Don't Forget Me

by Victoria Stevens

  She had her doubts about that.

  15

  The following week, Hazel met Luca on Monday and Thursday at the stadium, and each evening he ran his ten laps of the track. It was clear that Hazel’s presence wasn’t necessary—the only thing she did was call out his times from a stopwatch—but she didn’t mind just being there for moral support if that’s what Luca needed. They quickly figured that the average time it took him to complete the laps now was roughly sixteen and a half minutes. Hazel didn’t know whether to be daunted by the number or encouraged, but at least he was running, and it seemed to make him feel better. When he was on the track his anger was in check and he seemed less … agitated.

  * * *

  Friday was the night of what Hunter had spent the entire week referring to excitedly as “the biggest party of the year,” which Kayla, from their grade at Finchwood, was throwing to celebrate the beginning of the half-term break. For some reason, Hazel had been invited too, and Maddie was determined that she should experience her first Australian party. Hazel didn’t have the heart to tell her it was her first party ever.

  It was tradition, apparently, for them to eat out at a restaurant in town before a party—even Luca came for the dinner part and then afterward usually went home or went out somewhere by himself because he, unsurprisingly, abhorred parties as much as he abhorred any event that required social interaction. Tonight was no exception.

  They had decided to go to the Anchor. Hazel hadn’t been since her first day in Australia. The hostess showed them to a round table in the corner with a decent view of the sea, and Hazel sat down opposite the window, safely nestled between Red and Maddie. When their waitress came to take their order, Hazel chose the grilled barramundi again, hoping she would be able to appreciate it more now that she wasn’t feeling sick with nerves. The conversation around the table was light and easy. It was nice, everyone being together.

  After they’d eaten and paid the check—complete with a huge discount courtesy of Graham—they split up. The boys took a taxi back to Red’s house, and the girls caught a bus to Maddie’s. She had insisted on lending Hazel a dress and doing her hair and makeup. By the time they were ready to leave for the party, Hazel looked like an entirely different person. Her hair was out of its usual braid and hung loose around her shoulders, and Maddie had painted Hazel’s lips a soft coral to match her heels. Her outfit was nothing like what she was used to wearing, but Hazel liked it.

  Kayla’s house was already crowded by the time they got there just after eight o’clock. The pathway to her front door was lit with fairy lights that twinkled in the darkness and there were people spilling out the door and into the front garden. Hazel followed Maddie wordlessly through the crowd and into the entranceway, her heart thudding in time with the heavy bass blaring out of the speakers somewhere farther inside the house.

  They made their way to the kitchen to get something to drink and found Hunter and Red sitting around the table playing a game of Arrogance.

  “Hazel-from-England!” Hunter cried at the same time that Red said, “There you are!”

  “Here I am,” Hazel said with a laugh, sliding into the seat beside Red. He was wearing a burgundy top that made his skin look even paler than usual, his eyes even darker. “Have you guys been drinking?”

  “That was my fault,” Red said. “I found Mum’s sherry and we had a few shots.”

  “Sounds … dangerous.”

  He nodded gravely. “Totally dangerous and totally manly. You look nice, by the way.”

  “Thanks. You too.”

  He sipped his drink. “I brought Luca.”

  “You did? How’d you get him to come?”

  “Well,” Red said, “let’s just say I’m not above blackmail if it gets him to act like a normal teenager.”

  “Where is he?”

  “Who knows. We lost him pretty quickly.”

  Red’s gaze slid over to a boy in the corner of the kitchen with bright blond hair, and then back to Hazel. She raised an eyebrow, and when he realized he’d been caught out, Red’s face flooded with color.

  “Friend of yours?” she asked under her breath.

  “Not yet. But I think we had a moment on the stairs earlier.”

  “Well, he keeps looking over this way.”

  “Really?” he said.

  “Really. You should go talk to him.”

  Red just shrugged. “Maybe later.”

