. ‘Don’t be jealous because I’m more emotionally evolved than you.’
‘No one’s jealous of that, Price,’ Clem says gently. ‘No one at all.’
We hear the music before we can see the house and Lara sighs. ‘The cops’ll be here soon. Which idiot put the music up that loud?’
‘There’s a lot to choose from,’ Clem says.
‘Oh, lighten up.’ Zin grabs onto my arm. ‘Do we go in?’
‘If you’ve made me shave so we can stand on the street and then go home, I’ll be mad. You know I hate shaving.’
‘Feral,’ Lara says.
A carload of guys slows down and they scream out, ‘Fatty!’
Zin curls in on herself. Lara takes off down the street after them, waving her arms and swearing, but there’s no way to take the word back. It hangs over us, heavy on the summer air.
‘Ignore them,’ Clem says. I catch his eye and shake my head.
‘Easy for you to say,’ Zin says, wiping her eyes with her sleeve.
‘You’re smudging your mascara,’ says Clem, leaning in to fix it with his giant thumbs. ‘Here.’
Lara comes jogging back down the street, panting a little.
Clem looks up from Zin’s eye makeup, which he’s really just smudging around her entire face. ‘Why do you look so happy with yourself?’
‘Jackson got out of the car and I got him right in the . . .’
‘Lara! We’re Year Twelves now!’ Zin says, standing up straight and batting Clem away. ‘We need to be classier than that!’
Clem snorts and we all turn back to Lee’s front door.
‘We’re going in,’ I say, although I don’t move until Zin takes my hand and tugs me onto the porch.
She squeezes my fingers. ‘I’m glad we’re out,’ she says, but she doesn’t sound that happy anymore. She doesn’t look like she’s going to keep spinning or dancing or plucking stems of lavender from people’s gardens.
***
Matthew turns up when everything at Lee’s has reached that pumping stage. Lee’s parents have gone out to a bar and – miraculously – the music’s been turned down and the cops haven’t turned up. Zin and I have been discussing the latest class break-up when she stops talking mid-sentence and elbows me.
‘He never turns up to these things,’ she says, nodding at Matthew Clarke. ‘He must be trying to make the most out of high school, too!’
‘Dear God,’ Lara says. ‘That would mean that there are two of you.’
Zin makes a growling noise.
A few people clap Matthew’s shoulder as he walks through the party, but nobody really stops to talk to him. He looks at me from the back doorway and I can’t tell if he recognises me from Fairyland or not. For a moment, I hold my breath. I wait for him to come out, to talk to me, but he doesn’t.
The party has an edge, like all the parties we’ve been to around here have. Mum calls it rowdy, but it’s more than that. People drinking more than they should. The smell of spray paint and the sound of things breaking.
‘Hey!’ Clem calls from one of the windows to Zin. ‘Your maths mate’s chucking in Lee’s parents’ room!’
‘Are you sure it’s Tahlia?’
‘It’s one hundred per cent Tahlia.’
‘Crap,’ mutters Zin. ‘She’s meant to be staying over tonight. I’d better go sort her out.’
‘You’re on your own,’ Lara says. ‘If I get that stomach bug right before volleyball training starts, I’m screwed.’
‘Like it’s a stomach bug,’ I say. ‘She’s just turned eighteen.’
Zin pulls a face. She drops a kiss on my head, gets to her feet and disappears inside, sidling past Matthew, who’s still in the doorway. Through the window, I see Clem sigh and follow her.
After a while, a girl wearing a very bright, floral dress from Year Twelve heads out into the garden and I elbow Lara in the ribs.
‘What?’ she snaps.
‘That’s the girl Zin’s been mooning over all year!’ I say. ‘Monica, right? We should go over there and put in a good word. Be wing-women!’
‘Zin will kill us.’
‘Not if we score her a date, she won’t.’ I stand up. ‘You coming?’
Lara shakes her head. ‘Nope. When I did lit with Monica last year, Zin told me she’d rip out all my teeth if I said anything.’
‘Sook.’
She shrugs. ‘Whatever.’
I go over to Monica, coming up with an action plan. I tell her about Zin and flowers. I feel a pat on my head as Zin’s details go zipping through to Monica’s phone.
I look up at Clem, who seems impossibly tall from where I’m sitting on the grass. ‘Can I steal you for a sec?’ he asks.
‘Sure.’ I stand up and we’re back to normal, with me just that little bit taller than him. ‘See ya,’ I say to Monica.
Monica smiles. ‘See ya, Stella. Thanks again!’
