BIG SKY
The Girlfriend Fiction Series
1 My Life and Other Catastrophes Rowena Mohr
2 The Indigo Girls Penni Russon
3 She’s with the Band Georgia Clark
4 Always Mackenzie Kate Constable
5 The (not quite) Perfect Boyfriend Lili Wilkinson
6 Step Up and Dance Thalia Kalkipsakis
7 The Sweet Life Rebecca Lim
8 Cassie Barry Jonsberg
9 Bookmark Days Scot Gardner
10 Winter of Grace Kate Constable
11 Something More Mo Johnson
12 Big Sky Melaina Faranda
www.allenandunwin.com/girlfriendfiction
BIG
SKY
MELAINA FARANDA
First published in 2009
Copyright © Melaina Faranda, 2009
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or ten per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to Copyright Agency Limited (CAL) under the Act.
Allen & Unwin
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Australia
Phone (61 2) 8425 0100
Fax (61 2) 9906 2218
Email [email protected]
Web www.allenandunwin.com
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication entry:
Faranda, Melaina,
Big sky
For secondary school age.
IBSN: 978 1 74175 711 8 (pbk)
Series: Girlfriend fiction; 12
A823.4
Poetry extract from The Daylight is Dying A. B. (Banjo) Paterson
Cover photo: David Oliver/Taxi/Getty Images & Erica Wagner
Cover design by Tabitha King and Bruno Herfst
Text design by Bruno Herfst
Set in 12.5/15 pt Fournier by Midland Typesetters, Australia
Printed in Australia by McPherson’s Printing Group
10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
www.allenandunwin.com/girlfriendfiction
CONTENTS
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
ONE
‘No way. That’s so unfair!’ I screwed up the letter and hurled it at the wall.
‘Careful,’ Aria yelped, parrying it with her mascara wand. ‘Pueeeeugh! What stinks?’
‘Gran’s sprayed the letter with her CWA meeting perfume.’
I paced the strip of scuffed carpet between our narrow beds while Aria picked up the crumpled ball and wrestled with Gran’s copperplate. The tiny, shared cubicle was more claustrophobic than usual. Aria and I had hassled the SRC to campaign for bigger bedrooms, but the school preferred to spend money on fancy sculptures and plush carpet for the visitors foyer. Sometimes I dreamed about bursting through the thin partition walls and fancy brickwork and breaking free. Running until I reached the sea.
‘But you can’t go home for the holidays! They can’t make you!’ Smudged mascara made Aria look like she’d been crying. ‘You’re coming to my place. The party’s set. Everyone’s coming. Aaron Dearnly will be there.’
I thumped the wall. My brother, Damien, had taught me how to punch properly, but too long at St Anne’s had made me hit like a girl.
Ouch. Ouch. Ouch.
Aaron Dearnly was school captain at our brother school, in the First Fifteen for rugby and on the debating team. I’d had a crush on him since we’d spent an afternoon together in the library after a debating competition. It had been a typically lame topic – city life is better than country life – but afterwards Aaron had seemed interested that I came from a cattle station up in the Kimberley.
When Aria told him I’d won the All-Around Cowgirl award at the Kununurra rodeo, I’d cringed, thinking he would laugh. In my bedroom back at Bundwarra, I had a wall full of prize buckles. Down here in Perth though, it seemed so . . . hick. I could still pick a ringer fresh from a station. That wide walk, arms strapped with glossy shopping bags, narrowed eyes stinging from the big smoke.
But Aaron hadn’t laughed. Instead, he’d asked about rodeos and camp drafts and mustering, as if he was truly fascinated . . .
The end-of-term party was Aria’s grand plan for me to get a chance to talk to him again.
I snatched Gran’s letter back and re-read it. In a horrible haze of potpourri, everything I was hoping for evaporated – the party, Aaron’s ironic smile, the dimple in his square jaw . . .
