I hold out the flowers but he doesn’t even look. Instead he grabs my waist and comes in close to my face.
“I don’t care about the flowers,” he says. “I’d rather look at something else.”
He leans in and kisses me and all I can think is that this is probably the most romantic kiss I’ll ever have, here, under this tent of colour and light. It’s beautiful, and then it’s not. It’s awkward. I want to look up again and enjoy the place, to hold hands and maybe even dance a little but Liam is pressing his lips against mine, harder and longer. I try to break away and take a breath and he won’t let me.
“Don’t stop,” he says, grabbing at my shirt and putting his hands right around to my back. His words are muffled.
I feel a slight panic rise in my stomach. I push him away firmly but try to laugh it off.
“Your mum’s going to be wondering where we are,” I say, lightly. I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand. “Maybe we should go.”
“Is that all you’re worried about?” he asks. He makes an ‘it doesn’t matter’ face. “It’s only Mum. If Dad was there I might be more fussed, but he’s away. She doesn’t count. We can do what we like.” He steps back in and reaches out for me. “Come on.”
I take his hands away from my waist and hold them instead. “I don’t know,” I say. And I’m embarrassed. It’s not that I don’t like kissing. I do. The first night of The Secret Garden production last term, that terrible night of truth and tears and laughter and flying happiness; that was the night that Liam first kissed me.
We danced off the stage, away from our standing ovation, with light feet, smiles of glitter and hearts with wings.
“Yeah, alright!” Liam high fived the cast waiting to congratulate him. “So awesome, everybody! Fantastic job.” I followed behind; my face had no choice but to beam and grin. “Thanks, thank you,” I said, over and over. Waves of faces and streams of words flowed over and around me. There were suddenly so many people, so much noise and so many bright lights. The smile stayed on my face but underneath I was scared. My smile was pasted on; my eyes were fearful. Perhaps it was everything I’d been through that day, perhaps I was tired, or perhaps I wasn’t cut out to be a celebrated actress. Whatever it was, I felt dizzy. Zoned out. Breathless.
Liam turned in the crowd and the chatter. He must have seen my face go pale because he grabbed my wrist and pulled me behind him.
“Jaz needs to sit down.” His voice crawled through the tunnels of cloud into my brain. He must have been speaking loudly. Forcefully. “Out of the way you guys. I’m going to take her in there.”
He pushed me into the dressing room, empty except for some costumes on the floor and a few chairs pulled up next to a mirror. I collapsed onto one of them and folded my head in my hands.
“Sorry,” I said. He was crouched down next to me, his hand on my back.
“What for?” he said. “I could see you weren’t okay. Just breathe a bit.”
“Oh, I mean, okay,” I said. But he cut in.
“And stop talking. Just take a breath.”
I stopped talking and instead took air into my lungs. Outside I could hear the buzz of voices and loud laughter but it was like there was a cocoon of cotton around the room. Our room. I focused on the breathing. Air in. Air out. Air in. Air out. My shoulders relaxed a little. I looked up.
“Thanks,” I said. “I don’t know… I just felt so…”
“Crowded?” he said. He smiled at me and pulled up one of the other chairs so he was sitting opposite. “You looked like you were about to faint. I thought I’d better rescue you.”
I smiled weakly.
“Do you feel better now?”
I shook my arms and blinked a few times. “Yeah. I think so. I just felt like I couldn’t…”
But I didn’t get a chance to say anything else. Liam pulled his chair up so his knees were touching mine. And then he put out his hand to turn my face towards his. It sucked the breath out of me. My heart started pounding and my head went dizzy again, but this time in a good way.
“Are you…” I began, but again, I didn’t get a chance to speak because in one swift movement Liam reached in and kissed me. Right on the lips.
It was a short kiss (and really, I’m only judging it on the movie kisses I’ve seen, so maybe that’s not realistic anyway) but it felt like forever. And then, the afterwards, with him looking into my eyes, his hand still on my cheek and the tingle of softness still on my mouth, felt like forever all over again.
