by Em Bailey
‘Miranda is moving here to live with her great-aunt,’ Miss Falippi said over the giggling, trying to keep control of the discussion. ‘Some of you might know her. Oona Delaunay.’
More snickering. Loony Oona the germ freak? Yeah, we knew her.
‘Hard to picture Oona taking care of someone,’ I said to Ami. ‘She looks like she struggles to take care of herself.’
Katie turned around, her face screwed up. ‘Can you stop doing that?’
‘Doing what?’
‘Muttering,’ she said. ‘It’s really disturbing.’
This was so typical. It was OK for Katie to blather away as much as she wanted, but when I said something it was somehow disturbing.
Miss Falippi’s bangles clashed together as she clapped. ‘People! Enough.’
The buzz in my ears grew louder. Maybe there’s something in there. A little bug, crawling around. The thought made me shudder. As I tilted my head to one side and shook it again, I caught a glimpse of something out the window. Two figures were heading across the quadrangle towards our classroom. I recognised Mrs Deane straight away, of course – solid and dark in her principal’s suit, heels click-clacking across the concrete. The other figure I hadn’t seen before. That must be her. Miranda Vaile.
I don’t know what I thought a possible parent-murderer would look like, but it certainly wasn’t this thin, pale creature trailing along behind Mrs Deane. I leant closer to the window, wanting a clearer view. As the two figures disappeared from sight, I turned to Ami, my heart skittering.
Ami looked up. ‘What is it?’
‘I saw her,’ I whispered. ‘The new girl.’
Ami’s eyes widened. ‘What did she look like?’
I struggled for a minute, trying to find a way to describe what I’d just seen. ‘She looked . . . blurry.’
Ami sighed. ‘Stupid dirty windows.’
I didn’t reply. Mrs Deane hadn’t looked blurry – just the new girl. She seemed out of focus, like she’d moved at the last minute when someone took a photo. But I knew how dumb that would sound, especially to super-sensible Ami. So I stayed quiet, watching the classroom door. Waiting.
Everything about Mrs Deane was efficient. The way she knocked. The way she spoke. How she stepped into rooms. It was like she had devised some mathematical formula to ensure there was no wastage in anything she did. ‘Miss Falippi. Class. This is Miranda Vaile.’
Twenty-two pairs of eyes locked onto the girl standing beside Mrs Deane. Took in the chalky skin. The rain-grey hair that dripped down from her head and drizzled across her hunched, old-woman shoulders. Miranda’s uniform hung in sheets, like there was barely enough of her to hold it up.
I examined her as closely as everyone else. Strange. She didn’t look blurry now, of course. It must have been the windows after all. Or my eyes playing tricks on me. But there was definitely something about Miranda that made her hard to focus on. She was so nothingy that you found your eyes sliding off her to fix on something else more solid nearby. She would have blended in with the background, except that the background was more interesting.
Katie’s nose wrinkled and she made her call. The one that would determine how everyone treated this new arrival. ‘Just what we need,’ she said in her quiet-but-loud voice. ‘Another road accident.’
‘Welcome to Jubilee Park!’ said Miss Falippi, stretching out a hand for Miranda to shake. Miranda stared at it blankly. The hand faltered and then fled back to where it belonged, on the locket.
‘There’s a spare seat down the back, Miranda,’ Miss Falippi said, clearly flustered. ‘Next to Olive.’ Then she kind of whooshed Miranda down the aisle towards me, like she was pushing smoke away.
I looked down, fiddling around with my books and pens. Why was I so edgy? It’s my headache, I told myself. The buzzing. When I knew Miranda would be really close I looked up, unable to resist any longer. She was almost directly in front of me and I found myself staring into her eyes. Instantly, the buzzing in my head rose to a crescendo, loud and insistent as an alarm. Oh my god …
Memory is such a weird thing. There are some things, like songs, that I literally only need to hear once and they are permanently locked into my brain. Other things, like algebraic formulas, can pass through my mind multiple times without leaving a trace. But sometimes you remember stuff even when you don’t want to. Some things you know will stay with you, in perfect detail, for the rest of your life.
