He takes my hand and pulls me against him, the parachute straps rough on my skin. ‘I’ll be fine. There’s already a few others out there.’ He ducks slightly and brings his face level to mine. ‘I’ve done this tonnes of times.’
‘Just go another time,’ I say, keeping my voice steady, not looking over the edge of the cliff. ‘When it’s not so strong.’
‘Lucy.’ He sighs and straightens up. ‘I’m not gonna do anything dumb, and look,’ he smacks his pack, ‘parachute.’
I point at the flowers on the tree. ‘Parachute didn’t help that guy.’
‘Yeah, well, I looked that up. He was trying to do a top landing—land back on the bluff—which is a stupid idea. I’m not going to do that.’
My hair flicks across my mouth and stings my cheeks. ‘Please,’ I say, holding my hair back, ‘I don’t want you to.’
Evan clasps his hands on his helmet then drops them and steps away from me. ‘This is something I do, something I like doing. It’s maybe the one good thing about living here.’
I grab his hand but it doesn’t respond to mine. ‘Just go tomorrow. Please.’ I wrap my arms around him. ‘Please.’
The tension sags out of him. ‘Fine,’ he says, ‘fine.’
‘Thank you.’ I squeeze him. Evan pushes away from me, unclips his helmet and scrubs his hand through his hair. ‘You’re pissed at me?’
‘Yes.’ He undoes the parachute. ‘Yes I am.’
‘Good,’ I say, ‘I don’t care.’
Evan takes the glider apart: pulling out poles and rolling it up. I help where I can but it’s obvious he doesn’t need me here and from his silence probably doesn’t want me either.
Still, when he balances the long silver bag on his shoulder and trudges home, I follow him on my bike.
‘Is this what it’s gonna be like when I’m ticked at you?’ he says, lowering the garage door. ‘You’re just gonna hang around?’
‘I dunno. I don’t feel like going home yet.’
He rubs his neck and smiles at me. ‘Want something to eat?’
Evan’s house is one of the newer ones on the street. Two-storey, architect-designed, finished in different textures and shades of blue-grey. Inside is all clean lines and shiny surfaces. Decorations are minimal and the furniture is all dark and solid.
I follow Evan into the kitchen, large tiles cool on my bare feet, and take a seat at the breakfast bar. Before I can ask for a cuppa Evan flicks the kettle on and pulls out the same mug I had the first time I was here.
Footsteps thump down the stairs and I stiffen. ‘You making coffee?’ A large man enters the kitchen smelling of aftershave and dressed in a suit.
‘Yeah, I can,’ Evan says, grabbing another mug. ‘Uh, Dad, this is Lucy.’
‘Lucy.’ He grins at me. His skin is tanned and leathery—an old surfer—and his grey hair is thinning on top. ‘Nice to meet you. I’m Glen.’
I smile back and shake his hand. He doesn’t look much like Evan, except maybe around the eyes—same shade of brown and same way of focusing on me.
His dad checks his watch. ‘Better make that coffee to go.’
‘Where are you off to?’ Evan tips the coffee into a travel mug.
‘Sydney. I’ll be back Thursday. Cheers.’ Glen takes his coffee. ‘You right for food? I left you some cash in the drawer.’
‘Yeah, I’ll be fine.’
‘All right. Well I’m off.’ He heads for the door. ‘We’ll go out for dinner when I get back. You too, Lucy.’
We shout out, ‘Bye,’ as the door shuts.
‘He seems nice.’
Evan hands me my tea. ‘Yeah, he’s all right.’
‘What’s his job?’
‘Sales rep for some company. So . . .’ He drums his fingers on the bench. ‘What do you wanna do?’
‘This is more fun than hang gliding, right?’ I push him back on his bed.
Evan smiles and drags his fingers up my thighs, stopping at the hem of my shorts. I lean forward, pushing his hair off his face, and kiss him. His tongue is warm in my mouth and his hands slide under my shorts. I’m dizzy with the feel of him and keep losing track of where his fingers are.
Then he stops, opens his eyes and looks at me. Our foreheads pressed together, he says, ‘Have you had a boyfriend before?’
I roll off him and end up hemmed between his body and the wall. ‘I . . . no, not really. There was this guy in squad who liked me—mostly cos I could swim fast. We went out for a few weeks but then he found out I could swim faster than him . . . so we broke up.’
