When It Drops

by Alex Dyson

  He needed his dad.

  ‘I might just go to my room for a bit,’ he said out loud, abandoning the fruitless colander search.

  ‘Caleb, what’s wrong? You should be pumped about the song!’

  ‘I am, but … I’m not. I dunno.’

  ‘Is it because of Ella?’

  ‘Well, yeah, that’s part of it.’ It was basically all of it.

  ‘Mate, who cares! You’re a rock star now! No-one’s going to worry about it.’ Rachel clearly didn’t get it.

  ‘You’re right, teenagers aren’t renowned for bullying,’ Caleb said sarcastically.

  Rachel huffed. ‘It won’t be that bad, Caleb.’

  ‘You haven’t been to Riverview …’ he muttered. His intestines were starting to crinkle at the thought of facing Ella tomorrow.

  ‘Listen!’ Rachel grabbed his shoulders and looked directly into his eyes. ‘Caleb. It only got played once, right? I doubt anyone you know heard it. And if they did, they’re not going to know it’s by you! I didn’t even know it was by you! And in the end, you’re still going to be able to say you’ve had a song played on the radio.’

  This made Caleb feel a tiny bit better, and he felt a bit better again when she pulled him close and wrapped her arms around him. In a day of intense emotions, the hug was appreciated.

  Suddenly Rachel pulled away, excited. ‘Hey, I know what will cheer you up. Let’s do a Food Safari tonight!’

  Caleb’s heart skipped a beat. Over on the couch, Nat froze in the middle of texting.

  Food Safari was a game Roger Clifford had invented when he’d realised his kids would never agree on where they were going to eat. Basically, dinner became an adventure, where the kids would take turns to pick random directions – left, right, straight – that they would write on a bit of paper, or their ‘Safari Map’. Dad would then start driving, and whenever he came to an intersection, he would turn the car in whatever direction the map prescribed. The only rule was that they had to eat at the closest place they ended up in when the directions ran out.

  It was one of the reasons nightshifts hurt so much these days. When Dad was in charge of cooking, he’d always pretend he’d organised something. Something disgusting that he’d planned for ages that had all sorts of livers and brains in it. Then suddenly he’d grab the car keys, jingle them and yell, ‘Food Safari!’, which would set off a bunch of cheers and have Rachel, Caleb and Nat running towards the driveway.

  But those days were over.

  ‘I’m not coming,’ Nat said quietly from the couch.

  ‘Come on,’ Rachel said to Caleb. She picked up the car keys from the abalone shell and jiggled them in the air. ‘It’ll be great. A celebration of your song!’

  Caleb hesitated. It felt wrong doing it without Dad. ‘Um, I’m not really in the mood.’

  ‘Okay, fine, if you want you can stay and have a meat sauce bag,’ Rachel said. ‘But it’s my shout. And I’ll let you drive.’

  Caleb and Nat looked at the icy plastic lump in the sink, and then at each other.

  ‘I’ll do it if I don’t have to drive,’ Caleb said. Nat groaned, which meant he was coming too.

  ‘Done,’ Rachel said gleefully, dumping the meat sauce bag back in the freezer.

  Rachel placed the used envelope in the coin holder of the car, back side up. Left, right, straight, straight, straight, left, straight, right was written beneath the underlined heading FOOD SAFARI. There was no competition to write directions tonight; Caleb and Nat had both politely declined.

  Rachel started the engine. ‘Let’s do it!’

  The safari was underway.

  LEFT

  ‘First turn, here we go!’ Rachel said cheerfully as they turned from the end of their street. Nat stared out his window, ignoring everyone. The absence of his father from their nightshift week adventure must have been disconcerting for him too. Roger Clifford always drove, most of the time narrating the safari like David Attenborough. Having his sister making comments from the driver’s seat wasn’t the same.

  RIGHT

  ‘Ooh, we’re going away from town, this should be interesting!’

  ‘Maybe,’ muttered Caleb.

  The car trundled along. Caleb gazed at the windscreen from his position in the middle seat at the back. The small crack from Miralee’s double bass case stared back at him. It was about the size of bottle top, and right in the centre of the glass. Caleb still had the feeling of whiplash from when Rachel had hit the brakes earlier today. Or maybe that was just the feeling everyone gets after hearing their song on the radio for the first time.

