by Em Bailey
The ocean is not to be trusted. It’s dark and cold with a treacherous current that pulls you whichever way it wants. It can drown you or it can refuse to drown you. I looked out at Lachlan as he reached his hand towards me. You’d feel pretty safe, I decided, having those hands holding onto yours. I unlaced my shoes and I began to walk towards the water, one tiny step after another.
When I knew I was nearing the edge I kept my eyes up. The water was cold and as I kept going I felt it seep into my jeans, making them as heavy as cement. The sand began to sink away beneath my feet. Lachlan didn’t say anything, but kept his eyes on me, nodding, his arm still outstretched. When I finally reached the spot where Lachlan was standing I seized hold of his hand. And even though he’d been standing all that time in this freezing water, his hand was still warm.
‘So glad you could make it,’ he said, bowing his head and smiling like we were at some glamorous party instead of standing fully dressed in the middle of the ocean.
The water rose and pushed, nearly making me lose my balance. ‘OK, I’m getting out now,’ I said nervously, and pulled away from Lachlan. But his fingers curled around my wrist, holding me tight. My heart hammered. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Now’s not a good time to go,’ he said quietly. ‘There’s a wave coming.’
I turned my head to see a wave swelling in the distance – a really big wave – rising up like something from a horror movie. I felt the current begin to pull us out and towards it. ‘Let me go!’
But Lachlan held on. ‘You can’t outswim it,’ he said. ‘We’ll have to ride it out. Together.’
‘Ride it out?’ I said hysterically. ‘This is not a horse, Lachlan. It’s a freakin huge wave.’ One that was looming up, larger and closer.
Lachlan wrapped one arm and then the other around me, pressing my chest tightly against his and holding me there. I was so surprised that for a moment I forgot my panic. Forgot to struggle. And when he spoke again I could not only hear his words but feel them, passing from his body directly into mine. ‘When I say now, I want you to close your eyes and hold your breath. And then just trust me, OK?’
‘I really don’t –’
But Lachlan’s arms pulled me in even more securely. ‘Now.’ Then together we plunged down into the water and under the wave. Me and Lachlan.
I kept my eyes screwed tightly closed, feeling the water dragging at my hair and clothes. Strange thoughts darted around my head.
Are we sinking or rising?
Maybe we were suspended in the same spot, going nowhere at all.
I’m drowning.
Maybe I was dead already.
Things slowed down. My fingers uncurled and my pulse steadied. Bubbles tickled my skin like the nibbling of tiny fish and I became aware of a sound – slow and rhythmic. Lachlan’s heart, beating against my chest.
Then Lachlan started kicking and we began moving up, up, up.
We broke the surface and I gasped. The air felt strange as it filled my lungs, like it was my first ever breath. I gazed around, amazed at how different everything looked. I mean, the sand and the car park and the houses that lined the beach road – they were all still there, exactly as they had been just a minute ago. But they looked different somehow. Brighter, and cleaner. My head felt like this too, like someone had opened it up and scrubbed off the barnacles. I started to laugh.
Lachlan still had his arms around me, even though the wave had gone and we’d been carried almost to the shore. ‘Are you OK?’
‘I’m fine,’ I said.
But fine didn’t begin to describe it. I looked up at Lachlan, grinning like an imbecile. ‘It’s probably safe to let go of me now.’
Lachlan’s eyebrows lifted. ‘Now why would I go and throw away an opportunity like this?’
And he leant in and kissed me.
As we stood there, chest high in water, I felt like I was in the middle of my own romance novel. Those amazingly beautiful arms of his wrapped around me, those hands pressed against my sides. His lips were ridiculously soft and delicious, and I even felt fluttering butterflies, all wonderful and tingly. Another massive wave could have dragged me all the way to the South Pole and I wouldn’t have noticed.
Lachlan pulled back and looked at me, head tilted, smiling a little nervously. ‘Was that OK?’ he said. ‘I mean, was it OK for me to do that?’
‘Yes,’ I said. ‘That was very OK.’
I rested my head against his chest and listened to the rhythm of his heart beating in his chest – that strong, unwavering pulse. Then I felt the rumble of laughter.
