Outside

by Sarah Ann Juckes

  ‘Willow?’

  He holds my hand tight, like he ain’t never letting me go. ‘I’m here,’ he says. ‘I’ve got you.’

  He’s got me.

  Twenty-Nine

  I’m feeling mighty rough when I wake up again, like a whole world is sitting inside my head. There’s a strange light coming through my eyelids and a smell like old things.

  I squint out. It’s bright, but kind of like something white is covering up the sun.

  Where am I?

  Something about clouds?

  I move my arm up, but it don’t feel like it belongs to me. It feels pumped full of water and it slaps down on to my face.

  I’m mighty hot.

  Groaning. I’m trying to keep quiet, but my throat is making a noise all on its own.

  I look out through my fingers. I’m under something. Something heavy, smelling like the extra-skins in the shed. It’s trapping me on the cloud.

  Am I being swallowed?

  Right down, by the sun. Its lips burn. There’s a humming coming from somewhere. And a clicking, all out of time to my heartbeat.

  I move my tongue over my teeth and taste something so bad that I turn over and puke my guts up. It all hits what sounds like a feed bowl someone has gone and put next to me in the night.

  ‘You’re awake.’

  Willow.

  I catch my breath. Wipe my mouth. Turn to him. He looks all shadow.

  ‘Where?’ My voice is dry as wall.

  ‘My room. Inside the house.’

  Something grips my stomach tight and I sit up straight without even thinking.

  The house. Inside the house.

  Where the Giant lives.

  My ears are ringing as I take in all the shapes around me, all bright. The boxes standing tall in the corner, dribbling out dresses like they’re dreaming. The grey door, closed.

  ‘Whoa, slow down.’ He pushes me back with a hand on my shoulder. ‘It’s fine. You’re on my bed in my bedroom, OK? I’ve cleaned you up and got you some blankets.’ He hands me the heavy thing that was lying over me. ‘You’re safe.’

  ‘Blankets’. ‘Bed’.

  He keeps his hand on my shoulder until I calm myself down.

  I squint. ‘Bright.’

  ‘Oh, sorry.’ He stumbles over a table, and all kind of shapes and stuff goes rattling as he climbs on to it. ‘I’ll close the blinds.’

  There’s a rolling noise and it’s like he’s made the sun go down. My eyes sigh and relax right into where they’re supposed to be again.

  I lie back and feel something soft and warm behind me. For a moment, I think I’ve gone and sat back on some Others, before I turn and see squares of clouds bagged up in coloured stripes. And then I realize I’m lying on a big one of them, too, not no cloud on no beanstalk. When I move, I bounce – up and down – like I’m jumping. It makes me feel mighty sick again, though, so I stop sharpish.

  Bed. Like the one Goldilocks slept on before the Three Bears found her.

  I look up at Willow. ‘You told him I was here?’

  He glances at me from between his fingers. ‘I know. I’m sorry. But I came in to check on you and you were in this big state – you didn’t even know who I was and you were burning up, and … well, I couldn’t just leave you there, could I?’

  I slide myself further down under the blanket, until I’m hiding my face. It’s dark in here.

  ‘The Giant. He’s mad.’

  ‘Giant? What – Dad?’

  I peek up at him.

  Willow shakes his head. ‘He’s not mad. He’s just not used to seeing people in the house, is all. He likes being alone out here.’

  I frown. ‘Alone?’

  ‘Look,’ he says, sitting down on the bed next to me so it tips me towards him. ‘You don’t have to worry about him telling anyone you’re here – if that’s what you’re worried about. I told him that I know you from school anyway, but Dad, well, you wouldn’t see him messing around in someone else’s business. It’s just … not him.’ Something dark passes over Willow’s face. ‘He isn’t even that interested in mine, let alone –’ He shakes his head.

  ‘Alone,’ I say again.

  I’d never thought about Giants being alone. They’re all angry in the books, screaming about killing and everything. But, now I think about it, they’re kind of alone, too, just like the Princess in her Tower.

  I look towards the door, listening for him.

  ‘The Giant. He’s here?’ I say.

