‘I’m not sure why he was at my work, that’s what I’m saying. It was all a little strange,’ his mother whispered.
The lights dimmed further and he gripped the railing next to him. How could he hear his mother whisper in the kitchen? He blinked, then blinked again. His eyes weren’t working. Oh God, it was happening again. He pushed open the door to his bedroom — it was dark in there. Fabian sat on the floor and put his head between his knees. It had stopped last time, so it would definitely stop again. It had stopped when it had happened with all the others too. But in that moment, it felt as if it could last forever. Right now, he was plunged into darkness, and there was no coming back into the light.
He kept his head between his knees, his hands clenched into fists, counting slowly to one hundred. He was at ninety-six when his phone buzzed again against his leg. With shaking hands, he pulled it out. He could see the screen — his vision must have returned. The bright lights hurt his pupils for a second as they adjusted.
PumpkinDreams: So???? Don’t leave us in suspense!
OhSammyBoy: Come on, man, tell us!
PumpkinDreams: That went so well! That stink bomb was disgusting!
M.Dot: I live to please.
Then just a few seconds ago:
Twelve: Fabian? Everything okay?
He didn’t really want to talk to them right now. He’d reply a bit later, when he felt more himself. Right now, he just wanted to feel normal again, even if it was just for an hour or two. Sliding his phone back into his pocket, he blinked at his gloomy room. There was enough light coming from the half-open door to illuminate the edges of things. He could see everything fine now: the bed, the nightstand, the window. Fabian almost yelped. There was something on the other side of the glass. A person-shaped shadow. That couldn’t be possible. His bedroom was on the second floor.
The shadow knocked against the glass.
‘Tessie?’ he whispered.
The shadow moved closer to the glass, and he could see a big smile and bright eyes. It was Sam. But how? Could Sam fly?
Fabian got up off the floor and went to the window, pulling it open. The cold winter air flooded in. Sam grinned at him.
‘Hey, man.’
Fabian looked down to Sam’s feet. He was standing in the trellis, squishing the little orange flowers of his dad’s Campsis vine.
‘Hi,’ Fabian said, feeling weirdly embarrassed that for a moment there he had really thought that Sam was flying. Sam was holding onto the window frame and looking at him expectantly.
‘Um,’ Fabian said. This situation was very weird. ‘What’s up?’
Sam shrugged, seemingly not worried at all about slipping and dying. ‘Just wanted to make sure you were okay. You weren’t replying.’
‘Oh yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. It went fine.’
Sam cocked his head. ‘Are you sure?’
Oh God, Sam must have seen him sitting in a ball on the floor. He must have looked crazy, like the girl who kills her boyfriend at the end of Paranormal Activity. He shivered, probably from the freezing cold air. Sam was still staring at him, right in the eye.
‘Yep, totally fine.’ He rubbed his arms. His bare arms. He looked down. He was shirtless. He was actually standing in his room shirtless with a good-looking guy. Was this a dream or a nightmare?
He grabbed his T-shirt and pulled it back on. ‘Sorry,’ he said.
‘Why?’ Sam cocked his head.
‘I don’t know.’ He took a breath. ‘I really am fine. I got the files and, well yeah, it proves that we were right.’
Sam barely blinked. ‘That’s what I thought.’
‘Yeah, me too, although it was hard to see it written down like that, you know . . .’ He stopped himself. What was wrong with him? He was being so weird and rude. ‘Do you want to come in?’
‘I don’t mind.’
‘Seriously, I don’t want you to fall.’
Sam grinned at him, then pulled his weight up onto the window frame. Fabian stepped back and sat down on the corner of his mattress. He took a breath and tried to force himself to stop being so awkward. So Sam was in his room. Sam with the easy smile and mysterious eyes and long legs and broad shoulders. No big deal.
Sam sat down on the window frame. ‘You know the others are really worried about you. They want to know what you found.’
‘Yeah, I know, I guess I should tell them.’ He pulled his phone out again and started typing.
