Give Me Four Reasons

by Lizzie Wilcock

  ‘Hi, Paige,’ Mum says. ‘Did you get in touch with your father?’

  ‘Yes.’ I take the phone from my pocket and put it on her lap. She doesn’t ask how he is.

  ‘Honey, this is Reuben. He does psychometry, among other things. He’s going to teach me how to do it.’

  ‘Side commentary?’ I say. ‘On what? The football?’ I can’t imagine Mum wanting to be a footy commentator.

  Reuben laughs. ‘No,psychom-et-ry,’he says slowly. ‘I read people’s futures and their pasts from their jewellery or some other object.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say.

  I step up into the van, hoping to find some dinner. I’m starving. I can’t remember the last time I ate. But the little fridge is empty. And so is the cupboard.

  ‘Would you like me to get dinner ready, Mum?’ I ask, wondering how I can make something out of fresh air.

  Felicity is sitting at the table in the living area. ‘You have to go to the mess hall here at juvie,’ she says, without looking up from her magazine.

  Mum ignores Felicity. So do I.

  ‘No, thanks, Paige,’ Mum says. ‘Look around. Smell the delights. Every second caravan sells food of some sort. We won’t ever have to cook a meal while we’re here.’ She gives me some money from her purse and I go off in search of the pluto pup van.

  But I don’t find a pluto pup van, a chip van or even a fairy floss van. This fair is different. There is a lentil curry van, a seaweed soup van, a freshly squeezed vegetable juice van, araw fish van. There are herbal teas and herbal coffees. Everything is organic.

  It is getting dark, and I am about to pass out from hunger, when I find a van that sells chicken burgers. I can see myself eating at this van a lot. I order a burger and take it back to our caravan. I sit at the outdoor table beside Mum and bite into my burger.

  ‘Yuck!’ I say, almost spitting out my mouthful.

  ‘What’s wrong, Paige?’ Mum asks, looking up from the bracelet that Reuben is reading.

  ‘This doesn’t taste like chicken. It tastes like mush.’ I hand the burger over to Mum. She takes a bite.

  ‘Where did you get it?’

  ‘The second van from the end up there.’ I point.

  Mum and Reuben howl with laughter. ‘The Chickapee van?’ Mum asks.

  ‘I thought it said,“Chickadee”.’

  ‘They make everything out of chickpeas, sweetheart,’ Mum says. ‘Not chicken.’

  I eat the burger but only because I am so hungry.

  After dinner, there’s not much else to do, so I go to bed. I scramble into the bunk above Felicity, who has her headphones in and is ignoring everyone.

  My shoulder hits the roof every time I turn over. I’m worried I won’t be able to fall asleep in such a small space and with so much on my mind. But as I try to get comfortable, I realise I’m exhausted from the long drive, and from all the stuff that has happened in the last few days.

  Before I know it, I fall into a deep sleep.

  10

  It is weird waking up on Christmas Day in a strange place. There are no twinkling fairy lights outside my window. No stocking at the end of my bed. And no Christmas tree in the lounge room. In fact, there is no lounge room.

  I climb down the ladder from my bunk, careful not to wake Felicity, and tiptoe out into the kitchen area. Mum has closed the little concertina door at her end of the van. I look around the dark annexe. Our Christmas gifts sit in a cardboard box at the far end. I am half-tempted to look at them but I don’t. They’ve lost their magic.

  I am dying to take a shower, but when I poke my head out of the flap of the annexe I see that Claire, the Queen of Clairvoyance, is already up and is ohming outside her van. I can’t face walking past her. Instead, I put on my swimsuit, pull yesterday’s t-shirt over the top, and set off from the caravan in the opposite direction from Claire. I follow the winding track down to the beach.

  Having a swim first thing on Christmas Day is not unusual for me. Dad and I are always the first ones up at home and we have to wait hours for Mum and Felicity to surface. So every year we swim and splash about in the pool, making enough noise to wake the dead.

  I don’t make any noise today though. The beach is empty. I dive under the waves and imagine that I am in the pool at home with Dad. Maybe if I think about him hard enough he will appear.