This moment was like that, when I first made eye contact with Miranda, and I recoiled like I’d been stung. I’d never seen eyes like hers before. The pupils seemed to be made of metal, hard and brightly polished. Reflected in them I could see my own face, staring back.
Outside the rain was falling hard, but the cinema foyer was warm and dark. Everything about the Mercury was old. The carpets. The wallpaper. The movies. The popcorn. The damp-damaged pictures of mulleted movie stars behind the snack bar. Above the photos was a giant plastic ice-cream that whined and pulsed with light when I switched it on.
I liked working at the Mercury. It smelled of my childhood.
Ami was leaning against the snack bar, watching as I set up for the evening. ‘Mirrored eyes?’ she said. ‘Are you sure?’
I wiped down the sign announcing our latest attraction. Gremlins. Part of that year’s Retro Horror Film-Fest. Toby was waiting for Mum on his usual stool at the end of the counter, face glowing green from the laptop in front of him.
I began wiping the counter. I was regretting telling Ami about Miranda’s eyes. It sounded stupid now.
Toby lifted his drink can so I could wipe underneath. His forehead was creased. ‘Do you have a carrot?’ he asked. ‘Mum might smell the sugar on my breath.’
‘She’ll be an hour at least,’ I said. ‘Don’t worry.’
‘Maybe Miranda’s some kind of alien,’ Ami mused. ‘Here to take over the world, starting with the bustling suburb of Jubilee Park.’
The projectionist’s door opened and Noah appeared. He strolled over to the snack bar openly checking me out. ‘Hey! How’s my favourite employee going? Love your get-up – you look even more luscious that usual.’
I ignored that last bit, even though I was kind of proud of my outfit. I’d put it together myself for the film-fest, including a bloodied axe-on-a-headband for full effect.
I began refilling the straw dispenser. ‘Technically, your dad employs me,’ I pointed out. ‘You know, that guy who owns this place? Works upstairs in the projectionist’s booth. The one who’d probably be pretty interested if I told him you were harassing me. Again.’
Noah chuckled. ‘I like your fire.’
He was like a cockroach, Noah. Small. Slick. Hard to squash.
I plugged my iPod into the stereo and turned up the music. Instantly Noah frowned. ‘What’s this?’ he said. ‘Not the official Mercury music, that’s for sure.’
I showed him the album artwork I’d made in Photoshop.
‘Who’s that guy?’ he asked, pointing to the beauteous face on the screen.
‘That,’ I said, ‘is Dallas Kaye.’
Dallas Kaye. Even saying his name made me feel good. When I’d first come out of the clinic – before I found Ami – things were pretty dark. I’d thrown out my old clothes (which no longer fitted anyway) and most of my possessions too. I’d taken a pair of scissors to my hair, giving it jagged lines that mapped my interior state. When I’d discovered Dallas and his band Luxe, his songs filled some of the empty spaces in my newly cleaned-out life. I holed up in my bedroom and fantasised my way into his life. Luckily when Ami came along, she totally got it and we often sat around listening to Luxe together. And she didn’t even mock me when I told her I knew I’d meet him one day.
Noah put the iPod down. ‘I suppose you think that guy’s hot,’ he said. ‘But you’re wrong. He’s a total fake.’
I snorted. ‘Right, and you’re a hotness expert?’
‘I know it takes more than what that guy’s got,’ Noah said. ‘It’s got to be
… genuine.’ He tapped his chest. ‘Something that comes from here.’ Then he looked at me through the filter of his lashes. ‘You’re hot.’
‘That would be flattering,’ I said, ‘if you didn’t think every girl you met was hot.’
‘I’m just being honest,’ said Noah. ‘You are hot. I’ve always had a thing for … unusual girls.’
‘Have you actually seen what I’m wearing tonight?’ I said, gesturing at my axe.
‘I did wonder if you’d overdone the blood a little,’ said Noah. ‘But that’s the thing. You still look amazing.’ He sat up suddenly. ‘Hey! Tomorrow we’re showing An American Werewolf in London. You could dress like a wolf. A sexy one.’
‘Ew!’ I said, piffing cups at him. ‘Piss off, Noah. Go back into your little booth and learn to project something other than your creepy fantasies.’