  STRAIGHT

  ‘Oooh, heading towards the highway!’ said Rachel. She really was trying, but Caleb’s mind was occupied. Mysterious artist. That’s what Luke Dubz had called him. Mysterious.

  STRAIGHT

  Caleb wondered if any other mysterious artists sat in the back seat while their fourteen-year-old brother got to be in the front.

  ‘What’s the next direction, Nat?’

  ‘Can we just pick somewhere and eat, please?’

  ‘Wow, are you too cool for this game now?’

  ‘I’m too hungry for this game.’

  ‘Right, well, not long to go.’

  That wasn’t totally true. Their next direction was –

  STRAIGHT

  So they stayed on the highway.

  ‘Egads, looks like a long safari tonight!’ Rachel said.

  ‘Egads?’ asked Nat.

  ‘Look, I’m doing my best to be upbeat, okay …’ Rachel seemed stung by her brothers’ lack of enthusiasm, so she turned on the radio to fill the awkward silence.

  LEFT

  The familiar Phresh FM sound effects transitioned into a song intro. ‘Hi, this is Flume, and this is my new track, “Sorry Mum”.’

  Flume’s biggest hit from his latest mixtape began to play. It was so surreal to think Caleb’s own song had been played on the very same station earlier that day.

  STRAIGHT

  Caleb imagined school tomorrow. What if Ella had heard it? Or what if someone else told her? Barely anyone at school knew he made music, and even fewer people knew his childhood nickname was Button. Even if they had heard it, maybe he could still remain undetected? Wait for this all to blow over? There was a chance, right?

  RIGHT

  ‘Jesus, where are we?’ Rachel said.

  Caleb took the off-ramp from his anxiety daydream and looked around. They were deep among warehouses now and, given the directions had run out, they would have to go to the first food place they saw. Unfortunately, unless they felt like rummaging through self-storage units or used car yards for some dinner, they seemed to be out of luck.

  ‘I told you we shouldn’t have done this,’ whined Nat.

  ‘Come on, there’s gotta be something nearby. There – see!’ Rachel pointed to a SAFIA SELF-SERVICE station.

  ‘What, petrol?’

  ‘No, on the side, look.’

  In what looked like a converted shipping container attached to the side of the servo, there was some activity. The fluorescent lights within it were bright, and Caleb could make out a few lonely taxi drivers getting a bite between fares. A neon sign above it called out to them.

  MICHAEL’S CHINESE & ITALIAN

  RESTAURANT

  ‘Well,’ Rachel said tentatively. ‘Rules are rules …’ She pulled up into a car park.

  ‘Oh no …’ said Nat.

  On the radio, the Flume song ended and the next song started.

  Westlake, you make my chest ache …

  His siblings both turned to look at him.

  ‘Oh no,’ said Caleb.

  Caleb ordered the Peking duck pizza. It looked like the most palatable option in the bain-marie. That’s what his life was turning into: directions he didn’t choose leading to bad options everywhere. The second play of his song in just a few hours had left him reeling, and he was so out of it that he barely flinched when the chef picked up the pizza with his bare fingers before
putting it in the microwave.

  ‘Next!’

  ‘Um, do you have anything vegetarian?’ Rachel asked hopefully. The man, his white apron covered in a constellation of condiment stains, stared at her blankly.

  Caleb was internally assessing his predicament. One radio play he could get away with. Fine. Two made it look like it was going to keep happening, and it appeared he now had two options.

  Walk into the Phresh FM front office with a lawyer, a cease-and-desist letter, and an angry mob with pitchforks demanding they stop playing his song immediately.

  Talk to Ella Westlake.

  He was leaning towards option one.

  ‘Well, I’ll get the sweet and sour risotto then, please,’ said Rachel finally.

  The chef scooped a spoonful of orange rice with brown chunks into a bowl. ‘Next!’

  Nat stepped up to the register. He had a look of morbid glee on his face. ‘This is amazing. Dad would love this place,’ he said, looking through the dirty glass with a grin. ‘Look at that!’ he added, pointing to a particularly chunky red dish. ‘What’s that soup thing?’

  The chef sighed. ‘Dumpling minestrone.’

