by Thalia Lark
‘Got any plans for the holidays?’ he asked suddenly.
‘I’m staying at Lori’s.’
‘That sounds like fun.’ An awkward silence fell between us, until finally he sighed, looked up at me and gripped the dice in his fist so I had no excuse not to look at him. ‘Look, Juli… We haven’t really had a chance to talk since the café trip.’
I nodded slowly, staring at the board game and trying to focus on what number I could roll that wouldn’t send me down a snake’s tail.
‘I was wondering – you know, what was happening there. I mean…would you like to go on another date next term? Or would you rather we didn’t?’ He shrugged, rolling the dice between his palms. ‘I’m kind of getting the impression you’re not – you know, all that into me.’
My shoulders hunched forward a little in a mixture of guilt and vexation. ‘I’m sorry about that. I’ve just had a lot on my plate recently. You know, family stuff.’
He nodded. ‘Yeah, I heard what was going on with your mum. It’s cool if you don’t want to go out at the moment – you know, until everything’s been sorted out at home.’
‘No, I’d like to.’ I knew as soon as I’d said it that I shouldn’t have, realising all of a sudden how perfect that moment would have been to call our “relationship” to a halt and tell him I just wanted to be friends. I looked down at the game with a small frown, wondering what was going through his mind at my response, wondering if he believed I was into him still, or whether he’d figured out the truth by now. I didn’t get a chance to continue though, because suddenly the door of the classroom opened and a young girl spoke to Mrs Bailey in hushed tones before disappearing again. I watched Mrs Bailey search the classroom with a small frown. Then she met my eyes and beckoned me up with one finger, and I felt my body stiffen. I looked over at Harvey. ‘I have to go sorry.’
He just shrugged and sat back in his seat, staring at the board miserably as I pushed back my chair. Mrs Bailey told me in hushed tones that I was needed up at the office, and I thanked her quietly and hurried up to the administration block. When I reached the front office there was nobody in there except for the administration lady, who motioned down the hall with one hand and told me to go to Mrs Bentley’s office.
I swallowed, my mouth suddenly dry and pasty, and tucked my hands in my pockets to stop my fingers trembling. I knocked on the ajar door of the principal’s office, and entered at her beckoning to see a tight-faced woman in a black pencil skirt and jacket sitting in the padded chair I usually occupied.
Mrs Bentley smiled and gestured to the spare seat. ‘Julianne, this is Dona Bradford. She’s a social worker at the Brisbane Department of Child Safety.’
I nodded tightly, not sure whether to feel relieved or nervous, and pressed my lips together, pushing my shoulders back in automatic defence as I shook her outstretched hand.
‘Please have a seat, Juli,’ Mrs Bentley said.
Miss Bradford rotated her body partially towards me, holding a clipboard in her lap. She spoke to me in an uncaring voice that said clearly she’d been in her job too long. I tried to ignore her nasal tone and focus instead on what she was saying. ‘I’ve been in contact with the hospital where your mother is staying. She’s been admitted to the mental health unit at Warrabeela General for the next month or so. The doctors suspect an underlying personality disorder is at play, but a diagnosis like that can take months, sometimes even years. So for now she’s been treated for anxiety and depression and being held under observation. With that in mind, everyone is in agreement that she’s unfit to care for you at the moment. Do you understand?’
I felt my old familiar scowl creep over my face, and I settled back in the chair and crossed my arms over my chest. I disliked her cold, blunt manner and wasn’t much concerned with trying to hide that. ‘Yes,’ I said.
As Miss Bradford’s eyes narrowed, the principal cut in gently to relieve some of the tension between us. ‘Your mother won’t be in there forever, Juli.’ She leant forward and clasped her hands together. ‘But until the treatment fully kicks in and her health has been reassessed, it’s not appropriate for you to return to living with her.’
‘What about the property?’
‘Your father called earlier and said he’s flying to Warrabeela tomorrow and staying over the weekend. He’s going to organise for someone to housesit the farm until further arrangements can be made.’