The cups clattered to the ground. ‘I need a beverage first,’ Noah said. ‘Only that and the image of your sweet face will see me through the long evening alone.’
‘With your dad,’ I pointed out. ‘The projectionist.’
‘With my dad,’ agreed Noah. ‘But otherwise totally alone. Hey … is your brother using the Mercury’s laptop? That’s against the –’
There was a muffled thud as something hit the front window. Through the blackness I could just make out the shape of an old woman, struggling with an inside-out umbrella. As I watched, the wind flung Loony Oona’s umbrella against the window again and then ripped it from her grasp and sent it whirling down the street. She was wearing long white gloves and large wraparound sunglasses, even though it was completely dark.
It was a moment or two before I noticed the other person beside her. Someone who was also in danger of being inverted by the wind. Her face was in darkness but I knew at once who it had to be.
I slid off my seat. ‘I’m going out there.’
Do something that scares you every day, Dr Richter told me once. Do it because it scares you.
Ami shook her head. ‘Don’t,’ she said. ‘It’ll look so weird.’
‘I’m just delivering this,’ I said, grabbing an umbrella. ‘Oona’s has blown inside out.’
Ami sighed. ‘Hang on. I’ll come too. If she turns out to be some freaky laser-eyed alien, you’ll need back-up.’
I grinned and held open the door for her.
‘Who is going to sell snacks?’ demanded Noah.
‘I was thinking you,’ I said, as the door swung shut behind me.
The rain was even heavier than before. The wind was strong too. But at least the sound covered the humming noise that had started up again in my head. Oona was standing at the edge of the tattered awning that trimmed the cinema roof, peering up at the sky. The broken umbrella blew in circles on the footpath behind her, scratching against the concrete. Miranda was leaning against the Mercury’s wall, still as a poster. Her eyes were closed.
‘Oh dear,’ Oona said, twisting the fingers of her gloves. ‘When will it stop?’
‘Miss Delaunay?’ I said, holding up the umbrella. ‘Take this.’
Oona shrank back. Like she could see the germs crawling on me. I smiled as gently as I could. Made my voice soft and coaxing. ‘Go on. Take it.’
Finally, she nodded. ‘Very kind of you. It’s for my great-niece. She loathes getting wet.’
That didn’t surprise me. A direct hit from a raindrop would probably knock Miranda unconscious.
But before Oona could grasp the umbrella, Miranda spoke. ‘I’ll take it.’ It was the first time I’d heard her speak and her voice matched the rest of her – flat and featureless. If there was an accent I couldn’t hear it.
‘But you have no gloves on, my dear,’ quavered Oona. ‘Remember what we discussed? What we agreed? I’ll take it, then I’ll pass it straight to you.’
‘No,’ said Miranda. She glided out of the shadows, hand outstretched. ‘Give it to me.’
I could see her quite clearly now. Her eyes weren’t mirrored. Not any more, at least. But their expression was familiar. It was the same way Katie checked people out while she rated them. There was a difference though. With Katie I could always tell what my score was.
The blood sang in my ears. Dr Richter had told me that when things started to get too much, I needed to focus my thoughts and control my breathing so that the fear never had a chance of taking hold. I tried to do this, but sometimes an old reflex of mine would kick in and I’d find myself babbling.
‘Don’t worry about giving it back,’ I said. My voice went all high and weird when I babbled. ‘It’s from the Mercury’s lost property. I work there. It’s only a tiny cinema – probably way smaller than anything you went to in Europe. That’s if you even went to the cinema. You were probably too busy going to the opera or the theatre or whatever you do over there –’
Ami looked at me warningly and I managed to shut up. Then, stepping forward, I proffered the umbrella, holding it out like it was a bouquet. Or a shield.
‘That’s close enough!’ snapped Oona, her voice suddenly shrill. She was making me jumpy. What exactly does she think I’m going to do to her precious great-niece?
‘Miranda, please. Just take the umbrella. Quickly.’
Miranda reached out and her fingers wrapped around the handle, just below my own hand. The muscles of her arm strained, as if holding the umbrella required all her strength.
