Isla's Inheritance

by Cassandra Page

  I woke up from a confused dream about my mother. She was dressed as she was in Ryan’s painting, but with pink and purple butterfly wings sprouting from her back, and she kept trying to steal my teeth. My phone was chiming on the bedside table; I wasn’t usually happy to hear the alarm go off, but this time it was a relief. It was just past seven.

  Casper jumped off the bed, hurrying down the corridor as soon as I opened the bedroom door. A cat on a mission. There was no other sign of life in the house. Dominic was probably still asleep.

  Although I was hungry, I decided against making myself breakfast in Dominic’s house. Going through the kitchen cupboards felt way too invasive. Clearly stalking wasn’t a potential future career for me. I scribbled a brief message on a notepad I found next to the phone, leaving it sitting in the middle of the bench where Dominic couldn’t miss it.

  On the way to school, I detoured to get a drive-through coffee. Unable to stomach bacon or eggs at this time of the morning, I bought a yogurt instead.

  Sarah’s car wasn’t in the car park yet. I found an empty bench on the eastern wall, facing the oval, and sat in the sun to have my breakfast, eyes squinting against the glare even through my sunglasses. I kept an eye on the car park entrance, hoping to see Sarah when she arrived. The sun had banished the overnight chill from the air with a warm, dry hand that promised to be uncomfortable come midday. But for now it was pleasant; the breeze carried the rich scent of cut grass from the newly shorn oval, as well as the sound of a magpie being harassed by a couple of smaller magpie-larks. I felt sorry for it.

  It was about ten minutes before Sarah arrived, parking her car next to mine. I walked over to meet her and she gave me a fierce hug. “I’m glad you’re okay, cuz.”

  “I’m fine,” I said.

  “And how’s Dominic?” She wiggled her eyebrows and grinned.

  “He’s fine too. The perfect gentleman,” I added, embarrassed.

  “Disappointing,” she said. “I need to give that boy a stern talking-to.”

  I squirmed at the thought of her confronting Dominic, and she laughed.

  We got the bags out of the boot: both of our backpacks, laden with textbooks, notebooks and stationery, and her gym bag, which she thrust at me. “Your clothes, madam.”

  “Thanks. Change rooms?”

  “Yup.”

  We shouldered our packs and set off around the side of the building. The gymnasium and change rooms were accessible through a side door, which was already unlocked. The first classes started in fifteen minutes, and a few students—no one we knew—were sitting in groups, talking. A couple of jocks came out the door as we were going in and set off at a jog around the oval. I admired their enthusiasm; Sarah admired more than that. I elbowed her in the ribs and she laughed, unabashed.

  The change rooms were empty. If you’ve got gym first period you tend to come in your gym clothes, so we had the room to ourselves. I looked through the bag. Sarah had packed a pair of black denim shorts and one of my favourite tank tops: it was white, with a stylised woman’s face done in pink and gold across the front. She’d also packed clean socks, two different pairs of shoes, my toiletries bag and a towel.

  “No wonder this was so heavy,” I teased her, laying out the items on one of the benches.

  “I wasn’t sure if you’d need to have a shower here too,” Sarah shrugged. “I’m a good Girl Scout.”

  “Thanks. I appreciate the thought. Although you never were a scout.”

  “Don’t bother me with details.” She sat on the bench, worrying at a fingernail while I got changed.

  She managed to hold her tongue until I sat down to pull on my socks. “What happened last night?”

  “With Dad, you mean?”

  “Duh. What else?” She rolled her eyes.

  “You could’ve been talking about Ryan.”

  “I was there for that part.”

  “Or Dominic.”

  “You already said he was a gentleman. Bor-ing.”

  I pulled on one sneaker and laced it up before answering. “Dad and I had a fight.”

  “We heard you scream. I thought he hit you or something.”

  “No!” The idea horrified me, even though I’d spent a large part of the previous evening wondering why Dad had injured me. “He startled me is all.” Her gaze was steady, radiating scepticism. “Really,” I added.

  It felt weird, lying to Sarah, but I couldn’t tell her he’d burned my hand without sounding crazy. Especially given my hand now showed no evidence whatsoever of a burn.