‘We’ll fix it. We’ll tell them you’re not going,’ Aria insisted, screwing up her dainty nose. ‘You’ll just have to miss the plane or something. Daddy can fly you up after the party.’
I shook my head. A strand of sun-bleached hair, my one vanity, wafted across my eyes – even the Perth winter hadn’t managed to darken it. ‘I have to go.’
Gran was bossing me around again. I was going to miss out on three weeks of hanging out at Aria’s place, shopping in the city centre, being cooked for by Rosita, and sleeping on a pillow-top emperor-sized bed that could have comfortably fitted my horse!
‘But it’s all arranged. Daddy’s even getting some men to make the pontoon bigger for the band.’
‘Well, now he’ll have the perfect place to moor his monster yacht.’ I’d been out on the Sea Princess only once, when Aria’s parents had held a swanky party and they’d wanted to show off their designer-clad daughter. Once had been enough. We’d sailed out to Rottnest and while the others had eaten lobsters and lounged on deck chairs, I’d been pinned to the rail, with Aria holding my hair back as I’d emptied my guts.
‘Don’t worry,’ Aria said. ‘I’ll come up with something.’ She tilted her head so that a swing of glossy black hair hid her eyes. But I didn’t have to see that devil glint to know that she was plotting the perfect excuse – just like all the times we had been hauled up to the office to be told off. You’d think living with the same person day in, day out would get boring, but with Aria there was never a dull moment. That’s why I loved her. She was as unpredictable as a rogue bull.
‘Aria, I’m sorry. I really am. But this isn’t something I can get out of.’
‘But what about Aaron Dearnly? C’mon Skye. You’ve never even kissed a guy.’
‘Makes up for you, you hussy.’
‘No really. Don’t you feel kind of weird? You’re the only girl I know who’s never hooked up with someone.’
‘That is not true!’
We glared at each other. My hands on hips. Aria’s eyes narrowed to slits. ‘Oh what – you mean that guy at the rodeo counted? The one your brother beat up?’
Why did I ever tell her about that? I clawed at the waistband of my stupid pleated school skirt wishing for jeans and a belt to hook my thumbs through. ‘The drunk guy who stank of – what do you call those thingies?’
‘Dagwood dogs. And for your information, I’ve never met anyone who really does it for me.’
‘Apart from Aaron.’
‘Yeah, well, nothing’s going to happen there now, is it?’
Aria flew across the tiny space with
one of her fierce ferret hugs that knocked me back onto the bed. For such a petite person, and one who was dead lazy and had never had to lift a finger – let alone her own dinner plates, bedding, phone, or whatever else Rosita picked up for her – Aria’s strength never ceased to amaze me.
‘This was my gift to you. To get you guys together,’ Aria said. ‘You’d be the perfect couple.’
She meant it. Aria loved giving me things. She always seemed to magically have a spare of everything – hair straightener, MP3 player, mobile phone – and anything else that was out of date by more than four minutes. And now, she wanted to give me this too – Aaron Dearnly, all wrapped-up with a band on a pontoon and a bow on top.
The prep bell rang and I sprang up. ‘Sorry.’
‘Skye, this might be your one chance to actually kiss a guy before you leave school? The longer you leave it, the harder it’s going to get. You’ll be like this weird old spinster woman —’
‘— chewing hay stalks’
‘Yeah, that’s right – and breeding feral pigs.’
‘. . . and going to CWA meetings . . .’
‘. . . and getting even creepier about horses.’
‘Aria Mercedes Antoinette Paris Winston! You just stepped over the line.’
Beneath my laughter, a small, sneaky part of me didn’t think it was such a bad prospect to be summoned to Bundwarra for the muster. The party had seemed like a great idea, but I was uneasy about the thought of Aria flitting back and forth, checking on me and Aaron. It would be humiliating. I longed for sun and warmth and big skies again. I blew on my bruised knuckles; the pallid drizzle of a Perth winter had sapped my strength.
I stood, feet planted wide as if I were going to throw a bull. ‘I’ll take the weird spinster option. I’m going back to Bundwarra.’