I managed to get my words out this time. Well, my one word out, anyway.
“Wow.”
Liam just sat and looked at me. He put his hand down on his lap. For once, he seemed almost tongue-tied.
“You,” he said and he nodded his head slightly. “You. Just. Are.” He shrugged. “Amazing.”
My joy came scrambling out from its hiding place. It filled my skin, danced in my eyes and tingled in my fingers. Even my hair felt alive. I blushed. “Really?”
Liam grinned. He was back to his usual self. “Yeah. Really.”
I gazed at him. I could hardly trust myself to speak. If I opened my mouth who knew what would come out? That I thought he was the most beautiful boy in the whole entire world? That I would do anything for him? That I couldn’t stop looking at him, or thinking about him?
I held it back and instead squeaked words which didn’t even begin to say what the truth of it was. Stupid words. Words I could hardly push out of my mouth for fear of not being right, not being good enough. I said to Liam, the boy who had rescued me twice that evening, and who had just kissed me and called me ‘amazing’: “I like you.”
Yeah. Good job, Jazmine.
He looked at me seriously. His blue eyes were piercing. “I will always be there to look after you, you know. Before you even know you need me, I’ll be there.”
Perhaps it was at that point that I should have listened to the slight warning bell that went off in the back corner of my brain, but I was too full of amazing and kisses and tingly glittery happiness to pay any attention to it. Instead I told it to go away. Leave me and my happiness alone.
That was the first time. After that it became a kiss goodbye at the end of the afternoon. Recently, though, it’s turned into all of this; this touching, grasping, serious lip-locking, or at least serious attempts at it, on Liam’s part.
Perhaps I’m just immature, just babyish, but it feels like too much somehow, like I’m belting down rapids in a river in a canoe that already has a hole in it. I’m slightly out of control and I have this nagging fear that the whole thing’s going to capsize before I get the hang of it. I’m confused. Is it possible that maybe I just don’t want to move this fast? Is that normal?
If I had it my way, I’d have more picnics in the sunshine, more patting puppies and more early evening bike rides. I’d do more talking and more gazing, more sharing of sunsets. I’d quite like poetry. And flowers.
You know. Romance.
But that’s hard to say. Especially when he’s back in my face and I have to move his hands. Again.
“What’s the matter?” he asks. “Don’t you like me anymore?”
“No, that’s not it at all,” I say. But he looks almost angry, which makes me worried.
“Well, that’s what you’re acting like,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d be like that. Not after all this time.” He walks off and plants himself on the park bench, arms crossed and legs out wide. I follow him over and sit nervously on the edge.
“Like what?” I say.
“Like the girls who say one thing but act another way.” He kicks at the grass. “I thought you were honest.”
“I am,” I say, slightly confused.
“Well, if you really were into me like you say you are, then you wouldn’t have a problem with what we’re doing. Plus we’ve been going out for weeks now,” he says. He turns to me. “So all I can think is that maybe you don’t like me. Maybe you want to break up.”
A flash of ter
ror floods my heart. “No!” I say. It’s almost a yelp. “No. I really, really like you. I don’t want to break up. Please don’t say that.” Above me the blue sky seems to be turning to grey.
“Well, you have to prove it, you know,” he says. “Otherwise it’s just words.”
“I will,” I say, wildly. I move in close to him and reach for his hand. “See?”
“It’s weird. It’s kind of out of my control but I just can’t help liking you,” he says but he pulls his hand away from mine. I shrink back. My hand looks alone there on the painted green palings of the park bench. “I mean, it’s true, most people don’t see what I see in you, but I just think you’re so amazing.”
He looks in my eyes. His are big, wide, innocent, searching. I can see truth. And love. I melt and the panic goes away.
“You’re so beautiful, Jazmine,” he says. “I want to treat you like a princess.” He touches my cheek gently. “But you have to do your part too.”
I nod. It’s all I can do. I’ve gone from terrified, cast out and torn off to safe and loved again, all in the space of two minutes.
