All the Invisible Things

by Orlagh Collins

  ‘Here,’ Amira says, pulling a bottle of Smirnoff out of her bag. ‘Let’s have some of this.’ She stops and cracks the cap. ‘I bought it for the party next week, but then, why wait?’ She checks my face, then lifts the bottle to her mouth. ‘Ughh …’ she says, grimacing as the vodka goes down. Then she nods up at March. ‘See, she’s not taking any chances.’

  I turn to her. ‘Huh?

  Amira laughs. ‘If that dress doesn’t get him back, let’s check his pulse.’

  I try to laugh too but it tumbles out awkwardly. ‘I’m not sure it’s like that,’ I say, but she looks at me like I’ve lost it.

  We walk behind them the rest of the way, taking small swigs from her bottle in turn. I’m neither drunk nor sober but my mind begins to speed, everything inside and around me going that bit faster. Once we reach the bridge at Chalk Farm, Amira breaks into a run but as soon as we hit Regent’s Park Road my breath catches and I have to slow down. Last time I was on this street was with Mum and the memory pushes up against my chest.

  I force my feet to move and Pez turns back and wheels up alongside me, trailing along beside me slowly, like he knows. We walk on in silence; the shops with their striped awnings and window displays are as charming as I remember. Night is falling and the lights inside the tall, white houses are starting to come on. Pubs and cafes line the road all the way to the park and the tables outside are filled with well-dressed people enjoying the last of the evening sun. Even the dogs around here look pleased with themselves.

  Outside the newsagent Amira hands me her bag. ‘I can’t drink any more of that straight. It’s poison,’ she says, before disappearing into the bright light behind her. March bounces on the step outside, telling Pez all about the film set. She’s in full flight and he wheels back and forth, drinking in her every word.

  My mind wanders back to that day when I was here with Mum. It was cold, December maybe, and we sat in the window of that cafe by the butcher. Mum hadn’t yet told me that she was sick, but that was probably why I was allowed to have hot chocolate and apple pie after my lunch. We’d recently watched that movie, Amelie, together; the one about the lonely but kind-hearted waitress in Paris and I’d cut myself a fringe like hers and had taken to speaking with a not-so-slight French accent. As I breathily ordered my tuna sahn-weech, Mum looked on smiling. Rather than being embarrassed by my odd behaviour, it was like she enjoyed it. She never minded stuff like that. She always let me be me.

  Amira reappears with a litre bottle of Fanta under her arm and soon everyone’s bounding on towards the park, but my feet are still slow, like they’re stuck to the pavement. We pass the Greek restaurant and I catch the eye of a young girl as her mum pours her lemonade. I stare through the window at her – grab her hand and never let it go – I try to laser-beam the words through the glass as I pass by. The others have already reached the gates and I have to run to catch up, wriggling through the off-licence crowd and dodging their swollen bags, heavy with cans. Inside the park, clusters of horizontal bodies cover the hill.

  Ahead, further up, Pez and March chat away, her head briefly leaning on his shoulder. My heart surges; pleased for him and yet still wishing it could be my head on her shoulder or her head on mine. Is there a word for feeling this anxious but happy at the same time?

  When I reach the summit, Amira is dialling Nick, so I turn around to take in the view: all of London stretched into one incredible skyline, and my spine tingles at the sight. It’s impossible not to marvel at the shapes and spikes rising up out of the waning light and I pick out the Shard, the BT Tower, St Paul’s and the London Eye. I feel calmer up here, steadier.

  ‘I am waving!’ Amira says. ‘Stand up so I can see you.’

  I look down the far side and Nick appears amidst a large crowd of bodies halfway down the hill, holding his phone to his ear. He moves out to the edge and we amble towards him. He leans in and gives us both a hug and this feels good. We sit down on the grass, huddled together as some lazy-sounding hip-hop thuds the ground underneath us. Lucas raises his can and even Kyle smiles. Then I spot Rob, further off, pushing himself up and quickly moving towards us.

  ‘A bit late,’ he says, smiling. ‘But look, boys, she’s here.’ He looks pleased to see me but as he gets closer I smell beer mixed with some kind of aftershave and I’m suddenly disappointed to see he’s pissed already. I don’t want to be with him. I feel this so strongly and I don’t know how I should act around him now.

  ‘Hey,’ I say, nodding at his can. ‘Started early?’

  He plonks himself down. ‘Why not?’