  Hazel bumped his shoulder with hers and turned her attention back to the others. As Hunter shuffled the cards, Maddie explained the rules of Arrogance. It was the first time Hazel had played a drinking game, but she picked it up easily enough. They played until everyone had finished their drinks, Hazel sipping carefully on the drink Red had poured her as she got used to the slightly bitter aftertaste. Then they refilled them from the bottles on the counter and moved into the front room where the music was loudest. The room was packed full of people dancing, and the four of them worked their way through the crowd to an empty sofa in the corner.

  Hazel stayed glued to Red’s side for the next hour or so until Maddie pulled him away to dance with her. Then she and Hunter chatted happily for a while, about school and his latest failed attempt at cricket.

  “Hey, I’m going to find the bathroom,” he said eventually, voice raised over the music. “Are you okay here?”

  “I think I’ll go get another drink,” Hazel said. “Do you want anything?”

  Hunter shook his head, squeezing her arm. “I’m good, thanks. Catch you in a bit!”

  Hazel followed him out of the room and headed toward the kitchen. It was almost as busy as the living room, and she had to weave through the crowd to get to the counter filled with drinks. She settled on a bottle of something pink. When she arrived back in the living room, Hunter hadn’t returned to the sofa, and Red and Maddie were no longer dancing.

  Hazel looked for them in another room and then in the kitchen. Nothing. Her head began to swim and she couldn’t tell if it was panic or the drinks. She yanked the back door open to get some air and stepped out onto the patio. She shut the door behind her, shut out the people and the noise, and took a few big breaths, in and out, until she felt a little calmer.

  “Hazel,” someone said from behind her. She whirled around. Luca was sitting on a low wall off to the side, hands wrapped tight around the neck of a beer bottle.

  “Oh, hi,” she said hastily. “I didn’t mean to—”

  “No, no. Don’t go.” He patted the wall beside him. “Stay. Please stay.”

  Hazel hesitated but made her way over anyway. She glanced sideways at him. He was looking at her, mouth curving upward into a sleepy, hazy smile. Hazel couldn’t remember ever seeing him smile before. She wondered how long he’d been out here on his own.

  “Thanks for staying,” he murmured, eyes falling shut.

  “Are you okay?”

  “M’great. Can’t you tell?”

  He was slurring his words, stumbling over them until they began to blend into something almost incomprehensible.

  “Hey, Luca?” she tried again.

  His eyes flew open, focusing on her blearily. “Hmm?”

  “Are you sure you’re all right? Do you want me to get Red?”

  “Red?”

  “Your brother?”

  “Ha!” He snorted. “Fuck off.”

  She stood abruptly from the wall. “Fine, I will.”

  “Wait!” He grabbed hold of her arm, pulled her back down onto the wall beside him. “Wait. I’m sorry. Didn’t mean it.”

  Hazel’s mouth was set in a tight line. “Sure about that?”

  He looked up at her with woeful brown eyes. “You don’t like me, do you?”

  “Look,” she started, “I hardly know you—”

  “No one knows me.” He cut her off. “But you’re still trying to help.”

  An awkward silence settled over them. He was still looking at her, too closely, too intensely, his eyes glazed.

  “Don’
t know why Red cares so much about me being here,” he said then. “When he disappears on me.”

  Her forehead creased. “He just wants you to be happy.”

  “No, he wants me where he can keep an eye on me,” Luca argued.

  Hazel thought that was probably true. She should go and find him and let him know that she’d located his brother. “Well, I really need to—”

  “What are you drinking?” Luca asked, leaning forward to study the bottle she had balanced on her knee.

  She looked down at the bottle, momentarily distracted. It was pink and tasted sweet, but beyond that, she didn’t have a clue because she’d never drunk alcohol before tonight. She held it up to him so he could examine the label. “No idea. You tell me.”

  Luca squinted at it, brow furrowed. “Smirnoff Ice,” he decided finally.

  “What’s that?”

  He looked at her as if he was trying to figure out if she was being serious. “Well, it’s a vodka mix, I guess.” He shrugged. “Raspberry flavor.”

