Bzzzzz.
A message.
Bzzzzz.
And another one.
Oh God.
* * *
Milo: Hey
Milo: So that was pretty weird with Sal just then, I’m sorry
Layla: All good
Layla: Have fun
Milo: She really did surprise me, I didn’t know she was coming
Milo: I don’t even know what to think
Layla: So stop thinking
Layla: And take note of Rule 6. It’s new
Layla: Reminder of how L & M can stay friends:
Layla: 1. Mind your looks. YES, THAT ONE
Layla: 2. Eye contact kept to a second or under. LOOK AWAY
Layla: 3. Skin contact. NONE
Layla: 4. Lip contact. NEVER
Layla: 5. Flirty banter. STOP IT
Layla: 6. No talking about bfs/gfs. TOO WEIRD
Layla: Safe topics: puppies, the weather, pizza versus burgers, Joe’s health-and-safety code, pimple-popping, Netflix
Milo: Got it. Thanks, Chicken Girl. So … puppies are pretty cute, hey?
Layla: Puppies > everything
Milo: Btw she’s not my gf. We broke up, remember? She’s visiting her parents
Layla: OK …
Layla: PS: Please refer to rule 6
Milo: Netflix and chill a safe topic?
Layla: RULE 5
Milo: Sorry
Milo: Good weather we’re having
Layla
‘There y’are!’ Kurt cries. ‘Quick, we’ve gotta run, babe. Now!’
‘What?’ I say, still sitting on a wooden bench outside the café. ‘Why?’
Kurt grabs my hand and drags me through the car park. When we reach my car, Ryan is already in the driver’s seat with the motor running. Kurt hurls open the front passenger door and nudges me in, before throwing himself onto the back seat. Ryan checks the rear-view mirror, then tears away, narrowly missing hitting a van.
I struggle with my seatbelt as Kurt and Ryan cheer. ‘What’s going on?’
Ryan howls with laughter as he slaps the steering wheel. ‘That was close, man. Few minutes more and you’da been busted for sure.’
I scowl at Kurt. ‘For what? What did you do?’
‘It’s more what we didn’t do.’ He holds up the bill.
My mind races. ‘Turn the car around right now. We have to go back and pay.’
‘It’s fine,’ Ryan says, winding down his window. ‘They won’t even care.’
‘I want to be able to show my face in this town. Go back.’
Kurt shrugs — whatever — and looks out the window.
I slump in my seat, feeling suffocated, wishing I was anywhere but here, with anyone but him.
I hunt around the car for my sunnies, partly to block out the glare, partly to block out everyone and everything. They aren’t in the glovebox with my lip glosses, or in the side compartment with old junk mail. Sighing, I check the armrest between the driver and passenger seat. There’s no sign of them on top, so I rummage through to see if they’ve fallen down the side.
Kurt blurts something from the back seat, but it’s too late to distract me. I’ve already seen it.
A zip-locked bag filled with rainbow pills.
I hurl the bag at him.
‘Shit, it’s a mate’s, babe!’ he says, waving it in the air. ‘I dunno how it got in ya car. I swear.’
‘You told me you’d never touch that stuff.’
‘Believe me. I’m done.’
‘Which is it?’ My voice is sharp. ‘“A mate’s” or “you’re done”?’
‘Ya getting me all confused. Just trust me, babe.’
‘God, I can’t … how can I? And you shouldn’t trust me either.’
‘What?’
I take a breath. ‘I can’t do this any more.’
Kurt rolls his eyes. ‘Babe, come on, you’re overreacting. It’s just a little —’
‘No! It’s not. This is too much. I … no. I’ll move out, okay? Just … just give me a week to sort something.’
‘You’re seriously doing this? Now?’ There’s not a trace of softness left in his voice.
My fists tighten in my lap. ‘Yeah. One of us can sleep on the couch while we —’
‘I’m not sleeping on the couch again.’ His jaw clenches. ‘You’re making a huge mistake.’
Ryan keeps driving, and turns up the radio while Kurt and I argue about lies and broken promises and every stupid thing we’ve ever done to each other. We scream until my throat burns.
* * *
Milo: Hey, friend. How was the rest of your day?
