Invisibly Breathing

by Eileen Merriman

  Maddy pulls the door closed. ‘Mum texted me and asked me not to tell Dad that you got suspended.’ Her eyes are wide. ‘Is it true?’

  ‘Well, Mum wouldn’t have texted you if it wasn’t.’

  She sits beside me. ‘I heard what they were saying about you and Felix.’ Her forehead furrows. ‘You’re just good friends, right?’

  I’m not sure why I hesitate, but I do, and her eyes grow big again.

  ‘What, is it true?’

  ‘D-d-don’t say anything. I’ll never f-forgive you.’

  She shakes her head. ‘I won’t say anything.’ Oh man, I can hardly bear her looking at me like that, as if I’m a completely different person. I drop my head into my hands, feel her fingers on the back of my neck.

  ‘I don’t care if you’re gay,’ she says. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘I’m not gay,’ I say, my voice muffled. ‘And I don’t want anyone to know.’

  ‘I won’t tell anyone.’ She takes her hand back. ‘Did you get hurt?’

  I raise my head, run my fingers over the bump by my ear. ‘Not by Zero.’

  Maddy’s mouth twists. ‘Will you ever tell anyone?’

  ‘About Felix?’

  ‘No, about Dad.’ Her eyes are swimming. I guess she heard me hitting the wall last night.

  ‘I’ll just keep my head down,’ I say. ‘Stay out of his way. I’ll be OK.’

  Maddy sighs and slides off the bed. ‘He brought home a bottle of Coke,’ she says. ‘If you want some.’

  ‘I don’t.’

  Once she’s gone, I pull my battered pack out of the wardrobe and examine the contents. Rope, a sleeping bag, tarpaulin, one can of baked beans. There are more cans in the back of the wardrobe — I’ve been taking one a week from the pantry — and an empty water bottle. After downloading a map onto my phone, I turn it off to preserve the charge and shove it into the front pocket. Time to go bush.

  I don’t start to relax until I’ve been walking for a good hour. There are so many tracks above our house, criss-crossing between the firebreaks carved into the gorse-covered hill. A fantail starts following me, its white tail-feathers flashing between the trees as I ascend. It’s kind of nice to have company, even if it’s only a bird.

  After the first hour, my stomach starts to growl, and I realise I forgot to have lunch. Sitting on an exposed tree root, I dig into a tin with a rusty can-opener, and use the handle to dig out the baked beans. The beans and a good slug of water are enough to make my headache almost completely disappear. Fingering the egg on my head, I think of how I’m going to get through the next twenty months, until I sit my last high-school exam. I think of Felix, and how all I want right now is to be lying next to him, his warm body pressed against mine.

  I’m not gay. I just want to be with Felix.

  Remembering the Facebook posts I read by the river this morning, I cringe. Zero and his wanker friends have taken one of the few things that make me feel good, and turned it into something dirty.

  Maybe I should stop seeing Felix. Maybe it’s just too hard.

  But then I remember the way he told me I was like helium: so light that even the Earth’s gravity isn’t strong enough to hold onto it, and that’s how I feel when I’m with you. I remember how he said u-breathe-invisibly, and made it sound like I love you.

  After stuffing the empty can into my pack, I start walking again, mulling over the anagram in my head. It’s no good; I can’t figure it out without a pen and paper. Later. I’ve got all the time in the world.

  I breathe in. Above me, the cloud-washed sky is fading. Turning my phone on, I see it’s seven thirty-one p.m. My muscles are aching but my head is clear, at last.

  It’s time to find a place to sleep. I diverge off the track, walking until I find a flat piece of ground between two trees. My lengths of rope and tarpaulin do the rest — ground cover and a roof above my head, sweet. I haven’t checked the forecast for rain, but I’ll keep dry unless it’s heavy.

  I’m pretty sure I’m not allowed to build a fire, considering it’s the tail-end of summer, but no one’s going to spot a small one up here. After gathering a bundle of twigs and sticks, I light a match and throw it on top. It’s not long before I’m warming a can of spaghetti over my makeshift oven. The flames are so bright that when I turn my head, the darkness is like tar pouring into my eyes. The world feels smaller and bigger, all at once.

  If only I had someone here with me, to show them —him — how cool sleeping under the stars can be.

