by J. C. Burke
‘Will what?’ Poppy gasps, placing her hand on Evie’s back to support her. ‘Will what, Evie?’
Evie shakes her head.
‘W-I-L-L W-I-L-L H-E-L-P M-E S-H-E S-A-Y-S. She says you will help me.’
‘Who?’ Alex pants. ‘Who? Ask who she?’ is
Evie keeps repeating the message, unaware of Alex’s pleading. ‘She says you will help me, she says you will help me.’
‘Who, Evie? Who?’ Alex is screaming and pulling at Evie’s arm. ‘Who’s she? Who’s she?’
‘Who’s she?’ Evie whispers. ‘Who is she?’
The glass turns around, changes direction and skids to the letter A. Evie closes her eyes. The rest of the letters she knows only too well.
‘Who? Who?’ Alex pants. ‘Who?’
‘A-T-H-E-N,’ Poppy begins.
‘Athena,’ Evie murmurs.
‘What?’ Alex throws herself back in the chair just as Poppy calls the final letter.
‘A. A-T-H-E-N-A. Athena!’
‘Athena,’ nods Evie, as the heat lifts from her shoulders back up into the atmosphere.
The girls huddle together in Evie’s parents’ bed. All the lights are on. The glass and letters have been thrown in the garbage outside.
‘What are you going to do, Evie?’ Alex whispers.
Evie lies there, silent.
‘Who’s Athena?’ Poppy asks again. ‘Will someone please tell me who Athena is?’
‘You tell her,’ Evie murmurs. She can hardly form a word. Her energy has been drained and a tiredness so deep is creeping into her spine. She is aware of a part of her distancing itself from the others. It must, for that part is the special part. The part that makes her different.
Evie’s head takes her to a place that’s small and dark. A place where she’s crouching alone and frightened. It’s hard to breathe. She doesn’t want to be there. She fights her way out to return to the now, to the muffled whispers of Alex as she tells Poppy about Adelaide, Athena and the red cardigan. Evie peers above the sheet, her eyes flitting around the room. She’s safe. She’s here in the warmth of her parents’ bed, her two best friends lying next to her.
Evie pulls the sheet over her head, closes her eyes. It’s happening again.
‘You know how Evie can sometimes sense things about people?’
‘Yeah.’
‘You know how sometimes she feels it through the clothes people once wore?’
‘Yeah. Like that time we were at Glebe markets and she tried on that old shawl and started speaking, um, in an accent.’
‘Exactly. It happens with second-hand –’
‘– vintage stuff,’ adds Poppy.
‘And, you know how sometimes when Evie draws her pictures end up being different –’
‘Yes, Alex! I already know all that! Now get on with it!’
‘Look, it’s hard to explain, Poppy,’ Alex sighs. ‘You know Evie’s red cardigan – that vintage one her dad got in Adelaide?’
‘Of course I know the cardigan. Evie wears it to school every day.’
‘No she doesn’t,’ Alex tells her. ‘Evie hasn’t worn it since Adelaide. You just haven’t noticed.’
‘So what’s the cardie got to do with anything?’
‘I’m getting to that! Just listen, it’s … complicated,’ Alex says. ‘Evie’s cardigan originally belonged to a girl called Athena Poulos who lived in Adelaide.’
‘Come on, you’re freaking me out, Alex.’
‘Well, this is the really spooky bit …’
Silence. Evie tries to swallow as she waits for Alex’s next words.
‘Athena had been missing for months. You know, like disappeared, and that’s the real reason Evie went to Adelaide in July.’
‘But you said –’
‘I know,’ Alex sighs. ‘I told you she was there for a funeral … oh god, Poppy, I don’t know how to explain this.’ Alex takes a deep breath. ‘You know how Evie’s … special? Like the way she can know stuff?’
‘Yeah, sort of.’
‘That’s what the Athena thing was about. You see, Evie really seriously has that ESP, sixth-sense thing. Big time, if you know what I mean. She knew where to look for Athena and she ended up finding her.’
‘What? How?’
‘Athena was dead.’
Evie feels her throat contract as Poppy gulps. ‘Shit.’
‘She was murdered.’
‘Oh my god!’ Poppy squeals. ‘Jesus, I feel like I’m going to be sick. Shit!’