  Hazel made a face. “You’re joking. It’s supposed to taste like raspberries?”

  “That’s why you stick with beer,” he said, grinning. “Beer is reliable. Drinking Smirnoff’s like drinking liquid candy, you know?”

  She didn’t know, but she nodded anyway to placate him. He swayed again, this time dangerously close to falling off the wall. Instinctively, Hazel’s arm shot out to steady him. It was weird, seeing him so relaxed and chatty when she was used to him being so withdrawn.

  Once Luca regained his balance, he smiled up at her. “Ryan says alcopops are for wimps,” he told her then.

  “Ryan?”

  “My best friend.”

  “Oh.” She frowned down at her drink. “I don’t think I’ve met him yet.”

  “Course you haven’t. Never will.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because he’s dead, isn’t he?”

  “He’s what?”

  “He’s dead. Ryan’s dead. He died last year. Back in Sydney.”

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. This was it, this was why Luca was the way he was. “I didn’t know that.”

  “No one does. No one knows.”

  “I really am sorry, Luca.”

  “No one knows,” he said again, slowly. “No one except my family. No one can know. Don’t want them to feel sorry for me. Don’t wanna be the boy with the dead best friend.”

  “Okay,” she agreed. “I understand. I won’t tell.”

  “Thank you,” he mumbled, and rested his head on her shoulder. Through the kitchen door, she spotted Red.

  “Are you sure you don’t want me to get someone?” she asked again, tearing her eyes away from Red just in time to see Luca slump forward and tumble off the wall, landing passed out on the patio beneath them.

  Dear Mum,

  I remember the time we went to the theater in London. We went to see The Lion King, and I got scared by the costumes. You let me sit on your lap for the rest of the show, and you wrapped your arms around me tight so that I wouldn’t be frightened anymore, and every time Scar came onstage you held my hand because I didn’t like him. By the second act, I was having the time of my life.

  Thank you for helping me face up to my fears, Mum, and making me stick it out. It was so worth it.

  I miss you, Mum, but I remember.

  Love,

  Hazel

  16

  The next morning, Red made his way over to Hazel’s. When she opened Graham’s front door, she looked like she’d barely slept. Her hair was a mess, and there were smudges of leftover makeup underneath her eyes.

  “Morning!” Red said cheerfully, and she broke into a smile.

  “Morning. How are you feeling?”

  He’d been a tad worse for wear at the end of the evening when the two of them had put Luca into a taxi and taken him home, but it was nothing that a good night’s sleep and a bacon sandwich couldn’t fix.

  “Not too bad,” he said. “Not as bad as Luca, anyway. He spent the entire night with his head down the toilet.”

  “Is he all right now?”

  “He’s sleeping it off.” Red shook his head. “He’s an idiot, though. He knows he can’t handle that much beer in one go and he drinks it anyway. When I saw him this morning, he said he didn’t remember much past the walk from our house to the party.”

  Hazel opened her mouth like she was going to say something, and then shut it again. “That … sucks,” she said instead.

  Red waved his hand dismissively, following her into the house. “He’ll be fine. I left him some Tylenol.”

  “You take good care of him, considering the two of you don’t get on that well.”

  “Why do you think I blackmail him into coming to parties sometimes?” he said, hating how bitter he sounded. “It’s the only time we ever talk, when he’s so drunk that he barely knows who I am and can’t remember that we even had a conversation.”

  Her face fell. “Red, that’s…”

  She didn’t finish her sentence, and he didn’t prompt her—because what could she possibly say? Red, that’s pathetic? Red, that’s terrible? He already knew that.

  “It’s okay,” he said with a smile that felt like a grimace. “I mean, it’s not, but … it will be. Hopefully.”

  Hazel just nodded in response.

  * * *

  By the time they were out in Graham’s back garden, Red’s moment of melancholy was forgotten. The sun was already high in the sky above them; it was a perfect day for being outside. Hazel sat down on the grass, and Red stretched out beside her, resting his head in the crook of his arm.