  I never used to get lonely when I went bush, but suddenly, inexplicably, I am.

  A couple of hours later, I lie in my sleeping bag, using the Notes app on my phone to rearrange the letters Felix gave me.

  U-b-r-e-a-t-h-e-i-n-l-y.

  I gaze through a gap in the tarpaulin. Tissue-paper clouds scud over a half-moon, and the wind stirring through the leaves sounds like an exhalation.

  ‘Breathe,’ I whisper, remembering Felix’s breathing in my ear, his lips on mine, the way his smile transforms his closed face into something, someone, beautiful. I sigh, and look back at my phone, writing the letters in all the different combinations I can think of.

  Bear thei … no.

  Then bare yul… no

  Bail rey

  Hey. Bailey. My name. Bailey. And hang on … Hunter.

  Smiling, I type Felix’s name into my phone, and start playing around.

  Felix Catalan.

  C a f e t a l i a n a x

  Facial n latex?

  Slightly pornographic. Aargh, let’s stick with Felix. Which could be …

  Tilting my head to one side, I bring up Felix’s last message: Are you OK? and hit reply.

  I figured out the anagram — Bailey Hunter, very clever. Here’s yours, not half as clever: X File. Because you’re out of this world, Five. See you in 5 sleeps. Breathe invisibly, for me. #2.

  But when I go to send the message, I realise I’ve got no cell-phone reception. Damn it. I’ll have to send it once I’m out of the bush, whenever that’s going to be. I haven’t really thought that far ahead.

  As for Felix’s question, Are you OK?, I haven’t answered that. I really haven’t.

  What I did this morning was just what my father would have done. If that’s how it’s going to be, if that’s how I’m going to turn out, then I don’t see the point in carrying on.

  I’d rather be dead.

  CHAPTER 17

  FELIX: OPPOSING PENDULUMS

  It’s pretty hard to concentrate on class for the rest of Wednesday afternoon. I can’t stop thinking about how Bailey broke his promise to me at lunchtime. I can’t stop worrying about what happened after Leadbetter hauled Bailey and Zero to Mr Wheeler’s office. Again and again I check my phone, but there are no messages from Bailey. As soon as I get home I text him: Are you OK?

  My phone dings an hour later, while I’m losing myself in the comforting world of mathematical formulae. It’s just a text from Dad: I’ve signed the lease for my new flat, moving in on Friday. Do you and Alfie want to stay over on Sat night?

  I get an odd feeling in my gut when I read that, like a mixture of homesickness and resentment. Perhaps that’s why I reply with: So you’re not coming back then.

  No question mark required.

  Dad: I know this is hard. But I think you’ll enjoy staying here. Pick you up 10AM Sat? As if I don’t have anything better to do. I might be going to judo with Bailey, if we’re talking to each other by then.

  Are we not talking to each other? I’m not sure. He still hasn’t replied to my message. The school would have called his parents for sure. He must be grounded. Maybe he’s had his phone taken off him.

  The front door bangs shut and I jam my headphones over my ears, so I don’t have to hear Alfie’s music, which is guaranteed to start up within the next two minutes. I open my window, breathing in the damp air while I listen to the opening chords of ‘Basket Case’.

  Someone lifts one of my headphones and says in my ear, ‘Wha
t are you doing?’

  I spin around, flipping my headphones off.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Alfie’s standing behind me, reeking of chlorine as usual. I’m surprised his hair doesn’t turn green.

  He bounces on his heels. ‘I hear Bailey mugged Zero.’

  ‘He didn’t mug him,’ I say, glaring at him. ‘Have you heard of knocking?’

  ‘Is it true?’

  I narrow my eyes at him. ‘I told you it wasn’t.’

  ‘No, about you and Bailey hooking up.’ Alfie steps back, as if he’s expecting me to swing at him.

  ‘Joe McCarthy is a prick,’ I say, my voice rising. ‘And if your friend Alex is anything like him, then I wouldn’t hang out with him if I were you.’

  ‘Hey, I was just asking. He deserved it then, huh?’

  ‘Maybe.’ I pick up a gangster minifigure and turn it between my finger and thumb. ‘Probably.’ I glance at my phone again.

  No message. No message. No message.