  Suddenly something grabs my foot and yanks me down. My mouth fills with water as I try to scream. I thrash and kick my leg free. Then I torpedo to the surface, spluttering for air. I look around for the shark’s fin, frantically treading water. A flash of colour pops up beside me. I scream again.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Read It and Weep!’

  It’s Shelly. I splash a wall of water at her.

  ‘You’re easily spooked.’ Shelly laughs. ‘I knew it was you because I recognised your t-shirt on the beach.’

  ‘I … I wasn’t expecting anyone.’

  ‘Hey, it’s a public beach.’ She dives under the water again and whizzes past my feet. Seconds later she pops up again, laughing. She reminds me of a dolphin.

  ‘Did you get any good presents?’ she asks.

  ‘I don’t know. No one’s up yet.’

  ‘Yeah, same.’ Shelly dives under the water again. I look around at the surface of the sapphire-blue sea, not knowing where she is going to burst through next.

  ‘Hey, Paige!’

  I turn around. Shelly waves at me from a rock twenty metres away.

  I swim out to the rock and pull myself up to sit beside her. The waves swell beneath us. Shelly stares out to sea. I glance at her, studying her face while she is not looking. I’d like to be friends with Shelly, but I’m sure she won’t want to be friends with me once she realises how boring I am.

  ‘This is my rock,’ Shelly says. ‘Well, not really. But I like to think it is. I used to pretend that I was a mermaid and I’d lie here, combing my hair and warning the passing sailors of danger.’

  ‘Sailors?’

  ‘Well, the surfers. Some of them don’t know about this rock. At high tide it’s almost invisible. It could really rip up their boards. But it’s a great launch spot for bodysurfing.’

  ‘How do you bodysurf?’

  ‘It’s easy.’ Shelly’s eyes shine. ‘All you need are some good waves. You don’t have to bother with all that surfboard wax or leg rope stuff. I’ll show you.’

  She stands and watches the waves forming behind us. ‘This is a good one.’ She dives off the rock and paddles furiously, catching the wave as it begins to curl over. She holds her head up and keeps her body as straight as a board, her arms by her sides. The wave shoots her forward and she rides it all the way to the shore. She swims back to the rock.

  ‘Can you teach me how to do that?’ I say.

  It takes me a while to get the hang of bodysurfing, which isn’t a surprise because I suck at most sports. In fact, if I wasn’t used to swimming because we have a pool at home, I probably never would have managed it. Sometimes I get dumped. Sometimes I miss the wave. But eventually I’m riding to shore, just like a dolphin.

  After an hour of bodysurfing, Shelly and I lie back on the rock and look up at the cloudless sky. Perfect Christmas weather, my dad would call this.

  ‘So, do you have relatives coming for Christmas?’ I ask Shelly.

  ‘No. They steer clear of this place when the freaks are here. Oops, sorry.’

  ‘It’s okay.’

  ‘Is your dad coming today?’

  ‘I thought you weren’t eavesdropping yesterday.’

  Shelly smiles and shrugs. ‘Did your mum kidnap you? Is that why your dad doesn’t know where you are? He’s obviously not psychic.’

  ‘My dad’s a funeral director,’I say, hoping I’ve said enough to stop Shelly asking more questions.

  I haven’t.

  ‘Cool job!’ Shelly says. ‘So is he coming?’

  ‘Yes,’ I say. After all, Dad got cut off before he could say for sure that he wasn’t coming. He could be on his way here right
now. ‘I’d better get back and see if he’s here yet,’ I add. I dive off the rock and bodysurf the next wave back to shore.

  The camping ground is awake and full of Christmas cheer as I thread my way over tent ropes and tent pegs and back to our van.

  ‘Merry Christmas,’ total strangers call out to me.

  I scan the car park for Dad’s car but it’s not there. He just hasn’t turned up yet, I tell myself.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Paige,’ Mum says when I step into the van. She thrusts a milkshake carton of thick pink stuff into my hand. ‘Watermelon, rockmelon and banana smoothie,’ she explains.

  I take a sip. It’s okay. Not as sweet as my fruit rings, but it is nice to have a cool drink after being in the surf.

  Felicity is drinking one, too. ‘It’s got conformity powder in it,’ she whispers. ‘Makes us all behave here at juvie.’

  I’m getting a bit bored with the juvie jokes, so I ignore her. ‘Merry Christmas, Fliss,’ I say instead, and touch my carton to hers.