  Willow nods, biting his lip. ‘He doesn’t need to come in, you know. I’m looking after you fine.’

  I’ve started shaking.

  ‘Even Giants shouldn’t be alone,’ I mutter. I pull the blanket over me ’til I’m trapped in tight.

  I’m ready, and I ain’t scared.

  OakWillowBirchSycamore.

  Willow nods slowly and goes over to the door, looking back like he’s gonna say something, but then shaking the words from his head again. He opens the door and I’m almost expecting Him. Him all big and dark and Him.

  But it ain’t Him.

  It’s the orange Giant I saw through the window back in the shed, but he ain’t nearly as tall as they make out in the books – only a little nearer the ceiling than Willow. He’s much bigger round the middle, though, with shoulders so wide he might be wearing armour under his brown extra-skins.

  I’m expecting him to look all angry, but he looks mighty uncomfortable, dallying about on the spot in the same way Willow does when he’s nervous. He couldn’t look less like Willow if he tried, though. He has the same pale skin as me. Orange hair is fuzzing off his head and face in all directions, making him look like a smudged sun. Even his eyes would be covered by the fuzz if they weren’t so wide and brown. His nose is the same as Willow’s, though – kind of flat with big wide nostrils that are smelling all the smells in the room.

  He mumbles something and his voice is even deeper than His was, kind of like the feeling of the wall when Jack is knocking. It rumbles in my ears.

  He looks at me all serious, licking his lips, hands scratching through his face hair.

  And he comes in, one foot at a time, like I’m some kind of monster and he’s worried that I’m gonna throw him right off the beanstalk. The closer he gets, the more I see of the lines round his eyes, the white bits hiding in his hair. And his big ol’ hands all cracked up with dark lines and black fingernails.

  I ain’t shaking no more. He stays near my feet, but Willow comes and stands right next to me. Willow and me are staring him down, and he squints into our looks like we’re shining something bright.

  ‘Hello,’ I say, ’cause all this silence is making me want to laugh.

  His nostrils flare even wider, and he throws a look to Willow. ‘Yer American?’ he says.

  He has the same strange way of talking that Willow does, but he’s even harder to understand. I ain’t sure what ‘American’ is, so I just smile at him.

  He looks at me all nervous, which makes me want to laugh even more. A Giant, scared of a little thing like me.

  I ain’t sure what to say next. Fair to say that I ain’t got much experience when it comes to meeting Giants. Feels like someone’s got to say something soon, though, as all the words we’re not saying are making this place awful stuffy.

  ‘Thank you,’ I say eventually, hoping he’ll know what for and all.

  He darts a look at Willow. At the floor. At me again. Then he nods, once, quick. ‘Yer … yer feeling better?’

  I nod back. Everyone is nodding their heads up and down like they’re floating about.

  I glance up to Willow, who rolls his eyes.

  ‘Well,’ the Giant says, voice all booming. ‘Um.’ He looks around again, as if all the objects in the room are telling him what to say and he don’t know which one to listen to. He shakes his head. ‘Will should’ve invited ye in sooner. The thought of ye in that bloody shed –’

  ‘Dad.’ Willow jumps in.

  ‘Aye,’ he says,
nodding. ‘Aye.’

  The silence is creeping back again, so my mouth starts speaking all on its own, just to fill it. ‘I’m Ele.’

  ‘Ezra.’

  Ezra.

  My head explodes with all sorts of questions and I dig through them for the right words.

  ‘Not “Dad”?’

  Willow laughs and I pull some more blanket over me, looking hard at the pattern on the top. It’s all criss-cross and stripes, like a multi-coloured zebra from The Alphabet Book.

  Ezra-Dad shifts from foot to foot. ‘Ye don’t have the word “dad” where yer from?’

  I bite my lip to stop all the thoughts racing out of my mouth at once.

  Which rule is the right one?

  ‘There’s some words that are different,’ I say eventually.

  Willow smiles, putting his hand on my shoulder. ‘I’ll teach you them.’

  My insides light up.