He smiles at me kindly and shakes his head. “Maybe you should just go home,” he says. “That’s probably the best thing for now.” He stands up to go. “I’ll see you tomorrow. Meet you at the gate.”
I nod again, scrabble around for my bag and go to leave. There’s a slight breeze and from the corner of my eye I see pink and white blossoms floating gently off the tree and onto the ground. I look down and move my foot when I see I’m treading on them, turning them into a brown mash and grinding them into the grass.
I walk away, but I keep looking back until I can’t see Liam any more.
Chapter 3
My mind is anxious and my feet are tired when I finally make it home. I’m surprised that Mum’s car isn’t in the driveway yet. Her work day finishes just after the school bell goes and she’s been back home at the same time as me, or just a little later, practically every afternoon of my life.
All I want to do is collapse on my bed and pretend the thing at the park with Liam never happened.
Massive fail.
There must be something wrong with me. I mean, Liam is like, the perfect boy. The perfect boyfriend. Maybe he’s right. I’m not being honest. I’m not showing him I like him. I just didn’t realise it would feel so scary. And confusing. For some reason I thought love would be simpler than it’s turning out to be.
I go through my bag for the front door key but it’s not there. Of course! When Mum washed my bag on the weekend in a lets-clean-everything-up frenzy, she took the key out. I was supposed to put it back in again once it was dry.
Double massive fail.
I sit miserably on the steps for a minute. All I want to do is find out if Liam’s still angry with me. I pull my phone out and press the button to turn it on but it beeps once and the screen goes black. Batteries! I think in disgust and shove it back in with the books. There’s nothing to do except wait.
But then I remember. I left the side gate unlocked this morning. And there’s definitely something to do in the backyard. Weeds are crawling into my garden beds, spreading and taking up space that should belong to the spring flower seeds I planted a few weeks ago. I’ve known for days I have to do something about them but every afternoon I’ve been with either Gabby or Liam and the hours have disappeared quicker than the daylight.
The gate squeaks as I let myself in and tread the old, uneven concrete path down to the back. In the beds, green shoots are growing. I throw my bag on the back steps, pick up my trowel and squat down at the edge of the soil. The smell of earth fills my body; my shoulders are lighter. I dig at the tough kikuyu grass that’s come in from the neighbour’s lawn, under the fence and popped up next to my seedlings.
Annoying.
My worries disappear into the garden. Perhaps it’s the doing of it, the pulling, touching, tending, planning, caring. Perhaps it’s the sun on my back, the air on my face, the light in my eyes. In my garden I focus on one thing only: giving my plants the best chance to grow. Flower. Flourish.
Time disappears too. Before I know it there’s a car in the driveway and Mum in the kitchen. I wipe my hands on my school uniform and knock at the back door.
“You?” says Mum, holding it open, two seconds later. Her face is surprised. Perhaps slightly guilty? I can’t figure out why that would be the case so I push the thought away. “Didn’t you say you were going to Liam’s?”
“Came home early.” I shrug my shoulders. “Stuff.”
I walk past her through the laundry and into the small kitchen. “Is there anything to eat?”
“There are still some bananas left,” she says. “Or you could make a sandwich.” Her voice changes. I can hear the slight anxiety. “Anything wrong? Is Liam okay?”
I pause in front of the fruit bowl, my back turned. There’s a beat before I reply. “No. It’s all good. He just had to go a bit earlier. His mum wanted…“ I let my voice trail off. For a tiny moment I had considered telling her about the kissing and the canoe in the rapids feeling and the fact that I’m not normal because I don’t want to go so fast. But just as quickly, a flush of something like embarrassment shuts the whole thing down.
You can’t say that to your mum. How totally, overwhelmingly mortifying. You’d never be able to look at her ever again. Plus, are you going to admit you’re a freak?
No, I decide. No, I am not. I will find a way to deal with this. Myself.
I take my banana, peel it, turn around. Change the subject. “Are you later than normal?”
There’s an immediate pause. Something passes through Mum’s eyes but I can’t quite tell what it is. She twists her mouth. “Yeah, I’m a little later,” she says. “Stuff.” She smiles at me.
