The bell goes and everyone stands up. ‘Our next meet-up will be after the holidays,’ says Indiana.
West stays behind with Indiana to talk to Mrs Diaz. He catches my eye before I walk out the door and we hold each other’s gaze for a long moment. I turn away and smile to myself. Out in the hallway, Tanvi looks at me from the corner of her eye and smiles.
I hold out my hands. What?
Tanvi leans in close and whispers, ‘So has he kissed you yet?’
Monday is beautiful and sunny. I walk through the bush, looking at the spaces between the familiar grasses, shrubs, rocks and trees. It’s the negative space in photography that creates good photos.
West is probably waiting at Peace Rock, but even still I walk slowly. I want to see him but I don’t really want to think of myself as his tutor any more. I’d rather we just study together. It seems wrong that one minute I’m teaching him about German verbs and the next we’re making out. Then again, nothing has felt right since the glow-worms.
I run into West where the track from the car park comes out. ‘Hey,’ he says. Maybe it’s just me, but it sounds like there is expectation in his voice, as if he’s thinking I’ll say hey back. Three letters. One syllable.
With SM, when you become close to someone, it is easier to speak to them. With Cassie, it took about a month. I’ve known West longer than that but it’s a completely different situation. There’s too much I want to say to him and I’m worried about what he’ll think when he hears me speak. Dr Hayes once recorded my voice and played it back to me so that I could hear it was perfectly normal. But it’s not the sound of my voice that I’m worried about people hearing, it’s that moment when you speak to someone for the first time and they make the biggest deal of it. I can’t stand it. That alone is enough to make my throat clamp up.
I smile at West and the expectation on his face disappears. He takes my hand and we climb the rock together. When we’re seated, West takes out a bag of pistachios. ‘Want one?’
I nod and open my mouth so he can throw it in. He aims and fires. I move to try and catch it but it bounces off my cheek and lands on the rock. We both laugh. West takes out a new nut and tries again. This time it makes it in. ‘Score!’
I write:
‘It was okay,’ says West. ‘We won, twelve to five.’
West shrugs.
I want to tell him that he shouldn’t play soccer if he doesn’t want to, but he doesn’t know that I overhead the conversation with his parents in the hallway. How can I get him to open up about his feelings towards soccer?
I’m still thinking about this when West turns my chin towards him and kisses my lips. It’s hurried and intense, almost like there are other feelings in there that he is dealing with. After a minute or so, he pulls back and looks me in the eyes. We kiss again, softer and slower.
Needless to say, we don’t get any tutoring/study done. Everything around us disappears and it’s just West and me. That is, until a raindrop hits my neck. I draw my face away from West and look up at the sky. I hadn’t even noticed the change in weather. Twenty minutes ago it was sunny. Now the sky is filled with dark clouds.
‘It’s going to start pouring any moment,’ says West. ‘We probably should get going.’
I nod and grab my bag. But as I’m coming down off the rock, my right ankle rolls and I fall sideways. I cry out in pain.
West turns around, sees me and runs over. ‘Are you okay?’ he asks, grabbing me under the arm and lifting me up.
I nod and blink back tears. I’ve rolled my pitifully weak ankles a couple of times before. Usually after putting ice on it for twenty minutes, I’m okay. I put weight on my right foot and try to take a step, but pain shoots through my ankle. I lean against West and sob. ‘I’m going to drive you to your house. You can’t walk home like this.’
With West supporting my body, we hobble up the track to the car park and he helps me into the car. While he drives, I concentrate on breathing and holding back tears. Lucky he knows where I live.
A couple of minutes later, West pulls up in front of my house. I know what’s going to happen next; he’s going to want to help me inside. I look at him and shake my head but he either doesn’t see it or ignores me. He gets out of the car and comes around to the passenger door. I wonder what’s the chance that my whole family has gone out to the movies on a Monday night?
We climb the steps up to the front door. It’s still painful walking on my ankle, but not as bad as it was five minutes ago. My keys are in my pocket, but West doesn’t know that so he knocks on the door.
