He lifts my T-shirt and I raise my arms as he pulls it over my head. We kneel on my bed and look at each other, at skin we’ve felt but haven’t seen before, at this other person to press into.
Evan tucks my hair behind my ear, his fingers tracing along my cheek. ‘God,’ he says almost to himself, ‘you’re so beautiful.’
I smile into his hand and kiss his palm.
The front door bangs shut. I jump and Evan’s eyes go wide.
‘Lucy?’ Auntie Deb calls. I press my fingers against his lips.
‘Maybe if we’re really quiet she’ll go away,’ I whisper.
‘Car in the driveway,’ he says behind my hand.
‘Whose car is that?’ Deb calls out.
I groan. ‘Next time we go to your house,’ I say, pulling on my shirt and chucking him his.
‘In here,’ I yell back.
Evan retreats to the end of the bed, biting back a smile as I adjust my shirt and smooth my hair down. I smile slowly back at him, heat still under my skin.
My door opens.
‘I was gonna order pizza for dinner.’ She stops short at the sight of Evan. ‘Oh, hello.’
‘Hey,’ he says.
‘This is Evan. Evan, Deb.’
‘Nice to meet you.’ She stiffens and purses her lips. ‘Will you be staying for dinner?’
‘Ah.’ He looks at me. I shrug. ‘Um, sure, if that’s okay?’
‘Of course.’ She directs her attention back to me. ‘Isn’t that show you love about to start?’
I stare at her. She narrows her eyes. I sigh.
‘Come on,’ I say, getting off the bed. ‘Is Mum home?’ I ask, walking past Deb.
‘She’s in her studio.’
I stop walking and gape at her. ‘Seriously?’
Deb nods, smiling at me. And I want to laugh and hug her because it’s totally amazing. But I still can’t bring myself to do that so instead I keep the buzz in my bones and say, ‘Make sure you order gluten-free.’
‘Would you stop looking at that?’
Evan puts the photo of me back on the mantle.
‘But you were so cute.’ He sits next to me on the couch.
‘Shut up.’ I shove him with my foot.
‘You should wear your hair in braids again.’
‘Only if you’re lucky.’
The front door opens and Dad walks in. He stares at us from the doorway and Evan stands up. I scratch at a mozzie bite on my wrist and wait for the awkwardness to spill over.
‘Dad, this is Evan.’
‘Nice to meet you, sir,’ Evan says.
Dad tilts his head to one side, looking from me to Evan. ‘You too.’ His eyes land back on me. ‘Is there any dinner? I’m starved.’
‘Deb’s ordering pizza.’
‘Right, good.’ He studies us a moment longer, then heads down the hall. I pull Evan back onto the couch. We stare at the mindless ads on TV. I scratch the top off the bite on my wrist.
We all sit at the table for dinner. This is part of Mum’s new counselling rules: family meal time. Dad tears the pizza boxes into makeshift plates.
‘So, you like pizza?’ Mum asks Evan. This is also a rule: make inane conversation.
‘Sure,’ he replies.
‘And tell me, Evan,’ Deb chimes in, ‘what are your views on pineapple?’
I groan.
‘I am pro-pineapple,’ Evan says.
‘Well.’ Mum smiles at me.
‘Look,’ I say, ‘pineapple is a fruit. It has no business being on a pizza.’
‘Hear, hear,’ Dad says between bites.
‘Is this another banana thing?’ Evan asks me. I glare at him.
‘You know she’s never eaten a banana. Not once,’ Mum says. ‘Even as a baby. Just refused.’
‘So how do you know you don’t like it?’ Evan asks me.
‘Oh I know.’
‘Have you even tried pineapple on a pizza?’
I make a face at him.
‘Here.’ He offers me the rest of his slice.
‘I’m not eating your half-eaten pizza.’
Deb laughs.
‘Fine.’ Evan breaks off a fresh slice and puts it in front of me.
‘This is exciting.’ Deb leans forward. Mum laughs. I eye the pizza and glance up at Dad, who looks quite amused. I pick up a piece of the pineapple, all squishy between my fingers. My stomach squirms. I put it back.
‘Just close your eyes,’ Evan says. I roll my eyes at him.