Aria pouted, her naturally red lips making her look more than ever like one of the exquisite china dolls made by Mrs Rafferty from the neighbouring station. ‘Don’t be such a pushover.’
‘Aria – Dad’s leg’s broken and Gran’ll be looking after him. My family has to work hard just to stay afloat. I can’t click my fingers for cash and I can’t just chuck a tantrum and expect my parents to give me whatever I want.’
Aria’s nostrils flared, but I didn’t rush to apologise like all the other times I’d put my foot in my mouth.
From across the corridor, the second bell rang through the shabby dorms reminding us we should already be seated for prep.
Aria grabbed her schoolbooks and stormed out, leaving me alone with the stinky letter, wondering if I still had a best friend.
TWO
Finally – it’s here.’ I hefted up my duffle bag. ‘
Aria barely glanced up from her perch on the largest of her four Louis Vuitton suitcases as the airport shuttle bus pulled up at the entrance to St Anne’s. She fiddled with her phone, texting. It had been like that ever since our fight after reading Gran’s letter. My best friend had turned into a stranger. Every time I’d asked who the guy was, she’d change the subject. I hated secrets.
‘Um – hello? Aria? The shuttle bus’s arrived. I have to go. Will you be okay waiting alone for your dad’s driver?’
Aria pressed send and nodded.
‘Why doesn’t he just let you get a cab instead of making you wait. It’s the first day of holidays.’
Aria’s delicate eyebrows furrowed. ‘Daddy’s very busy.’ ‘Well, what about your mum? Why can’t she come and get you?’
Aria looked away.
I didn’t push it. When I’d stayed over at Aria’s on the occasional home weekend I’d hardly seen her parents, and Aria never seemed to want to talk about them. Unlike me. I rabbited on about my family whenever I got the opportunity. Aria knew all about Dad and Gran and Mum and Damien. Sometimes when we were bored – like when we were waiting outside the deputy’s office – she’d beg me for stories about life on Bundwarra, so I’d tell her about the time Gran found a king brown snake in the toilet, or when Damien lost his daks on a barrel race.
‘I’ll see you soon, okay. Have fun at the party for me.’ I stooped to give her a hug.
Aria didn’t bother getting up. Her arms felt limp and anaemic. As if she needed a good dose of iron. Or a good telling off about sulking.
‘I’ll miss you.’ I meant it.
‘Yeah,’ Aria said. Her phone beeped.
I helped the driver slug my bag into the lock-up trailer and then sprawled in the back seat. I slid open the window to shout goodbye.
Aria didn’t look up. She was too busy texting.
For someone who preferred good old-fashioned correspondence with real people, Gran had somehow figured how to use the internet to book my ticket using Damien’s frequent flyer points.
Perth to Broome. Broome to Kununurra. Then, finally, the mail plane, bristling with tools, packages, vet medicines and spare parts, which would drop me off like a big human parcel to Bundwarra Station.
I flicked through my magazine – as ever attracted to and dismayed by the glossy pages of winter fashions. I couldn’t afford the outfits Aria snapped up without a second thought, and while she would have willingly lent me any of her clothes, she wore a size six. The only jeans I’d be wearing at Bundwarra would be scuffed and saddle-worn. As for the winter chill: forget cute knee-highs and faux fur-collared coats – I was going to have nearly three whole weeks in the stinking heat, wearing elastic-sided R.M. Williams work boots crusted in cow dung.
Sighing, I stuffed the magazine into the seat pouch and stared through the grimy window at the stretching red earth below, wondering what Aria was doing. I tried not to feel hurt – Aria usually couldn’t keep a secret to save herself. If anything, sometimes I wished she didn’t feel compelled to tell me everything – especially at midnight before a big hockey match or a Maths exam. But in the last week she’d withdrawn from me completely, lured away by her mysterious new text buddy. Now that I couldn’t spend the school holidays at her massive Nedlands mansion, maybe she’d lost interest in me.