‘I know. It’s –’
‘Big,’ whispers Poppy.
‘It’s big, all right,’ Alex whispers back.
Silence.
Finally, Alex says, ‘Seb kind of knew some stuff, too. That’s why him and Evie have become so –’
‘So close,’ Poppy finishes her sentence.
‘Yeah.’
Poppy throws her legs out of the covers. The three of them lie there not speaking, not moving.
‘Poor Evie!’ Poppy’s hushed tone lingers around the bed. ‘She must’ve been so scared.’
‘I’m okay.’ Finally Evie speaks. ‘It’s who I am, Poppy. At least I know that now.’
Again, silence fills the room.
‘Do your mum and dad, I mean …’ Evie can hear all the questions in Poppy’s head like ten different voices speaking over each other. ‘Is there … someone –’
‘I know a lady who’s like … me,’ Evie answers her question. ‘Her name’s Victoria. Victoria will know …’ Suddenly, Evie sits upright in the bed. ‘Victoria!’
‘What?’ the others say.
‘That’s got to be it!’
‘What?’
‘She must know.’
‘Who?’
‘Victoria.’ Evie pulls at her hair, snatching the thoughts as they land in her head. ‘The other night when I rang you, Alex, I first pressed redial ’cause I’d only rung you fifteen minutes before. But, instead of getting your place, I got Victoria’s answering machine.’
‘But, if you pressed redial, that means someone at your place must’ve rung her,’ Poppy says.
‘I think Victoria had rung them earlier that evening and they were calling her back. Yeah.’ Evie nods to herself. ‘Yeah. I knew I sensed something odd about the oldies that night. They were, like, completely different to how they were that morning.’
‘So what does it mean?’ Alex asks.
‘I don’t know.’
‘So you think maybe Victoria might know what the séance meant?’
‘I don’t know that for sure, but it’s looking mighty suss, don’t you think?’
‘It has to mean something,’ Poppy agrees. ‘Those words “she says you will help me”. “You” has to mean you, Evie.’
‘I think so. “She says you will help me. Athena says you will help me?”’ Evie repeats. ‘Me? Me? Me? Who is “me”?’
Poppy shakes her head. Alex yawns.
‘Yeah,’ Evie says. ‘Let’s get some sleep.’
‘Sleep!’ Alex says. ‘How? I’m too scared to close my eyes. I am never ever, everdoing a séance again.’
‘You’ll be okay.’ Poppy gets back under the covers. ‘Good night.’
‘Well, sweet dreams – not,’ Alex grunts.
Evie waits till the others are asleep before she gets up and wanders the house, trying to make sense of the night. Is this why Athena has felt so close the last few weeks? Evie had thought it was just Athena’s way of saying she was around, like a friend who couldn’t show her face. Now Evie realises it’s more. There is something Athena wants her to do. Someone she wants Evie to help.
‘Why?’ Evie asks herself. ‘Why?’
‘Because –’ Evie feels her teeth gritting. ‘Because this is who you are. And there’s no getting away from it.’
‘Are you going to be okay here on your lonesome?’ Poppy asks the next morning. ‘I could ring Mum and see if I can get out of the christening. It’s just the stupid neighbour’s kid.’
&nbs
p; ‘I’ll be fine.’ Evie wants to be alone. ‘Don’t worry.’
‘Sorry, Evie; I’ve got to go and see my dad. Otherwise I’d stay.’
‘It’s cool, Al.’ Evie senses Alex’s lie. She knows Alex wants out, and quickly. She wants to catch Zac on his way home from soccer.
‘Hey, um …’ Alex starts. ‘We should probably keep this quiet. Shouldn’t we?’
‘I think it’s better like that,’ Evie says. ‘I’m … I’m sorry about all this.’
‘Don’t be stupid,’ Poppy replies. ‘It’s me who should be saying sorry for having the stupid séance idea in the first place.’
‘It’s not your fault, Pop. They would’ve found me anyway. Maybe …’
‘Maybe what?’
‘Oh nothing.’
‘Hey, Evie, I think you’re cool,’ Poppy says. ‘I always have.’
Evie shrugs. If only she knew.
Now alone, Evie can ring Victoria. It’s only with Victoria that Evie can relax enough to ask all of the questions hidden inside her head, the things that scare her and the things she doesn’t understand.