‘Where do I go?’
‘Your residency during school holidays,’ Miss Bradford said, ‘if you intend on remaining at St Peter’s, will be to move in with your father in Melbourne. If this is unable to be arranged, you will be placed in temporary foster care in Brisbane. These arrangements will then of course continue until your mother has recovered to the extent that she can parent you.’
I frowned. However anxious I was about living in the city, leaving behind the life in the country that I knew, and intruding on my father’s new home, I had to admit it sounded more appealing than a foster home in Brisbane. Besides, it was only a temporary arrangement, I reminded myself. Surely my mother would be able to return home before the winter holidays, and then I could move back in with her and life could continue as normal. And if I stayed at Lori’s this holiday, then there would be no requirement to find any sort of placement for me, family or otherwise. I voiced my idea aloud to Mrs Bentley, ignoring the social worker’s sour looks.
Mrs Bentley nodded and looked at Miss Bradford questioningly. ‘I have already received permission both from Lori’s parents and Julianne’s father for her to spend this holiday in Sydney with the Matthews.’
‘Well, if permission has already been granted from a legal guardian then there’s no issue. If Julianne stays with her friend this holiday, the situation can be reassessed towards the end of next term.’ She started stacking the documents on her lap into a pile and tucking them back in the briefcase at her feet. ‘Well, if that’s the decision that’s been made, then Social Services has no need to intervene on Julianne’s behalf at the time being. I’ll be in contact next term.’ Then suddenly she straightened, rose to her feet, retrieved her briefcase from the floor, nodded shortly at each of us in turn, and briskly walked out of the office.
Mrs Bentley raised her eyebrows at me. ‘I guess that’s that then,’ she said, her tone startled. She took a deep breath and shook her head a few times as though to clear her thoughts. ‘Are you happy with the decision that’s been made, Juli?’ After I nodded my head a fraction, she smiled at me approvingly. ‘Good. You’re free to return to class then.’
I passed most of that afternoon in silence. My mood was so flat and dejected after all the hype with Social Services that I was thinking by bedtime it might be a relief to have someone to talk to about it. But by the time it came for me to sneak out of my dormitory and meet Alex upstairs on the roof, I was so sick of worrying about Mum, and the property, and my current state of homelessness, that I wanted just to push it all as far from my mind as possible.
I presumed Alex had found and understood my note, because when I reached the attic shortly after eleven that night, she was perched on the edge of a pile of suitcases, a bundle of fabric in her lap. She grinned when she saw me and got to her feet, brushing the dust off her behind and following me to the gabled window and out onto the ledge. Thankfully, she didn’t ask me how things were going. Instead she lowered herself to the rough floor, tucked her knees into her chest, and shook out the bundle of fabric, which turned out to be a woven blanket. I sat down beside her and scooted close enough that our hips were touching, and then she draped the blanket around us both and shifted to wrap an arm around my shoulders. I nestled into her side and rested my head in the crook of her neck, wriggling and shuffling my bum forward until I was settled against her comfortably, my shoulder tucked under her arm.
I took a slow, deep breath of the cool night air to calm my frazzled nerves. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’
She nodded, pulling her phone out of her pocket with her free hand
and tapping in her passcode. ‘I know. You can fill me in next term.’ She thumbed through her music library, selecting Carta Blanca and setting the volume to a comfortable background level.
I sighed and rested against her, warm and comfortable with the blanket tucked around us, but too emotionally sedated to bring myself to smile. ‘What are you doing over the holidays?’
Alex shrugged, leaning her head back against the brickwork and taking a deep breath. ‘Catching up on sleep, vegging out in front of the television for days on end, hiding out in my bedroom so I don’t have to babysit my brother. Oh, and listening to podcasts. One of my friends introduced me to them last week. I’m hooked for life now.’
‘What are podcasts?’
‘They’re hard to explain. Hold on.’ She switched her phone back on and scrolled through an unfamiliar app until she selected a file and pressed play. ‘This one’s hilarious. Mostly because you would never believe that someone could talk for an hour about cats.’
