Invincible (Invisible 2)

by Cecily Anne Paterson

“Sometimes,” I say and I point to his cup. “I usually use that mug.”

  Mum puts a sandwich down in front of me and comes back to the table. Into the conversation.

  “I know Geoff from work,” she says brightly. “We’ve been doing a project together. With some other people.”

  I look around the table. “So. They didn’t come over for tea, then, those other people?”

  Mum laughs nervously. “Um, no. They didn’t.”

  “Strange,” I say. “That just seems odd. Like, why wouldn’t they want to come around too,” I can hear myself talking but it doesn’t sound like me. It’s some other person, taking over my body, opening up doors in my brain to let out words I’d usually store up and hide away.

  Mum nods slowly a few times, even though she hasn’t said anything and even though there’s nothing to agree to. She looks at Geoff who makes a face at her like, ‘oh well’.

  More doors get opened in my head.

  “Did you invite the others?”

  Mum looks around her anxiously so I ask it again. “The other people. Did they get an invite for afternoon tea?”

  Now Mum’s shutting her eyes like she doesn’t want to hear the question. I shift my attention to Geoff. To his credit, he’s looking at me full in the face. And to my surprise, he doesn’t seem to be angry.

  “Geoff,” I say. “Did Mum invite everyone else around for afternoon tea?”

  He silently shakes his head, three times. No, no, no.

  I give him a satisfied smile. Maybe even smug. “Okay. Good to know. But still, that seems a bit funny, don’t you think?”

  Mum opens her eyes. There’s a sadness in them.

  “That’s enough, Jazmine,” she says. Shakes her head. “I just wanted you to sit down and have, I don’t know, a normal conversation. It’s not that hard.” She holds her hand to her eye like she’s in pain. Geoff looks at her with concern.

  I hate seeing Mum like this. I want to help her, to fix her. But my hamsters start running.

  “It just seems a bit unusual, don’t you think,” I say, my voice rising, “to make me sit down at a table and talk to a person I’ve never met and, no offence to you personally, Geoff, you seem to be a nice guy, but you don’t seem to be here just as a work team mate.”

  Geoff shrugs at me and tips his head, like Fair play, you got me. I like him, I think. I actually do. But that’s not the issue. Not at all. I stand up, tipping my seat back against the cupboards.

  “Plus, you haven’t actually asked me how my day was.” My voice is at yelling pitch. “And if you’d like to know, it was terrible. Really terrible. So to get home and find…” I gesture around the table, “…this (no offence, Geoff).” I burst into tears. “It’s just weird.” And I run past Geoff and Mum’s shocked face straight into my bedroom, slamming the door and throwing myself on the bed.

  In my brain, the angry hamsters have done enough. They throw themselves off the wheel and onto their own little beds of straw where they drop into sleep and snore tiny little snickery noises.

  I can’t sleep. I am pulled apart; hacked into jagged-edged pieces; skin torn off in ugly, bloody strips. My mattress feels like it’s cut from rock, bruising and tearing my legs and arms.

  On the other side of the door there are low voices; a whispered conversation. Heavy footsteps walk away and a door shuts and then, ten minutes later, Mum taps on my door.

  “Can we talk?” she says.

  I nod. Shrug. Wipe my eyes. “Whatever.”

  “I’m sorry,” she says. “I wanted that to be so different. I guess I just didn’t really know how to do it. It seemed so awkward.”

  I roll my face towards her.

  “Why don’t you just say it?” My voice is small, like it’s been destroyed. I would rather just hear it, I sign.

  Mum’s face jumps with fear; she clenches her fists into balls, like she’s trying hard. “Okay,” she says. Okay. I will.

  She breathes in and then out. I lie and wait, knowing what I’m going to hear, but not wanting to hear it.

  “So Geoff is someone I met at work.” Her voice is rushing and halting, like she’s trying to get it out without saying it wrong. “We’ve been seeing each other for about two months. I wanted to tell you. I really did. I just didn’t know when the best time would be. But I really care about him. I want him to be part of my life.” She stops and corrects herself. “Our lives.”