Fontaine: Okay, well I saw Emma’s and Michael’s certificates, and then I was interrupted. Sorry, guys.
He looked up at Sam and saw the phone in his pocket light up. Instantly, the replies started coming through. Sam was right, they must have all been waiting.
PumpkinDreams: Don’t tell me!
M.Dot: Tell me!
PumpkinDreams: No, actually do tell me! Sorry.
He laughed and looked up at Sam. ‘I know how she feels. It’s like you want to know but don’t want to know all at once. It’s hard to be the one to say it to them.’
‘Yeah, but they do want to know,’ Sam said. ‘If it’s the truth, it’s not really about you anymore.’
Fabian shrugged. Sam was probably right. It was their right to know the truth, their right to know that his mother had been the one to validate whatever illegal thing had happened here. He was sure of it now. However he’d ended up growing up here, in this house, there was no way it was legal. He started typing again.
Fontaine: Okay, well it’s bad. They were both signed by my mum.
M.Dot: Wait, what does that mean? Why is it bad?
Fontaine: My mum is an anaesthetist.
‘What’s that?’ Sam asked. He was looking down at his phone too.
‘It means she administers the anaesthetic . . . Wait, I’ll just write it for everyone.’
Fontaine: She administers the anaesthetic so that people go to sleep during operations. She’s not the right person to sign birth forms. It means they’re fakes.
‘Oh, I get it.’ Sam smiled up at him, the phone lighting up his face in the half-dark. ‘That sucks, man.’
Fabian shrugged and put his phone back in his pocket. As he did, he heard a crack of thunder. Sam turned to the sky behind him. Now that he was turned away, Fabian could actually look at him properly. He stared at his silhouette, the strong line of his nose, the little muscles he could see in his jaw when he tensed it. Sam turned back to him.
‘It’s going to rain,’ Fabian said stupidly.
‘Do you think?’
Was Sam mocking him? He’d sounded earnest.
‘Yeah, are you camping still?’
Sam nodded.
‘Are you going to be alright?’
‘Yep.’ Sam stood up.
Fabian stood up too. ‘Well, um, thanks for checking on me. You didn’t have to.’
In fact, how did Sam even know his address? It seemed rude to ask.
‘It’s cool, man. I was just worried you were freaking out and didn’t want to do it anymore or something. I’d only just convinced you guys to actually do this all together!’
Fabian smiled at him. It was sort of sweet how important the group was to Sam. How obvious it was that he really wanted them to regain what they used to have, even if it seemed impossible.
Sam put one leg out onto the trellis, back out into the cold. It was going to be an awful night for camping. Fabian had no idea how he did it.
‘Wait.’ Fabian stepped forward. ‘I mean, um, are you sure you’re going to be okay camping? You can always stay here.’
The words were out of his mouth without him even thinking about it. Was he really asking Sam to stay here, with him, in his bedroom, all night?
Sam hesitated, but then shook his head. ‘Nah, I’ll be right. See you soon.’ Then he hopped out of the window and was gone.
Fabian stuck his head out and watched Sam climb easily down the trellis, land on his feet and stride away into the dark.
He walked out of his bedroom, feeling a little dazed. Out in the
hallway, the lights were bright. His phone buzzed again.
Twelve: Wow.
He almost could have laughed. ‘Wow’ was right. It was too much to even think about, to even wrap his brain around. Sam had climbed up his house and gone into his room like it was nothing. Not only that, but he could hear his family downstairs, talking, laughing. It seemed so normal, it was hard to believe it was all an illusion, that underneath this perfectly normal-looking family, was some huge sinister lie. He felt confused and upset, yet also weirdly pleased, with Sam obviously caring enough to check on him. It was too much. He went downstairs, towards the smell of hot food and the sound of laughter. He would put it out of his head and try to enjoy being with his family and try not to think about the fact that they weren’t really his family at all. They were liars.
CHAPTER 14
MICHAEL
Michael woke to the tinkling sound of a woman laughing. For an exquisite moment, he thought it might be his mum. It wasn’t his mum though, it couldn’t be. His mum never laughed.
