Begin End Begin: A #LoveOzYa Anthology

by Amie Kaufman, Melissa Keil, Will Kostakis, Ellie Marney, Jaclyn Moriarty, Michael Pryor, Alice Pung, Gabrielle Tozer, Lili Wilkinson, Danielle Binks

  Not that he blames her.

  He remembers the day she calls that day.

  Mitch’s ratings. Their mob surrounding her. The way her bottom lip shook when she realised he wasn’t going to stand up for her, and the stabbing in his stomach that started the moment he’d spat out those awful words — words he didn’t even mean. Words that came from an ugly, insecure place inside him that he never wanted to tap into again. Because he liked Lucy — he liked the way she plaited her hair to show off her smooth olive skin. And how she laughed when her friends teased her: eyes open, mouth open, hands clutching her stomach as though she might explode. He even liked the way she swam laps at the pool until the same time every day, and how she’d guide overwhelmed Year 7 kids to class when they were running late after their internal compasses had conked out.

  He knew all of that, and she knew some of that, but she didn’t know any of what had happened to him before that moment.

  How Cameron didn’t have any real mates because his parents were in the army and they moved every year or two, and he couldn’t handle another school where everyone left him to sit alone at recess and lunch. He was always too sporty, not sporty enough, too big, too shy, too cocky on the field, not confident off it. He was never what everyone else wanted.

  Just never enough.

  Lucy also didn’t know this was the first time that anyone, let alone the popular guys, had welcomed him into their space.

  It took less than a day for Cameron to realise Mitch, Matt, Davey and Lee weren’t his kind of mates. Lee was all right when he was away from the others; turned out he didn’t agree with much of what the group did or said, but all their mums were friends and he was happy to be dragged through school with them. Better than being a nobody, he once told Cameron. Mitch and the boys were Cameron’s safety shield. His armour. With them, he felt invisible, protected, strong.

  Then Lucy saw him. Really saw him.

  And damn, he saw her, too.

  At the pool.

  In the halls.

  That night at the party when she’d cracked jokes until his eyes were wet from laughing then pressed herself against him, fizzing up every part of his body. She also never knew that she was the first girl he’d kissed.

  Cameron kicks at the dirt again.

  No wonder Lucy never forgave him for that day.

  Every scowl from her after that moment stung him all over. He’d barely had the confidence to speak to her when she liked him, let alone when her looks were heavy or sharp, so he didn’t apologise. He couldn’t. That night he’d drafted a text, scribbled a letter, started a Facebook message, but he didn’t follow through with any of them.

  She deserved more. He just didn’t know how to give it to her.

  Cameron remembered the following day — the day after she calls that day — even better. Revved up on guilt, he’d told Mitch off in front of the other guys, told him to stop being a dickhead, told him to stop taking things too far, told him to rip down the posters. Mitch’s eyebrows had narrowed; he was apparently not used to anyone biting. But then he laughed, a low snigger, and said: ‘Yeah, yeah, I will, it’s all just jokes, bro, yeah?’

  Cameron didn’t realise he’d burned any last traces of invisibility.

  Mitch’s text message had told him to blow off periods five and six for a cheeky game of backyard cricket at his joint, which was around the corner from school. So he did. Sport was the only space where Cameron felt like he fit; rules were in place so he knew what to say and how to act. He trudged to Mitch’s, tossing a tennis ball that he’d found in the gutter between his palms as the sun belted down on his face. Cameron let himself into Mitch’s backyard through the rusty side gate like he’d seen the other guys do, then, figuring he was early, squatted down on a yellowed patch of lawn alongside a row of withered lemon trees.

  He’d only made it easier for Mitch to jump him.

  Cameron writhed until he broke free from Mitch’s grip, his school shirt torn open, and sprinted for the gate. But Mitch dived at Cameron’s ankles, fingers wrapping around them, tripping him over. Mitch shouted as he wrestled his way onto Cameron’s flattened back, digging muddy knees and elbows into his shoulders, spine and legs. A thick grunt slipped out as Cameron shoved Mitch off him. ‘What the hell?’ he said, catching his breath. ‘Back off.’

  That was when Mitch pulled out an open pocketknife, his blade glinting in the light peeping through the lemon trees.