‘You can do it, honey.’ Mum grins.
‘You can’t force her, Norah,’ Dad says.
‘Ah, fine.’ I close my eyes and bite into the pizza. Tomato, pepperoni, cheese, pineapple. All sweet and slimy. Erk. I swallow and open my eyes.
‘Well?’ Auntie Deb bites down on a smile.
‘Not a fan,’ I say.
‘That’s my girl,’ Dad says. My cheeks burn.
‘Oh let’s make her eat something else,’ laughs Mum. ‘Where are the bananas, Deb?’
‘No thanks. Tonight’s entertainment is over,’ I say.
We finish dinner and I walk Evan outside.
‘I like your family,’ Evan says.
‘Yeah right,’ I snort.
‘Don’t do that. Act like I’m just saying crap. I mean it, okay?’
‘Okay.’
He grabs my hand.
‘But even my dad? He’s so embarrassing.’
Evan shrugs and pulls me into him. I twist my fingers in the folds of his shirt. Our weight is pressed into each other and we sway slightly, finding our balance. ‘How are you?’ I say to his chest.
‘Fine,’ he says, ‘good.’
‘How’s stuff at home?’
He breathes out through his nose. ‘Mum called the other night.’
I look up at him. ‘Yeah?’
‘She wants me to come visit when I pick up my car.’
Evan’s car is still stuck down in Sydney with the only mechanic he trusts.
‘That’s good, right?’
‘Yeah, I guess. And it would be good to see El. Mum just makes everything an issue and I’m not looking forward to that.’
‘Maybe it’ll be different.’
‘Yeah, maybe.’ He rests his chin on my head and sighs.
I laugh. ‘Jesus, you’re tall.’
‘I ate lots of bananas and pineapples.’
‘Ah, my shortness is explained.’
He kisses my forehead. ‘See ya tomorrow.’
I stand on my toes and kiss him good and proper.
Back inside, I collapse on my bed. Everything smells like him. I put my pillow over my face and breathe deep.
21
‘What are we doing tonight?’ Steffi folds her arms and gives us the eye.
We’re squished in the last shreds of shade behind the library. Alix sitting between Jeremy’s legs as he lolls against the wall, me tearing bits off my sandwich and Evan tapping his fingertips on my knee, nodding his head to whatever he’s listening to.
This week has dragged on, the heat promising a storm that won’t break. I’ve spent most afternoons at Evan’s, collapsed beneath an air vent. And it’s finally Friday, which means an uninterrupted weekend of my boyfriend—not that I’ve called him that out loud yet—and air-conditioning.
‘I’ve got training,’ Alix says. Jeremy whispers something which makes her giggle. She told him about her swimming commitments and they seem to be doing fine.
‘Lu?’ Steffi kicks my foot.
‘Ow.’ I shuffle out of her reach. ‘I dunno.’
‘Let’s party,’ she says, ‘let’s do something.’
‘It’s too hot,’ I say, surrendering the last of my sandwich to Evan.
She paces the line of shade, divided between dark and light.
‘We could go to Ev’s,’ I say, ‘crank the air-con.’
He takes one earbud out at the mention of his name.
‘Yeah, while you two fawn over each other. Great plan.’ She scratches the base
of her skull, her voice sharp.
‘Could watch a DVD,’ I say, ignoring her comment. ‘You pick.’
Evan groans and I elbow him. He shakes his head, smiling, and twists the earbud back in.
‘I want to go out,’ she says.
‘Then go out,’ I snap.
Steffi raises her eyebrows and smirks at me. ‘I will,’ she shouts, raising her arms.
‘Good,’ I shout back. ‘Why are we yelling?!’
She grins. ‘I have no idea!’
We laugh at each other, and she puts her hands on her hips, breathing deep through her nose trying to make herself look serious again.
The bell goes, she salutes us and marches off. Evan helps me up.
‘I’m still coming over,’ I tell him. I’d way rather be in his fridge of a house than melting at mine.
‘Ah . . .’ he says, glancing at Jeremy and Alix and rolling his lips through his teeth.
‘What?’
He shoulders his backpack. ‘I’m actually . . . I’m not going to be there.’ He pushes his hair off his forehead. ‘I’ve gotta go pick up my car. And I took your advice, I’m gonna spend the weekend at Mum’s.’
