Mr. Lynch led them out of his office and into a crowded hallway filled with students hanging around in groups or getting their things out of their lockers. Once they reached the end of the hallway, Graham said a brief goodbye and Mr. Lynch took Hazel to her classroom. Outside, he introduced her to a redhead named Ashley who was to show her around for the rest of the week and make sure she settled in okay. He handed Hazel a map of the school printed in bright colors, and then wished her good luck before returning to his office.
Ashley took one look at Hazel, eyes dragging up and down her body in a way that made Hazel feel incredibly self-conscious, and sighed.
“So he asked me to do this because we have the same schedule,” she said, arms folded across her chest.
“Thank you,” said Hazel. “I appreciate it.”
Ashley let out a laugh. “Oh, don’t thank me! There’s no way I’m going to spend the week babysitting you. It’s not a big place; you’ll find your way. Right?”
Hazel blinked at her. “Well, I—”
“Right?” Ashley pressed again, and Hazel nodded hastily. Ashley broke into a dazzling smile, flipped her hair over her shoulder, and stalked into the classroom, leaving Hazel alone in the busy hallway.
* * *
Most of the desks in the room were already occupied, so Hazel made her way to a seat somewhere between the middle and the back, where she figured she could avoid any unwanted attention. She settled into her chair, slumping down to make herself as small as possible.
The teacher arrived a few minutes later, and the loud chatter in the classroom died down to a murmur. Hazel got up to hand the teacher the enrollment slip Mr. Lynch had given her, desperately praying that she wouldn’t make her introduce herself to the rest of the class. But the teacher just welcomed Hazel, said her name was Mrs. Baxter, and sent her back to her desk. Even so, Hazel could feel the students watching her as she took her seat again. She thought how unusual it must be for a student to join Finchwood halfway through the year—the school year in Australia began in January and ran through to December.
Hazel spent the rest of the morning trailing after Ashley from one class to the next with just enough distance between them that she was sure the other girl wouldn’t notice she was being followed. She thought she’d done a good job of it until the lunch bell rang and Ashley disappeared from the classroom before Hazel had a chance to gather her things. She packed her bag hastily, throwing it over her shoulder as she rushed from the room to catch up, and ran straight into someone.
“Oh God, I’m so sorry, I didn’t…”
Hazel trailed off, raising her eyes to meet Ashley’s. Ashley was standing with two friends, one hand on her hip as she glowered at Hazel.
“You,” Ashley said accusingly, stepping toward her, and Hazel took a step back, wishing the ground would swallow her up.
“Me?”
“Yes, you. New girl. Whatever your name is. Would you quit following me?”
“Sorry?”
“You’ve spent the morning trailing after me like a lost puppy.”
“Because Mr. Lynch told me that—”
“I don’t care what Lynch said, having a constant shadow is getting on my nerves!”
“I don’t want any trouble,” Hazel said, hands held up in surrender, and oh God, this was not the first day she’d had planned. She was supposed to lay low, blend in. “I just need to know where the cafeteria is.”
“Use the freaking map, then,” Ashley hissed. “I saw Lynch give you one. Or do they not teach you how to use those in England?”
“They … um. They do.”
“God, I know, it was rhetorical. What’s wrong with you?”
“Just leave it, Ash,” one of her friends said. “I’m starving.”
Ashley held Hazel’s gaze for a few seconds before finally saying, “You’re right. Let’s go.”
The three of them headed off down the hallway, in what Hazel assumed was the direction of the cafeteria. She took a moment to collect herself, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly before heading in the same direction. When she found the cafeteria, she bought a sandwich with the money Graham had given her and sat at an empty table in the far corner.
The tables around her started to fill up with loud, chattering students until every table was full except for hers. A wave of loneliness washed over her, and Hazel fought back tears. She willed the moment to pass—which, as always, it eventually did.
It’s okay, she told herself, like if she thought it enough times, it might make it true. You’re going to be okay.
* * *
Graham was waiting for her outside the school entrance at three o’clock as promised. Hazel climbed into the passenger seat beside him, overwhelmed by how relieved she was to see a familiar face.
“Hey!” he said. “How was it? Did you have a good day?”
Hazel nodded as she buckled her seat belt, fixing her eyes on the dashboard because she wasn’t sure she’d be able to meet his eyes without welling up again. It had been a long day. The afternoon hadn’t been any better than the morning, and she’d turned up ten minutes late to the first class after lunch—Psychology—because she couldn’t find her way to the right room and she was too afraid of Ashley even to attempt to follow her. She hadn’t seen Red around, and she was starting to think Graham was right—maybe it was too soon for her to start at a new school. She knew she could explain it to him, but she didn’t want to burden him with anything else. Not when her entire existence was a burden already.
He was quiet for a moment. “I know moving is hard,” he said finally. “Fitting in is hard. Especially in the middle of the school year.”
She waited for the but, for him to elaborate or offer advice, but he didn’t; he just started the car and drove them out of the parking lot.
Moving is hard, fitting in is hard. You just have to deal with it.