‘What?’ I said, looking up at him.
‘I just can’t believe it,’ he said. ‘I mean, I finally got near you without you-know-who jumping out and stopping me.’
‘You mean Miranda?’
‘She’s like a bodyguard,’ said Lachlan darkly. ‘Except that she’s not trying to protect you.’
Overhead, seagulls screamed and wheeled. I nodded. For the first time in weeks, my head felt clear and unmuddled. ‘Miranda’s trying to hurt me,’ I said. ‘The way she hurt Katie.’
‘Yes,’ said Lachlan quietly. ‘She is.’
The words hung there for a while.
‘Do you believe that weird things can happen?’ I said. ‘You know – the kind of things that you shouldn’t really believe in if you’re a normal, sensible person?’ I was speaking quickly, before I could change my mind.
The water lapped around us as Lachlan mulled this over. ‘I guess I believe in grey,’ he said eventually.
‘What does that mean?’
‘It’s something my grandpa used to say,’ said Lachlan. ‘Some things aren’t straightforward. Not everything is true or false, real or imaginary, black or white. It’s not that simple.’ He looked at me, a shy smile on his face. ‘Does that make any sense at all?’
‘It makes a lot of sense to me,’ I told him.
Then Lachlan kissed me for the second time and the butterflies were set in motion all over again – looping, swirling, twirling.
When we stopped Lachlan held me a little way away from him, his face serious. ‘Olive, I need you to promise me something.’
My heart jumped. ‘What?’
‘That from now on you let me help you. Don’t go doing anything about Miranda without me. Don’t even go near her. Whatever we do we’ll do together, OK?’
I squinted up at him. ‘Are you ever off-duty, Mr Lifesaver Guy?’ I said, smiling.
Lachlan shook his head. ‘Not when I’m around you,’ he said.
This time it was me who kissed Lachlan.
When we finally got cold and began to walk back to shore, I felt like a superhero – strong and invincible – ready to save the entire world.
On the beach we dried off as much as we could with only one towel and sodden clothes. I didn’t even feel cold but Lachlan insisted that I take his hoodie. When I slipped it on I felt like his arms were still around me, holding me close.
‘What are you doing now?’ he asked, reaching over and brushing the hair from my face. ‘Want to go get some pizza or something?’
I did, of course, more than anything, but I remembered the mess I’d left behind at my house. ‘I’ve got to sort something out first,’ I said, and seeing the look of concern on his face, I added hastily, ‘A family thing. I’ll just go fix that up and meet you after.’
Funny. I really thought it would all be that simple.
Lachlan hesitated and I could see him struggling with his lifesaver instincts, but finally he nodded. ‘OK. Don’t forget what you promised me, though. Stay away from Miranda.’
I hugged him, barely believing how amazing his body felt next to mine. ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I won’t go anywhere near her.’
I embedded Lachlan’s phone number in my head then watched him sprint off down the beach until he was just a tiny dot in the distance – a very, very beautiful dot. Finally I managed to drag my eyes off him and headed for the steps that led back up to the road,
replaying in my head what had happened, trying to commit every tiny detail to memory. The way his leg had brushed against mine as we’d floated underwater together. How he’d looked at me as we resurfaced. The tiny freckle I’d noticed by his ear as his hair swirled around his face. The rise and fall of his breath against my chest.
I suppose I was in a bit of a trance, floating along and not paying attention to anything around me. I was vaguely aware that it was getting dark by then and that I was the only person on the beach – the joggers and die-hard all-year-round surfers had all left. And I knew that it was cold, although it didn’t seem to be affecting me.
It wasn’t until I actually reached the stairs that I saw Miranda standing there. She’d positioned herself halfway up, one hand holding each handrail, completely blocking the way. I scanned her face, trying to guess what was going on inside her head, how much she had seen. But as usual that was impossible. The only thing that I knew for sure was that she was angry. Extremely angry.
‘Olive,’ she said. ‘What the hell have you been doing?’
‘I’ve been swimming,’ I said.
