by Kate Gordon
“Or the next Neil Gaiman or Marjane Satrapi,” Jed adds, mentioning the names of two graphic novelists I love. “You should see her comics.”
“I haven’t worked on my comics for a year,” I admit.
“Time to start again,” Jed says firmly.
“Maybe you could write a graphic novel about all of this,” Em says. “About Viggo MacDuff.”
“Maybe you could write a graphic novel about it and get it published and take him down,” Kacey says, smacking a fist into her hand.
“We have to take him down somehow,” says Patience.
Everyone goes quiet. I know they’re thinking about my story—my final memory of Viggo MacDuff. I look over at Jed. His face is less stricken now. More determined.
“I want to kill him,” he says. He takes my hand and squeezes it.
“I want to kill him harder,” says Em.
“I want to totally humiliate him and then kill him,” says Kacey.
“Let’s figure out how we’re going to do it,” says Patience.
While the three of them talk revenge, I lean my head on Jed’s shoulder. I let him kiss my hair. I enjoy the feeling of rightness.
We’re not together. Maybe we will be. I think we will be.
In time. I need time. Possibly space also. How very Doctor Who.
I listen to birds singing love songs to each other in the tree branches above us. I watch a lizard lying lazily in the sun. I look at the sunlight dancing on the water of the pond, the way it glimmers like it’s been kissed by fairies.
“What if I just want to forget him?” I say to Jed. “What if I just want to go back to how things were before?”
“You can’t go back,” he says. “Viggo MacDuff changed you. You can’t pretend none of it happened.”
“I know,” I say quietly. “I’m worried he’ll always be inside me.”
“Whenever you feel like that, you talk to me,” he says. “I’ll always listen. We can exorcise Viggo MacDuff together.” He ruffles my hair. “I love you, Connie-girl. I always have. And I know it’ll take you a while to get over Viggo, but I’ll be here. I’ll always be here. And—” His face turns serious, “if you want to go to the police … Connie, you probably should go to the police.”
I nod.
I know he’s right. And I know I should take action about what Viggo did. I’ve made a start. I’ve documented the bruises. I’ve written down my version of what happened. And I’ve told people.
It’s a start. The next step will take courage. I think I have it in me. I hope I do. In the meantime, I’m going to let my friends have some fun.
I tune into the girls’ conversation in time to hear Kacey say, “We could project the film on the wall at the graduation ceremony! When he goes to pick up his award!”
I smile. I know the revenge against Viggo is in good hands. I’m happy to watch it from the sidelines, for now. And I’ll get my own back on Viggo MacDuff in another way, too. By finally finding out who the real Connie is.
I reckon I’ll let Jed help me find it, but I know he won’t want to define it. I know he’ll let me discover it all by myself.
“You know what I want to do?” I ask, cutting in on the conversation.
“What?” asks Kacey.
“Can we go back to my house?” I ask.
“Sure,” says Em, rubbing her hands together. “We can collect evidence to use in Project Destroy Viggo.”
But I have another idea. Something I want to do first.
And so, in the back garden of my house, we all—with the addition of a cuddly Beezus and my bemused parents—watch as the advent calendar goes up in flames. And I feel like the twenty-five memories of Viggo MacDuff burn with it, turning to ashes and floating away.
I’ve kept a copy, of course, of the bits I might need as evidence. But the rest? That can burn.
I know that what happened will always stay inside me. That’s okay. I don’t want to forget, because I know remembering will make me stronger, but I want to stop making it important—making him important.
He’s not important.
He’s someone who came into my life, shifted things around and then left. And the girl I’ve become is different from the one who met him that day in the school hallway. But that’s okay. She’s better. She knows what she wants now.
Once the fire has died down, Jed takes my hand again. “So, what do you want to do next?” he asks.
“We’re planning revenge!” Kacey cries.
My dad looks at her curiously. “Who are you?” he asks.
“Kacey Kuusela,” she says, sticking her hand out. “Future sustainable fashion designer and head of Project Destroy Viggo.”
Dad looks impressed. “Now that is a project I can heartily endorse. Let me know if I can help in any way.”
“I’ll help you too,” I say. “Whatever information you need, you’ve got it. If you need photographic evidence of my injuries, you’ve got that too. And my memories. But do you mind if I leave you all now? I actually do want to start working on my graphic novel again. I’m itching to.”
“Cool. But we’ll talk more, right?” Em squeezes my shoulder.
I nod. “We’ll talk more.”
“And I’m so taking you into town shopping tomorrow,” Kacey adds. “For Connie clothes. The others might have been elegant—I do have impeccable taste—but they’re not you.”
“Oh, and we have to go to the Bangarra mall,” Em adds. “You know that show you like? The one with time travel and the guy with the bow-tie?”
“Doctor Who?” I ask, sneaking a wry look at Jed.
“Yeah,” Em nods. “Well, as I walked through it today with my brother, he got all excited because there was, like, this blue phone box set up in the middle of it. He kept saying, Tardy! Tardy! He’s mental …”
I can’t speak. I just stare at Jed. The likelihood of me and Jed getting together is about equal to finding the Tardis in the middle of the Bangarra mall …
“It is its own universe,” he says, shrugging.
The others leave. “How did you—” I begin.
He holds a finger to my lips. “I didn’t do anything,” he says. “It’s just timey-wimey magic. Trust me. I’m the doctor.” Jed laughs and touches me on the cheek, so gently. “See you tomorrow, my new companion?” he asks.
I nod. “We’ll go on adventures.”
He winks at me and disappears.
In my room, with Beezus on my lap, I open a packet of Cheezels. I eat them, one by one, off my fingers.
Then, I pull out my sketchbook and a graphic novel marker and I draw a girl with cropped blue hair (with a fringe), and Vans and a band tee-shirt. I give her a cape, too, and a mask over her eyes.
She’s a superhero.
Now I just need to work out what her powers will be. I know she’ll have a sidekick—a ferret called Beezus. I know she’ll fight against evil guys like Viggo MacDuff.
And there may be a storyline in which Daleks appear in Tasmania and start attacking people at Salamanca market and are taken down by my superhero, her ferret sidekick and an army of Ewoks who’ve joined forces with a pack of mutant Tasmanian Devils.
But the rest?
I start drawing. It’s coming together.
I’ll make it up as I go along.
About the Author
Kate Gordon grew up in a very booky house, with two librarian parents, in a small town by the sea in Tasmania. In 2009 she won a Varuna fellowship, which led to publication of four titles with Allen and Unwin and Random House Australia. Kate was the recipient of 2011 and 2012 Arts Tasmania Assistance to Individuals grants, which means she can now spend more time doing what she loves. She was the recipient of the 2016 IBBY Ena Noel Award. In 2018, realising a life-long dream, she will have her first two picture books published.
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