* * *
After Graham and Hazel ate a dinner of Indian takeout together in the living room in front of the television, Graham excused himself to finish some paperwork in his office, and Hazel headed upstairs to her bedroom to start her homework. She got most of it done, but when her vision began to blur from staring at math equations, she gave up for the night. She pulled her desk chair across the room and out onto the balcony so she could watch the waves. The moonlight was casting long shadows across the sand and painting silver lines across the water.
Hazel wondered if Red would turn up again; theirs was the first conversation she’d had since she arrived in Australia that hadn’t made her feel uneasy. From where she sat, she should be able to see anyone walking along the beach. What would she do if she did see him? Would she go down to meet him on the beach again? Was she already that lonely?
Yes.
She kept her eyes on the shoreline and focused on the quiet sound of the waves, refusing to let her mind turn to England or her mother or the big white house that was a poor substitute for a home or the stranger she was now living in it with. She waited to see if Red would show, with his easy smile and bright eyes.
At midnight she finally gave up, dragging the chair back inside and closing the door behind her.
4
Hazel caught the school bus the next morning instead of getting a ride because Graham had to go to work early. She didn’t mind; she’d known she’d have to make the journey alone eventually.
Tuesday mornings she had Modern History, followed by a free period, which she spent in the library finishing her Math homework, followed by Spanish. Still wary of the wrath of Ashley, Hazel struggled to find her classrooms, and when she did finally arrive, it was usually a few minutes after the final bell—which gave the students already there another reason to stare at her as she settled into a chair.
Rather than sit on her own in the cafeteria again at lunch, she bought a sandwich and found a bench in a quiet corner outside where she could watch people go by. Tuesday afternoon included a double session of Health/PE, which meant Hazel changed into the gym clot
hes Graham had bought her and took part in a game of cricket—a match that mainly involved her classmates goofing off and having fun around her.
Graham arrived back at the house that afternoon just after she did. For dinner, he ordered in Thai food and they ate in the living room again with the sound of the television drowning out the silence that settled over them once Graham realized she wasn’t going to engage in his cheerful attempts at a conversation. When they said good night and headed their separate ways, Hazel went straight out to her balcony and waited for Red to appear.
Once again, no matter how hard she willed otherwise, he didn’t show.
* * *
The rest of the week, Hazel rode the bus to and from school alone, sat in her classes alone, and ate her lunch on her bench alone. Evenings were a little better, because even though she and Graham didn’t have much to say to each other, he was at least there in the room with her, which she appreciated more than she knew how to vocalize. She continued to spend her nights out on her balcony looking for Red, putting off the inevitable moment she had to go to sleep.
By Friday, people had stopped staring at her so openly. She was still a mystery to them, if the occasional sideways glances were anything to go by, but she’d almost returned to her usual invisible self.
* * *
On Monday, the girl sitting at the desk in front of hers in homeroom struck up a conversation while they waited for the teacher to arrive.
“Hey!” she said as soon as Hazel sat down. “You transferred recently, right? What’s your name?”
“Hazel.”
“All the way from England!” the girl said. “Awesome accent! I’m Madison, but everyone except my mum calls me Maddie. Maddie Wynter. Like the season but with a y. How are you finding it?”
“It is a lot,” Hazel admitted.
“Didn’t Lynch assign you a settling-in buddy? He usually does that.”
“He did. Ashley. But she wasn’t … interested.”
Maddie glanced in Ashley’s direction before looking back at Hazel. “I’m not surprised. She doesn’t really care about anyone but herself.”
Hazel shrugged. “It’s okay.”
“No, it’s not. If I hadn’t been out sick, he might’ve assigned you to me—but you should definitely stick with me from now on. I won’t abandon you.”
“Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure!” Maddie said. “School sucks at the best of times, let alone when you’re on your own. You can meet Hunter, too, when he turns up.”
Just then a tall, curly-haired boy slid into the seat beside Maddie. “Who’s this, then?”
“This is Hazel,” Maddie said. “She’s from England, and she’s nice, Hunter, so don’t even try it.”
“Try what?” he said innocently.
“He flirts with everything that moves,” she explained to Hazel.
“I do not!” he said. “I don’t, Hazel, I promise. She’s just jealous I never try it with her.”
“Right.” Maddie snorted. “That’s exactly it. I’m so, so in love with you, Hunter Emery. You are the light of my life, my sun, my moon, etcetera.”
Hunter reached over to pat her sympathetically on the arm. “I know I am, babe. I’m the light of everyone’s life.”
Hazel hid her smile behind her bag. They seemed so nice—maybe being invisible wasn’t what she needed after all.
* * *
After homeroom, the three of them went their separate ways for class, but they arranged to meet for lunch behind the main building at Hunter and Maddie’s usual shady spot on the lawn beneath a blue gum tree. Then, at the end of the day, they both got on Hazel’s bus home, even though it meant a longer walk to their houses. They didn’t seem to mind that Hazel didn’t say much, content to bicker back and forth between themselves. Hazel thought there must’ve been people like Maddie and Hunter back in England, relaxed and easygoing, but if there were she’d never met them.
Then again, there hadn’t been time to make friends.
