‘What about—’
I put my hand up. ‘No other exceptions.’
‘Alright. I won’t kill anymore.’
Not long after our conversation she stopped going to the psychiatrist. Sally and David said she’d made progress. She admitted she’d killed the ants.
I didn’t catch her killing anything but mosquitoes after that. Though I sometimes found her with dead things. A rat, a sparrow. They were dead before she poked them with sticks, which was disturbing, but I could tell myself she was being curious.
Then there was Apinya’s guinea pig.
Apinya was two years younger than Rosa and lived in the apartment next door to us in Bangkok. She was thrilled a big girl like Rosa would play with her. Even more thrilled when Rosa told her that they were best friends. They were the only kids on our floor. Apinya would do anything Rosa told her to do.
I blamed myself. If I’d made more of an effort to learn Thai…but I’m not good at languages. Not like Rosa, who was fluent within minutes. Besides, Thai is ridiculously hard to learn. My tone would go up when it should go down. I didn’t learn much beyond hello, goodbye, thank you, and how to press my hands together in prayer position to be respectful.
I heard Rosa call out. It sounded like my name. I walked into her bedroom. Apinya was pushing a pillow into the floor.
‘What did you…’ I began.
Rosa said, ‘Hi, Che.’
Why was Apinya struggling with a pillow?
Rosa murmured something encouraging to her. I took in the empty cage on the floor beside them. Rosa looked directly at me and grinned. I lunged for the pillow.
Too late.
Under the pillow was the supine body of Apinya’s guinea pig. It wasn’t moving.
The word monster slid past my lips before I could stop it. I felt sick. Rosa had promised not to kill. She hadn’t; Apinya had.
Apinya’s eyes were full of tears. She looked to Rosa for approval and Rosa nodded.
I couldn’t speak.
Rosa put the guinea pig back in the cage.
The doorbell rang. Rosa ran to get it. It was Apinya’s father, home from work. Apinya burst into tears. Rosa looked sad.
Sally and David emerged from their office. Rosa joined Apinya in tears. The parentals comforted her.
I retreated to my room, sat on my bed, stared at nothing.
They would have cancelled their dinner that night, but they were dining with an investor, and cancelling wouldn’t look right. Rosa’s tears didn’t sway them.
It was just me and Rosa.
I reheated spaghetti bolognese – Rosa’s favourite. I needed to extract another promise. One without loopholes.
She’d never made someone else kill. She’d never killed anything as big as a guinea pig. She was scaling up.
‘Why did Apinya kill her guinea pig?’ I asked, knowing exactly why.
Rosa spooned pasta into her mouth and chewed, making sure she chewed fifty times. Sally taught Rosa to do that when she was little to stop her gulping down her meals. It worked. Rosa likes rules. She likes to use them to mess with others.
I put my fork down.
‘Because I wanted to see if she would do it.’
‘How did you feel when she did it?’
‘Good.’
‘You know it was wrong, Rosa.’
‘Her parents will buy her another one.’
‘You made her kill something she loved.’
‘If she loved it she wouldn’t have killed it.’
‘Maybe she loves you more than she loves her guinea pig.’
‘Then that’s her problem. She should have better priorities.’ That was something Uncle Saul would have said. ‘She should value life.’
‘The way you value life? You’re the one who told her to kill it.’
‘I didn’t think she’d do it.’
‘You’re the one with the power, Rosa. Apinya’s younger than you. She admires you. You made it hard for her to disobey. You know that’s wrong.’
Rosa put more spaghetti into her mouth and began her million-chew count.
I knew she didn’t care. How could I make her care? I thought about telling Sally and David what I feared. But they only saw sunny Rosa. The minute they walked out the door the smile vanished from her face. Were it not for her eyes she would look blank.
‘Her doing what I wanted felt good.’
‘Did it make you want to do that again?’ I asked, half hoping she would lie to me.
‘Yes.’
‘Will you do it again?’
She put more spag bol in her mouth.