She settled back against the wall, holding me against her firmly and falling silent as the podcast – which sounded very much like a talk-show on television, except without the pictures – commenced. We sat for the entire hour in complete stillness, huddled up together under the blanket, our eyes closed and an exhausted calm settling over us as the chilly night air nipped at our faces. I didn’t speak again until the podcast had finished.
‘I didn’t know cats’ whiskers were the same width as their body.’
‘I know. Interesting, huh?’
I listened in silence for a moment to Carta Blanca. ‘What’s the song about?’
She paused, glancing out into the night sky, which was freckled with stars and a crescent moon. Then she took another meditative breath and shrugged. ‘About finding freedom to be yourself. She grew up in a strict family, and her parents wanted her to go into science or business or something. I’m fairly sure her dad owned one of the big manufacturing companies in New York, something to do with food production. Anyway, Jameson wanted to pursue her music instead – and obviously became pretty successful with it. It was only after she’d made a name for herself that she wrote Carta Blanca. She wanted to tell people that trying to reconcile what you want with what the rest of the world wants is not worth the struggle. After realising that for herself of course she upped and left with her guitar and began her career as a singer-songwriter, finally free to do what she wanted – that’s what the carta blanca part means.’
‘It’s almost embarrassing how much trivia you know about that song.’
‘It’s embarrassing how much you know about animal faeces.’
‘At least my knowledge comes in handy.’
‘Yeah, because that’s the sort of information I want to know when I’m walking ’round on my days off: Ooh, I wonder what kind of shit that is lying on the ground over there?’
I grinned. ‘I meant on the farm.’
‘Yeah, I still wouldn’t be walking ’round examining manure. I’d be galloping across the countryside with the wind in my hair. And if you’re going to research a singer in-depth, Herrie Jameson is the way to go. At least her songs explore real issues. If I ever become a writer, that’s what I’ll do – write about important stuff.’
I glanced up at her. ‘You want to be a writer?’
She shrugged, her cheeks flushing in the moonlight. ‘Well, I’ve been writing on and off for years. I can’t say I’m brilliant at it, but I’d love to get published one day.’ Then she cleared her throat and checked the time on her phone. ‘Do you want to listen to another podcast before we go back inside? There’s a really interesting one about Mount Vesuvius in here somewhere.’ And so we listened to a man talk about volcanoes until Alex’s phone died, before returning to our beds in meditative silence.
Holiday Weight
‘This is the life, isn’t it?’ Lori stretched out on her beach towel and smiled, closing her eyes as the afternoon sunshine fanned her face.
I was sitting cross-legged on the sand beside her, her spare sunglasses almost slipping off the end of my nose and my weathered Akubra looking out of place among all the broad-brimmed, patterned beach hats. We’d spent a relaxing two weeks at Lori’s apartment in Sydney, watching television, chatting, window-shopping and entertaining her two younger sisters. I also met Lori’s younger brother, and her elder brother John, whom I’d seen around school a few times but had never officially spoken to. Lori’s mother and father had taken us all camping to the beach for the last three days of the holidays. The four tents had been pitched on a grassy level just outside the boundary of the local caravan park, with the sand dunes to the left. We intended to stay until Sunday afternoon and then drive back into Sydney in time to catch the early morning flight to Brisbane on Monday.
‘It’s a shame Emma couldn’t join us,’ I said.
‘She’ll be along for the next one I’m sure,’ Lori said. Then she rolled onto her stomach and grinned at me. ‘Are you excited about seeing Harvey again?’
I smiled. ‘Sure. What about Gideon? Have you spoken at all since term one broke up?’
Lori’s face turned dreamy as she collapsed on her back again and crossed her arms under her head. ‘We’ve been texting each other all holidays. He’s so sweet, you know. He sends me goodnight texts with little kisses and says sweet dreams and everything, and he told me a few days ago that when he first met me two years ago he was just drawn to me like a moth to a flame. I mean, how romantic is that?’
I tried not to gag.