Layla: Just friggin’ peachy, friend
Milo: Nice
Milo: Sweet dreams, friend
Layla: Slippery slope, friend
Milo: Dear Miss Montgomery, I hope you have adequate sleep tonight and feel well-rested on Sunday morning. Regards, your friend, Mr Dark
Layla: Better
Milo: That’s what friends are for
Layla: Cluck you
Milo
Sal steps onto her tippy-toes as she strains to look through my bedroom window and the pitch-black into the Perkinses’ backyard.
‘That’s where she lived?’ She turns to face me. I’m leaning in the doorway. I’ve been there for a while. ‘Just there?’
‘Yeah. She, um, left when her mum passed away.’
‘That’s awful. It sounds kind of familiar but you’ve never mentioned any of this to me.’
‘Really? I guess, we had neighbours … and then we didn’t.’
Sal nods.
‘Like, I don’t know anything about your neighbours,’ I say, feeling the need to explain myself. ‘Well, except that guy who always steals your mum’s newspaper.’
‘Mr Ridge isn’t a pretty eighteen-year-old girl,’ Sal says, plonking back down on my bed. ‘Are you planning on coming anywhere near me today?’
‘Sure.’ I sit down next to her. My head feels heavy, swollen, like someone has stuffed wet sand into every crevice of my brain. I edge myself back against the wall. ‘Sal, I need to tell you something.’
‘You like her. I know.’ She says it in a calm tone, as if she’s listing grocery items she needs to pick up from the shops.
‘What? No.’
‘I saw the texts. You and Layla.’
I feel my breath quickening. ‘You what?’
‘When you were packing the dishwasher. Sorry, your phone kept buzzing.’
‘No, but … they’re nothing. We’re just joking around.’
Sal smirks. ‘Look, lie to me about whatever is going on there — that’s fine. But don’t lie to yourself.’
I swallow hard, searching for the right words.
‘Milo, you don’t have to tell me … things happen. That’s kinda the point of being broken up, right?’
‘So did you and that guy …?’
‘Who? Woody?’ She rolls her eyes. ‘Guys and girls can just be friends.’ She glances back at the treehouse. ‘Although now it’s clear why you stopped trusting me — you had a little friend on the side. Classy.’
‘Sal,’ I say, my finger tracing the tattoo on her wrist. ‘Nothing happened while we were together, I swear. Jesus, nothing’s happening anyway. It’s not.’
‘Milo,’ she says. ‘It’s fine.’ She sighs, leaning in so we’re forehead to forehead. ‘I don’t know how to say this next part, but I’m okay with this. All of this. Aren’t you?’
I want to say yes, but it sounds so final. So awful.
‘You’re going to explode one day if you keep holding everything in.’ She edges closer so our knees scrape together. ‘I know you know what I mean.’
‘Why’d you come here if you’re so okay with it?’
‘I had to make sure. You told me you loved me and I told you I loved you, and … well, everyone was screaming in my head to make this work, you know?’
Far out. I know. ‘Yeah.’
‘We had this lif
e mapped out, this plan … but it just stopped feeling right.’
I manage to nod.
‘Then I saw the way you looked at her … I should’ve been sick with jealousy. But all I felt was nothing. Like, nothing.’
I clear my throat.
‘Sorry, that came out wrong. I felt something, I did … but … but not enough.’
Ah, man. Same. Shit. Same.
‘So we’re doing this?’ I ask.
‘I think we’ve already done it.’ She bites her lip. ‘You’ll always be my first.’
‘Lucky you,’ I say, forcing a laugh to try to break the tension. ‘And I guess I can say the same about you.’
She cracks a smile. ‘You can.’
We drift into silence again, Sal staring at the stain on the carpet where she spilled orange juice during an argument a year ago, me staring at the alarm clock. After a while, she announces she’s leaving so I walk her down the driveway to her car, knowing Mum is standing in the kitchen, elbow-deep in soapy water, squinting through the window as it all plays out.
Sal and I don’t bother with any more talking. We hug, we mumble, ‘I’ll miss you’, but neither of us promises to stay in touch.
* * *
Dad pokes his head into my room. ‘Knock, knock,’ he says, not bothering to actually knock.