  ‘Merry Christmas, Paige,’ she replies grudgingly.

  We slurp our smoothies and throw the empty cartons in the bin. And that is Christmas breakfast. I’m still hungry but at least we can open our presents now.

  Mum goes into the annexe and brings back the box of brightly wrapped gifts. ‘There’s not as many as last year, girls. I didn’t feel much like shopping this week.’

  I know, I think as I recall our short uniform-shopping expedition.

  ‘And Santa didn’t know how to find us,’ Felicity adds.

  ‘Shouldn’t we wait for Dad?’ I say.

  Mum stops, just as she is about to give a gift to Felicity. ‘Is he coming?’

  ‘Yes,’ I tell her. By now I have pretty much convinced myself that this is true.

  ‘But it’s a six-hour drive.’ She looks annoyed, as though she is thinking that she hasn’t driven far enough away from home.

  ‘Don’t you want Dad to come?’ I ask her.

  Mum bites her bottom lip. ‘Yes, of course I do, for the sake of you girls. But there’s been a lot of hurt. And a lot of changes. And maybe we need time to … adjust to being apart.’

  The sinking feeling comes back into my stomach. I realise it’s time to explain to Mum and Felicity that it’s my fault that Dad left after the fight at the pool party. ‘Mum——’ I say.

  Felicity interrupts me. ‘All right, this talk is depressing me,’ she says. ‘I need to open that present.’ She reaches across and grabs the gift out of Mum’s hand.

  The subject is dropped as we open our presents. I open my gifts slowly, one eye on the tiny window over the sink. I’m hoping that Dad will come driving down the road in his red station wagon, just like Santa Claus.

  The morning passes without much else happening. After lunch, when Dad still hasn’t arrived, I grab Mum’s mobile phone and set off again for the hilltop.

  When I get to the rock, I sit back, panting, and admire the view. I feel like a queen, gazing down on my queendom. I pick up a stick that is lying beside the rock and wave it in the air, pretending it’s a royal staff. Then I declare, ‘Merry Christmas to all my loyal subjects.’ Mixing up fairy godmothers with queens, and staffs with wands, I add, ‘I hereby grant all of you one wish.’

  I close my eyes and make my wish. Suddenly there is a rustling sound behind me.

  I spin around. ‘Dad?’

  But my magic has not worked. Shelly is there instead. I feel silly.

  ‘Is that your Christmas present, Read It and Weep?’ She takes the stick from me and examines it. ‘I know these freaks are into natural stuff, but surely your mum could have got you a pink one with a star on the end.’

  I grab it back off her.

  ‘Hey, it works though,’ Shelly says. ‘I’m here!’

  ‘What?’ I grumble, not looking at her.

  ‘Well, isn’t that what you wished for? A beautiful, talented, amazing, fun friend to hang out with? I saw you leaving and followed you up here.’

  I can’t help but laugh. ‘Yeah, I suppose I did wish for something like that,’ I say.

  I can’t work out why Shelly is spending so much time with me. Then I realise I haven’t seen any other kids our age around the caravan park. Shelly must have decided that hanging out with me is better than being on her own all summer.

  ‘Do you want to see an ancient cave?’ Shelly asks.

  I hesitate.

  ‘Okay. Phone your dad first. I’ll just wait over here.’ She turns and walks to the same rock as yesterday and sits gazing out to sea.

  I scroll through Mum’s contacts until I find Dad’s mobile number and hit the call button. I wonder where he is. Is he busy driving? Is he having Christmas lunch in some truck stop on the highway?

  There is no answer after eight rings. I press the red button and end the call.

  ‘No answer?’ Shelly calls.

  ‘Eavesdropping again?’ I call back.

  ‘Not technically.’ She grins. ‘There was nothing to hear.’

  ‘He’s on the road,’ I tell her. ‘He can’t pick up. If I wait a few minutes he’ll pull over and call me back.’

  So I wait. And Shelly waits. And then I start to think Dad may have had an accident while trying to answer the phone, so I call again, just in case he’s lying in a ditch, hanging upside down by his seatbelt. I hope that he can at least reach out his little finger to press the answer button.

  After about five rings, Dad picks up. ‘Nicole?’ he says.