Mum answers. Her eyes go straight to me. ‘Piper! What’s happened?’
‘She rolled her ankle,’ says West.
Mum looks from me to him. ‘Come in and sit her down in the lounge room. I’ll get an icepack.’
I lower myself onto the lounge while West gently lifts my foot and slides two pillows beneath it. ‘I’ve hurt myself enough times playing soccer to know that it helps to elevate injuries.’
Mum returns with the icepack and pops it on my ankle. She looks at West. ‘So . . .’
‘Oh, hey, Mrs Rhodes, I’m West Kennedy,’ he says. ‘Piper’s friend from school.’
‘Nice to meet you, West. You can call me Shelly,’ she says. I can’t believe she’s already at call me Shelly.
‘Where did this happen?’
West looks at me, as if expecting me to answer but I look away.
‘Near Peace Rock. She was just walking.’
‘Lucky you were there,’ says Mum. ‘Can I get you a drink, West?’
‘Sure, that would be great.’
‘Juice or lemonade?’
‘Lemonade, please.’
‘Do you want a drink, Piper?’ asks Mum.
I shake my head.
Mum goes off and West sits down on an armchair. He looks around the room. I’m hoping he doesn’t notice the photos on the far wall. Mum went crazy last year and framed two-dozen of my black-and-white photos of the national park. They’re all positioned at different heights so it looks a bit like a dot-to-dot. When they first went up, I’d stop to look at them each time I passed, as if they contained some mystery I was trying to work out, but now I’ve just kind of stopped seeing them.
‘Cool pictures.’
I feel my face go red.
‘Did you take them?’ asks West, suspiciously.
I give the slightest nod.
‘Wow. I didn’t know you were into photography. These are really good, Piper. You could totally sell them.’
I shrug. The photos are okay but I can’t imagine selling them.
Mum appears, holding a glass of lemonade. ‘They’re great, aren’t they? She even develops them herself. Piper has a darkroom and everything.’
‘That’s awesome,’ says West, shaking his head.
‘Would you like to stay for dinner?’ asks Mum. ‘It’s the least we can do to thank you for helping Piper home.’
West looks at me. I try not to look horrified at the idea.
‘That would be awesome,’ says West. ‘My parents don’t get home until late.’
‘What do they do?’
‘They’re lawyers. Do you know Blue Mountains Law Firm in Leura?’
Mum nods.
‘That’s theirs.’
‘Impressive.’
‘I guess.’
‘Well, I better go start dinner. It will still be a little while. You can turn the TV on if you want.’
‘That’s okay. I’ve got some schoolwork to do.’
‘Great, call out if you need anything.’
‘Your mum’s really nice,’ says West when we’re alone.
I nod. She was a bit too nice. She just let an unknown boy into our house, no questions asked. I don’t know why, but I want her to be wary and protective.
‘I’m thinking we should get some study done. How about I read some phrases in German and you can give me a thumbs up or a thumbs down on my pronunciation?’
I give West a
thumbs up.
He takes his textbook out of his bag, opens to a random page and starts reading. He hasn’t even finished the sentence when Evie comes skipping into the lounge room. ‘Hi, I’m Evie. Are you Piper’s boyfriend?’
West looks to me. ‘Ummm . . .’
‘You’re hot,’ says Evie, matter-of-factly.
‘Did Piper say that?’ says West with a half-smile.
Evie nods.
I bury my head in my hands, but West just laughs.
‘What are you doing?’ asks Evie, leaning over the side of the armchair to read from West’s book.
‘Piper’s helping me with my German homework.’
‘Tilly’s good at German.’
I nod in agreement. Tilly was two when we went to Germany, so German is almost like a first language to her.
Evie runs off and a minute later she comes back in, dragging Tilly along. ‘Look,’ says Evie. At first, I think she’s referring to West but then she grabs his textbook.
In perfect German, Tilly reads the sentence West was attempting.