  Ezra-Dad looks between us and moves to the door like he’s carrying a load of stuff on his back. He stops before he leaves, though, hand scratching the door frame. ‘Yer welcome tae stay. Long as ye need.’

  He leaves without waiting for me to gather my words up, and he’s all the way out of the door before I manage to shove another ‘thank you’ out of my mouth.

  How to be an Outside Person – number ten: Be nice to Giants.

  Willow stares after him, mouth open wide. ‘Well, that’s a first.’ He looks down at me, smiling, and the lines on his head crease up. ‘Looks like you’ve made quite the impression.’

  We look at each other. I’m hoping he’s gonna stay and start explaining some of the stuff that’s in his room, but he nods, kind of like Ezra-Dad, and moves himself towards the door, too.

  ‘You coming back?’ I shout, as he opens it.

  He turns, seeing me all concerned. And he flashes me a smile. ‘Yeah, course.’ He goes to close the door behind him.

  ‘Leave it open!’ I call.

  He shrugs and pushes the door wide again, before disappearing down under the floor, bit by bit. The door tries to close itself, but it ain’t strong enough to go all the way.

  It’s open.

  I can leave whenever I want.

  Thirty

  The lady with the red lips is pressing something against my head. It feels cool, nice. Things are blurry, but I see her lips. I see them saying something to me. I can’t hear what the words are, but it don’t matter.

  She’s tucked me into something warm and I feel safe. I feel toes wriggling against my toes and see Zeb tucked in from the other end.

  And then the sound turns up. Just for a second.

  ‘Snug as a bug in a rug.’

  I jolt awake.

  ‘Whoa!’ Willow says, jumping backwards to stop my head from cracking into his. ‘It’s OK.’

  I try to get up and start my running, but Willow pushes me back down. He’s got something in his hand – some kind of pink square that’s dripping water.

  ‘You still have a temperature,’ he says, putting the square on my head so the water dribbles down into my ears. ‘I brought you a flannel.’

  I rub my eyes. There’s a sun ball above my head that’s shining yellow light on all the room. I want to go back to sleep, but Willow is dithering from one foot to the other, looking like it’s time to get running after all.

  I groan.

  ‘I have a surprise for you.’

  Books.

  I jolt up again, so the flannel falls off me and slaps into my lap. I wipe the water off my head, looking around for them. But all I see is a black box shaped like a keyhole that Willow is holding to him like it’s a Golden Goose.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘This?’ He’s looking excited, so I start getting excited, too. ‘I thought I’d show you it. I don’t know what you’re going to make of it, though … You’ve got to promise not to laugh, OK? It’s, you know, important.’

  I nod as he unclasps the metal bits on the side. I strain over myself to see it, but he’s still rabbiting on.

  ‘It’s just, like, it means a lot to me, you know? And I guess it doesn’t really matter what you think, but I kind of want you to like it.’

  I nod again, but he still ain’t opening it.

  ‘Not that it matters if –’

  ‘Just open it.’

  He shakes a smile on to his face and flips open the lid, and there on the red bed inside is the strangest thing I ever did see. A metal S with six long hairs pulled along it with a black cup at the bottom. He don’t wait for me to take it in or smell it or nothing, though. He picks it up and tucks it under his chin.

  ‘This is my violin,’ he says. ‘An electric one. Do you want classic or contemporary?’

  He picks up a thinner bar with more hair stretched along it and he places it over the S so the hairs are touching.

  ‘Classic,’ I say, not knowing what it means.

  I have all these questions and I want to ask every single one, but then he moves his hand and this sound comes out that stops me right dead.

  He moves his hand again, and the violin speaks something different. Then again and again, like he’s stroking it, and the bar is singing away all happy, and the sound fills me right up.

  Willow closes his eyes and he sways in time with his hand.

  I can’t think. I can’t even breathe.

  His music lifts me right up into the air and takes me over forests and seas. Strokes me from the top of my head right down to my toes. And I feel like I’m swimming in dry water and sinking into it deep, deep. And I ain’t never wanting it to stop.

  It does, though, finally.

  The silence bites me awful hard and I feel like I’ve been running fast, I’m panting so hard.