  Alfie’s voice sounds as if it’s coming from very far away.

  ‘Is it true Bailey got suspended?’

  ‘Who did you hear that from?’

  ‘Alex,’ Alfie says, in a well-duh voice. ‘He said both Zero and Bailey got suspended until Monday.’

  I stare at him. ‘Until Monday?’ If Bailey’s dad gives him a bleeding nose for yelling abuse at him, what will he do when he finds out Bailey has been suspended? That’s when I really start to worry.

  ‘That’s what Alex said,’ Alfie says, watching me pick up my phone again. ‘Who are you messaging?’

  ‘Um, Dad,’ I say, holding it up to show him Dad’s last text. ‘He wants us to stay in his new flat on Saturday night.’

  Alfie grins. ‘Awesome,’ he says, then turns and walks down the hallway on his hands. Show-off.

  I sigh, and text Dad: See you at 10AM.

  I wake the next morning with the familiar feeling of dread that’s been dogging me for the past few days, made even worse by the realisation that it’s only Thursday. Two more days until the weekend, when I get to have a brief reprieve from school. I’m trying to do what Bailey suggested, to lie low until it blows over, but I’m not sure how I’m meant to do that. At the moment I feel as if I’m caught in a cyclone.

  I’m walking to school, counting steps, when I hear shouting. It takes a while to realise the shouting is directed at me, because I’m blasting music through my earphones. But then the shouters overtake me and start walking backwards, their faces twisted into fake smiles, filth spilling out of their mouths.

  It’s Henry Teoh and Sam Birch, the wankers. I’m pretty sure I know what they’re saying, because they’d already posted it all over Ruby’s Facebook page. I don’t need to hear it again. So I step into the road without even bothering to look and nearly get sideswiped by a bus.

  It crosses my mind for a brief moment — seconds — that maybe life would be much easier if I got hit by a bus. Either I’d be dead and not having to worry about the haters, or I’d end up in hospital in a body cast, and get to escape them for a few months. Until it all blows over.

  But I don’t really want to be dead, or break all my bones. I just want to rewind back to a few days ago, when Bailey and I were happy in our own world, not hurting anyone.

  So why does everyone want to hurt us?

  I’m so tempted to go home and stay there, but I don’t want to get in any more trouble. The more Bailey and I get in trouble, the less we’ll be able to see of each other.

  I used to think I didn’t need anyone, but now I know what it’s like to be close to someone, I don’t know how to be apart from him.

  I hope he’s OK. I hope, I hope.

  Somehow I get through the next two days. In class, I keep my head down, and count like crazy. At lunchtime I escape into the library, and read a sci-fi book where the main character can hear everyone else’s thoughts. It makes me wonder what would happen if everyone could hear my thoughts. Jesus, I’d probably be driven out of school.

  I need to talk to Bailey. But for whatever reason, Bailey can’t, or won’t, talk to me. I’ve sent him heaps of texts —are you mad at me I’m really worried about you would you PLEASE put me out of my misery — and he hasn’t replied to a single one. I think it’s over between us. Either that or he’s in big trouble. Both of those thoughts make me want to turn myself inside out, because I don’t know how to cope with this sad-angry-desperate feeling thrumming through me.

  I’ve just got home from school on Friday when Coke texts me: Going to movies with Krusty and one of her friends tonight, want to come?

  I consider that for a moment before texting back: Which movie?

  Coke: Don’t know yet I need some male company.

  It better not be a chick flick.

  Coke: I’m on my knees dude!

  OK, if I can get an advance on my pocket $.

  Coke: I’m taking that as a yes.

  Whatever.

  Maybe it’ll keep my mind off the whole Zero-Bailey-Facebook mess.

  As soon as I get to Coke’s house, I can tell it’s a set-up. After leading me to his room, he sprays me with his skunk cologne and starts telling me all about Krusty’s friend, Lucy.

  ‘She’s kind of quiet, like you, and she’s super-brainy.’ He sits on his bed to pull on his shoes. ‘Don’t screw it up, OK?’

  I scowl at him. ‘Don’t screw what up?’

  Coke rolls his eyes at me. ‘Here are some tips. She’s good at physics, so maybe you can talk to her about Steve Hawking.’