She was enjoying dragging this out. She liked telling me the truth. There was no one else she could tell.
‘I liked watching Apinya fight her tears. I liked seeing her hands tremble as she put the pillow over it. It took her five goes. She was trying to do it one-handed. Silly, really. Animals fight hard to live. Did you see where it scratched her?’
‘Was that what Apinya called her pet? It?’
‘No. She called it Kitty. She thought that was funny.’
‘The way you think it’s funny Kitty scratched her?’
‘I didn’t say it was funny. But it was interesting watching it fight to live.’
‘I want you to promise not to make anyone kill anything.’
The last forkful of spaghetti entered her mouth.
What if she wouldn’t promise?
What would I tell Sally and David?
Would I tell them about the research I’d done? Show them my journal? Tell them about typing Is my sister a psychopath? into search engines, desperately hoping she wasn’t?
If I said psychopath out loud, if specialists agreed with me that’s what Rosa is, what would happen?
I’d read that some specialists argue labelling a child psychopath is saying there’s no hope for that kid.
‘I promise,’ she said. ‘I won’t kill and I won’t make anyone else kill.’
I couldn’t see a loophole.
Since Apinya’s guinea pig there’s been nothing. As far as I know.
PART TWO
I want to spar
CHAPTER NINE
On Monday morning our new tutor arrives twenty minutes early. He’s a whiter-than-white guy called Geoffrey Honeyman. I can’t believe we don’t get more of a reprieve before our first class. We’ve only been in New York City for about ten minutes.
Maths and most sciences are not my thing. Biology, yes. But physics? Uggh. Chemistry, ditto. And maths? The worst of all. But without them I can’t get into medical school.
I wish we were going to school but the parentals decided April is too close to the end of the US school year. Real schools open again in September. It’s been more than six months since we were at the Australian Independent International School in Jakarta. I loved it. So did Rosa, but for the wrong reasons. It’s safer when she’s homeschooled.
In the meantime we have Mr Honeyman for maths and science and a stack of books for everything else.
Sally and David intend to quiz us on the books once a week. This is always their intention, but it rarely works out that way. Since leaving Sydney our education’s been, to put it nicely, haphazard.
Rosa and I crouch at the top of the stairs, spying.
‘He’s bald,’ Rosa says. ‘I like it when they hire old tutors.’
Of course she does. Old people love Rosa.
His head is remarkably shiny. I wondered if he polishes it.
The parentals shake his hand and lead him to sit on one of the couches, where they explain a little more about Rosa and me. Not that they won’t have told him everything he needs to know about us a million times already.
‘They’re telling him I’m a genius,’ Rosa whispers.
‘Yes, and that I’m quite smart despite my struggles with maths.’
‘Also science,’ Rosa adds. ‘You’re not that smart, Che.’
‘Thanks.’
‘I want to go to Seimone’s school. They get to
put on plays.’
I wonder if the twins go to different schools or if Rosa has discounted the existence of her less-favourite twin.
‘Are you two ready up there?’ David calls. ‘Come down.’
We wait about thirty seconds then go down. Geoffrey doesn’t look old. Not wrinkly old. He’s definitely younger than the parentals.
He tells us to call him Geoff and shakes our hands. His are sweaty. I don’t understand how he can be so sweaty when the room is so cool and he’s been sitting with the parents for the last twenty minutes.
‘We should get going,’ Sally says. She’s pulling at the sleeves of her jacket, making sure they don’t overhang her shirt cuffs. Then she undoes the top two buttons of her coat. Then does them up again. They’re heading to their first formal meeting with the McBrunights. They’ll be meeting their staff for the first time. They want to make a good impression.
‘Do I look alright?’ she asks David.
‘Breathtaking.’ He kisses Sally’s forehead. ‘Do I?’
Sally nods, plucking a stray bit of lint from his sleeve.
Geoff looks embarrassed.
‘You both look great,’ I say. ‘For jetlagged people who are nervous.’
‘It’s a big deal,’ Sally says.