  Cameron swore at the sight of it. He waited for Mitch to crack up laughing, announce it was all a convoluted prank gone wrong, then put the knife away. But Mitch leaned in closer, jaw clenched, knife waving in front of Cameron’s face. ‘Think you’re so freaking tough, don’t ya, sasquatch.’

  ‘Put it away.’ Cameron edged backwards, chest rising with each huff of breath, nails caked with dirt.

  ‘Scared or something?’ Mitch continued. ‘Thought ya had balls, bro.’

  ‘Piss off.’

  Mitch’s arm shot forward so fast that Cameron didn’t have time to move away. He sucked in a breath. The knife was now only centimetres from his neck.

  ‘Don’t mess with me again,’ Mitch said. ‘Don’t even look at me. You’re nobody. And you’ve got nobody.’

  Cameron’s dad got the truth out of him later that night after his mum found the dirt-stained clothes stuffed down beside the laundry hamper.

  When Mitch was expelled, the teachers promised to keep Cameron’s name out of it to avoid any further trouble, and they did. Rumours spread but nothing stuck. However, Cameron still shrank further into himself because Mitch was right about one thing: he had nobody left at the school.

  It was almost enough to relieve the guilt he felt about what he’d done to Lucy.

  A month later, Cameron’s dad announced they were moving to Queensland for his new job and, for once, Cameron didn’t fight him on it.

  He could be invisible again.

  1.38 a.m.

  His phone rings again, so he strides along the gravel away from the group.

  ‘Hey, Nan … No, you rang me … It’s Cam … Yeah, Tiny … Go back to sleep ’cause it’s late and you need … I love you, too … I said, I love you, too, Nan.’

  1.43 a.m.

  The new bus is still twenty minutes away.

  Cameron takes it as a sign, not that he’s ever cared about signs, and strides across the grass to plonk down next to Lucy before he changes his mind.

  ‘Yeah?’ she asks, twirling an earphone in her hand.

  ‘Hi. Just … well …’ He hesitates, unsure where to go from here. ‘Whatcha listening to?’

  ‘Nothing. Phone’s dead.’

  ‘Oh. That sucks.’

  She shrugs.

  ‘So …’ He tries again, heart racing. ‘I was thinking and … could we talk for a bit? Privately?’

  ‘We’in the middle of nowhere. Not sure how much more private you want to get, Cameron Webber.’ There was a time when he would’ve loved the sound of his name on her tongue, but not the way she’s grating it out now. Once again she says it like the words are poisonous, like she can’t bear the sensation of them touching the insides of her mouth. ‘Spit it out.’

  ‘Okay.’ His lips are dry. ‘I guess what I wanna say is …’ Now that he’s here, next to her, he doesn’t know what can fix it. If he can fix it. ‘Lucy,’ he tries again, ‘this is kinda weird for me.’

  She scoffs. ‘For you?’

  ‘God,’ he blurts out, voice hardening. ‘Didn’t you ever do something stupid at school? Something shit? Something you’re not proud of?’

  ‘I’m still in school.’ Pause. ‘You’re not?’

  He shakes his head. ‘Chippy.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Carpentry apprentice. Getting there, anyway,’ he corrects himself, tone softening again. ‘So … so you’ve never gone into survival mode? Where you do something, anything, to get through?’

  ‘Do something?’

  ‘Yeah. Or ignore something, maybe something you shou
ldn’t have ignored.’

  ‘Maybe. I hope not.’ She shakes her head. ‘What did someone like you have to survive anyway?’

  ‘You’re kidding, right?’

  ‘You dominated every sport, the jerks adopted you, the girls all loved you —’

  ‘No way.’

  ‘Don’t fish for compliments.’

  Cameron picks at the grass. ‘It might’ve looked like I had stuff sorted, but … nah. Not even.’

  She scoffs again. He thought she might. ‘You sat with those guys. Same footy team and everything. And you were with them that day — you made it worse. You’re the reason Davey pretended to cough up hairballs when he’d get me alone in between class.’

  ‘Shit … I’m sorry,’ he stammers. ‘I am. That’s messed up.’

  ‘Come on, give yourself credit.’

  ‘I didn’t even mean it, that’s the thing, I thought you were great.’ Still do.

  Lucy cuddles her knees to her chest. ‘Yeah, well … not that it matters anymore, right?’

  ‘But … I really am sorry. For all of it. And I know it’s not an excuse, but I’m no Mitch.’