  ‘Oooh, I like dumplings. Okay, I’ll have one of those, and a slice of the lemon chicken lasagne – that looks wild.’

  Rachel rolled her eyes. The chef handed their meals across the counter, and Rachel tapped her card to pay.

  The table was decorated with some plastic flowers that were wilting under a thick layer of dust. Caleb had taken a single bite out of his pizza, which was, for lack of a better word, wet. After removing the meat chunks, Rachel had managed to choke down half her risotto, which was apparently ‘more sour than sweet’. Nat was the only one who had finished both his meals, and as a result was slumped back in his chair, groaning.

  Caleb also looked sick, but for a different reason. He was thinking about how if he did talk to Ella, they wouldn’t just have to talk about the song. They’d inevitably have to talk about their first day at Riverview, and what had happened when she’d bailed on him. The event he never wanted to think about, which he’d mercifully never even spoken about. The event that had haunted him ever since. If he and Ella talked about it, she might tell someone. And if that happened, the story would spread like wildfire. And that couldn’t happen. He didn’t want people feeling sorry for him anymore …

  ‘I’m going to the bathroom,’ Nat grimaced. Holding his stomach, he lurched towards the front counter where, after a brief conversation with the chef, he was given a toilet key attached to what looked like a hub cap.

  Rachel turned back to Caleb. ‘So, what’s going on, matey? I mean, I know it’s not ideal with the whole Ella thing, but surely the cred you’d get from having a song on the radio would outweigh any downsides, no?’

  The harsh restaurant lights flickered above their heads as Caleb took a deep breath and looked into Rachel’s eyes. His usual detached demeanour was starting to crack. If what had happened was going to get out, he may as well confide in his sister first. He glanced in the direction of the bathroom. Nat was nowhere to be seen.

  It was time.

  ‘Well, it’s not just that,’ Caleb began. ‘It’s, well, back in year seven –’

  ‘Ooh – hang on, I’m getting a call,’ Rachel interrupted. ‘Ugh, it’s an unknown number, do you mind?’

  Caleb shook his head.

  ‘Hello?’ Rachel’s eyes narrowed as she answered her phone. Caleb watched on.

  ‘Sorry, who did you say you were?’ It took three seconds of silence before Rachel’s eyes went wider than dinner plates, and she leaned across the table, whacking Caleb on the arm three times and disturbing some plastic flower dust in the process.

  ‘Um, yes, of course this is the right number. Me? I’m BVTTON’s … um, manager.’

  Caleb froze. What the hell?

  ‘Sure, we’d love to have a conversation.’ She started mouthing ‘Oh my god!’ at Caleb.

  ‘Who. Is. It?’ Caleb mouthed back aggressively.

  Rachel held up her finger. ‘Um, does he have any other songs? Ah …’ She looked at Caleb expectantly.

  He shook his head violently, making a throat-cutting motion.

  ‘Yes. Yes, he does,’ she said to the mystery caller. ‘We can definitely send you more.’

  Caleb dropped his head into his hands.

  Nathaniel chose that moment to return from the dark corridor, placing the hub cap key on the counter, where it was picked up by a tired-looking taxi driver.

  ‘No, a few years at least …’ Rachel was saying.

  ‘Um, Rachel …?’ said Nat gingerly. Rachel held her finger up again.

  Nat turned to Caleb instead. ‘Caleb, I think we …’

  ‘Shhh!’ said Caleb, trying to listen to his sister.

  Rachel put her finger in her opposite ear and stood up. ‘That could definitely be possible …’

  ‘Caleb!’

  ‘What?’ Caleb hissed at his brother.

  ‘I think we should go,’ Nat whispered. His desperate glances towards the corridor made Caleb finally pay attention.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I, um … didn’t make it to the bathroom in time …’

  ‘Certainly, well my email is …’ said Rachel in the background, just as the taxi driver emerged from the corridor. He looked wide awake now. And angry. He had a brief, robust conversation with the chef before pointing directly at Nathaniel.

  Nat sprang from his chair and bolted for the exit. Caleb grabbed Rachel’s arm and dragged her behind him.

  ‘Absolutely, I’ll be sure to pass that on!’ Rachel said awkwardly as they burst through the door, the bell dinging as they exited.