I take out an earphone in anticipation for the lecture ahead.
‘Free for a chinwag? It’s been a few days since we’ve had a yarn about your plans. Kettle’s on.’
‘Er, thanks, Dad.’ There’s no easy way out of this. ‘Can we raincheck? My head kinda hurts.’
‘Right. Sal. Your mother told me.’
‘Yeah … Sal.’ And every other aspect of my life, but Dad already has enough reasons to think I’m hopeless.
‘It’s just,’ he starts, clicking his tongue as he leans against my wardrobe, ‘I looked it up and you need to get cracking with your uni applications.’
‘I know. I’m getting to it.’
He nods. ‘And, ah, by the way, Peter rang earlier —’
‘Who?’
‘Peter. Peter Newbins. Pay attention, Milo. He reckons he can swing us a good deal on the Robinsons’ place, exclusive for us — for you, as a starter home. Trent, too. The four of us, together. Your mother and I would help you boys out financially at the start to get things moving. It’d be perfect.’
Jesus. ‘Dad, I don’t think —’
‘Why not? I’m working with what I’ve got here.’
I swallow. ‘That house is your dream, not mine. And definitely not Trent’s.’
‘Then get your act together, Milo, and get those applications done. I’ve had it with the waiting.’
‘I’m trying. I’m working my arse off. But I don’t want that house. I don’t want something that just seems convenient.’
‘Watch your tone.’
My heart rate quickens. ‘I am taking this seriously — I promised you I would. I’ll study once I work out what I want to do. Maybe computer science, maybe not. Or travel the world, or learn how to be a photographer, or volunteer somewhere, or, I dunno, take Japanese lessons or move to Japan … who knows?’
‘Who knows? Yeah, who bloody knows.’
‘Whatever it is, I want to care about it and I want to get there on my own. It’s the reason I’m here, saving money, with no friends, no life … I’m trying to pull it together. Like you said.’
‘Oh, give me a break,’ Dad says, his voice low and angry. ‘Photography? Japan? I expect this sort of navel-gazing and slacking off from your brother, but not from you. Are you applying for uni or not? No more of this wishy-washy crap, Milo. I want a straight answer.’
I look at my feet, but can still feel Dad’s eyes boring into the top of my head. I give a small nod.
‘Good. Because if you go any slower working out what your next step is, you’re gonna start falling backwards. And your mum and I won’t be there to catch you.’
* * *
Milo: Any chance I’m adopted?
Layla: Huh?
Milo: Dad’s doing my head in
Layla: OMG don’t even TRY to challenge me to a dad-off (But hope you’re OK?)
Layla: PS: You’re up late, grandpa
Milo: I’m fine. Just can’t sleep. What’s up with you?
Layla: Watching a doco on Netflix
Layla: Did you know oysters change their gender at least once in their lifetime?
Milo: Nup
Milo: But I know seahorses mate for life
Layla: Like, ONE seahorse forever? That’s it?
Layla: Seriously, no other seahorses?!
Milo: Apparently
Layla: Better than black widows. They eat their booty calls
Milo: Ha! You’re basically David Attenborough right now
Layla: Who?
Layla: Hey, MD, you still up?
Milo: Now I am
Layla: DUUUUUDE
Milo: Rule 5
Layla: My bad, sorry
Layla: Not sure if this is against the rules to tell you, but Kurt and I broke up
Milo: What? When? You alright?
Layla: Before. I will be. Gotta move out soon tho (obvs)
Milo: There’s a room here
Layla: Perve! (But thanks)
Milo: A spare one, I mean! It’s here if you’re stuck. Mum’d love it
Layla: ‘Mum’, hey?
Layla: Wanna catch up soon? (AS FRIENDS)
Milo: Sure (AS FRIENDS)
Layla: I was thinking at the treehouse
Milo: Why there?
Layla: It’s on my list. Pants are compulsory
Milo: Is that now a rule? 7?
Layla: Yep. How’s Thursday?
Milo: Cool. 5.30’s good at mine. Night
Layla: It’s technically morning now
Milo: Then morning, Layla Montgomery
Layla: Morning, Milo Dark
Layla
Knock, knock.