  ‘His name’s Stephen.’ I press my nose against his window, watching the day fade to grey. What’s Bailey doing right now? Is he thinking of me the way I’m thinking of him?

  Maybe he’s thinking about someone else instead. Like Sasha from judo.

  ‘Yeah, him,’ Coke says. ‘Turn her on with some black holes or something, I don’t know.’

  ‘Turn her on?’ I spin around. ‘Whoa, have you just organised me into a blind date? No way.’

  Coke quirks an eyebrow at me. ‘Tinder would charge you money for this.’

  I fling open his bedroom door. ‘I’m going home.’

  ‘Hey, come on.’ He grabs me by the elbow. ‘I’m helping you out, man. Do you think I haven’t seen what Zero’s been saying about you on Facebook?’

  ‘I don’t want to talk about that.’ There’s a weird feeling behind my eyes, like I might cry if he pushes me on that one.

  Coke sighs. ‘Just talk to her, OK? What’s the worst that can happen? You might make a new friend — is that so terrible?’

  ‘You know I’m not very good at that,’ I say, wavering, because I don’t really want to go back home either. Marcus the doctor arrived just as I was leaving. I don’t know which is worse: watching Marcus and my mum cuddle up to each other, or trying to avoid a girl cuddling up to me.

  It’s dark when Krusty comes to pick us up in her mum’s hatchback, so I can’t really see what Lucy looks like, except that she’s really tall and has hair down to her butt. After Lucy has swapped into the back seat, Coke gestures for me to join her so he can sit beside Krusty in the front.

  ‘Felix, Lucy, Lucy, Felix,’ Krusty says, backing onto the road.

  ‘Lucy’s going to be an astrophysicist,’ Coke says, before either of us can say hi to each other.

  Lucy groans. ‘I am not.’ I think she’s looking at me, but I’m trying not to look back.

  ‘Coke says you play the guitar,’ Lucy says, once Coke and Krusty have started arguing over which radio station to listen to.

  ‘Uh-huh.’ I want to get out of this car. I want it to be Monday, so I can see Bailey again.

  ‘Me too,’ she says.

  Vaguely interested, but trying not to show it, I wind down the window a crack. ‘Acoustic?’

  ‘And electric,’ she says, and I finally look at her properly. She’s winding a strand of hair around her finger and staring out of the window.

  From the front, Coke says, ‘Because they play the same thr
ee songs all day, that’s why.’

  ‘Um, slight exaggeration,’ Krusty says.

  ‘Sorry, they have a repertoire of at least five songs.’

  ‘You own an electric guitar?’ I ask.

  Lucy glances at me. ‘No, but my dad does. He taught me to play. How about you?’

  I slump into my seat. ‘I’m saving up for one.’

  ‘You should come jam sometime,’ she says, as if we’ve known each other for more than five minutes.

  ‘Well, your radio station thinks the Kardashians are news,’ Krusty says. ‘And they just aren’t.’ She swings around a corner. ‘What’s the opinion from the cheap seats?’

  ‘I don’t listen to the radio,’ I say.

  ‘Me neither,’ Lucy says. ‘Too many ads.’ She smiles at me, and I smile back.

  Inside the movie theatre, the girls end up sitting in the middle, of course, with Coke and me flanking either side of them. And, of course, I’ve been roped into spending my scant pocket money on a chick flick. The movie is about a girl who’s in love with some dickhead, and naturally she doesn’t realise she’s been in love with her best friend all along until he starts dying of leukaemia.

  I’ve never seen a movie about two guys in love with each other, or two girls in love with each other. At least, I don’t think I have. I’m starting to feel like an alien on an inhospitable planet again.

  About halfway through, I give up watching and start playing with my phone. Of course, there’s no message from Bailey. I’m not surprised, although something in me wonders if he could try a bit harder. Surely he could get his hands on another phone? Are his parents keeping him prisoner or something? Then I remember the bruises and the bleeding nose and feel guilty for doubting him like that, which makes me start worrying about him all over again.

  Lucy elbows me. ‘This is such a dumb movie,’ she says. ‘Don’t you think?’

  ‘It’s one of the worst movies I’ve ever seen,’ I agree, although if it got any better in the last twenty minutes then I’d hardly have noticed.