‘Oh.’ My heart sinks but I tell myself to be supportive.
‘Yeah.’ He passes me my bag.
‘That’s good though. Why didn’t you tell me?’
He shrugs. ‘I dunno. This week’s been fun and I didn’t know when to bring it up.’
This week has been making out on his couch.
‘I’d rather spend tomorrow with you,’ he says.
I link my fingers through his, he smiles and kisses me. ‘It’ll be good seeing your mum and sister.’
‘Yeah,’ he says, his face lit up. ‘And Cook’s band are playing this mad show tomorrow night.’
‘When do you get back?’
‘Probably Sunday night,’ he says.
‘Okay.’ A whole weekend by myself. Okay. ‘When do you leave?’
‘After school.’ He squeezes my hand and I let go, wiping my palm on my skirt.
‘Bring me a present?’ I joke.
He smiles. ‘Of course.’
I wake late the next morning to a weird rattling, the sun burning through the glass door and onto my bed. The fan that was on my bedside table last night lies face down, whirring into the floorboards. I pick it up and bring it close to my face, cool air on my sweaty skin. My bedside clock tells me it’s almost twelve.
Voices filter in from outside: Deb talking to someone, Dad maybe. I drop the fan on my bed and head to the bathroom for a cold shower.
I dress in a singlet top and cutoffs, not bothering to dry my hair and letting the cool water drip down my top.
‘Morning, love,’ Deb says when I make it to the kitchen.
‘Hey.’
She hands me a plate of fruit. ‘Take this out to Ryan, would ya?’
I frown at the plate. ‘Ryan?’
‘He’s out the front.’
I push open the screen door and spot Ryan, shirtless and pushing the lawn mower. He doesn’t notice me, so I sit in the shade of the deck and pick at the fruit. Sun glints off Ryan’s tanned skin and I have to squint to look at him.
Ryan finishes, dumps grass clippings in the bin and rolls the mower into the garage. He walks up the front steps to me, pulling his T-shirt from his back pocket and wiping the sweat off his forehead. My vision rests on his tight, tanned stomach and I drag my eyes away, cheeks flaming.
‘Here,’ I say, shoving the meagre remains of browning apple slices and a mango cheek at him.
‘Thanks,’ he says, leaning against the railing. Sweat glistens on his skin and grass is flecked through his hair.
I take my phone out and reread Evan’s text from this morning.
Going well. Went out for dinner last
night, seems like Mum’s making an effort.
Heading into the city today. Miss you.
Deb sticks her head out of the front door. ‘Ginger beer, love?’ she asks Ryan.
‘Cheers,’ Ryan says, mango juice dripping off his chin. Deb gets him a bottle and jostles past us with the washing basket. Ryan sits next to me in the shade.
I put my phone back in my pocket. ‘So you’re the official gardener now?’
He presses the cold bottle to his neck. ‘Worse things to be. How’s school?’
‘Crap. How’s work?’
‘It’s work.’ He takes a long drink. ‘So, I might be taking off again.’
‘What?’ My voice is shrill and I make an effort to tone the surprise down. ‘Are you serious?’
‘Not like last time,’ he says. ‘I got asked to do a shoot in Fiji.’
‘Oh. That’s really good. When do you go?’
‘Couple of weeks.’
‘How long?’
‘A month. I’ll do the shoot and maybe try to pick up more work. Mostly I just want to surf and forget shit.’
I close my eyes, picture him bobbing around in the surf. ‘How can you do it?’
‘Do what?’
I rest my head against the house and look at him. ‘Surf and everything.’
He scratches his temple with the top of his bottle. ‘It’s my church,’ he says. ‘And it’s where he is. I feel connected out there. Things make sense.’
‘But that’s where he died. Doesn’t it make you feel sad, being in the water?’
He shakes his head. ‘Makes me feel clean.’ He sighs. ‘You’re not swimming anymore, are ya?’
I shake my head, my throat going dry. ‘I tried. I wanted to.’
‘What happened?’
‘I think I had a panic attack.’
He looks at me, eyes wide. ‘Seriously?’
I nod.