I tap my foot as I wait at the Darks’ front door, cringing at the sign hanging there: Families are like fudge — mostly sweet with a few nuts.
No-one answers.
I check my phone. It’s now 5.45 pm and I don’t have any missed texts or calls from Milo. I plop down on the steps and rest the tub of gelato on my knees. It’s starting to sweat, sending droplets of water down my legs and onto the concrete.
‘Lovely day, isn’t it?’ calls an elderly man hobbling along the footpath with a tiny dog. He’s the fifth person to spark a conversation with me since I arrived.
‘Perfect,’ I call back.
Friendliness from strangers is one of the biggest differences between Durnan and the city — well, Durnan and most places I’ve lived. Everyone’s up for a chat here. I’ve already spoken with four other people in the fifteen minutes I’ve been waiting: a cheerful mum pushing her baby in a pram, two kids on bikes handing out supermarket catalogues, and the woman who showed up to mow my old backyard.
So much for hanging out in the treehouse today.
Alone with my thoughts on the step, I have enough mental space to contemplate the idea of being squashed in a treehouse with Milo. Maybe him not turning up is the best outcome.
Because me and Milo.
Both single.
Alone in a tiny space.
Oh God.
If we survive without breaking any of the rules, we’ll deserve a gold medal.
* * *
Layla: You’re late and I have gelato
Layla: Hey, jerkface! Coming? PS: A lady’s mowing my old backyard. Roar!
Milo: Sorry, Dad’s bailed me up at work. That sucks
Layla: I’m here — should I go?
Milo: Didn’t realise how late it was! No, don’t. Give me 10?
Milo: Actually, 20
Layla: C’MON
Milo: ASAP, promise
Milo: Key’s behind the pot plant
Layla: I’m eating ALL the gelato without you
***
I lick my f
ingers, sucking the last of the gelato out from under my thumbnail. Dragging myself from the couch in the living room, I wander over to a cabinet. It’s covered with photos in matching white frames: the Darks smiling at Christmas, the Darks smiling in a garden, the Darks smiling at Sea World, the Darks being the perfect smiling Durnan family.
‘Monty Burns! Didn’t know you were visiting me today.’
I turn to see Trent standing behind me. He’s flushed, and wearing a singlet and shorts with a towel draped around his neck.
‘Trenticles. Didn’t hear you come in.’
‘Back door,’ he says, gesturing down the hall. ‘You breaking in or what? All the expensive stuff’s in the folks’ bedroom.’
I smile. ‘Oh, totally. Milo’s running late but he told me to wait inside … that alright?’
‘Yeah, course. Always. How’s Kurt by the way? Saw him at a party the other night.’
‘We broke up so he’s …’ I shrug. ‘I have no idea.’
‘Ah, sorry. Didn’t know.’
Clearing my throat, I return to looking at the photos. Trent edges over. I can smell his muskiness.
‘Talbingo?’ He laughs and snatches up a shot of the Darks smiling by a lake. ‘Isn’t that where you confessed your love to me once? At the cabins?’
‘No.’ I snatch it back.
Trent grins. ‘I reckon I still have the letter you wrote me. Filthy it was too.’
I laugh. ‘Dream on.’
‘Deny it all you want. I think you’re still angry I turned you down for Valerie Rhodes. Biggest mistake of my life.’
‘Shut up.’
‘As you wish.’ He pauses. ‘But, ah, has Milo confessed his relentless thirst for you yet?’
‘I said shut up. We’re friends.’
‘You two are as in denial as each other.’ He smirks. ‘Anyway, I’m jumping in the shower. Big workout today. Huge. Make yourself comfy, Montgomery.’
He goes out, leaving behind the stench of sweaty armpits.
* * *
Layla: Save me! Trent’s talking about his HUGE workout
Milo: Ha! Run! I’m about 5 away
Milo: This bus is taking forever
Milo: Save me any gelato, Chicken Girl?
Milo: You ate it all, didn’t you?
* * *
I kick off my thongs and help myself to chopped-up mango in the fridge, before lying on the Darks’ couch again. It’s like it’s ten years ago and Mum’s in the next room playing cards with Jen.
Remind Me How This Ends Page 15