When Hazel got home Graham was still at work, so the house was empty. She let herself in with the spare key from under the doormat, which felt weird—almost wrong, like she was breaking into someone else’s home. She supposed she was, in a way. How long would it take for her to feel as if she wasn’t trespassing on Graham’s life? To adjust to their awkward, one-sided conversations. She stood in the middle of the kitchen, overwhelmed by homesickness.
Temporary, she reminded herself. This is only temporary.
When Graham called to check in, Hazel was on the sofa reading the book her English teacher had assigned.
“Hazel, it’s me,” he said. “I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner; work’s been a nightmare. Two of our waitresses called in sick. Is everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.”
“Are you hungry? I’m going to be here for a while, but I think there’s a pizza in the freezer. Or the numbers for takeout are on the fridge if you prefer; just give them my name and I’ll sort the money out later.” He paused. “Is that okay?”
“It’s fine,” she assured him.
“I’ll be home as soon as I can.”
Hazel wanted to tell him not to rush back on her account, that she was used to being alone and was more than capable of looking after herself, but instead she hung up the phone and went searching for the pizza. Graham’s fridge was surprisingly empty for someone who was a chef. There were just some cans of beer and a bottle of barbecue sauce—and a lone pizza in the bottom drawer of the freezer. Hazel shook her head in amusement, unwrapped it, and threw it in the oven.
* * *
It was past nine by the time Graham got home. He came upstairs and knocked on her door. “Hey,” he said. “Good day at school?”
She thought he looked tired, even more so than usual. “Yes, thanks.”
“The television’s on downstairs if you want to join me.”
“I think I’ll have an early night, if that’s okay.”
“Sure.”
He hovered in the doorway, half-in and half-out. “You’re doing really well, Hazel. She would be so proud.”
Hazel said nothing, her throat suddenly tight. She wished he would leave without saying another word.
“I just … It will get easier, you know?” he continued. “It really will. One morning you’ll wake up and it won’t be the first thing you think about.”
Graham left the room, shutting the door behind him. One morning you’ll wake up and it won’t be the first thing you think about. Hazel didn’t know whether that thought was comforting or terrifying.
5
It had been a long time since mealtimes in Red Cawley’s household had resembled something conventional. It was hard to maintain the façade of normalcy when it was just Red and his mum, Claire, sitting around the kitchen table, the empty chairs a reminder of the family they’d once been—four down to two.
Conversations with his mum were always nice enough, but Red knew both of them were secretly relieved when the dishes were loaded into the dishwasher, and Claire could disappear into her office and Red into his bedroom for the rest of the evening. Sometimes, though, shutting himself away wasn’t enough and he had to get out of the house; on those evenings, he climbed out his bedroom window and went down to the garden, ducked through a hole in the hedge at the bottom and out onto the beach beyond. On nights like tonight, when the tide was low enough, he could walk along the entire stretch of beach without ever getting his feet wet, using a flashlight to guide the way.
At just after ten, Red grabbed his drawstring bag and made his way barefoot across the sand, his camera around his neck. The sky was clear and full of bright stars. It was the first thing he had noticed the first night they spent in their new house back in February, that the stars were so much brighter here than in Sydney, and it wasn’t a consolation, exactly, for being uprooted from his old life, but he definitely clung to it when the nights were long and the house was lonely.
It had been over a week
since he’d ventured this far up the shore. He’d meant to come sooner, hoping to see Hazel again, but he’d been busy with schoolwork. Red arrived at the stretch of beach where he’d met her the last time, and crouched down to clear a space just at the edge of the undergrowth. He settled cross-legged on the sand, and emptied his drawstring bag out onto the ground, using his flashlight to illuminate the contents: colored and graphite pencils, his trusty sketch pad, and a banana for emergency sustenance.
He buried the flashlight in the sand so its beam lit up his page, and then chewed absentmindedly on the end of one of the pencils as he studied his most recent drawing. It was only half-finished, a sketch of the beach at sunset. He hunched over the paper, shading in the skyline and adding texture to the rolling waves.
Red was almost done when the soft thud of footsteps on the sand made him look up, his eyes settling on Hazel making her way toward him. He put his sketch pad back in his bag and said, “Hey, stranger!”
“Don’t you have a house of your own to sit outside of?” she said when she got close.
“The view of the sea isn’t as good from the other end of the beach.”
“Doesn’t it look the same wherever you stand?”
“Spoken like a true amateur! What are you doing out here, anyway? It’s late.”
Hazel lowered herself to the ground beside him. “Couldn’t sleep.”
“Well, it can’t be jet lag this time. What is it? Insomnia?”
She shrugged and dug her hands into the sand in front of her. “What about you?” she asked without looking up.
“Me? I’m just enjoying the night air. How have you been, Hazel-from-England?”
“Homework is keeping me busy.”
“Lucky you. Which school are you going to?”
“Finchwood?”
“Awesome!” he said. “It’s a good place; I know a bunch of people who go there.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.” Red was about to explain why but thought better of it. “Are you enjoying it?”
“Well, it’s school, so…”
Red let out a burst of laughter, and she ducked her head. He could just about see the pleased pink flush on her cheeks through the near-darkness.
Don't Forget Me Page 2