‘We’re not nervous so much as elated,’ David says. I wonder if he believes it.
‘They love you,’ Rosa says. ‘That’s what they say in the cards they send.’
‘You’re right, darling,’ David says. ‘It’ll be fine.’
They kiss me and Rosa goodbye, shake Geoff’s sweaty hand.
‘Don’t forget to watch the auto-injector vid again.’
‘Again?’ Rosa says. ‘We’ve already watched it four times.’
‘Again. We’ll be back before you leave for boxing, Che.’
Then they’re gone.
Geoff stands awkwardly next to the couch, looking at something slightly to my left.
‘You’ll start with a test,’ Rosa says. ‘So you can see what you need to teach us. Maths tutors always do that. I hope it’s hard. Last time it was boringly easy.’
‘Brat.’
‘Um, yes,’ Geoff says at the same time. ‘A test.’
I wonder if he’s tutored before.
‘Tutors never believe I’m a genius. Too many parents think their children are geniuses if they count to ten by the time they’re two. I am a prodigy, though. I’m already working on proofs. Can we work in the kitchen? I like sitting on the stools.’
‘Um, sure. We can sit wherever you like.’
‘Are you English?’ Rosa asks. She knows he is. The parentals told us.
‘Um, yes, I am.’
We sit on the stools. Geoff hands us our tests. Rosa starts answering the questions. I read through the test, my eyes already glazing.
‘That’s annoying,’ Rosa says. ‘Stop it, Che.’
‘It is a bit annoying, actually,’ Geoff says.
I don’t know what they’re talking about.
‘You’re kicking,’ Geoff explains.
I look down at my legs. My toes bounce off the island, and my heels off my stool. I stop. ‘Sorry,’ I say.
I’ve never felt less like dealing with numbers. My head hurts. I’m sleepy – well, no, not sleepy, more like I’m not entirely sure I’m awake.
The first section is calculus. I try not to groan. I bet if I were in a normal school I wouldn’t have to know any calculus yet. If I were in a normal school I wouldn’t be sitting next to my ten-year-old sister who’s already working on mathematical proofs.
‘Kicking,’ Rosa says. ‘Don’t.’
I stop myself again. My phone vibrates in my pocket. Probably Nazeem or Georgie or Jason. Or all three.
‘Can I have a moment before I start?’ I ask.
Geoff nods, though I can see he’s nonplussed.
I head to the bathroom, close the door, and pace. Four steps to the wall, four steps back. I wish I could go to the gym now.
I look at my phone.
—You awake?
It’s Georgie. I sit on the counter next to the sink, my legs swinging.
—I’m typing this, which hints I’m awake. Isn’t it ridic late there?
—Yeah. Couldn’t sleep. But not enough brain to make anything. Besides can’t sew – too noisy.
Georgie often has insomnia. Unlike me – except when I’m jetlagged.
—Naz says you’re cool about us.
—Course.
—How’s things with Rosa?
Georgie always asks. I always tell. I delete what I was going to say about her and Nazeem and tell her about the passport instead.
—The baby psychopath avenger. Maybe she’ll use her powers for good from now on.
I laugh, imagining the expression on Georgie’s face.
—I wish. She wants to move into the mansion of these rich friends of the parentals. You should see the flat we’re in. It’s already fancy. But now Rosa’s seen better…
—She’s going to rule the world some day. Won’t be pretty.
‘Are you alright in there, Che?’ Rosa calls because why should she let me have more than five minutes of respite?
‘Yeah. Be out in a second.’
—Gotta go.
I slip my phone into my pocket and bounce up and down before going out there. Rosa’s bent over the test. Geoff’s looking at his tablet.
I slide onto my stool. ‘Sorry,’ I say.
Geoff looks up, but doesn’t say anything. I can’t see what he’s reading.
‘I’ve already finished the first section,’ Rosa announces.
‘You shock me.’
I turn to the test. Why start with calculus? Why not algebra or geometry or something more jetlag-brain friendly like colouring in?