Something’s wrong with her, I thought. She’s sick.
The wind whipped round and splattered raindrops across Miranda’s arm. A car went by and her arm was suddenly lit up. I stared. The skin where the water had touched wasn’t the same shade as the rest of her arm. Like the skin of a totally different person.
The water beaded and rolled away, leaving a white-ish streak. Make-up. That’s all it is. But who wore foundation on their arm?
With a sudden movement, Oona darted a glove out and tugged Miranda’s coat sleeve down. ‘Come along, Miranda,’ she said nervously, and gripped her arm. ‘We’re heading home. Now.’
Miranda’s mouth curved up at each end. Perhaps it was meant to be a smile. Then she turned and floated off along behind her great-aunt, pushed along by the wind, umbrella held high.
There was a post on the Jubilee Park High School blog the following week with photos of the new students. I’d promised myself that I’d never look at that load of merde again, but I did take a quick peek to see if it had any new information about Miranda. But it just said the same old stuff. Lived overseas. New to our community. There was a photo but it was so low-res that if it hadn’t had her name at the bottom, I wouldn’t have known it was her.
There was a photo of New Guy too. The one with the mocking smile. The one I’d been careful not to look at ever since that first time. I didn’t bother reading what was written about him, but I couldn’t help seeing his name. Lachlan Ford.
By that stage, everyone else had completely lost interest in Miranda. The rumours, the suspicion, all that build-up surrounding her arrival – everything had been forgotten. By everyone except me and Ami, that is. We watched Oona drive up in her funny little bug-like car every morning, just before the bell went. We watched Miranda drift like a cloud to our classroom. During classes she sat down the back, near me. Totally silent and still. Miss Falippi never called on her to answer questions. She would look over at Miranda sometimes, but an unsure expression would pass over her face and she’d look away again.
And we watched Miranda during breaks as she sat on the bench near the back fence. Eyes half-closed. Palms together in her lap. Was she praying? Photosynthesising, maybe? I never saw her eat.
‘Go and talk to her,’ Ami urged me sometimes. ‘She’s so alone.’
I always found an excuse. I think she’d rather be alone. She’s not much of a talker.
‘She’s just new,’ said Ami. ‘It’s shitty being new.’
But I wanted to observe Miranda, to try to work her out, and you have to stay back if you want to do that. The only thing was that sometimes I felt like she was t
he one observing me.
Then one lunchtime, Miranda wasn’t on her bench. I felt the same dizzy confusion I’d had when the portable classroom was moved to the back of the field. I knew it could move. I just wasn’t expecting it to.
For the rest of the break I felt jumpy. My skull had begun to throb when Ami nudged me. ‘Miranda’s behind us,’ she murmured.
I turned, as subtly as I could. Sure enough, Miranda was there, blending in with the shadows. I couldn’t see her face, but I didn’t need to. I knew what she was doing. She was watching me.
An ice-spider scuttled down my back. ‘Let’s start walking,’ I whispered. ‘See if she follows.’
We walked along casually, and we were nearing the corner of the library when Katie etc. came around it. Katie was in full rant mode. She swished by and plonked herself down on a bench. Paige and Justine sat on either side of her. Paige was holding a massive bottle of water, her hands interlocked around it like someone might attempt to steal it. Katie reached out and tugged it from her hands. She took a swig, then handed it back, without even looking. Cameron was a little way off, joking around with someone. New Guy. No surprises there. Two puzzle-pieces of sky, clicking together.
Katie’s rant continued. I assumed it was the usual stuff. The stuff I’d heard a thousand times when we were friends. Her agent wasn’t getting her enough work. The jobs she was getting weren’t good enough. She deserved more. Like, everyone said so. Paige and Justine nodded in all the right places. Made the appropriate shocked noises. No butting in. No advice. No contradicting.
She’s just as bad as ever, I was about to mutter to Ami. But that wasn’t true. She was worse. No-one told her when she’d gone too far anymore. No-one pulled her up on anything.
I suddenly remembered Miranda and looked around. She wasn’t far from Katie etc. Her head was to one side, forehead creased with concentration.