“Are you busy at the moment?” I ask.
“You could say that.”
“Working back?”
“A little. It’s kind of the beginning of a project. But I’ll tell you about it when I know a bit more.” She heads to the fridge. “Now I’m hungry. Think I’ll make myself a sandwich.”
“I should probably do my homework,” I say. “Before dinner.” Mum nods and I head to my room. Homework’s not really at the top of my list though. I may have stretched the truth with that one. Charging my phone is going to come first.
I plug it in and wait until the battery chime goes. Then I unpack my bag, arrange my books on my desk and pull out a pen. And my journal.
I breathe.
And open it. I flip through the pages until I find the next empty one. It’s cream and clean and smooth. And simple.
Unlike my thoughts.
I take my pen and begin, not to write, but to draw. Words are clogging up my head. For some reason I can’t trust them today. So I use pictures instead.
I’m not a good artist, but here, now, today, on this page, it doesn’t matter. I want to draw that tree, those blossoms. I want to remember the colour and the scent and the sparkle of the sky in a clean, clear, smooth way. I don’t want the ugly mess at the end, the confusion and tears. I want the beauty, the freedom, the power of an incredible tree on an incredible day.
I draw for a long time, and then dig through my drawers for some pencils and crayons to shade it with. When I’m finished, I sit back and look at it. And then I draw myself, a tiny stick figure, standing next to Liam, a second tiny stick figure, under the spreading branches. Just standing together. That’s all.
There’s a beep from my phone. The batteries are at 20 per cent. Definitely useable now. I grab it off its cord, flick through to the messages and scroll down looking for Liam’s name. There it is, on the text he sent me inviting me to his place this afternoon. I press ‘Reply’ and sit on the bed, thinking. How do you say what I need to say? Do you still like me? Do you know I didn’t mean it? That all I want to do is be with you? I type some words.
Hey Liam, Are you…
Hi. Hey, you know…
I really do like…
But i
t all looks wrong. I delete, erase, extinguish sentence after sentence. It’s too hard. I lay back on the bed, the phone thrown down beside me. Perhaps I’ll just leave it. Perhaps I’ll just wait until tomorrow. Pretend nothing happened. Just keep going like everything’s normal.
Yeah.
Normal.
As if I even know what that is.
Suddenly I’m tired. It’s not the walking or the gardening or even the schoolwork. It’s something else and I can’t put my finger on it. I feel too exhausted to even think about texting Liam. He’ll just have to wait.
I push my phone away but as I do it buzzes. I pick it up anyway. Force of habit. It’s from Gabby. I flip over so I’m lying on my stomach and read her message.
Socks are yesterday’s thing. Tomorrow it’s going to be wombats. Wait and see! PS. Have you done your science assignment yet? I’m stuck on question 5. HELP ME!!!!!!!
My tiredness sits back for a bit and a smile that I can’t help comes over my face. Boys are confusing. Best friends, on the other hand, are totally, completely reliable.
Chapter 4
When I finally get to bed, I get a reprieve from the nightly horror movie in my head. I still dream. But it’s not scary and I don’t wake up flustered and sweating. What I do wake up with, though, is a picture of someone. A picture I can’t get rid of. A picture I haven’t seen for a long, long time.
It’s my grandma.
After four years with no contact—visits, phone calls, even birthday cards—I’m amazed that (a) Grandma popped up in my head, completely unannounced, and (b) that I even recognised her. Dreams are the funniest things though. I haven’t thought about Grandma for all that time but at 3am, asleep in my bed, I can even remember the name and the scent of her perfume.
Plum blossom. Like the tree. It’s sweet, musky. Even a little tangy.
Pictures and memories pour in, all in an instant and I’m holding her hand and touching her long nails, always some shade of bright pink or orange; playing next to the roses while she prunes in her rose-print gardening gloves; trying on her necklaces, chunky and colourful. A thought pops into my head. It grows in an instant to fill the room and then I’m alive with the possibilities.
Invincible (Invisible 2) Page 2