Miranda looked over my sodden form with distaste. ‘Obviously. But why were you swimming when you were supposed to be at my place? I’ve been searching for you. For hours.’
I listened to her talking, wondering why I felt so strange. Something was missing. Something had changed. ‘Sorry. I got distracted.’
I saw her eyes fix on Lachlan’s hoodie and my heart leapt, wondering if she’d recognise it.
‘That’s your dad’s, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘It’s pretty tragic that you’re wearing it. You need to forget about him, you know. He’s not coming back.’
I bit back my grin. She didn’t see us. She doesn’t know. That was when I realised what was missing. My fear.
‘Come on,’ said Miranda brusquely. ‘We’ve got to go. I’ve wasted a lot of time looking for you. The party should’ve started ages ago.’
‘I’m not coming,’ I said, starting to walk away. There was another set of stairs further down the beach. I’d go that way instead.
‘So you want me to tell the whole world about Ami?’
I was a few metres away by then but it sounded like Miranda was right beside me, speaking straight into my ear.
‘You want everyone to know how pathetic you are?’
Up along the beach road the lights had begun flicking on. Don’t stop walking. Just keep going. That’s what Ami would’ve told me to do. But I had this sudden urge to show Miranda that she couldn’t control me anymore. That I’d broken free of her.
‘You know what?’ I said, pushing a few strands of wet hair off my forehead. ‘I’ve been thinking about that. And I’ve realised something. Ami wouldn’t have wanted to be used as blackmail. So go ahead. Tell everyone. Put in on the school blog if you want. Let the whole freakin world know.’
It felt good to fling Miranda’s threats back at her, even though I knew there were risks – the biggest one being how Lachlan would react when he heard. I hoped that Ami would fit into Lachlan’s grey category. But I didn’t know for sure. All those butterflies I’d felt – I might never get to feel them again. But as I feasted on the shock and disbelief on Miranda’s face, it was worth it.
That should have been the moment when I turned and walked away forever, leaving Miranda standing there alone. But Miranda’s expression shifted and there was something that made me stay where I was.
‘It’s time,’ she said quietly. ‘Time to tell you what’s really going on.’
The wind blew across my face, making me shiver.
‘Tonight isn’t just a party, you see,’ said Miranda, flicking her hair. ‘It’s a launch – for Dal’s new album. But if you don’t want to come …’ She shrugged and began walking up the stairs. ‘It’s a pity though,’ she murmured over her shoulder, ‘considering they’re the last tracks he’ll ever record.’
‘What?’ I heard myself call sharply. ‘What did you say?’
Miranda turned back around, with this faintly puzzled expression. ‘I said, it’s a launch party.’
‘Not that bit,’ I growled. ‘Why are these the last tracks Dallas will record?’ I was having trouble speaking. My chest heaved like I’d been running.
Miranda sighed deeply. ‘You must have noticed what a state he’s in, Olive,’ she said softly. ‘He doesn’t look after himself. Doesn’t eat. Drinks way too much and does too many drugs. He’s …’ her voice sounded choked up, full of emotion, but her eyes were steady, and they were watching me carefully. ‘He’s not going to be with us much longer. I thought you might want to see him one last time – especially considering how you’ve always felt about him.’
All the moisture instantly vanished from my mouth. My legs, which had felt so strong just before, now threatened to fold up beneath me. It’s just a threat. Another attempt to bend me to her will. Maybe. But if there was one thing I knew for sure about Miranda it was that she was capable of carrying through with threats.
‘OK,’ I said. ‘I’ll come.’
Miranda smiled. ‘Of course you will,’ she said. ‘You won’t regret it. Wait till you hear the songs, Olive. They’ll blow you away.’
Up on the beach road I saw Oona’s car parked illegally on the footpath. I stared at it dumbly. ‘Oona’s back?’
‘Of course not.’ Miranda’s voice was withering. From her pocket she produced an ancient set of keys, worn thin and smooth from use, and flicked them around her finger. ‘I just borrowed her car.’ She walked over and opened the passenger side. The smell of disinfectant swung out at me like a punch. ‘Hurry up. Get in.’