  March screams somewhere close by. She’s riding Pez’s bike as he follows on foot behind. She’s hurtling towards us but she sticks her feet out just in time.

  ‘I can’t believe we got this dressed up to sit on the grass,’ she says, climbing off the bike and pulling down the end of her dress.

  Kyle takes her in. ‘Your efforts weren’t wasted.’

  March dummy-kicks his back before working her way around the group, hugging everyone as she goes. Eventually she settles down beside Pez, who is kneeling a little further up and slapping hands with Nick. I notice he hasn’t come over to give Rob his usual handshake, but they share a small nod, which might be enough. Lucas shuffles in and everyone follows suit and soon we’re all sitting in a messy circle with Amira in the middle.

  ‘Dig in!’ she says, lining up bottles and snacks from her bag and placing them in the centre. Then she starts chatting to Nick, while Lucas does impressions for Pez and Kyle and March who sits opposite them, tosses her head back laughing. Pez catches me looking and I know by the tiny squeeze of his eyes that he feels at ease, almost happy, and my shoulders sink with something like relief. At least I did the right thing convincing him to come out.

  Then Rob sidles up to me, landing a tiny kiss on my ear, and I quickly turn around.

  ‘What’s up?’ he says, tousled hair high off his face and his pale brow shining with sweat.

  I shake my head. ‘Nothing, just—’ How do I play this? I can’t tell him it’s over with us before it’s begun, and not HERE, but it doesn’t feel right to go along like I’m into it either.

  Thankfully I hear March just in time. ‘How about that game, Vetty,’ she says, clapping her hands. ‘The one we played on the bus last week.’

  I swing back into the centre of the group. ‘Two truths and a lie?’

  She bounces on her knees. ‘That’s it!’ she says, turning to the others. ‘So, we all take turns to say three things about ourselves, one of which is a lie.’

  Lucas looks confused. ‘Then what?’

  ‘The others have to guess which one isn’t true. But only one guess.’

  Kyle looks up. ‘Is this a drinking game?’

  ‘Why not?’ she says, taking Pez’s Mars Milk and Lucas’s beer and straightening them against Amira’s bottle of vodka in the middle. ‘Whoever gets it right first has a turn next and the rest of you must drink! Who’s in? Raise your hands,’ she says. As her wrists twist, her glittery nails sparkle in the half-dark. Lucas pumps his arm into the air and Kyle follows suit. Amira claps her hands and Rob, Nick and Pez smile like they’re up for it. ‘All right,’ March says excitedly, and everyone huddles in close. ‘Shall I kick things off, so you get the idea?’

  ‘Just start already,’ says Rob.

  ‘Behave,’ she says, firing him a look, then she takes a breath and looks up, thinking. ‘So, I’ve … never read a Harry Potter book, I did violin to Grade Five and I’m allergic to fish.’

  Amira spins around. ‘Everyone’s read Harry Potter.’

  March shoves her. ‘So, that’s your answer?’

  ‘Yeah!’ Amira says, laughing. ‘That’s my answer.’

  ‘I’m calling violin,’ says Nick, and March drums her hands on her thighs, eyeballing the rest of us in turn.

  ‘Harry Potter!’ Lucas shouts out.

  She looks to Pez, eyes soft. ‘Well?’ she says.

  He stares at her like he’s real
ly thinking. I know that look so well. ‘I’ve seen your old violin,’ he says. Her eyebrows rise and I suddenly remember her spicy seafood dish at the Korean place in Chinatown.

  ‘The fish is the lie!’ I shout it out.

  She clicks her fingers and squints her eyes at me in a way that makes my cheeks burn. ‘Bingo!’ she says. ‘I knew Vetty would get it.’ Then she winks. ‘The rest of you must drink!’ she says, lifting her legs, and her feet do a dance on the grass.

  ‘C’mon, let’s keep it moving,’ Amira shouts.

  March looks around the circle. ‘Vetty, you won, it should be your turn.’

  I sit on my fists. ‘Um … OK,’ I say. ‘So, I can … do a cartwheel one-handed, I’ve never broken a bone and I own an autographed LA Dodgers baseball shirt with my name on the back.’

  Everyone screws up their faces. Everyone except Pez, that is. ‘Easy,’ he says.

  ‘Not for everyone,’ I say, sticking my tongue out at him and he pouts back and the childish ridiculousness of this moment makes my insides feel all warm. Rob tries to push in closer like he somehow notices whatever is passing between me and Pez, but there genuinely isn’t much room and he’s left sitting slightly on the edge.