  He opens his eyes. ‘Ele! Why are you crying?’ He leans forward and touches my shoulder.

  I ain’t crying.

  ‘Music,’ he says, and he smiles at me all big.

  I dry my eyes on my wrist.

  ‘It’s nice, huh?’

  How to be an Outside Person – number eleven: Make music.

  I think about my words for a long time. I think it in Other, and then I think it in People words, and then I say it out loud. ‘Beautiful.’

  And I din think it was gonna be possible, but that boy smiles even wider than before.

  Thirty-One

  That music has churned something up inside me like butter in a barrel, and all that stuff I’ve been doing a mighty fine job of keeping a lid on until now goes and comes spilling out all at once.

  I dream of Him. His whistle as he came towards the door. His whispers in my ear. The sounds He made when He’d fall asleep next to me, like there was a Bear living in His throat.

  But then I dream of other things, too. Of Zeb singing to me when the sun bars went out. There were words, weren’t there?

  When you wish upon a star

  Makes no difference where you are

  I remember.

  And I remember red lips singing those words, too. A shaking, lady’s voice. Hands over my eyes so all I saw were stars. And wishes. Wishes that He would leave us alone tonight. That He wouldn’t find us hiding.

  Who is she, this lady?

  And I remember telling Cow that singing was the sound a cooking pot made. And in my dream I’m back in the Tower, telling him all wide-eyed that I was wrong. That singing is the sound of wishes coming true.

  When I wake up, I’m almost sad to see that I’m in Willow’s room, not in the Tower with Cow’s mad attempts to make himself a song. But then I remember that this is my wish, ain’t it? Me being Outside is my wish come true.

  And I ain’t supposed to be thinking of the Inside.

  Willow sat with me ’til I fell asleep last night, telling me all the names of things. I learnt words like ‘spoon’, and that the sun bars here are all called ‘lights’ – not only when they’re above doors. The box in the corner is called a ‘wardrobe’, which is where Willow keeps all his ‘clothes’ in ‘drawers’.

  H
ow to be an Outside Person – number two: Wear extra-skins clothes.

  And the pictures on the wall of men wearing dark clothes and women wearing not much at all, those are called ‘posters’. He took the ones with the women on them down when he saw me looking, his cheeks all red. And he din bring them back before he went off to school, which is where he said he learns stuff.

  I want to learn everything.

  I lift myself out of bed slowly, letting my body get used to being upright again, and walk over to the other door that Willow said leads to the ‘bathroom’ and it is a room that smells awful strong – something bright blue that gets right in the back of my throat. I din really notice much when he showed me the ‘toilet’ before, but now I’m better, I see that there’s a whole lot of green in here. A green bowl with metal taps sticking out at one end that looks big enough to fit a whole person inside. And there’s a smaller one beside it that I reckon would fit a Little Pig in just about right. And above it is what looks like a box with a whole other room hiding behind it.

  I step forward, trying to close my nose from the smell of the place. And, as I do, I see a wild girl stepping towards me from out of the strange room, long yellow hair covering her face and body all the way down to –

  I jump back.

  So does the girl.

  Only she ain’t no girl, is she? She’s me. And, if she’s me, then I must have found myself a magic mirror, ready to tell me I’m the fairest in the land.

  I’m feeling funny again, so I grip the edge of the small bowl with the taps and I take a step towards myself, as clear as if I’m somewhere else.

  There I am, all scraggly and dirty under my hair. I ain’t never seen me so clear before, ’cept in puddles on the floor. In the mirror, I look mighty ugly. Mighty, mighty. I can see my small nose clear as it is on my face, and my lips, too. And my hair is all wild and long like some kind of animal.

  That mirror ain’t telling me that I’m the fairest in the land.

  I turn away and leave the bathroom.

  Willow has all kinds of interesting stuff in his room for me to look at, anyway. He has a black book he called a ‘laptop’ that’s got all the letters there are written on it. He’s got other books, too – books called J. S. Bach Konzert and Grade 7 Concert Pieces, which have black blob writing in them that don’t make no sense. I flick through a couple of them, my head thumping at the touch of pages in my fingers again.