  Mum knows what I’m going to say. I mean, who wouldn’t know? If this was in a book or a movie and I was the main character, of course I’d say it. It’s the obvious thing to talk about.

  Dad.

  But she gets to it before I do.

  “I know what you’re thinking. And the answer is, no. Of course I’m not forgetting Dad. I could never forget him. It’s just, I’m 38. There’s still a lot of time left. And Geoff’s a good person.”

  She takes a step towards me, shakes her hands in frustration and blurts it out. “Look. Whatever. Geoff is my boyfriend. I really, really want you to like him. Because I don’t want to lose him.”

  A blurry resignation falls from ceiling to floor, insulating everything. I shut my eyes and look at the red and black swirling patterns behind my eyelids.

  “Okay,” I say. “Okay,” and I nod, slowly. I catch my lips between my teeth and suck them in. “But I can’t come out right now. I just can’t.”

  She sits stiffly on my bed. “I’ll leave you for a bit then.”

  She quietly leaves the room, closing the door behind her. I imagine her walking through the kitchen, down the darkened hall to the living room where Geoff opens his arms to hug her and hold her and she sinks into his arms, crying. Crying about me.

  I flip myself over and lie on my stomach. Yesterday my life was normal. Great, even. Today, it’s been cut down, thrown over, ripped apart.

  Every single person I thought was there for me has gone.

  I’ve been abandoned.

  Again.

  Chapter 23

  Dinner is quiet and awkward, plus I’m not that hungry. Mum has to push me to take a mouthful of peas and the chicken schnitzel tastes like cardboard. I do my homework, water my plants and go to bed before the TV news is finished. Mum’s eyes follow me out of the room. I know she wants to talk more but she won’t start the conversation and, to be honest, I don’t have the energy.

  “I love you,” she calls after me and I force the words, “You too,” out of my throat, but love can’t deal with a cheating boyfriend. Love can’t get rid of a strange man who’s about to take over my mum and change everything about my life. Love can’t bring back my best friend.

  I put my phone in a drawer (seriously, what’s the point of even having it now?) and doodle pointlessly in my journal. The pages are too white and too clean to spoil with the splurging and purging and splashing of blood and tears I want to smear all over them. Colour pens should come with names like ‘bitterness’, ‘anger’ and ‘rage’. Then we might see some interesting art.

  It’s not even eight o’clock and my eyes are heavy. I can’t be bothered getting into my pyjamas. It’s easier just to lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling. I want to sleep, to escape all of this. I want to go back, back to three weeks ago, when things were good, when I had friends.

  Back before it all went wrong.

  Sleep comes and, with it, a dream. Of course.

  This time I’m on a coach, chatting with Gabby next to me and smiling at Liam across the aisle. When I get up to use the bathroom, I can see the usual baddies, driving in a bus behind us. They’re going to attack us.

  I rush back to my seat. “You guys,” I say, in an urgent whisper. “You’ve got to get off the bus right now,” but neither one of them hears me. I pull their faces around with my hand so they are looking right at me. “You’ve got to get off. They’re going to get us.” But there’s nothing. I’m yelling now, screaming in their faces, stamping my foot on the brightly coloured coach carpet and smashing my fists on the seat. “Do something. Can’t you h
ear me? You’ve got to get out of here.”

  But no one is listening. Not Gabby, not Liam, not any of the other passengers in the other seats. It’s like talking to myself. Finally I know that I can’t save them if they don’t want to listen and I throw myself out of the bus, rolling and flipping and hurtling down into the bush on the side of the road.

  Yes, I’m safe.

  But I’m on my own.

  In the morning the only strategy I can come up with for school is to avoid, avoid, avoid. I hop off the bus early, walk the rest of the way and go in through the back gate right on nine o’clock. Then I head straight to Science, the first class of the day. There’s no Liam and no Angela in this class, so that’s good. The teacher, Mr Cox, isn’t too bad and the worst I have to deal with is Alvin and the Chipmunks, as I’ve been affectionately calling them in my head. They’re all sitting up at their lab bench already, crowding around a piece of paper in front of them. I pull up a stool. The paper has a bunch of writing on it. I read the heading: 20 jokes that only intellectuals will understand. Alvin is snorting with laughter and Cammo and Sebastian are giggling like six year olds.