‘Fuck.’
‘Sometimes I think maybe I shouldn’t get back in the pool anyway. I was too obsessed, I missed too much.’
‘You know Cam wouldn’t have wanted that, right? He was proud of you.’
I swallow. Ryan’s phone beeps from his pocket, he takes it out, narrows his eyes then puts it face down on the deck.
‘Who’s that?’ I ask.
He picks at the label on his bottle. ‘Riss.’
‘Oh, okay. You still talking then?’ Something in me shrinks and I hate that I might have been holding on to the hope of him.
He leans back. ‘She came up last weekend. We sorted some stuff out. It was good.’
‘That’s good.’ I dig my thumbnail into my thigh. I’m with Evan. I don’t want Ryan. ‘So, you still see Tara?’
Ryan looks at me. ‘Tara?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Not really.’
I scratch at a dry bit of skin around my thumbnail. ‘Do you think her and Cam could’ve hooked up again?’
‘I dunno.’ He swigs his drink. ‘Why are you so interested in Cam’s love life?’
‘I’m just curious is all.’
‘But come on, Tara? I spent a good month dragging him out of bed after they broke up. Why would you think that?’
I shrug.
‘Lucy?’
I succeed in pulling off the bit of skin. My thumb stings and throbs. I stick the side of it in my mouth then pull it out and look at it. ‘A few weeks ago, I took Cam’s phone from his stuff. I turned it on and there was this new message.’ I glance at Ryan. ‘It was from a blocked number and it was all weird, like a poem.’
‘Okay.’ Ryan puts his beer on the deck.
‘Then whoever it was kept texting and, I dunno but, maybe Cam had a secret girlfriend or someone he was seeing.’
‘I guess that’s possible. God, no way was he seeing Tara though. But . . .’
‘What?’
‘She was all weird when they broke up. Emailing and texting him. She backed off after a while though.’
‘So maybe it’s all in her head?’
He sighs. ‘Could be, Luce. They were together for two years. Maybe I’m wrong. Can I see the texts?’
A big part of me wants to say no. Those texts are mine.
But if anyone else deserves to see them it’s Ryan. ‘Uh, yeah, sure.’ I get up. ‘Be right back.’
I haven’t checked Cam’s phone for a while—too caught up in stuff with Evan. I open the top drawer of my dresser and go through my socks. It’s not there. My chest tightens. I search through my bedside table and under my bed.
Not there either.
My breathing speeds up and I rake my hands through my hair. Where is it? Maybe Auntie Deb saw it and put it back in Cam’s room. But how would she know the phone was his? Maybe Mum or Dad?
I run into Cam’s room and pull out the duffle bag from his trip. I flip the contents onto his bed. It’s not there. I go through his desk. It’s not there. It’s not anywhere. It’s gone.
‘I know you took it.’
Tara frowns at me but I’m not sure she heard me over the music in the hairdressers. So I repeat myself and make it loud.
‘You took his phone!’
‘Lucy Taylor!’ Shellie, Steffi’s mum, switches off her blow dryer. ‘What on earth are you up to? You all right?’
My shoulders tense and blood pounds through my veins. ‘I’m fine,’ I tell her. ‘Just need to talk to Tara.’
Tara apologises to her customer and walks past me and out of the salon.
‘What are you talking about?’ she says, folding her arms. I’m struggling to look at her directly so I focus on the salon doors behind her.
‘You know what I’m talking about. I know it was you sending all those texts. Just give me the phone back.’ I squint at her in the sharp afternoon sun. ‘You took it when you came around the other day.’
‘Took what? What on Earth are you talking about?’ She glances back at the salon doors.
‘You’ve been texting Cam.’
Her face freezes in a frown. ‘Why would I be doing that?’
‘I don’t know.’ I throw my hands up. ‘Because you’re grieving, because you still have feelings for him.’
She’s shaking her head and her face has dissolved into that familiar expression of pity. My stomach hollows out. I’m not wrong, I can’t be wrong.
‘It’s completely awful what happened to your brother. And it tears me up. But I don’t feel like that about him anymore.’ Her mouth pulls into a sad smile. ‘Haven’t for a long time.’
Pieces of Sky Page 16