Don’t do it. But what choice did I have? By the time I’d found a phone and called Lachlan – the only other person who was likely to believe my story – it might be too late for Dallas.
I’d already let Katie down. I wasn’t going to let that happen again.
The passenger seat made a crackling, scrunching noise as I sat down. I soon saw why. The car’s interior was completely covered in plastic – even the steering wheel and the gear stick. I hadn’t even found the seatbelt when Miranda took off, the wheels screeching so loudly that I gave a yelp.
‘Was that a bit scary for you?’ said Miranda. ‘Sorry. You seem kind of jumpy at the moment. Not quite yourself.’ She took her eyes off the road and looked at me intently. ‘Has anything happened, Olive? Anything I should know about?’
I dug my fingernails into the seat and kept looking straight ahead as if I could force the car to stay on the road through sheer will. ‘No,’ I muttered.
Miranda stared at me for a few more moments, then finally returned her attention to the road. The rest of the trip passed in total, deathly silence.
Oona’s house wasn’t the sort of place I thought I’d ever be glad to see. Window grilles and a massive KEEP OUT sign on the gate aren’t exactly welcoming. But that evening, as we rounded the final twist on the curvy hill road and I saw it, I was flooded with relief. Miranda’s silence in the car had given me a chance to form some kind of plan. My first task was to find Dallas. Then I would call Lachlan and together we’d get Dallas out.
Miranda dug out a remote control from the glove box – the only glove box I’d ever seen that was actually full of gloves – and the metal gates swung open.
She parked the car out the front, near the swimming pool, and was soon unlocking the front door. ‘Are you coming in or what?’ she called impatiently.
Strange. In all the time I’d spent with Miranda I hadn’t once been into her house. In primary school we used to say that Oona’s place was an old prison. It certainly looked like one. And Dallas is the prisoner, I thought as I began walking up the steps towards Miranda.
‘I’m coming,’ I said. I said it extra-loud, hoping that Dallas might hear me and know help was on the way.
‘Welcome to the inside of Oona’s head,’ said Miranda, pushing open the door for me. I stepped inside and she followed, closing the door behind her.
The air
inside the house had the same strong smell of disinfectant as Oona’s car. To the left was a hand basin, standing in the hall like a short, shiny butler. ‘If Oona were here she would’ve made you wash your hands about fifty million times,’ said Miranda. ‘Except she wouldn’t have let you in at all, of course.’ She leant over and coughed on each tap, then smiled spitefully before sauntering off down the hallway.
The hallway was full of obstacles. Vacuum cleaners, rubber gloves still in their packaging, dusting mittens. A box of disposable paper slippers spilled out of a cardboard box, rustling like leaves as we walked past. Halfway down the corridor was a miniature army of hand-sanitiser bottles.
Miranda picked up a spray can of disinfectant. ‘She uses half a can on the door handles every time she goes in or out of a room,’ she said. Miranda seemed to be enjoying herself, like she wanted me to be as unnerved as possible. ‘That’s as well as the gloves.’
In the gloom I stepped on something and almost tripped. Lying in front of a closed door was another spray can, crushed in the middle like someone had stamped on it viciously, over and over again.
‘That’s Oona’s room,’ said Miranda, pulling me away roughly. ‘My room is over here.’
For a moment I stood in her doorway, trying to work out what was going on. Because I was looking into my own bedroom. Or an exact copy of it. Red velvet curtains hung from the ceiling, the curtains tied back with the same thick gold cords that I used on my fortune-teller’s tent at home. Identical cushions were scattered around, and the rug was in exactly the same position as my own rug. Even the pattern matched.
Miranda stepped in. ‘Sorry about the mess,’ she said lightly, as if that was the only thing that might trouble me about her room.
‘Miranda! You’re back.’ Dallas was lying on the bed, as crumpled and grey as an unwashed sheet. He gazed at Miranda with the same look of delight that Ralph gave me when I arrived home from school – but Ralph never looked like he’d been boozing solidly while I’d been away. Dallas managed to smile at me too. ‘Hey there, little Ol. Let me pour you a drink.’