‘Wow, you’re good,’ says West.
‘It’s easy,’ says Tilly with a shrug. She’s still got the whole I’m-so-cool-I-don’t-care attitude. I watch with an amused smile. ‘The first word means please. Bitte.’ Her pronunciation is perfect.
West repeats after her. So does Evie.
‘Not bitte. It’s bi-tte.’ Tilly does what I can’t do. She stretches out the words so West can hear each part of them.
When West tries again, he gets it right. I’m partly pleased for him and partly upset that after just twenty seconds Tilly is a much better tutor than I am.
They keep going, Tilly reading a phrase and both West and Evie repeating it until Mum calls us for dinner.
I hear Dad walking through the front door just as we’re taking our seats at the dining table. ‘Honey, I’m home,’ he calls. It’s a running joke they have. I feel the heat rushing to my cheeks. My family is sure to scare off West.
Dad enters the dining room and kisses Mum on the cheek. ‘We have a guest,’ she says. ‘This is West, Piper’s friend from school.’ Dad shakes his hand from across the table. He doesn’t invite West to call him Frank. ‘West. Is that short for anything?’ Dad asks.
‘Yeah, it stands for Weston.’
I try to hide my smile.
‘You can laugh,’ says West. ‘It’s pretty awful. I don’t know what my parents were thinking.’
‘West is a cool name,’ says Jackson.
‘Do you have any brothers or sisters, West?’ asks Mum.
‘No, it’s just me.’
‘Do you have a dog?’ asks Evie.
‘No, my mum doesn’t like animal fur.’
Evie frowns at Mum. ‘We’re not allowed to get a dog either.’
‘If we can’t get a dog, you should have another baby,’ says Tilly.
‘Excuse me?’ says Dad, almost choking on his mash potato.
‘No babies,’ says Jackson. ‘Andrew says that all his little brother does is cry, poo and vomit.’
‘All you do is cry, poo and vomit,’ says Tilly.
West’s head goes back and forth as if he is watching a tennis match. The conversation moves on from babies to Germany, then soccer, Minecraft (which surprisingly West plays) and even Frozen (which West hasn’t seen).
When dinner is finished, West stands up and helps Dad clear the table.
‘We’ve missed a few Family Fun Nights,’ says Mum, when they sit back down. ‘How about a game of Scrabble?’
‘I’m in,’ says West, looking at me. I shrug, helpless to the mechanisms of my family. At least it’s a game that doesn’t require verbal communication. Because there’s more than four people, we play a variation known as tag-team Scrabble. It works in teams of two but each person has their own rack of letters and makes their own word. The big difference is that one team member follows the other, so you can work together to set up the board for each other. Evie is too young to play so she gives out the letters. So that leaves three teams: Mum and Jackson, Dad and Tilly, me and West.
The game moves quickly and intensely. Mum makes the three-point word so Jackson can follow with the word on a triple word score. There’s a bit less two-way communication where West and I are concerned. My turn is followed by West’s, so he tells me what letters he needs and where. When West makes the word cronut off my word, I glance sideways at him and grin. I could get used to this secret language. Jackson questions the validity of the word cronut and it’s Dad who answers, explaining what a cronut is. He follows the explanation with a suspicious look at West and me.
The board fills up quickly and the scores are close. West and I take the lead just as everyone starts to run out of letters. At the same time, West’s phone beeps with a text. He looks down at it. ‘It’s my mum.’
‘You should probably get home,’ says Dad.
‘Yeah, sorry to run.’
‘You’re welcome any time,’ says Mum.
After everyone says goodbye to West, and Evie asks for the second time when he will be back to watch Frozen, I follow him out onto the verandah. We stand facing each other at the top of the steps. My ankle is feeling a lot better, but I don’t think I can conformably make it down the stairs.
‘I had a great time tonight,’ says West.
I smile. So did I.
‘Your family is awesome, Pi. You’re really lucky.’
I know.