  He let his eyes wander over Hazel’s profile, studying her the way they studied the bowls of fruit in Still-Life Drawing class. Red knew that she was objectively beautiful—but only in the way that he knew flowers were beautiful. Not in any other way. Despite how much he liked everything about her—which was a lot—he wanted to kiss her roughly the same amount that he wanted to kiss one of Graham’s frangipanis.

  “Man, I love this style of house,” he said after a while. “Do you think Graham would let me paint it?”

  “Paint it? Like a different color?”

  “No.” He grinned. “Like on an easel.”

  “Hey!” she said. “You still need to show me your work, you know. Don’t think I’ve forgotten.”

  He shifted onto his elbows. “You really want to see?”

  “Of course I do.”

  “Well. If we go back to my house, I could show you some stuff…”

  Hazel nodded enthusiastically, climbing to her feet. “Let’s do it!”

  “What, now?”

  She laughed and held out her hand. “Yes, now! Let’s go!”

  * * *

  When they got to Red’s house, his mum—who had the day off from the Anchor—greeted them in the kitchen with homemade lemonade. There was no sign of Luca, but when Red asked his mum if she’d seen him, she said that he’d gone down to the beach for a swim, so he must have been feeling a little better.

  “Where are these paintings then?” Hazel asked when they’d finished their lemonade. “I know you’re stalling.”

  “Maybe I’m shy.”

  “Shy?” She laughed.

  Red didn’t mind; he knew that Red and shy weren’t exactly words that belonged together.

  “Come on,” she pressed. “I promise not to make fun of them.”

  He looked at her sideways. “Even if they’re bad?”

  “Even if they’re completely awful. Which I know they won’t be.”

  He sighed dramatically. “Fine. They’re out in the shed. I’ll show you.”

  * * *

  The shed at the bottom of the Cawleys’ garden was a carefully curated shrine to all things art. Red had spent weeks covering every inch of the inside with his work; there were watercolor paintings and pencil sketches, charcoal drawings and chalk pictures. The shelves that ran along the top of each of the walls were filled with art supplies and
stacked canvases. It was art heaven.

  “Oh my God,” Hazel breathed beside him, turning in circles to take it all in. “This is so cool.”

  Red grinned at her, watching while she moved to look more closely at some of the pictures tacked to the nearest wall. Most of them were of colorful, intricate landscapes of beaches at sunset and dawn, but there was other stuff too: architecture, wildlife, food.

  “Red,” she said softly. “These are amazing. You’re really talented.”

  Red felt his cheeks heat up. “You think?”

  “These paintings look like photos! The amount of detail is incredible. Every one of these is so beautiful—I can’t believe you kept all this to yourself!”

  He ducked his head. “Thanks.”

  “Do you ever draw people?”

  “Not usually. I hate drawing hair.”

  “But sometimes?”

  He shrugged. “Sometimes.”

  “Have you ever drawn me?”

  Red bit his lip. “Well…”

  Hazel broke into a smile. “Can I see? Please?”

  He rolled his eyes at her, but reached up onto one of the shelves and pulled down a thick, leather-bound sketchbook. The one he kept his very favorite drawings in. He flicked through the pages until he found the sketch he was looking for, and even then he scrutinized it for a long moment before finally handing it over to her.

  Hazel studied the picture carefully, her forehead creased slightly in a frown as her eyes tracked back and forth across the page. Red was pretty proud of this sketch; he knew he’d captured her delicateness almost perfectly, her curving smile, her glittering eyes framed by sweeping lashes.

  Except Hazel didn’t look particularly impressed.

  “You don’t like it,” Red said eventually. Oh God, I should’ve picked a different one. What was I thinking? This one’s utter crap.

  “No,” she said. “No, I do.”

  “But?”

  “I mean, it’s good,” she said, showing him the page. “It’s a great drawing, Red, but it doesn’t look like me. This girl is more … well. She’s just more.”