Clem tugs me towards the deck. He narrows his eyes, glancing from me to the garden and back again. ‘Zin told me she’d rip off both my arms if I talked to Monica Ravensleigh.’
‘Monica Ravensleigh is in charge of flowers at her sister’s wedding,’ I say. ‘I told her that Zin’s the biggest flower nut in Sutherbend and Monica’s going to message her for some advice.’
Clem considers this for a moment. ‘In that case, Zin might only rip off one of your arms.’
‘As if! She’ll be over the moon.’
‘We’re going to walk Tahlia back to Zin’s and hope she doesn’t puke on us.’ Clem pulls a face. ‘You know she drove here? Lara spotted her car outside. What sort of idiot drives to a party and then drinks that much?’
‘An idiot who’s just turned eighteen,’ I say, as my phone vibrates in my hand. There’s a message from Taylor, asking when I’ll be home.
‘Anyway – you coming with us?’
‘Think I might head home. Taylor’s just texted and I’ve gotta start job hunting tomorrow.’
‘I can walk you.’
‘Nah, it’s alright. Thanks though, Clem.’
Lara comes down from the deck. ‘You walked right past me, Clements! How’s Tahlia?’
‘Not great. We’ve gotta head; get her back to Zin’s.’
‘If she makes me sick, I’m never forgiving any of you.’
‘I’ve got nothing to do with it!’ says Clem.
Lara sighs and gets to her feet. I watch the two of them disappear inside. I brace, wanting to run after them. But I don’t. I need to get home. My phone buzzes with messages from Taylor.
‘C’mon,’ Joshua Bennett is saying in a low voice to his girlfriend, Chelsea. She leans backwards, towards the party, but Joshua tugs her out onto the deck.
‘No,’ says Chelsea. Joshua takes a better grip on her arm.
‘She said no,’ I point out.
Joshua glances at me, then away as though I haven’t spoken.
‘She said no!’ I yell, and a few people near the doors and windows look out at us.
‘Piss off,’ says Joshua.
Taken advantage of. Suddenly, all the anger I’ve been pushing down about everything starts to bubble up. Judy and Charlie. My dad at the track, not looking at me when I called him until the last horse had crossed the finish line. ‘If someone says no, you listen to them. Let her go.’
‘She’s my girlfriend – rack off.’ He goes to tug Chelsea across the deck again and she tries to pull free, but he’s so much bigger than
her. I glance back and I can only really see soccer guys, and they all look uncomfortable. Nobody moves outside.
‘Mate, let her go,’ someone says, but their voice is uncertain. Joshua sets his jaw and Chelsea starts to cry, and I suppose his grip on her arm just tightened enough to really hurt her.
I channel Taylor, then. And every little thing I’m angry and confused about. Taken advantage of. I’m practically the same size as Joshua. I kick him as hard as I can in the shin and elbow him with all my strength in the stomach. He loses his footing and Chelsea pulls free and runs inside, where Matthew Clarke has just pushed through the crowd and come out onto the deck.
And then I’m crying because I haven’t cried yet, about any of it. And then I feel a hand on my arm. ‘C’mon,’ Matthew says a little impatiently, and steers me around the side of the house and out into the street. He’s taller than I am, which I find disorientating. Hardly anyone’s taller than me, including grown men. Up this close, I can see that he has a pale scattering of freckles and grey eyes. He lets go of my arm when we reach the street.
‘What are you doing?’ I blot my eyes on my sleeve.
‘Figured you might want to go home.’
‘So?’
He shrugs. ‘I’m heading home now, too, that’s all.’
I bite my tongue. I want to tell him that maybe I just want to be alone – that I can’t seem to escape people. That Taylor’s snoring keeps me up and my mum’s coughing and my dad’s farting, which we can hear through the cabin walls. Instead, I start walking and he falls into step beside me.
‘That was kind of cool,’ he says. ‘I just saw the last ten seconds, but looks like he had it coming.’
‘He’s the worst.’ I take a deep breath. ‘Anyway – that wasn’t violence, what you just saw. It was an expression of emotional upheaval.’
‘Looked like an elbow in the guts to me, but if you say so.’
‘It was healthy.’
‘Okay.’
‘He deserved it.’
‘I’m not going to argue that one.’
Matthew offers me a tissue and I stare at it because what sort of teenager carries a tissue around in his pocket at a party? I like it. I should start carrying tissues around just so I can offer them to people the way Matthew’s just offered one to me.
‘You’re Taylor’s sister, right?’
‘Yeah. Do you know her?’
How to Grow a Family Tree Page 8