  I sit quietly until Alvin turns around. Immediately his face changes and his snorts disappear. He slaps the others over their heads.

  “Guys. Stop it. Jazmine’s here.” They swing around with eyes like saucepans. “Oh. Sorry. Hi.” It’s a rush of confusion and red cheeks.

  “Can I see?” I point to their list of jokes.

  “Oh. Sure.” Alvin slides it across the table to me. I read it while the chipmunks look on with glee.

  “Number five,” says Sebastian. “That’s the best one.”

  “No,” says Cammo. “It’s gotta be eight. Totally eight.”

  I scan the words but I’m not getting the jokes. Number five seems unintelligible and number eight makes no sense at all.

  “Sorry?” I say, screwing up my face in apology. “I mustn’t be smart enough.”

  They rush to reassure me. “Oh, no, it just takes a bit of reading. See, in number five, you’ve got to look at the meaning of Newton…” But Alvin cuts them off with his hand. “Hey, if it’s not her thing, that’s cool,” he says. He turns to me. “You’re smart. Don’t worry about it.” He pulls his lab stool over next to me, comfortable for once. “So. Are you free to work on the project this week? What about in the library at lunch today?”

  I nod and smile. It’s a relief. “Sure.”

  At recess I go to the canteen for a sandwich and then the bathroom on the other side of the school campus. I manage to avoid Liam for the entire morning and then spend lunch in the library talking about leaves, autumn colours, the very best way to set up a testing protocol and how to use a spreadsheet to display the results.

  Alvin’s passion for his subject is amusing at first. I can’t quite believe that someone is going to put this much effort into a science project, but then, somehow, his enthusiasm rubs off and I get keen myself. I surprise myself by discovering that I’ve got opinions about bar graphs versus pie charts and, even more surprisingly, that I’m going to let everyone know what they are, even if Cammo has a different idea.

  “No Jazmine,” he says, almost banging the table in frustration. “Pie charts aren’t as easy to read. They just aren’t.”

  “But I think they look great,” I say. “Everyone does bar graphs. All the time. It’s kind of standard.”

  “Standard for a reason,” he says.

  “Yeah, but do you want to be standard?” I ask. My eyes are flashing with enjoyment. I’ve never been in an argument like this before and I like it. “You don’t want to be like everyone else. The project will be the best, so make it look awesome too.”

  Cammo puts his hand down and tilts his head. “Maybe you’re right,” he says, like he’s never thought of it that way before. To my left, Alvin beams a huge smile and Sebastian digs him in the shoulder. I pretend not to see it.

  We’re out of the library when the bell goes and my next class is English. I’ve almost forgotten my worries but as I approach the classroom they all come flooding back. Liam’s waiting for me.

  My smile disappears and I can feel my back stiffen up and my face go tense. Liam, on the other hand, is all sunshine and goodness.

  “Jaz!” he says, bouncing up to me. I hardly know where to look. “Where have you been all day? I thought you must be sick or something and you didn’t answer my texts.”

  “Phone’s at home,” I mutter but he hardly seems to notice.

  “I’m missing you,” he says, and he gives me a pouty look. I think it’s supposed to be funny but it’s hard to laugh. It’s hard to say anything, actually. I look away and keep walking but he doesn’t take the hint.

  “I’ll sit with you, okay?” he says and plonks himself down at the desk next to mine, so close that our elbows and knees are touching. I try to pull away but there’s nowhere else to go except off the other side of the chair and the teacher wouldn’t be very happy about that so I have to stay there, squashed up next to Liam, uncomfortable and mad.

  The teacher starts talking about Shakespeare. I’m trying to listen but Liam wants to pass me notes.

  Walk home with me today? I’ve got something to show you.

  I take it and look at it. Then I shrug and shake my head but he frowns.

  Why not? You okay? You’re either sick or you’re avoiding me… He draws a smiley face underneath and looks across at me with his blue eyes.

