‘Yeah.’ She ducks her head. ‘Still not what I need though.’
‘Keep pushing,’ I tell her. ‘You’ll get there.’ Before I left I swam 1:03.54 at the Short Course Championships, ranking me ninth in the country for my age. Alix lets out a breath and goes back to the magazine. ‘I think you should explain it to Jeremy. Let him have a say.’
Alix narrows her eyes. ‘I thought you didn’t like him.’
‘Yeah, well’—I smooth the bedspread with my hand, remembering how he came up to me—‘maybe I’m warming up to him.’
Alix watches me with her mouth open, then squeals and tackle-hugs me to the bed.
‘All right, lovers, break it up.’ Steffi plonks herself on the floor in front of her bed, opening a packet of Doritos.
Alix rolls onto her back. ‘How do you know when you’re in love?’
‘When you can pee in front of each other,’ Steffi answers. I groan and push her with my foot.
‘No, seriously,’ Alix says.
‘I think,’ I say, ‘it’s when the lines start to get blurred between you and you’re not just you anymore. You’re you and them and it’s something new.’
Steffi lets out a heavy sigh. ‘Would you and Evan just do it already, far out.’ I throw a pillow at her and she laughs.
‘Okay, what do you think it feels like then?’
Steffi smiles at me but it doesn’t reach her eyes. She shakes her head and grins. ‘Love is for suckers.’
‘Nice, Stef, very nice.’
‘Whatever,’ she gets to her feet, ‘I’m going for a smoke.’
I watch her leave.
‘I think she got her heart broken.’ Alix sighs. ‘But maybe she’s right, maybe it can’t work. Or maybe I should quit the team too—Lucy?’
‘I’ll be back in a sec,’ I say, walking out to find Steffi. She’s in the backyard leaning against the house, lit up under the blue mosquito light.
‘Come for the passive cancer?’ she asks, blowing the smoke away from me.
The night air is cool and I rub my arms. ‘Are you all right?’
She sucks on her cigarette. ‘Peachy.’
I take a step towards her. ‘Did something happen?’ I wrack my brain trying to remember if Steffi was with anyone in the past couple of years. ‘Was there a guy?’
She looks past me and shakes her head, flicking the ash off her cigarette. ‘How far you gone with Evan?’
My cheeks heat up. ‘That is so none of your business.’
‘Yeah, see, that’s your business. I’ve got my business.’
‘I’m sorry, I just . . .’
‘You just wanna know. Well what good’s you knowing gonna do? Can’t change anything.’
I fold my arms. ‘Sometimes talking helps.’
‘Like you’re so open about what you’re going through.’
‘That’s completely different.’
‘Yeah I bet. I mean, you wouldn’t even know something had happened to you.’ She looks at me. ‘You’re like a robot.’
I step back. ‘Excuse me?’
She taps more ash from her cigarette onto the ground. ‘When I told Evan what your deal was he wouldn’t believe me.’ Her lip curls. ‘I had to Google it for him.’
‘Why?’ I throw my arms wide. ‘Because I don’t go around crying all the time? Oh, and thanks so much for spreading my private business!’
She shrugs. ‘It’s public knowledge. And if I hadn’t told him he wouldn’t have given you another look so, if anything, you should be thanking me.’
‘Thanking you?’ I press my hands to my face then drop them. ‘If I wanted him to know I would’ve told him.’
‘Well maybe if you’d talked about it I would’ve known you wanted it to be a secret.’ She stubs her cigarette out on the house. ‘You used to talk to me.’ She smiles weakly. ‘We used to talk about everything.’
I give her a hard look. ‘I came out here to talk to you. Won’t be doing that again.’
I go inside, grab my stuff and walk home.
Dear Steffi,
I am a bluebottle. And you can fuck off.
19
‘Okay,’ Megan says, ‘explain to me what happens.’
It’s early Sunday morning and we’re at the baths. We’re sitting on one of the pale blue bench seats facing the water. I curl and uncurl my fists.
Megan has a race in a few hours: club semi-finals.
‘When you think about swimming, what does your mind do?’
She didn’t take much convincing. I texted her after my fight with Steffi and she said she’d meet me here. After what I said to her the other day I didn’t think she would, but I’m grateful.