The sound was coming from his window; he’d left it open just in case Jeffrey decided to pay him a late-night visit. Rain pattered onto the carpet next to the window. He got up to close it. Looking out, he saw Fabian’s family out the back of their house. They were pulling clothes off the washing line, which were getting sodden with rain. They ducked around each other, chatting and laughing as if they had nothing in the world to worry about. Even Fabian looked happy and confident. Michael could hear his relaxed laughter. He was so different at home from the way he was at school. Why on earth would he be trying to prove these people weren’t his family? They looked like they were out of some advertisement, the perfect happy family that could never exist in real life. He slammed the window closed.
Going downstairs into the kitchen, he saw that his dad hadn’t left for work yet. Great, he was sitting up at the bench eating rainbow-coloured cereal like he was about five years old. No wonder he was so fat. Michael threw some bread into the toaster. His father didn’t look up from his newspaper and continued loudly shovelling cereal into his mouth, slurping the milk and chewing noisily. Michael tried not to listen to it as he waited for his toast to pop. He leaned against the counter and stared vacantly ahead, listening to the rain outside, hoping that there would be a thunderstorm. He blinked, realising what he was looking at. The stainless-steel fridge was usually bare, no family pictures or kids’ drawings like most people had. There was something on it this morning though. It was a receipt for after-school tutoring for struggling students. Idiots, in other words.
‘I don’t think so,’ he said.
‘It’s paid for already, Michael,’ his father said, still not looking up. ‘You’re going.’
‘No,’ he said evenly, ‘I’m not.’
His father fixed on him with a cold stare. ‘Time to take responsibility,’ he said coolly. ‘You say you’re leaving this place as soon as you finish school. With grades like that, you won’t be going anywhere.’
Michael hated that he was right. ‘I’m not going,’ he said. ‘You can’t bloody make me.’
Michael ducked just in time as the bowl of cereal whizzed over his head and smashed into the sink.
‘You will not speak to me like that!’ his father yelled, eyes flashing.
Michael stayed where he was, half-crouched on the floor, hands shaking. His heart was beating so quickly it made him feel faint. The kitchen was silent again, except for the sound of the milk dripping onto the tiles.
He was going to be late for school. He had left the first chance he got; there was no way he was getting into a car with his dad this morning. But it was a long walk. The rain dripped off his raincoat into his shoes, which now felt like big wet sponges. They squelched with every step. There was a heavy weight pushing down inside him — he wished he didn’t have to go back home ever again. One day he was going to leave and never, ever go back to that place.
Michael rubbed his hands together, trying to warm them. His fingers looked slightly blue. Cars sped past him as he walked down the suburban street. He tried not to think about the families inside.
Luckily, the teacher didn’t notice he was late. He had run through the empty school, his backpack smacking against his lower back, and into the gym changing room. Throwing on his PE clothes, the last of the stragglers were still getting ready. For once the nerds had saved him.
He was glad he had PE first up. The fear he had felt this morning had turned to a deep anger pulsing inside him. Hopefully it would be footy so he’d have an excuse to tackle someone. Like father, like son, a voice sang in his head.
‘Oi, why didn’t you reply to my texts?’ Tom asked, coming to stand next to him on the wet grass of the school oval while the teacher did roll call. Tom already had mud all over his white trainers.
‘Didn’t I?’ he answered. ‘I thought I did.’
‘Nah, mate,’ Tom said. ‘I was so bored last night, thought we could go out and raise some hell.’
‘I’m grounded anyway,’ he lied. ‘Pig Man is keeping a close eye on me these days.’
‘Sucks,’ said Tom.
The truth was he was getting a bit tired of Tom, who was too eager to do whatever Michael told him. That used to be the reason Tom was his best friend, but now it seemed sort of boring. Strangely enough, he preferred hanging out with the others, even though he felt like he constantly had to prove himself.
‘Looks like the rain is clearing up,’ the coach announced, looking up at the sky, ‘so we can go ahead with soccer.’