‘Ouch.’ Evan tucks up close to me. ‘So, did you ever . . .’ He raises his eyebrows.
‘Have sex? You know, if you can’t say it then you shouldn’t be doing it.’
He pokes me in the side. ‘I was being coy. I can say it: sex, sex, sex, sex. So, have you ever?’
I laugh and shake my head. ‘No.’ The only person I’ve thought about having sex with is Ryan, but that fantasy is safely out of reach. Evan on the other hand . . . ‘How about you?’ I give him the same raised eyebrows.
‘Um,’ he blushes, ‘yeah.’
‘Oh.’ I turn onto my back. ‘I wasn’t expecting that, which I guess was dumb. I . . .’ My mind has gone completely blank. ‘How many . . . no, you don’t have to answer that. Was this during your year of drinking too much and hot boxing in stolen cars? Oh God,’ I press my hand to my forehead, ‘you don’t have to answer that either.’
‘There were maybe a few years like that,’ he says. ‘I was a bit of a stereotype.’ He lifts his hand to punctuate his words, ‘Ignored by parents: acts out.’ His hand drops. ‘I have had one solid girlfriend and a few other not so solid ones.’
I shift back to him. ‘What happened with your girlfriend?’
‘Broke up just before I moved here.’
I’m struck with a need to know everything about this girl while at the same time wanting to know nothing at all. I tell myself he’s here, with me.
I snuggle into him, twisting my fingers through the folds of his T-shirt. ‘Thanks,’ I say, ‘for not going out today.’
‘Yeah, well,’ he shifts so he’s more comfortable and strokes my hair, ‘you’re lucky you’re you. But I don’t want you being scared for me, okay, Luce? You gotta trust me when I say I know what I’m doing.’
‘I’ll try,’ I mumble.
‘Flying does have its risks, but so do a lot of things. You can’t let fear stop you doing what you want.’
We lie there for a while and Evan’s words seem to echo. I never used to feel this bound up and fearful, but this is the aftermath of someone making a stupid decision and not coming back.
‘I just want you to be careful,’ I say to his chest.
‘I know,’ he says then rolls away from me and gets to his knees. ‘Know what we’re missing?’ he says. ‘Music.’
‘We are definitely missing that.’ I smile up at him. ‘Can I go through your records?’
‘Knock yourself out.’
I navigate around dirty clothes and stacks of books and kneel in front of the shelf of vinyl.
‘Tell you what,’ Evan says, ‘you pick something and it can be our song.’
I run my fingers over the spines and a warmth blooms through my chest. ‘You, sir,’ I grin back at him, ‘are a cheese ball.’
Each spine I read sends a jolt of excitement through me: American Football, Minus the Bear, Pavement, Iron and Wine, Nirvana. Names that used to mean nothing to me but now feel like old friends.
‘I have no idea what to pick,’ I say. Our song. Heavy, light, rushing, slow, something that’s us—something that’s him. He sits behind me, covering my eyes with his hands.
‘Do it blind,’ he says.
I laugh. ‘We’ll end up with some hardcore thing.’
His breath is warm on my ear. ‘And we shall love it.’ I move my hand along the shelf and Evan sucks in a breath when I stop. ‘Maybe not that one.’
‘Shut up. If I can’t look you can�
�t either.’ I drag my fingers back over the records and slide one out.
‘Oh,’ he says, still covering my eyes, ‘interesting choice.’ He leans forward and directs my hand to the cover. ‘Okay, you’re at the track list. Ooh. Are you absolutely certain? I mean, we’re gonna have to live with this.’
‘Yes.’ I laugh and pull his hand away. ‘Let me see.’ Our song is . . . ‘Teenage Dream—Katy Perry? Why the heck do you have Katy Perry on vinyl?’
I blink at the baby blue and pink cover. Katy used to feature heavily on my workout playlists, it’s like holding a piece of who I used to be.
Evan cracks up and falls back on the floor. I turn around, holding the offending album. ‘Why? Why do you have this?’
‘Smell it,’ he gasps.
‘What?’ I sniff the album and it smells . . . sweet. ‘What is that?’
‘Fairy floss.’ He grins.