  Call me crazy, but I still swoon. A little bit of my heart decides that surely, a walk can’t be that bad, and maybe it’s not true, all of it with Angela, and maybe I’ve just misunderstood something. After all, I did go off and leave him for the holidays…

  And he grins at me. He knows he’s got me. I know he’s got me. I know he knows he’s got me. And part of me is not sorry. Not one little bit. Avoid, avoid, avoid. The plan works, until he looks you in the eyes and whirls his lasso of gorgeousness.

  We walk home together, side by side, our hands brushing each other occasionally, but nothing else. He asks me about my holidays. I tell him small things at first; we went out to eat, I went on a boat, it was fun. Then I tell him the bigger things; the storm, Grandma’s ankle and wrist, running down the mountain to get help and back up again. By the time we get outside my place I’m at the part of trying to call the ambulance and sitting in the rain, waiting.

  “You must have been so scared,” he says. His voice sounds strong and sympathetic. “You must have been just crying with the worry.”

  “Yes,” I say, immediately. “Really scared. But that was only at the beginning. By the end I was fine and…” But he doesn’t seem to hear me. Instead, he turns to me, his hand on my wrist, like he wants to stop me from walking. His eyes find mine and he looks deep and long at me.

  “I would never put you in that kind of position. Where you had to rescue me. If I’d been there, I would have done it for you.” He reaches out for my other hand and shakes his head slowly. “Poor you. Really. Poor you.”

  I feel uncomfortable and look around me. Mum’s car isn’t there. There are a few cars in the street, but I don’t recognise any of them. “It wasn’t really like that,” I say, but he doesn’t listen. Instead, he comes in closer and his voice gets quieter.

  “Jazmine, all I could think about was you, all holidays. But you weren’t here. I nearly went crazy, missing you.” He reaches in to my face but I duck away and pull one wrist free.

  “You didn’t text me much,” I say. My voice is wobbly.

  “I couldn’t,” he says. “It was too hard. You weren’t here. Texting isn’t the same. Even talking on the phone isn’t the same. I couldn’t stand it. You can’t go away again, okay?”

  Now I feel weird. Really weird.

  “I might go away. In fact, I probably will. I really liked visiting my grandma.”

  He tries to grab my other wrist but this time I don’t let him get halfway.

  “I’ve got to go, Liam,” I say and pull away from him. “You�
�ve got to go. Your mum will wonder where you are.”

  “Is that it?” he says. His voice is angry now. “Is that all I get? After you avoid me all holidays, and for ages before that too?”

  I shrug. “I don’t know what you want,” I say, pulling out my keys from my bag. “I’m sorry.”

  “You do know,” he says. He steps forward, once, twice, three times. I’m scared, backing up to the front door. “You do know and you just play with me. You’re a tease.”

  He grabs my hand and I don’t know what to do, how to shake him off, how to make him go away. I’ve got the house keys in my free hand but I can’t reach the door, and even if I did open it, would he decide to come in after me?

  But then there’s the slam of a car door and heavy footsteps and Liam steps back, all on his own, like he’s falling back into his shell or retreating underground, and there’s a voice that surrounds me, like a cloud of rescue; a big, bearded voice that says, “Jazmine. Do you know if your mum’s home yet?”

  Chapter 24

  On Thursday and Friday I do something I’ve never done before in my entire life.

  I refuse to go to school.

  “Are you sick?” Mum asks, the first day, sitting on the side of my bed where I’ve stayed, in my pyjamas, since six o’clock, an hour and a half ago.

  “No.”

  “Have you got a headache?”

  “No. I said I wasn’t sick.”

  “Are you worried about something?” she asks.

  I look away to the wall.

  “I just don’t want to.”

  She gives me more time but I don’t move and fifteen minutes later she’s back.

  “You’ll miss the bus unless you get going.”

  “I know,” I say.

  “I’ve got to go to work. If you hurry I could drop you off, just for today.”

  “It’s not the bus,” I say.

  She flings up her hands. Annoyance? Resignation? I can’t tell.

  “I can’t make you get out of bed Jazmine,” she says. “But unless you move, you’re going to make yourself, and me. late.”