Victoria is silent as Evie starts to tell her what happened.
‘Remember I once told you, Evangeline, to only attempt a séance with me.’
‘I know.’ Evie feels the tears pool in her eyes. ‘But I thought it was okay; just some silly fun.’
‘Did you really?’
‘Well, no,’ Evie blurts. ‘Not really. Maybe I had a feeling something was going to happen.’
‘Oh dear heart, I know,’ Victoria sighs. ‘You must learn to listen to yourself, even if it’s not what you want to hear.’
Evie’s tears spill. ‘I just wished I … I could’ve stopped it.’
‘But sometimes you can’t, Evie,’ Victoria explains. ‘Your … sensitivity is not something you can control. But you can listen to and trust your instinct.’
‘So this was going to happen anyway?’ Evie sniffs.
‘Yes. It seems so,’ Victoria tells her. ‘But next time don’t ignore the signs. That way you can avoid this sort of thing happening when your friends are around.’
‘So if I hadn’t done the séance with them … God, I’m stupid,’ Evie sobs. ‘It was horrible. I didn’t know what was happening. I’m so, so ashamed.’
‘Evie, there’s nothing to be ashamed of. Surely, after everything that’s happened, you know that. Somehow Athena would’ve found a way to you. There’s a powerful connection there.’ Victoria’s voice rises. ‘She’s chosen you, Evie.’
‘I haven’t told you how it started yet. It was all because Alex likes this guy Zac and –’
‘Tell me that later. I think I have something I need to tell you first.’
‘You already knew, didn’t you?’
‘Not exactly,’ Victoria answers quietly. ‘But there was something that caused me concern.’
‘Is this what you rang my parents about?’
‘Yes, I’d tried to call them and then I heard your message on my machine a little later,’ Victoria says. ‘I’m sorry I didn’t tell you as well but I just wasn’t sure. Gosh, I’ve just realised I’ve made that same mistake. Not trusting my instinct. Perhaps we never learn.’
‘You mean perhaps we never get used to it.’
‘Perhaps.’ Victoria pauses. ‘Anyway, let me tell you what I sensed and how it happened.’
Evie stretches out on her parents’ bed. She has a feeling this is going to be a long story.
‘You comfortable?’
‘Yes,’ Evie chuckles, wiping the tears off her cheeks.
‘You know I don’t do many readings these days. Too old. But there’s still a couple of people I see. There’s one particular lady who comes to see me twice a year. She’s been coming for nearly four years now. I don’t do an actual reading for her. Instead I act as a go-between, like a spiritual interpreter between my client and her daughter.’
‘So you mean her daughter’s … dead?’
‘She died during an asthma attack. She’d be twenty-one now.’
‘How old was she when she died?’
‘Seventeen,’ answers Victoria. ‘That was the first time Nora, my client, came to see me. She was beside herself and was desperate to speak to her daughter. There seemed to be a lot of angst and trouble when she died. A lot of unfinished business between mother and daughter. I’m sure you understand that.’
Evie nods to herself.
‘I’ve always been able to reach her,’ Victoria continues. ‘Twice a year, Nora comes. Like clockwork. In May, which was her daughter’s birthday, and October the first, the anniversary of her death. I don’t know why, but almost two weeks ago, which would’ve been four years since she died, she wouldn’t speak to us. “Cannot talk with you” and “no more” were all she would say. Yet there was something about it I couldn’t quite grasp. Something different I could sense.’
‘How do you mean?’
‘I could feel this girl’s distress. It was powerful, like she was terrified and suffocating, which is the way she would’ve felt when she died. But why now? Why do I sense the distress now and never before? It felt like she wanted to tell her mother something but couldn’t.’ For a second, Victoria is quiet. ‘What a girl can’t tell her mother is often something she can tell a girl her own age. And this was what I felt, Evie. She was looking for someone else. Someone of her own age. There is a burden she must offload, I’m sure of that. This is a soul who needs to talk. There is something stopping her from moving on. Maybe this is why she’s always been so easy to reach. She must linger in our world.’
Evie’s hand grasps her throat.
‘So this was why I called your parents. I feared she was looking for someone else to talk to. Someone of her own mortal age. I sensed it would be you.’