  She groans. ‘Denial, thy name is Cameron.’

  ‘Listen, they let me think I was one of them, for a bit, and I was a tool to believe it — to even want it.’

  ‘Won’t argue with that.’ Lucy purses her lips together.

  ‘You don’t think people can learn from their stuff-ups?’

  ‘Do I think Mitch feels sorry for all the bad stuff he did? No way. Look, you’ve said sorry, I accept it, whatever. Now you won’t have to wet yourself if you see me at the ten-year school reunion. Just leave me alone.’ She pulls the jacket tighter around her thighs. ‘You don’t get how hard the rest of us had it back then. That’s all.’ She shrugs. ‘How could you though?’

  ‘But I could ’cause …’ he begins, palms sweating as he wonders if he can get through it without bolting into the darkness. ‘’Cause, well …’

  Lucy narrows her eyebrows until a deep slit appears between them.

  ‘’Cause Mitch pulled a knife on me.’

  ‘What?’ Lucy turns to face him. ‘No … wait, what?’

  Cameron exhales, yanking at the grass again. So much for telling the truth making people feel lighter.

  ‘Oh my … Jesus.’ Her eyes are wide. ‘What happened? Are you okay, Cam?’ She called him Cam. To anyone else that might be nothing, but right now it’s everything to him. ‘I mean, I know it was years ago … but … are you okay?’ She pauses. ‘Sorry, silly question.’

  She’s talking to him again. ‘I’m okay. Thanks.’

  ‘Okay. Okay, good.’ Lucy nods. ‘I’m … Mitch is more unhinged than I realised.’

  Cameron doesn’t reply so silence fills the air.

  Moments pass, maybe a few seconds, maybe a minute, before she asks him for the time. He checks his phone — 1.58 a.m. She mutters a soft thanks, then rests her chin on the top of her knees, slightly rocking her body to keep warm. As Lucy looks to the stars sprinkled across the blackened night, Cameron wonders how this will all feel in the daylight of Saturday. Before he has a chance to work it out, the replacement bus arrives, flicking up gravel before screeching to a halt on the side of the highway.

  LUCY

  2.07 a.m.

  Cameron dumps his backpack on the front seat of the new bus, so Lucy takes the one on the opposite side of the aisle.

  ‘This all right?’ she asks.

  He nods. ‘Sure.’

  As he settles into his spot, a lopsided smile escapes out of the corner of his mouth, like he hopes she won’t notice.

  She notices.

  2.16 a.m.

  Their bus rattles along the highway, not loud enough to disguise the sound of Lucy’s stomach growling. She cringes and wraps her arm around her middle, peeping across the aisle at Cameron, who’s nodding along to the music in his earphones while texting on his phone.

  Lucy sucks on the inside of her cheek, fingertips prickling at the thought of messaging The Olivia Bensons a blow-by-blow account of the last two hours, and she berates herself for not snatching the charger out of her suitcase before stuffing it under the bus. She smirks at the thought of her friends reading through her roller-coaster of messages when they’re back to reception and decent Wi-Fi in the morning. There’s no way they’ll get anything done at band practice now; they’ll be on the phone to her all day.

  Another stomach growl.

  Lucy rifles through her backpack for her packet of biscuits, remembering how Cameron’s cheeks had darkened to burgundy when he’d told her the truth. Shame had been imprinted on every centimetre of his face; for the series of events he triggered for her, to the humiliation over what happened between him and Mitch.

  But the ‘I hate Cameron Webber’ switch flipped for her three years ago and she can’t change it back in an instant just because their lives overlapped one serendipitous morning between Canberra and Melbourne.

  Lucy stuffs a choc-chip cookie in her mouth, licking the crumbs from her bottom lip.

  2.22 a.m.

  She peeks across the aisle again. This time, he spots her.

  Her breath catches, but she fights her natural instinct to look away.

  ‘Biscuit?’ she whispers, holding out the packet across the aisle. When all else fails, offer food. That was the Faris way.

  Cameron’s eyes sparkle. ‘Sure,’ he says, stretching over to pluck one out of the plastic.

  ‘Take two. If you want.’

  He pauses, then grabs another one, sending crumbs all over the bus floor between them. ‘Thanks. Thanks heaps.’

  ‘Midnight bus picnic, had to be done,’ Lucy says. They salute each other with their biscuits and settle back into their seats without saying another word.