I breathe it in again. It’s so weird that he has this—two parts of me that shouldn’t go together have somehow met.
‘Awesome, right?’ He pulls out his phone. ‘This is gonna be your ringtone.’
I toss the album aside, pin his hands to the carpet and kiss him.
18
‘Where are you off to?’ Dad asks as I’m halfway out the front door. He’s on his laptop at the breakfast bar, glasses perched on the end of his nose.
‘I’m going to Stef’s.’
He frowns and I’m wondering if I should’ve said Megan’s. Nobody worried when I supposedly spent last weekend there. ‘Steffi Greggson from down the street?’
‘Yep. That’s her.’
‘Okay,’ he turns back to the screen, ‘have fun.’
I hang in the doorway. ‘I’m not going back to squad.’ My heart pounds. ‘I’m not.’
He takes his glasses off and faces me. ‘I spoke to Phil and he said you’re welcome back any time, but Canberra’s off the table now. So you can go back.’
‘You’re not listening to me. I’m not going back—I can’t.’
‘Okay,’ he says. ‘Why not?’
‘Because . . .’ The words I’m scared won’t come out of my mouth. ‘Because Cam drowned,’ I whisper.
‘That’s not a reason to put your life on hold.’
I blink. ‘It’s not?’ I can’t believe he just said that. ‘I think it’s a reason, it’s definitely a reason. And I’m not putting my life on hold—swimming is not my whole life.’
‘He would’ve wanted you to keep going.’
I pull my hair back. ‘Because you know so much about what he wanted.’
‘He was proud of you swimming, we all were.’
I squeeze my shaking hand into a fist. ‘Then why didn’t you notice when I stopped? You should’ve been driving me to training but you weren’t. Didn’t you wonder what was going on?’
He stands, throwing his arms up. ‘I thought Deb was taking you.’
‘Well she wasn’t,’ I say and walk out the door.
‘Alix should be here soon,’ Steffi says. She’s lying on her bed, flicking through a magazine.
I sit on the carpet and lean against the wall. ‘It’s cool,’ I say, bringing my knees to my chest. Alix is at training and I’m impressed that she’d have the energy to hang out with us at all.
Steffi laughs at something she’s reading. It’s surreal being back in her room. All those nights spent here curled up in her bed, speaking our secrets to the dark. Steffi is still the only person I’ve told about my feelings for Ryan—feelings I’m intent on squishing. The only boys Megan ever wanted to discuss were the ones she could beat in the pool.
‘Oh my God.’ Steffi holds up the magazine and points to an Asian model with bright red hair. ‘I want her hair.’
‘Uh-huh.’ I smile, digging my teeth into my bottom lip. I don’t think I have the energy to be here; I’m missing my room and being alone. But being at home would mean being near Dad.
Steffi grins and sits up, slapping her knees. ‘Let’s go raid Shelly’s colours.’ She bounds out of the room, not noticing I haven’t moved. ‘Yes!’ she calls and pops back in shaking a box of dye at me. ‘Perfect.’ Her eyes narrow at my flat expression, then she breaks into a smile again. ‘Come on, misery guts, I need your hands.’
I groan and make a big deal about getting up.
‘Shouldn’t your mum be doing this?’ I ask when we’re crammed into the tiny yellow tiled bathroom. ‘I mean, she’s the trained professional.’
‘Would you relax.’ Steffi wraps an old towel around her shoulders.
I wiggle my hands into the plastic gloves and scan the instructions.
‘Ready,’ Steffi says and I squirt the contents of the bottle onto her head. ‘Make sure you work it through.’
I screw my nose up at the smell of the dye but do as she says, my fingers rubbing the cool goop through her hair. Soon I have a rhythm going and my mind zones out. The shaved side of her head is soft under my fingers.
‘Why’d you do this?’ I ask, tapping her head and accidentally getting red dye on her ear.
She shrugs. ‘Wanted to see someone else when I looked in the mirror. You gonna come to the beach tomorrow?’ Steffi asks, before I can say anything else about her hair. ‘It’s so hot. I’m going to literally die.’
‘You mean figuratively?’
She rolls her eyes.
‘Nah, I think I’ll stay home.’ I try to make my voice sound light but it doesn’t work.
‘Is this a thing you’re doing?’
‘A thing?’