  ‘My cousin carries an Epipen because of her nut allergy,’ Lucas says.

  ‘Keep up, man,’ says Nick. ‘We’ve moved on.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Lucas says, taking another sip, then sitting up.

  ‘Cartwheel,’ Rob shouts. ‘But I’m only saying this so you have to prove me wrong.’ Then he makes a suggestive face that’s kind of hilarious.

  ‘Yeah, cartwheel!’ says Nick.

  Amira bounces up too. ‘Cartwheel!’

  ‘K, cartwheel!’ says March.

  ‘So, you’re all saying cartwheel?’

  ‘Except me!’ shouts Pez.

  ‘Well, maybe you should be disqualified on grounds of inside information.’ When I look up Kyle is shaking his head. ‘Broken bones,’ he says, and everyone turns to him. ‘That’s the lie.’ From his tone, it’s like he’s talking about something else.

  Rob muscles in, turning his back on Kyle. ‘Well?’ Rob says, waving his hand over my face. ‘Which is it?’

  ‘Actually, Kyle’s right,’ I say, ‘and Pez would have been too. I broke my arm when I was ten.’ Everyone reaches in for drinks. Nick swigs from the vodka first and Lucas guzzles a beer, finishing one bottle before opening another. Kyle slinks back on to the grass and cracks a fresh can.

  ‘Well, I need to see this one-handed cartwheel to believe it,’ Rob says, eyeing me like it’s a dare. For some reason I feel like a challenge and next thing I’m standing, raising both arms high up to the night.

  ‘Do it, do it!’ March shouts.

  I tilt myself upside down, but the grass is squishier than I expected and the hill even steeper and my other hand lands to take the fall and I collapse into an embarrassing heap. Everyone laughs, even me. ‘Wait, wait!’ I say, righting myself. Going downhill wasn’t such a good idea and I raise my arms again in the opposite direction and this attempt works. When I land on my feet, everyone cheers. I sit down, next to March this time. ‘You were saying, Rob?’

  My botched gymnastics display must have ruined whatever was going on with my hair because March leans across and fixes it. ‘Sort yourself out, love,’ she says, tucking a loose strand behind my ear. I notice Kyle move in, watching us.

  ‘My go next!’ Rob shouts out.

  Lucas spins around. ‘Wait your turn.’

  ‘C’mon,’ says Rob. ‘I’ve got a good one.’

  Kyle dusts off his hands. ‘My go,’ he says. ‘And mine’s way better.’ He reaches for the vodka and takes a long drink, like it’s water. ‘OK,’ he says, faltering as he sits back down. ‘So, I’m colour-blind, yeah?’ Then he clears his throat. ‘I’ve got six toes on my right foot and I’ve … just taken Rob to the cleaners. Smashed that bet, I did.’

  Rob crushes his empty can before shoving Kyle hard. ‘What is your problem?’

  Kyle sits up. ‘The bet was to turn her,’ he says, looking over as March adjusts the strap of my top, which hasn’t quite returned to where it started before my cartwheeling exhibit. Her fingers feel suddenly cold on my skin.

  Lucas hits Kyle a dig. ‘Shut up, man.’

  Rob flicks a lighter at Kyle’s head. ‘You prick!’

  Nick looks up. ‘What bet?’

  ‘Rob’s lesbian challenge,’ Kyle says, looking at me, and for the first time ever I can see into his eyes, but I don’t want to look. ‘So, Pez told Rob he’d no chance with you because you’re a lesbian and that, but big Rob here was convinced he could turn you. I was having a laugh. Rob was the one who made it an actual bet.’

  I stare at Rob, gripping my thighs like I’m in a car that’s about to crash. ‘Is this true?’

  Rob looks up from the grass. ‘Um … come here,’ he says quietly, and reaching for my arm. I pull back and he rises to his knees, holding up his hands. ‘Listen, I can explain, yeah?’

  I sense Pez stand opposite, but Nick puts his arm out, stopping him. I can’t believe this is happening. I swallow. ‘Go on.’

  ‘At the start it was a bet,’ Rob says. ‘But then—’

  ‘Are you fucking kidding me?’ Pez shouts it out, then he’s up, lurching at Rob. Flecks of saliva fly from Pez’s mouth as he pushes Rob back into the grass. ‘Where’s your respect? You sick, twisted prick—’

  Rob scuttles backwards. ‘Oh, I’m sick and twisted?’ he says.