  2.31 a.m.

  ‘Psst, Cam. ’Nother one?’

  He doesn’t hear her across the aisle with his earphones in.

  ‘’Nother one, Cam?’ she tries again.

  ‘Inside voices please,’ the driver announces, causing Lucy to start in her seat. ‘And, Eight … pass me one of those.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ she hisses, trying not to laugh as she hands him a biscuit, then slides in next to Cameron before she chickens out. He looks up, eyes wide. She can’t tell if he’s surprised or terrified. Maybe both. She’s already forgotten why she plopped down next to him.

  Guilt.

  Boredom.

  Loneliness.

  Delirium.

  ‘Er, hey,’ she says, offering him the packet. ‘More sugar?’

  ‘Sure.’ He takes a biscuit. ‘Thanks.’ He gestures to his phone. ‘Wanna listen? Kill some time?’

  ‘That’s cool, you’ll be bored without it.’

  ‘With me, I mean.’

  ‘Oh. Sure.’

  Holding her breath, Lucy wiggles in a little closer, not letting herself close enough for their shoulders or arms to touch, and pops in the earphone. The familiar bass and drums of Queen and Bowie’s ‘Under Pressure’ pulsate in her eardrum.

  ‘Tune.’ She elbows Cameron in the arm. ‘You’re into Bowie? And Queen? You?’

  ‘You gonna pay me out for liking old people’s music or something?’

  ‘No, they’re kings,’ she whispers into the dark. ‘It’s just a surprise.’ A good one.

  Cameron’s playlist clicks over to KISS’s Rock And Roll All Nite, which thumps through her body the way it always does at band practice.

  ‘Love this one,’ he says, right thumb drumming to the beat on his jeans.

  Lucy’s feet tap out of sight.

  CAMERON

  2.54 a.m.

  She’s fallen asleep on the edge of Cameron’s shoulder. Her ponytail falls down across his chest, her breaths are long and deep. He hasn’t dared to move. When Lucy sighs in her sleep, he reminds himself to exhale. That it may all be a dream.

  LUCY

  2.57 a.m.

  Cameron’s phone rings in his pocket and Lucy snaps awake and upright, rea
lising she’s nodded off on his shoulder.

  ‘Oh, sorry … sorry,’ she says, bleary-eyed, opening up the space between them as he fumbles to answer his phone.

  ‘It’s cool.’ He’s rosy-cheeked. ‘It’s fine. Just gotta get this.’

  Lucy sinks into the back of her seat, hoping she didn’t drool on his hoodie.

  3.02 a.m.

  Lucy watches Cameron sigh as he hangs up the phone and stuffs it back in his pocket.

  ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s my nan,’ he says. ‘She rings sometimes, especially after I visit.’

  ‘You’re close, huh?’

  ‘Yeah. She hates her nursing home. Don’t blame her, really …’ His voice trails off as he rummages in his backpack. ‘Anyway,’ he adds, retrieving a red pen, removing the lid and scribbling loopy swirls down his wrist. ‘The parentals reckon they’ll be in Canberra to be closer to her by the end of the year.’

  ‘That’s great.’

  ‘I don’t buy it.’ His voice is harder now. ‘Dad just got a promotion and Mum’s loving Adelaide, so … we’ll see.’

  ‘Adelaide?’

  ‘For Dad’s work. They go all over.’ He shrugs. ‘I used to, but my uncle put me up when they left and Melbourne’s good.’ He pauses. ‘Good for now anyway. Stuff trying to predict the future.’

  ‘If only.’ Lucy nibbles on her biscuit. ‘Well, my sisters live in Melbourne — it’s why I was on that stupid broken bus.’

  ‘Twins, right? Few years above us?’

  He remembers. She’d told him about them on the night of Soo-Yin’s party. ‘Simone and Ana. That’s them.’ Lucy inhales through her nose, unable to hold in the next part any longer. ‘Cam … about you and Mitch.’

  ‘We’re back to thinking about that?’

  ‘Sorry, yeah … I never stopped,’ she admits. ‘What I don’t get is, why? I thought you and Mitch were mates.’

  ‘Nah. Not really.’ He squeezes out a tight smile. ‘Not at all, I guess.’

  Lucy tucks one leg under herself and swivels to face him. He doesn’t maintain eye contact. ‘Cam.’