‘Yeah, a thing. A stop-swimming-avoid-the-water thing.’
I concentrate on the dyed red top of Steffi’s ear, grabbing a washer and trying to get it off.
‘Look, I get it, I really do,’ she continues, ‘but you live between three beaches and a lake. Are you just planning to walk around with your eyes shut?’
‘Something like that.’
‘What the hell did you do all holidays?’
My blood runs hot. I want to yell at her for making my grief seem small and insignificant. But instead I leave her ear red.
‘Housework, TV, music.’
She gives me a small smile in the mirror, pity crowding her face. ‘Almost done?’
‘Yeah.’ I grab a clip and twist the long side of her hair on top of her head.
‘Come with me,’ she says, standing and I follow her back to her room.
She crosses the floor to her window and kneels down. The window sill is lined with candles, their wax melted into the grooves of the wood.
She takes out her lighter and flicks her thumb across it.
‘I read somewhere,’ she says, lighting a stubby red candle, ‘that when a sailor got lost at sea their wife, or whoever was waiting for them, would light a candle in the window. They said it was to help them find their way back, but it was also a way of remembering.’ She hands me the lighter. ‘Sometimes when you can’t do anything, it helps to do something.’
I run my thumb over the rough metal flint. My thumb sings from the friction and the tiny yellow flame sparks up. I light a fat white candle next to the one Steffi lit.
‘Are you remembering someone?’ I ask.
She frowns at me for a second then laughs. ‘Nah, I just like candles. Or maybe I’m a witch!’
I groan.
There’s a knock at the front door and Steffi leaves to answer it.
‘I like your house,’ Alix says from the hallway.
Steffi gives a flat laugh. ‘Welcome to the crap-shack.’
Steffi’s house is a small fibro cottage, one of the last ones left on our street. Her mum is into craft so the place is filled with decoupaged boxes, coloured sand in jars and handmade soft toys. When I was younger I could spend hours in her lounge room just staring at stuff.
‘It’s cosy, I like the vibes. Hi Lu.’ Alix walks in behind Steffi. I smile at her.
‘Dump your stuff wherever,’ Steffi says.
Alix peers at her. ‘What are you doing to your hair?’
&
nbsp; Forty minutes later we’re squashed back in Steffi’s bathroom.
‘How’s it look?’ Steffi asks after she’s washed it out.
‘Can’t tell yet, gotta dry it.’ I fire up the blow dryer.
‘How’s it look now?’
‘Red. Bright, bright red.’
Steffi studies her new hair in the mirror.
‘It’ll fade,’ I tell her.
She fluffs up the shaved side and tucks the other behind her ear. ‘I love it.’
We lie on Steffi’s bed and polish off a packet of Tim-Tams. Going to Steffi’s house always meant snacks and junk food and other things I couldn’t tell Mum about.
Steffi heads to the kitchen to find chips and dip, leaving Alix and me alone.
Alix picks up the magazine Steffi was reading earlier, flexes her shoulders and cracks her neck.
‘Ow,’ I say at the loud popping.
‘Not great, hey?’ She rubs the base of her skull.
‘So,’ I prop my chin on my hand, ‘how are things going with Jeremy?’
She turns her focus back to the magazine. ‘All right . . . I dunno.’
‘You guys seem pretty attached.’
‘Well, school’s like the only time I see him. He keeps wanting to hang out after but I’m always at training.’
‘But he should understand that, right? You’re in a really intense program. He should support you.’
She peers up at me from under her eyelashes. ‘He kinda maybe doesn’t know.’
‘What? So, he just thinks you’re blowing him off? Why haven’t you told him?’
She sighs. ‘I dunno. I guess I just thought it’d be easier not to say.’
‘So he’ll just think you’re not interested instead?’
She rubs her face. ‘It’s not like it can work, right? Who wants a girlfriend you barely see?’
I lie on my back and drum my fingers on my stomach. She’s right, with thirteen training sessions a week the pool is pretty much your whole world. That’s why the squad hook up with each other.
‘What times are you swimming at the moment?’
She sighs. ‘I’m still hovering round a minute fourteen in the one hundred, but I managed a 1.12 the other day.’
‘Seriously?’ I squeal and smack her arm. ‘That’s awesome!’
Pieces of Sky Page 14