‘So you did tell Mum and Dad?’
‘Yes,’ Victoria sighs.
‘And they still let me stay at home on my own?’
‘They were very concerned when I first told them, but that was a few weeks ago. I was certain if she was going to try and contact you it’d be straight away.’
‘So they thought if it hadn’t happened by now then it wouldn’t happen?’
‘Yes. I was certain she wouldn’t be able to wait. She was in so much distress, so much. Poor, poor Caz.’
The saliva suddenly pools in Evie’s mouth. She tries to swallow it. Take in what she just heard. Instead, the disbelief dribbles down her chin.
‘C-A-Z. Caz.’ Evie wipes her face. ‘That’s … that’s a word from … last night. I just thought it was Zac backwards. I didn’t make the connection. But that must be who it was – “she says you will help me”. Me? Me must be … Caz.’
Monday morning, Evie waits for the bus, the familiar dread back in her guts. She leans against the bus stop, chewing on her lip. It’s better out here in the fresh air, the spring sun warming her back. Better than at home. She knows her parents are trying their best. Trying to absorb the fact that it’s happening again. But their fake smiles and cheery voices will never fool Evie. Her senses offer her no protection. There’s no buffer for the times she feels vulnerable too. That’s the challenge; there’s nowhere to run. And even if she tried, it would find her. Evie knows that.
Seb waves as Evie makes her way down the aisle of the bus.
‘Hey,’ he says as she squashes in next to him. ‘I’m just giving Zac shit.’
He looks down at his mobile, waiting for Zac’s reply. ‘Ha, sucked in!’ he sniggers. ‘Loser!’
‘What is it?’ Evie asks.
‘Romania lost the soccer against Spain.’ Seb texts back a message. ‘Zac’s spewing. They’re out of the comp now.’
Seb continues pressing the buttons on his phone while Evie stares out the window, saying nothing.
‘What’s up? You don’t seem too happy this morning. Mondayitis?’
‘Try lifeitis.’
‘Haha!’ But he’s not laughing at her. He’s laughing at Zac’s message on his phone.
>
Evie shrugs. How could she tell him, anyway? He’ll think she’s an even bigger weirdo than he already does.
Evie tells herself if she acts normal, Seb will never know what’s going on in her head. ‘So Zac goes for Romania? How come?’
‘Yeah.’ Seb pulls out a pen and a piece of newspaper from his jacket. ‘He sure does.’
‘How come?’ Evie asks again.
‘How come what?’
‘How come Zac goes for Romania?’ Evie wonders why she’s even bothering to pretend. He hasn’t paid her a scrap of attention. ‘Seb?’
‘Oh, sorry.’ Seb puts the pen down. ‘Um, well, Zac’s family’s from Romania. That’s why.’
‘Oh.’
He goes back to the paper.
‘What are you doing?’ Evie peers over his shoulder. ‘Is that the –’
‘The cryptic crossword,’ he tells her.
‘I’m too dumb for them.’
‘Get a life, Evie. It’s just a matter of cracking the code. No brain surgery required.’
Evie goes back to staring out the window.
‘You aregrumpy,’ he says. ‘Just like the old Evie.’
His words sting.
‘Ah, that’s right,’ he continues. ‘Your oldies were away and the girls slept over. Did Alex talk all night?’
‘Something like that.’
‘Zac reckons she wouldn’t be too bad if she could just shut up for a bit.’
Evie picks at her nails, trying to distract herself from the agitation bubbling in her skin.
‘Zac mentioned organising a bit of a night out. I reckon Luna Park. Be good going back there, checking it out. What do you reckon? You’d be into it, wouldn’t you, Evie? Hello? Evie?’
‘Huh?’
‘What is it?’ he frowns. ‘Tell me.’
The bus pulls up at his stop – ‘the pin’. Evie stares at her knees. He glances out the window. She shakes her head.
‘Come on, I’ve got to get off,’ he’s speaking quickly. ‘Look, you don’t have to be like this with me. Why are you –’
‘I’m … fine, Seb.’ Evie pulls up the corners of her mouth into a robotic smile. ‘Really.’
‘Don’t lie.’ He pulls his bag out from under the seat. ‘I thought we made a deal.’