‘I can see the water,’ I say. The words are hard to pull out, as if they’re stuck underneath something. ‘And I can see myself swimming in it.’ I close my eyes and there I am: black racing suit, white swim cap, face turned to the sky. ‘But it feels far away, like that’s somebody else.’ I wipe my palms on my thighs. ‘When I think about getting in it’s like my feet won’t move. And when I picture putting my head underwater,’ I glance at her sideways, ‘that’s when I can’t breathe.’
Her eyes stay on the water. ‘But you know how to swim.’ She looks at me and I look down at the concrete.
‘So did Cam.’ The water pulled him under and didn’t let him up.
‘But that was out there.’ Megan waves out at the ocean, then back to the baths. ‘This is safe. No rips, currents, waves, nothing. You’re in control.’
I dig my nails into my thighs, leaving half-moons on my skin. ‘I don’t feel in control.’
Megan stands and pulls her T-shirt off, revealing her black swimsuit. ‘Come on,’ she says, ‘we’ll start with your feet.’
I blink at her.
‘Now, Lucy.’
This is why I chose Megan over Alix. Because I don’t want sympathy—I want orders. I wriggle out of my clothes and get to my feet. My left hand trembles. I take a deep breath and shake it out.
‘Okay,’ I say to myself, ‘okay.’
Megan walks over to the steps. Each movement to follow her is an effort and a cold flush spreads out from my chest. My heart’s pounding but I manage to keep my breaths long and deep.
Megan walks down two steps into the water and turns back to me. I stop half a metre from the edge, the damp concrete ice on my bare feet.
She holds out her hand and I tuck mine under my arms.
‘Come on,’ she says.
It’s fine, it’s fine, move, go. I step back.
‘You want it back, don’t you?’
‘What would that mean though?’ I say. ‘Training and competing?’
‘I’m sure it won’t take you long to be back in form.’
I stare hard at the edge of the concrete. ‘What if I don’t want to be?’
Megan sighs. ‘What do you want?’
‘I don’t know!’ I take another step back and spread my arms wide. ‘I want this’—I gesture between the water and myself—‘to go away, but I don’t want the commitment and the pressure.’
Megan walks over to me. ‘Are you really scared of drowning, or are you scared of the competition?’
‘I don’t know.’ I push my hair back. ‘God. I don’t know.’
My mind races as I ride my bike away from the baths and up the hill. The longer I’m out of the water, the harder it’ll be to get back in. It’s a more entrenched fear than panic now—a solid wall in my head.
Cars are lining the road to Meredith Beach—a few of them sport the ocean race bumper stickers. I want to be there for that race but if I don’t get in the water soon there’s no way I’ll make it. I’m sure that’d spark some town gossip. His own sister wouldn’t even swim. Didn’t we raise money to send her to New Zealand last year?
My legs burn as I push the bike up the road.
I ride past Evan’s house and into the bluff car park. I drop my bike on the grass and bend over, hands on my knees, to catch my breath. Evan’s house is clear fr
om where I am and I can spot the balcony off his bedroom. I walk into the trees and partway down the path to the cove. I just want to be alone.
The path cuts close to the cliff-face and I push through the scrub to find a sandy patch of grass near the edge. Ocean and sky stretch out before me as an unmoving blue sheet. I sit on the ground and pull my knees to my chest. My swimsuit cuts into my skin and traps the heat of the sun to my body. I tug the straps off my shoulders and push it down to my shorts leaving my breasts bare against my T-shirt. I’m instantly cooler.
I lie down parallel to the edge, and stretch my hand towards the drop.
The sky is empty but I imagine I see a hang glider—a red and black triangle—and I imagine he sees me. He lands here—somehow, I smile—and we make out by the edge of the sky.
Maybe we do more than make out.
A couple of hours later I wake up to my phone buzzing with a reminder about my English homework.
I ride home, coasting down the hill with the wind blowing my hair back. I wheel the bike into the garage and heft my tired legs up the steps.
Auntie Deb’s laugh meets me at the front door and is echoed by another laugh. Female, I think as I pull open the screen door, but not Mum. Tara.