‘If we were in a real school,’ I ask, ‘it would be the end of the year, wouldn’t it?’
Geoff nods.
‘We wouldn’t be doing tests right now, would we?’
‘You probably would. Late April and early May are exam time.’
I sigh. In Thailand this is the beginning of the school year. In Australia the year is only a few months old. I push my gummy brain into gear, trying to figure out equations with the calculator on my phone.
The stool is the wrong height. I twist to get the crick out of my spine, then twist the other way. What I need is to go for a run. Does Sojourner run?
I keep pushing through the test, wondering why x’s. Why not r’s or !’s? When am I going to need to know how to model change and motion? I slide off the stool and stretch my calves, quads and glutes.
‘There,’ Rosa says, putting her pen down and handing the papers to Geoff. ‘That was challenging.’
Rosa asks Geoff about poly-something or others. I’ve lost what he’s saying within seconds. Rosa is mesmerised. This is about the only time I don’t worry about her doing evil. She’s too focused.
It doesn’t take me long to finish the test, because I can only make a stab at answering about a third of the questions in the last section.
While Geoff goes over our tests I make myself cheese-and-ham sandwiches. When I get to the gym, I’m going to give Sojourner my number. We’ve connected, haven’t we? It wouldn’t seem too weird.
Rosa drinks a glass of orange juice and watches Geoff mark our tests.
Geoff hands our tests back. Mine is covered in red scrawl. I barely passed. Rosa has two errors. I’m relieved and she’s annoyed. She concentrates intently as he explains where she went wrong and why and gives her further examples. I am less attentive.
Sometimes I think the only relationships Rosa’s capable of are with people who understand maths and chess better than she does.
My phone buzzes a few times. I want it to be Sojourner, but she doesn’t have my number and I can’t think of any way she could have gotten it.
Geoff addresses more of his explanations and examples to Rosa. It’s like I’m not in the room. I wish I wasn’t in the room.
We take an
other break. The texts are from Jason and Nazeem. I eat the protein I need but the translucent wall has descended over me yet again. Geoff’s voice is a million miles away.
Just before two as Geoff is finishing up, Sally texts. —Meeting running long. Be back at five. You mind missing gym? Just this once?
I do mind.
—You know we wouldn’t ask if it wasn’t important.
I glare at the phone.
‘Who’s that?’ Rosa asks.
‘Sally. They won’t be back till five.’
‘But you have gym,’ Rosa says.
‘I did have gym.’
—Text back so we know you got this.
‘Sometimes,’ I say to my phone, ‘you shit me.’
Geoff continues to pack up.
‘Could you stay longer?’ Rosa asks Geoff.
He looks at her and blinks. I’m probably blinking too.
‘They’ll pay you. I’d love extra tutoring.’
‘Well,’ Geoff says.
Will he be able to keep Rosa in line? I want to go to the gym. I need to go. I need to exhaust myself, then I’ll be able to sleep and get past this stupid jetlag. I need to see Sojourner again.
Rosa dimples. ‘Please, please, please teach me more.’
Another text from Sally. —Please answer, Che.
I’m not going to beg Geoff. I want to beg Geoff. Surely it will be fine leaving them together like this? Rosa is obsessed with maths. She respects Geoff’s knowledge.
‘Pretty please,’ Rosa says. ‘We could work on a proof!’
‘Alright, Rosa,’ Geoff says. His forehead is shiny with sweat. Apparently proofs are irresistible. I’m not entirely clear on what a mathematical proof is.
‘Thank you,’ I say, resisting the urge to yell my gratitude. ‘I am so grateful.’
—Geoff is staying to teach Rosa more maths. I’m going to the gym. You’ll have to pay him more.
I make myself more sandwiches, pack my gym bag.
‘You’ll be good, Rosa?’
She dimples again. ‘I’ll be good.’
‘Don’t dimple. I don’t trust your dimples.’
She clears her expression. ‘I promise I’ll be good.’
—Are you sure that’s a good idea? Sally texts.
My Sister Rosa Page 7