  ‘COME BACK HERE!’ bellowed the chef. ‘You’ll be cleaning that up, you little –!’

  ‘What did you do?!’ yelled Caleb.

  ‘It wasn’t my fault!’ Nat panted. ‘China and Italy don’t get along!’

  ‘Nice talking to you too!’ Rachel yelled into the phone before hanging up, the trio now in a full-on sprint.

  ‘What … are you doing … tomorrow?’ Rachel asked, apparently too preoccupied to ask why they were running.

  ‘School, probably,’ Caleb wheezed in reply.

  ‘No, you’re not,’ said Rachel as they made it back to the car. She grinned at Caleb, chest heaving. ‘We’ve got a meeting.’

  CHAPTER 6

  ‘I think this is it.’

  Rachel and Caleb came to a halt outside a restaurant called the Boatshed. A white picket fence adorned with lifebuoys surrounded the alfresco dining area, giving the whole place a ‘sophisticated, nautical’ vibe. Caleb realised his cargo shorts and old Powderfinger T-shirt probably gave him a ‘destitute camper’ vibe. He’d thought wearing a band shirt for the meeting would show how into music he was, but now, among the crisp white collars and pencil skirts of the Boatshed’s clientele, he was having some reservations.

  ‘Do you have a reservation?’ asked the hostess as the pair reached the entrance.

  Yes, loads, thought Caleb.

  ‘Yes,’ said Rachel. ‘We’re here for lunch with Jai Fordham from TransAtlantic Records. He’s interested in signing my brother, BVTTON. His song’s massive already. That’s him right there.’ She pointed at Caleb, who was taking a deep breath through his inhaler. He waved gingerly. The hostess narrowed her eyes. It didn’t look like she was buying Rachel’s story. Caleb couldn’t blame her. He also had trouble believing the man on the phone last night worked at TransAtlantic, and had only let Rachel drag him along out of sheer curiosity. That, and a day skipping school to have a ‘meeting’ in the city meant a whole extra twenty-four hours in which he could collect his thoughts before having to see or even talk to Ella Westlake.

  ‘Well, apologies, we don’t seem to have that name on the list. Who did you say you were meeting? A Mr …’

  ‘Fordham, Jai Fordham,’ came a voice.

  Caleb and Rachel spun around. Standing behind them was a man with olive skin, dressed in a plain
white T-shirt and jeans, who looked like he’d just stepped out of a Lana Del Rey video clip.

  ‘Sorry I’m late, is there a problem?’ His voice sounded like a jar of Nutella on a motorcycle.

  ‘We are very full, sir, I’m afraid without a reservation …’

  ‘I understand,’ said Jai, ‘but Mr Chabra sent me down.’ He flashed a smile and handed over a business card.

  ‘Mr Chabra?’ the hostess exclaimed. ‘I, ah, in that case, I think we’ll be able to squeeze you in … Mr Fordham, was it?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘Right this way, sir.’

  The hostess entered the restaurant. Jai gave Caleb and Rachel a subtle thumbs up before following her inside. The siblings looked at each other with wide eyes, then shuffled after them.

  ‘Love the T-shirt, man, very cool,’ Jai said as they sat down.

  Caleb’s brain was too shocked to even say ‘thank you’. The only time he’d ever got a compliment about his clothes was from his dad, and that was when he was using one of Caleb’s old shirts to wash the car and was marvelling at how absorbent it was.

  ‘Anyway, sorry, I should introduce myself properly before I start fanboying. I’m Jai, and you must be Rachel – we chatted on the phone?’

  ‘Hey, it’s a pleasure to meet you.’ Rachel smiled, shaking Jai’s hand. Her blue hair was tied back into ‘business braids’.

  ‘Likewise, Rachel.’ Jai gripped her hand gently and gave the best eye contact Caleb had ever seen. Then he turned and shook Caleb’s hand too. ‘And this must be the genius behind “Ella”. Thanks for meeting me on such short notice. Luke Dubz gave me the sneaky heads up that his Phresh Find this week was mint, and sure enough, wow, I was blown away. He knows a good tune, Dubz. Have you met him?’ Jai added, as if it was the most obvious question in the world.

  Rachel and Caleb shook their heads.