‘What are you doing here?’ I say, the door smacking shut behind me.
Auntie Deb is bent over the breakfast bar and Mum is sitting on a stool in the kitchen, a towel wrapped round her shoulders, while Tara—Tara!—cuts her hair.
‘Lucy,’ Auntie Deb says, her voice full of tone.
‘I’m almost done,’ Tara says. ‘Then I’ll get out of your hair.’
Auntie Deb laughs at her terrible pun. I storm back outside and pull open the sliding door to my room.
Doesn’t Mum remember why they broke up? How can she just let her waltz back into our house?
I pull out my desk chair and scowl at my English homework. My phone buzzes.
Steffi:
Are you home?
I text back yes and glare at my phone.
Open your door.
I snap the blinds open to reveal Steffi and her traffic-light red hair. I pull the door across, and she comes in to plonk herself on my bed.
I fold my arms. ‘Still can’t knock on doors, hey?’
She smacks her knees. ‘I’m sorry.’
I raise my eyebrows.
‘I shouldn’t have gone off at you last night. It’s your grief, you can deal with it however you want.’
‘Ah. Thank you?’
She smiles. ‘No problem.’
I sit back on my chair and eye her. ‘What happened to you? You used to care about stuff, school, I dunno.’
She sighs and tries to smile. ‘I just tried to keep up with you and then you weren’t there anymore.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
‘Yeah, well, what are you gonna do?’ She shrugs.
‘Lucy?’ Three knocks on my bedroom door.
‘Just a sec,’ I say to Stef and step into the hallway, closing the door behind me.
Deb leans back against the opposite wall and crosses her arms. ‘Care to tell me what that was about?’ She tilts her head towards the kitchen.
I sigh. ‘Not really.’
‘That girl was doing a nice thing for your mum.’
‘Yeah.’ I shrug. ‘Has she gone?’
‘Yes. Now come tell your mum how good she looks.’ Her voice brightens at the end and she can’t hide her smile.
I smile back and follow her down the hall.
Mum is sitting on the couch, her feet tucked up and sun shining in behind her. She looks up at me and touches her hair. The uneven choppiness is gone and has been replaced by a pixie cut.
‘What do you think?’ Her words are slow and careful.
‘You look beautiful, Mum.’
She ducks her head and smiles and suddenly I could cry but I hold it back and cross the floor and hug her. Her skinny arms squeeze me back and I realise this was a bad idea because the tears come anyway.
When I go back to my room Steffi is stretched out on my bed, painting her nails with some bright blue nail polish she must’ve found in my drawer.
‘Clashes with your hair,’ I tell her.
She laughs and holds her sky blue nails next to her red hair. ‘Reckon I can pull it off.’ She screws the cap on and shoves over so I can sit down.
‘I’ve been writing you a letter,’ I say.
‘Oh yeah?’
I lie down next to her. ‘Dear Steffi,’ I say. ‘I am a bluebottle. I really like bobbing around.’
‘Dear Bluebottle.’ She waves her wet nails in the air. ‘Tell me about the sea.’
20
‘So, things with your mum?’ Evan asks as we unload the hang glider from the roof of his dad’s Land Cruiser. We’ve driven over to the sand dunes because he thinks if he can show me how flying works from a reasonable distance off the ground I won’t be so scared of it.
‘They’re okay,’ I say, ‘better I think.’
‘Yeah?’ He balances the long silver bag on his shoulder and we head for the sand.
‘She’s been to see this lady twice already and this morning she went for a walk with Deb.’
‘That’s good.’ He unzips the bag and pulls out a bunch of poles. The whole thing is like setting up a tent with wings. Soon the glider is sitting on the sand like a proud bird.
Evan walks me through the various safety checks and explains what each cord does.
‘What?’ He smiles at me.
‘You’re talking as if I’m gonna have a go and I am not.’
‘I’ll be right behind you. You’re not gonna fly off anywhere, you’ll likely just crash into that sand.’ He points to the bottom of the dune.
‘Gee, thanks for the vote of confidence.’
His phone beeps, he pulls it out and laughs.
‘Cook?’ I ask.