‘I’m guessing they’re all watching us through the window right now –’
Before West can finish his sentence, I step forwards and kiss him softly on his lips. The verandah light buzzes softly with electricity. I never noticed it did that before.
‘So what’s his name?’
‘Whose name?’ I say into the phone.
‘The boy who has made your voice sound like that.’
I blush even though I’m alone in my room and switch the phone to my other ear. Surely Mum didn’t tell Grandma about West. I haven’t talked to either of my parents about him yet, unless they saw the kiss on the verandah but I don’t think they did. I’m not ready to tell them, or anyone really. Partly because of the big deal my parents will make and partly because of the thought that keeps bugging me – will it last anyway?
We didn’t see my grandma over Easter. Normally, she comes to visit but she had the opening of a new exhibition at her gallery in Melbourne, so she couldn’t make it. But among her many talents, mind-reading is not one of them. So I ask her how she knew.
‘You’re a seventeen-year-old girl and you sound beyond happy. What else could it be, if not a boy?’
After a pause, I say, ‘His name is West, but don’t say anything to Mum or Dad.’
‘So what’s he like?’
‘He’s really nice and understanding. He’s away for the holidays with his parents at their holiday house at Jervis Bay. He’s the sort of guy you miss even after only a few days.’
‘That’s the sort you want. It’s really great to hear, Piper. Your parents worry about you a lot but I never have. I always knew you’d be just fine.’
‘Thanks, Grandma.’
‘Is your mother home?’
‘No, she’s taken Evie and Tilly to ballet. I’ll get her to call you when she gets back.’
‘Thanks, love.’
After I say goodbye and hang up, I open my laptop and see that West is online. We’ve been messaging each other every day.
I stare at the screen. This isn’t how our other conversations have gone this week. Why can’t we talk about movies, like yesterday, or about ways to kill a zombie, like on Monday?
I squeeze my eyes shut, as if that can make his questions go away. Why is he doing this? What does he want me to say? I count to thirty and open my eyes. I have to say something.
I close my laptop more forcefully than I intend. So much for West being understanding. The worst part is that I thought things were working. We’d moved past the awkward lunchtimes. He’d met my parents.
We’d been talking so much online. Clearly, I was wrong. All that time he’d just been waiting for me to speak.
My room suddenly feels too small and stuffy. I pull on my joggers. The only person who is home is Jackson and he’s in his room, playing Minecraft. I don’t bother telling him I’m going for a walk. I’ll be back before Mum and the others anyway.
I head outside and hurry quickly along the familiar walking track. Everything is damp from the recent rain. It brings out the smell of the bush more. The air seems elastic, as if it might snap at any moment, like me. It’s not until I brush past a shrub and scrape my forearm on a thorn that I stop and force myself to take a couple of deep breaths. When I continue walking, I’m feeling calmer. I take notice of the small, yellow bell-shaped flowers creeping along the ground and the silvery skin of a skink resting on a rock. I keep walking, following a bushwalking trail until I forget about West, my shitty SM, and I lose all track of time.
When I walk into the kitchen, Mum is sitting at the table with her head in her hands.
‘What’s wrong?’ I say, putting my hand on her shoulder.
She looks up. Her face is puffy and red, as if she’s been crying. She runs her hands through her hair and sighs. ‘I’m fine.’
I sit down next to her. ‘What happened?’
‘It’s Evie. Her ballet teacher had a chat to me when I picked her up this afternoon. It turns out Evie hasn’t been speaking at ballet for the last few weeks.’
‘What? Why?’
‘When I talked to Evie on the way home she said she wants to be like her big sister.’
I shake my head. ‘That’s crazy.’ This can’t be happening. This is my curse, not hers.
‘She really admires you, Piper. You’re beautiful, smart and now you’re bringing home handsome boys.’
‘What about at school? Has she been speaking at school?’
‘Well, her teacher hasn’t said anything yet but I’ve only been picking them up from kiss and ride so maybe she hasn’t had a chance to catch me.’
The Things I Didn't Say Page 11