Not footy, but still much better than sitting in a classroom.
‘Michael, Tom, do you want to pick teams?’
The coach always chose them as team leaders, probably because he knew if they were on the same team they would always win. They stood out the front and looked over the class.
‘I pick Johno,’ said Tom, and Johno ran up behind him. After this, Michael would usually pick Andy and it would go from there. He caught Fabian’s eye. Fabian usually got picked either last, or second from last. Michael could tell it hurt him, but normally he wouldn’t have cared.
‘Fabian,’ he said.
‘Huh?’ said Tom, gaping at him. The whole class was looking at him with shock.
‘I pick Fabbo!’ he said, grinning. He liked to shock people; he was so sick of doing exactly what people expected him to do all the time. Fabian walked to stand behind him, his head down. Surely, this would make it clear he was sorry about the tennis-ball thing. Maybe Fabian would even mention it in front of the others at the library later; Emma couldn’t find any fault in him then.
‘I get it,’ said Tom, starting to laugh his dumb laugh. ‘If you pick Faberlina, I pick Mount Heffernan!’
All eyes turned to Dave Heffernan, who went pink all the way down his multiple chins. Everyone started laughing and jeering again.
‘C’mon, guys, don’t be mean,’ said the coach.
‘I’m not!’ said Michael. ‘Okay, Andy.’
The rest of the team picking went as usual, but when they turned to begin the game in the very muddy oval, Fabian shot him a dark look.
‘What?’ he asked. ‘I didn’t mean it as a joke or anything.’
‘I know.’
‘So what’s the problem?’
‘I didn’t need you to do it.’
Sometimes you couldn’t please anyone. Michael watched Fabian’s bony little back run forward in front of him. He was only trying to do something nice. Lately, it felt like he couldn’t get anything right. He grabbed the soccer ball and ran to the middle of the oval with it under his arm. He could barely wait for the chance to kick it hard with all the hot anger pounding inside him.
CHAPTER 15
EMMA
Things were different at school on Monday. Emma smiled at Fabian in the corridor and said hi to Tessie as she walked past to find her seat in class. When Michael made a joke during the teacher’s lecture, she actually laughed.
‘What’s wrong with you?’ whispered Rain.
‘I thought you hated Michael!’
‘I do,’ she whispered back, yet she was still smiling. Rain looked at her carefully, but she ignored it.
The secret they shared was bigger than like or dislike. She felt bound to these people now. Inexplicably, she felt certain that not just their pasts but also their futures were linked. The shock of what Fabian had told them about their birth certificates last night had worn off. It had been replaced by an unexpected excitement. Deep down, she’d always known she was something more than a small-town nobody. Her real parents could be anyone! All the anger and resentment she’d felt towards her mother seemed less important now that she felt more in control of the situation. With the others around her, it actually did feel possible that maybe they would be able to find the truth.
During lunch, they met up in the back corner of the library, behind the stacks of encyclopaedias. Emma thought it was pretty stupid that they even bothered to keep these massive books. Surely, no one had opened one since the internet was invented. It meant that the spot was great for a secret meeting though, since no one would ever need to go down there. The other reason they chose this spot was because of the small window in the back wall, which was out of sight of the front desk. Right on time, a smiling face appeared through the glass. Emma stared up at Sam. He looked like a framed painting, a beautiful work of art. Tessie pushed open the window — she was the only one tall enough to reach it — and Sam poked his head through. Emma was struck again by his eyes, the intensity in them when he was serious, the way they danced when he laughed.
They’d spoken a few times online, but hadn’t met up again one on one since the day they’d had hot chocolates. Emma wanted to spend more alone time with him, but at the same time she was slightly nervous. There was something unpredictable about him. Just when she’d felt comfortable, he’d change his tune and she’d feel like she wasn’t good enough. Like the way he’d been so committed about getting the group back together. It kept niggling at Emma that he might have been pushing it a little too hard, that maybe it was the only reason he’d wanted to spend time with her. Although that seemed preposterous.
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