  Pez’s face hardens, then he closes his eyes for a moment and when they open, he’s squinting. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

  ‘It means I’m not taking that from you,’ Rob says, grinding the words with his teeth as he tries to sit up. ‘The geezer who watches so much fucked-up porn his mum calls me up, crying because she’s afraid her son’s a pervert.’ I freeze. Nobody moves, except Rob, who has managed to pull himself up to his knees again. His demented-looking eyes move around the circle before stopping on March. ‘It’s time you knew what he’s really like and what he expects of you,’ he says, before turning to me with both of his hands up. ‘And Vetty,’ he says. ‘How d’you feel about him spending so much time alone with your little sister now? Doesn’t feel right, does it? Because Pez isn’t right.’ I glare back at him, rage ricocheting around my ribcage. This crop top’s too tight suddenly and I’m like the Hulk about to burst from his shirt. The more I stare at Rob the more I swell with anger. I don’t know what words to use first, but I refuse to look away until my gaze has scorched him through. Everything blurs. There’s so much to say my tongue thickens and I can’t speak.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see Pez lift his bike up from the grass.

  ‘Wait up,’ Lucas shouts, jumping up. ‘Wait!’ he cries, but Pez is already wheeling his bike down the hill.

  I stand up and scan the path below, but Pez has disappeared in the dark. I scoop my backpack off the ground and swing it at Rob, who ducks, but I swing again, connecting with his shoulder this time, hitting him hard. ‘How dare you!’ I shout it out, backing away before I turn to run up the hill, scrambling all the way to the top where my eyes frantically search the shadows below. I finally make Pez out, weaving between a group of girls who walk along the path holding hands, and now he’s mounting his bike.

  I sprint down the hill and I don’t stop until I’ve almost reached the park gates, hoping I’ll intercept him there. Here I am, chasing him again, but it really is all my fault this time. I convinced him to come out, I told him it would be OK, but everything has blown up in the worst way possible. Afraid he’ll turn back if he sees me, I stand in under a tree, ears cocked, waiting for the delicate thrum of his spokes in the dark. My brain thumps between my ears, my heart too. I look around to see his BMX speeding towards me and my feet step out on to the path, my arms spread wide, knowing he’ll have to stop. I’m so sure, I close my eyes, imagining myself back on those pegs, my arms around his shoulders, me, tall like the BT Tower as he steers
us through the streets. I’m even feeling the heat as I lean into his back and that’s when the soft tick of his wheels gets close for real and my eyes ping open. He’s zooming towards me, red hoody zipped to his chin, but he doesn’t stop and just like Elliott in ET he soars up and up. My eyes clamp shut and wheels skid and screech and … thud!

  Silence.

  A terrible

  black

  hole

  of absolute quiet.

  An alarm is sounding, loud and close. Too close. I look up and before my feet have a chance to move my heart lurches towards a large blue car, stopped in the middle of the road. My hands slap against the cold glass of its window, behind which long hair lies tossed over an inflated airbag. Inside, a woman’s head lifts in slow motion, but I don’t wait to see her face. My hands swat along the side of the car, to the bonnet, then to the road, where one of Pez’s long red arms is thrown out wide. My legs crumple and I drop to my knees, reaching for him, but my hand falls short on the warm black tarmac.

  Half of him lies hidden under the car and the other half looks up at the night. One eye’s closed, an eyebrow arched in surprise, but his throat is loose and relaxed, peaceful almost, as a tiny trail of blood trickles from the side of his mouth. For a moment, it’s like I’m not crouched here on the road, I’m up in the sky staring down at the car like it’s a swimming pool I see from an aeroplane window and I see myself, leaning in, as if this will reveal the other half of his body, the side that’s hidden. It’s not all of him. I place my hand on his cheek.

  ‘I didn’t see him,’ a woman’s voice cries. ‘I didn’t see him,’ she repeats. ‘He came from nowhere. I’ve called an ambulance.’

  His boyish wrist peeks out from the end of his sleeve and I rest two fingers where his hand meets his arm. Please, Pez, we can’t be separated again. Please! I don’t know or care if I’m talking out loud as I press down deeper on his skin, closing my eyes. When I feel the gentle throb underneath I raise his heavy hand in mine and lift it to my wet cheek.