  “Did you ask him about your mother?”

  “We never got that far.” That was true, at least. “I’m going to ask, though, next time I see him. I’m sick of not knowing.” Also true. Go me. I put on the other shoe. “What happened after I left?”

  “Your dad was pretty freaked out, but he wouldn’t talk about what happened,” she said. “He wanted to get in his car and look for you, but Mum convinced him to stay at our place. He slept on the couch.” She hesitated. “He was holding that circle thingy he gave you at your birthday party. I think he even fell asleep holding it. It was weird.”

  I busied myself repacking the gym bag with my dirty clothes, so I wouldn’t have to meet Sarah’s gaze. “What about Ryan? Is he all right?”

  “Well, by the time Mum had calmed Uncle David down, Ryan had recovered. She decided not to take him to the doctor, but you should’ve heard the lecture she gave him about working in the shed during the hottest part of the day and not eating.” Sarah’s grin was fierce.

  “Did … did Dad see the painting Ryan did?”

  She looked thoughtful. “No. They forgot about it, what with everything. After I got the text from you and we knew you were safe, Mum remembered it, but by then Uncle David was asleep, so she left it alone.” She added quietly, “I think she gave him something. To get him to sleep, I mean.”

  My heart was a rock in my chest, trying to pull me down. They must have been so worried. Even though I’d thought Dad had attacked me, running out of the house like that was irresponsible. I was grateful to Aunt Elizabeth for stopping Dad from chasing me into the streets like a madman.

  “I want to put this in my boot,” I said, hefting the gym bag. “We’ve got time before class.”

  “Sure.”

  We walked back around the building to the car park in silence.

  Sarah spotted him first, as we came around the corner. “Isla?” she murmured, grabbing my arm to get my attention. “Your dad’s here.”

  I looked over, startled, and saw him standing between my car and Sarah’s. He hurried across the car park, calling my name.

  He looked terrible. His hair was unbrushed, a wild, strawberry-blond thicket on top of his head, and his face was unshaven. Even his clothes were crumpled; it looked like he’d slept in them.

  And he was still holding that blasted iron ring.

  When I saw it I took a step backward, nauseous, feeling a ghost of the searing pain in my hand. He saw my reaction and stopped a few feet from us. Then he turned to Sarah. “Can you hold this?” he said, holding it out to her.

  Frowning and biting her lip, she took it.

  I braced myself for it to burn her the way it had me but, of course, nothing happened.

  Dad held his arms wide open to me, not coming any closer, and I hurried forward into them. “I’m so sorry I ran away,” I mumbled into his shirt, hugging him as fiercely as he hugged me.

  “No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to… I never wanted to hurt you,” he said back, his voice trembling. I looked up; there were tears in his eyes. My father never cried. “I just wanted to protect you,” he said, and a tear tracked its way down his cheek into the stubble on his jaw.

  “If you want to protect me, you have to tell me the truth,” I said. “About Mum. Everything about her.”

  He caught the emphasis and gave me a penetrating look. Conscious that Sarah and a half-dozen other students, including a couple of the meanest gossips in our year, were watc
hing, I held my right hand up so he could see the place where he’d burned me the night before. My healed palm.

  His eyes widened briefly, and then his shoulders slumped. “Yes, of course. You’re right. Shall we go back to your aunt’s?”

  I hesitated. I wanted to hear what my father had to say. Desperately. But my final exam was in less than an hour. “I can be there at lunch time,” I told him after a moment. Sarah scowled; she’d have blown off the exam if it were her. But the idea of having to take it later made me want to curl up in a ball with a pillow over my head. I wanted it done.

  Dad walked me to my car, Sarah trailing behind us, still holding the iron circlet. I heard the whisper of gossip start up behind us and wondered how long it would take for news of the strange little scene to spread around the entire school. Of course, after this exam I wouldn’t care anymore.

  I put the gym bag in my car, and turned to give my father a kiss on his grizzled cheek.

  “I’ve been a fool,” he told me. “But you know everything I did was because I love you and your mother.”

  “I know, Dad,” I said. Sarah handed him the circlet in uncharacteristic silence. He got into his ute and drove away.

  Chapter Eight