I couldn’t help feeling a sharp squeeze of injustice. Where was Damien when he was needed? He knew the station was struggling, but he’d chosen to play Cowboys and Indians in America. With Dad’s broken leg and Mum in Indonesia trying to set up a beef export deal, it all came down to me. I’d rung Gran to complain, but she’d given me an earful about the cost of my fancy boarding school (huh – I was on a remote education scholarship!) and how, with the mining boom, it was hard to find station hands. Bundwarra had been forced to take any comer, including backpackers. Gran had enunciated this last word with horror, but I was stoked. The muster wasn’t going to be with a whole team of crusty old ringers who’d hate taking orders from a schoolgirl!
I pressed my face against the window like a little kid. Below, red-brown plains ended abruptly as giant rock formations loomed into view. It never failed to thrill me – the blood-coloured mountains with pin-prick trees rising from parched earth dotted with clumps of spinifex. In the wet, the cliff faces would glisten with silver waterfalls, and lush green grass would spring up on the floodplains.
By the time the plane finally taxied into Kununurra and landed with a series of bone-crunching bumps, I’d almost forgotten about Aria, the party and Aaron Dearnly’s knowing blue eyes. I rolled up the magazine and stuffed it into my half-filled duffle bag. I hadn’t packed much – just a spare pair of jeans and singlets and underwear.
As the door opened, a blast of hot air wafted through the cabin. Beads of sweat instantly formed on my forehead and I pulled off my jumper. Hot clammy air kissed my bare shoulders. I stretched my arms and legs and threw my head back to the blinding blue sky. Big sky. That cramped, squeezed-in feeling I’d had in the city vanished as I breathed the vastness.
Then I spotted the most beautiful boy I had ever seen slouching towards me – Aaron who?
I flicked a gold curtain of hair over my face to hide the hot blush crawling into my cheeks. My body always betrayed me like this – my face lighting up like an em
ergency flare – whenever I was embarrassed. Through strands of hair I noticed he wasn’t much older than me. He was impossibly good-looking with smooth olive skin and almond-shaped, tawny eyes framed by thick black eyelashes that Aria would have killed for.
As he drew closer, his eyes widened.
A shiver rippled through me.
‘Skye.’
I nodded.
‘I’m Dan. I’ve been sent to tell you that Angry’s at the pub.’
Angry was the mail run pilot. A Kimberley legend, he was spectacularly crabby, and had a leathery red face that looked as if it had been slow-baked in a camp oven. Like many men in the north-west, he was fond of an Emu beer or ten.
‘We’ll be waiting a while then.’
‘Fine by me.’ His perfect features were made more human by the warmth in his eyes and a slightly crooked smile.
‘Where are you going?’ I asked. That was what we asked round here. Never: ‘Where did you come from?’ That kind of question could land you in trouble. Frontier territory attracted runaways from down south, people fleeing from a fight, a relationship bust-up, the city, another life.
‘Got work mustering on a big station. I was down on a station in the Pilbara, then someone told me about this job.’ My heart sank faster than a dropped magpie goose. I tried not to let my face fall along with it. I’d like to be on a muster with Dan. He seemed nice, not like some of the macho cowboys or hopeless, tongue-tied ringers I’d met through Damien.
Bundwarra was a small station compared to the properties owned by pastoral cooperatives. One of the stations further up was over four hundred thousand hectares. In the Kimberley people thought nothing of driving three hundred kilometres for a game of tennis or even further for a footy match. But Dan would probably be too far away for that . . . ‘What about you?’ he asked.
‘I’m helping out on a muster too, but on a small station. Just for the school holidays. Then I have to go back to Perth.’ Dan smiled. ‘Mum made me do Year 12 even though Dad said the only good thing about getting the certificate was for cutting up for the dunny. The minute I got my ticket, I took off. My grandmother’s people come from up this way. She always made it sound like paradise.’
Big Sky Page 1