He types back a response. ‘Yep.’
‘Do you think you’d go now? If his mum changed her mind, would you still move in with them?’
‘I dunno,’ he says, tugging on one of the glider’s lines.
I study my sand-caked shoes. ‘Oh.’
‘Hey,’ he comes over and rubs my shoulders, his thumbs tracing the skin under my sleeves, ‘there’s loads of stuff I miss about the city. But the city doesn’t have you.’
I look up and he leans forward, pressing his forehead to mine.
‘You’re a very big point in the reasons-to-stay column,’ he whispers.
‘I am?’
‘Sure.’ He smiles. ‘It’s just your name. But I’ve written it very big and underlined it and everything.’
‘Exclamation points?’
He pulls back slightly and bends so he’s looking straight into my eyes. ‘At least five,’ he says.
‘Good.’ I snake my arms around his neck and his hands drop to my waist.
‘Now,’ he says. ‘If I can only get you to come with me.’
‘Yeah. Not gonna—’
He cuts me off with a kiss.
Evan gets us both suited up and ready to fly—deaf to my protests. He explains each step to me, pausing for any questions, demonstrating how to hook in and how the steering works, then letting me have a go. Despite being convinced that a giant gust of wind might suddenly sweep me skyward, I start to get excited.
It’s been ages since I’ve learnt to do something new. Cam was always the one teaching me stuff: what music to listen to, how to skate, how to get the right Milo to milk ratio.
‘Okay,’ Evan says, ‘I’ll show you how to launch, then you try.’
I tug at my helmet’s chin strap. ‘Okay.’
He hooks in, checks no lines are tangled, holds the control bar and runs down the dune. The glider lifts and Evan coasts to the sand below.
‘Nothing to it,’ he says, when I meet him down the bottom. Together we walk the glider back up the dune. Then it’s my turn.
‘You’ll be right there?’ I ask as Evan checks my lines.
‘Be right behind you.’ He lifts the control bar and my heart picks up as I close my hands around it. ‘Remember you wanna point the nose up.’ I nod. ‘But not too far or you might flip backwards.’
‘What?’
‘You’re gonna be fine.’ He lets go of the bar and gives me the thumbs up. ‘Run really fast,’ he says and steps behind the left wing.
‘Okay.’ I roll my shoulders, blow out a slow breath and focus on the sand below.
‘Ready? Three, two, one . . .’
I run. Sand kicks up from my feet as I hammer down the hill. The glider lifts—I’m up! I’m up, I’m . . . The glider nosedives and I eat sand.
‘You okay?’ Evan laughs, digging me out. ‘You were doing great, just gotta point a bit higher.’
I stand and dust myself off. ‘Let’s go again.’
I crash two more times but on the third try I hit it just right. The sand drops away and I’m flying, weightless, like a bird.
‘That was amazing,’ I say as Evan pulls into my driveway.
He smiles. ‘Told ya.’
‘Shut up.’ I poke him in the side.
‘Ready to jump off the bluff? We’ve still got time.’
‘Are you insane? I just mastered gliding at five metres, that’s like a million other metres.’
He links his fingers through mine. ‘You’d be with me. It’d be the same . . . but better.’
I unbuckle my seatbelt. The driveway is empty except for us. Deb must’ve taken Mum to another counselling appointment and Dad should still be at work.
I give Evan a heavy smile. ‘Do you wanna come in?’
He raises his eyebrows.
Normally when I enter my house it’s like crawling back under a thick blanket. Not the comforting kind. The heavy kind that scratches your neck.
Entering my house with Evan feels like running full pelt in the dark.
I lead him down the hall to my room and close the door behind us. He takes in my room: bookshelves, bed, desk, door to the deck. Everything square and tidy. He looks at me, I’m still holding the door closed, my heart beating so loud I’m sure he can hear it. Evan closes the space between us, kissing me hard against the door.
He lifts me up and I wrap my arms and legs around him as he manoeuvres us over to my bed. I tug at his shirt and he pulls it over his head. His hair is rumpled and sand is still stuck to his skin. He looks at me all heavy-lidded and I want to freeze-frame this moment and stare at him forever.
Pieces of Sky Page 15