‘He asked if I’d like to go out again one weekend when we get back to school. I said yes of course. Oh, and he’s caught up with Harvey a few times over the spring holidays – they live pretty close by, you know.’ She glanced at me with a sly look. ‘Harvey’s been saying lots about you.’
I stiffened a little but kept my expression composed. ‘Like what?’
She shrugged, smiling to herself. ‘Just this and that, you know. He really likes you. Gideon said that Harvey said that he’s never liked anyone as much as he likes you. He said he’s been wanting to kiss you for months, but he just never gets the chance. Something always seems to go wrong, or something bad happens and he doesn’t want to upset you by making a move.’ Lori rolled onto her side and looked at me so intently that I widened my eyes a little. ‘Why does everything keep going wrong with you two?’
I frowned. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you’ve seen him every single meal-time, every class you have with him and a million times in the school grounds. What could possibly be keeping you two from kissing?’
I shrugged. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Don’t you want to kiss him?’
‘Of course I do.’ I looked at the sand between our towels as I trailed my fingers through it softly. ‘I just – I don’t know, there’s just always something on my mind, I guess. It kind of kills the romance.’
She nodded, then chewed on her bottom lip thoughtfully. ‘Are you sure you still like him? I mean, usually if two people like each other that much, they’ll find time to make out, they won’t just wait for it to happen on its own. Is there someone else you like? One of the other guys?’
I shook my head, avoiding her eyes. ‘Honestly, I just have a lot going on. And anxiety decreases sex drive, did you know that?’
‘Ew.’ She screwed up her face, making me laugh a little in amusement. ‘I wasn’t talking about sex.’
I shrugged. ‘You know, most kids have already had sex by our age.’
‘Well, I sure haven’t.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘And Gideon and I most certainly aren’t up to there yet.’ She hesitated. ‘Have you – you know…ever had sex?’
I raised my eyebrows, but at least could answer truthfully on this one. ‘No.’
‘Do you reckon Harvey could…you know…?’
I pressed my lips. ‘I can’t imagine it would be that easy to have sex in a boarding school without the staff finding out.’ I was getting uncomfortable with the conversation, and so I decided t
o change the topic as I looked out at the sea – which was clear and blue in the late afternoon sunshine – and the few families enjoying the last few hours of the day on the beach. ‘We should head back up to the tents and see if your parents need any help cooking dinner.’
Lori nodded slowly, then frowned as she sat up and dusted sand off her legs. She glanced at me with slight suspicion. ‘Are you sure there’s nobody else?’
I looked at her unblinkingly, a scowl tempting my face. ‘Lori, there’s no one else. Give it a rest.’
‘Okay, okay,’ holding her hands up with her palms towards me. ‘I was just checking. I don’t want to see Harvey get his heart broken, that’s all. If you like him, that’s cool. If you don’t, you’ve been stringing him on for a long time now.’
I rolled my eyes, pushing myself to my feet and shaking my towel out. ‘Come on, I’m hungry.’
I tried to ignore the pang of guilt that had resettled in my stomach after two blissful weeks of not having to think about anything but myself. Lori was right of course; I had been stringing Harvey on for a long time now. I’d never wanted to hurt anybody, least of all the new friends I’d made, but I knew it had gone on for too long now for that not to happen. I’d contemplated more and more as the weeks had worn on just coming out and telling everyone the truth, but I still couldn’t bring myself to do it. That bundle of fear that permanently abided in my chest hadn’t lessened or budged since the beginning of last term. Most of it, I suspected, revolved around the uncertainty of what people would think and say, but a good part also stemmed around my mother, especially now she was in hospital. I was scared that her finding out about me would somehow separate us beyond the point of no return. There was still hope after all that Mum and I could salvage our relationship, and one day work through the struggles we’d encountered, and patch up the fractures in the cracked, two-way lens through which we both viewed each other. But telling her I was a lesbian now, after all the stress we’d both been through, might just push her over the edge…and I was terrified that once she’d surpassed it, I would never be able to reach her again.