  ‘No, Dad, it’s me.’

  ‘Merry Christmas, Paige.’

  ‘Same to you, Dad. Where are you? How far away?’

  ‘I’m not coming, Poss.’

  I turn away from Shelly. ‘Why not?’ I whisper.

  ‘I don’t think your mum wants me there.’

  ‘Of course she does. We all do.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Poss. I just can’t come. But say Merry Christmas to your sister and your mum for me.’

  I take a deep breath and decide it’s time to tell Dad the truth. ‘But, Dad, you can’t punish them for what I did,’ I sob.

  ‘What are you talking about, Paige?’

  ‘Felicity’s party. I caused all the fuss.’

  ‘Your phone’s breaking up, Poss,’ Dad crackles. ‘What did you say?’

  ‘At Fliss’s party,’ I shout, trying to be heard over the crackling line. ‘I told everyone things I shouldn’t have told them, and then everyone got mad at each other and you got mad … and then you left.’

  But there is no reply. The signal is gone.

  ‘Dad? Dad?’ I turn and see Shelly watching me. I keep the phone pressed to my ear. ‘Oh, that’s terrible, Dad,’ I say loudly. I wait a bit, then add, ‘The poor family. Well, I guess it’s lucky that you’re working on Christmas Day. They can make the arrangements and then try to find some peace.’

  I pause and then say, ‘Well, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Merry Christmas, Dad.’ I make a big show of pressing the end-call button and placing the phone in my pocket.

  ‘Let’s go,’ I say to Shelly.

  ‘Are you sure?’ she asks, looking at my tear-stained face. ‘This cave is actually pretty scary. I think I should warn you this time.’

  ‘I’m sure!’ I say.

  What could be worse than not seeing my father on Christmas Day?

  11

  I call Dad every day we spend at Bloodstone Beach. It’s like I’m trying to make up for the five days after he left home, when I didn’t speak to him at all. Each morning I climb the hill in the blazing sun. Most of the time Shelly comes with me.

  I never get to talk to Dad for long. He always ends the call after a minute or so. He says it would be costing Mum a fortune. So in that precious minute I try to find out how my precious dad is doing. He doesn’t say much. He only talks about work.

  So I tell him about Shelly and how she has taught me to bodysurf and how she’s taken me exploring in scary sea caves. And I tell him about Felicity and her new surfie boyfriend, Jack. He
arrived after New Year with a bunch of mates and a bunch of surfboards. Their tent leaks, so Jack and his friends have spent a lot of time over at our caravan, sleeping on their air mattresses in our annexe. Instead of moping, Fliss has spent a lot of time watching Jack surf. He’s really good and he has won competitions, although I’m not sure how he can see anything with all that wavy hair hanging in his face.

  I tell Dad about the big New Year’s Eve party we had at the caravan park, and how Mum is having lessons from Reuben in how to read fortunes from people’s jewellery and objects. And when the psychic fair ends a few days after New Year, I tell him that Mum and Reuben and a few others have decided to stay on until the end of the holidays. The one thing I don’t mention again is how the drama at Felicity’s party was my fault. I know the phone was breaking up when I tried to tell him before, but I just can’t bear to bring it up any more.

  One day, towards the end of the holidays, I phone Dad and a woman answers. ‘Ian’s phone,’ she says cheerily. Dogs yip and yap in the background.

  I hang up. My hands are shaking.

  A woman? Why would a woman be answering my father’s mobile phone? Dad often tells me or Felicity to answer it for him if he is busy or too far away from it. But why would he let a strange woman answer it?

  I almost drop the phone when it rings a few seconds later. It’s Dad. Or at least the call is coming from Dad’s phone. What if it is the woman again? Who is she? I don’t want to talk to her. I just want to talk to my dad. I let the phone ring out.

  After a moment or two the phone ohms at me. That’s Mum’s text message signal. I read the message: It’s Dad. Please answer when I call in a minute.

  But a minute turns into about five and I wonder what he’s doing. Is he thinking up some story to explain who the woman is? Is he getting rid of her? Who is she?

  Ten minutes pass. He doesn’t call back. This woman must be more important and more interesting to him than I am.

  I put the phone in my pocket and follow Shelly back down the hill.