I exhale. That was very nearly another mistake.
I put on some music and lie back on my bed. I can’t keep doing this.
For the first time in a long while, I don’t reach for my diary. I don’t need to remind myself that I’m a huge fool.
Finlay
NEWLANDS, TUESDAY
I walk in a daze behind the pack of giggling, chattering girls as we approach the house. Jules has her hand in mine, and she’s swinging it back and forth like we’re little kids.
“Thanks for coming,” she says, her teeth shining in the dark. “I didn’t know who else to ask.”
Giggle. Giggle. Whisper.
I can’t get Blue-haired Girl out of my head. She was so upset when I complimented her. She acted just like I do whenever someone compliments me. I whack it back, retreat into my little cave of self-loathing. “I really dug that first duo,” I say.
“Lucinda, you mean?” says Jules.
“Yeah, and the other one. The flautist.”
She frowns. “Kayla? Lucinda says she’s terrible. Everyone in the Music class hates her – most of the school too. She’s such a weirdo.”
“Really?”
Jules takes this as an invitation to dive in. “Yeah, she’s a total freakshow. She doesn’t have any friends, and she sleeps with everyone’s boyfriends. Such a slut.”
“Who’re you talking about?” asks one of the girls behind us.
“Kayla,” Jules replies without turning around.
“Oh yeah, she’s a total slut.”
“Told you,” says Jules with a smirk.
“Really? You wouldn’t think so by looking at her. She looked pretty innocent to me.”
“Ha ha. No. She doesn’t fit in with anyone. Lucinda says she brings down the whole vibe in Music. But the principal doesn’t want to kick her out because there are no other flutists.”
“Flautists.”
“She might be a Satanist too. One of the girls in my class is in the Christian Society, and she told me Kayla said some pretty messed up things at one of their meetings.” Jules beams at me. “Aren’t you glad I’m normal?”
I give her hand a squeeze. But really, I’m not so sure. Ever since I started hanging with the crew, I keep wondering when they’re going to realise the truth about me – that I’m a faker from a bad family. Everyone thinks I’m cool because of Dark Father. Especially after we got big. But I’m really just pretending.
And Kayla seems like a child of darkness like me. Misunderstood.
The girls miraculously disappear when we reach Jules’ house. We stop outside the wrought-iron gate. She looks at me expectantly, her eyes bright. She swings our hands back and forth. Raindrops drip from the overhanging branches around us.
I reach out to give her a hug, but she’s too quick for me and slaps her lips on mine. Her tongue is wet and foreign. I breathe through my nose, trying to count the seconds until I think it’s okay to detach myself.
I watch her go inside, then wait until I’ve turned the corner before I start pounding my head with my fists.
Kayla
RONDEBOSCH, THURSDAY
When I’m really upset, bottom of the well, noose-swinging, slit-wrist upset, I like to play one particular song over and over again.
I was around ten years old when Lorenda first started dating Jerome. It was a strange time. Dad had been dead for years, and so I went from being the only thing in her life to being the most overlooked. It was actually the first time I felt really invisible. I might have acted up a few times, but I quickly realised I was on my own and had better get used to it. I had my dolls and my imagination. I made up my own adventures.
One evening after a school play, Jerome announced he was taking me to dinner. It was the most surreal experience. I was still dressed up like an angel, with white ballet shoes and an Alice band covered in tinsel that was supposed to be my halo. I asked him where Mommy was. He said it was just the two of us. I didn’t really believe him. But I think she left on purpose to give us a chance to hang out.
We drove for a long time in the darkness. I remember there was a weird country song playing on the radio about a father who kills his little daughter. In the song, the father describes in horror-movie detail how he tells his child to kiss her mother goodnight before leading her to the well, where she has to count to seven before he pushes her in.
The song went on for ages. I had a huge imagination. It might have been an innocent coincidence, but it didn’t feel like it at the time. It felt like Jerome wanted me out the picture.
I didn’t say anything, but let him take me to dinner to Cattle Baron or Mike’s Kitchen or whatever it was. It definitely wasn’t Spur. I would have remembered the lame American Indian décor.
I was a kid – what else could I do but go along? All I remember was eating vanilla ice cream and chocolate sauce in a small silver bowl and then throwing it up all over the wheels of the car. It was the last time Jerome and I ever did anything together. I realise now he was probably trying to bond with me and I screwed it up, like I always do. That night has stuck with me all this time. It was the first time I realised that I’m impossible to love.
Thanks to Google, I was able to find the song pretty easily.
So once again today at break I sit on my blazer, leaning against my secret knotted tree at the back of the school field with my earphones in, and play “Country Death Song” by Violent Femmes on repeat. The rest of the school likes to hang out on the pretty manicured gardens and hanging chairs out front. So naturally I avoid that whole area.
The words sear into my brain. I wonder if it would have been better if, in another universe, an alternate version of Jerome really did kill me. I would remain an adorable, innocent ten-year old forever. Everyone would love me and remember me as the sweet little girl I used to be. People always like you better when you’re gone, even if it’s just fake news. Too bad the multiverse doesn’t exist outside of comics.
I look at other girls my age and can’t really understand how they get to be so happy. It’s like there’s some karma scale where all the bad things in life only happen to me. I press the nib of my clutch pencil into the skin of my thigh. Over and over again. I hope I get lead poisoning.
I don’t have Music today, so at least I’ve been spared that torture, and I’ve successfully managed to avoid those bitches in the corridors. Besides, I’m safe in my current hiding place. No one comes back here – I could swing a noose over one of the big branches and no one would find me for days.
My sour mood lasts all the way through school. As soon as the end-of-day bell rings and I’m out the gate, I drop my board and kick off, veering past all the fakers and wannabes. I’ve never belonged here. I had to join in my second year of high school, when everyone had already formed their circles. I was doomed from the start. I tried telling Lorenda that at the time, but she didn’t want to hear. Why would she? And risk bursting her bubble of happiness?
I put in my earphones, press play on my phone, and kickflip on to the pavement, enjoying the stares that follow me. Rolling down the road, I spot a familiar face at the corner. I look for too long and nearly wipe out. I screech to a halt and kick up my board just in time, and run to a stop so I don’t fall.
“Whoa, careful,” says Ponytail Boy, springing forward and extending his hand. He’s wearing the same red hoodie from the night of the recital.
“I got it,” I say, righting myself. I can feel the blush on my cheeks. I pull out my earphones and stuff them out of sight so he can’t hear what I’m listening to.
“You okay?” he asks, looking concerned.
“Great. Fine. That wasn’t embarrassing at all. What are you doing here? Oh wait, never mind. You’re here for Julia.” Aka Queen Bitch.
He shrugs, and pushes his hands into his pockets. “I’m not actually. I’m just chilling.”
“Just chilling?” I ask, not bothering to keep the sarcasm out of my voice. “That sounds totally unsuspicious. Are you stalking her or something
?” My voice is way too high. I don’t know why it’s doing that. I clear my throat.
Stop talking, Kayla.
He laughs. One of his front teeth is broken. In fact, his whole face is one fading bruise. For a wild moment I think he’s a gangster. But he’s wearing a school uniform under his hoodie, so he can’t be.
“No, I’m not stalking her. And she’s not my girlfriend either.”
“Okay. Whatever you say. I’m gonna go now.” My voice sounds marginally more normal. I drop my board.
“I’ll walk with you,” he says, adjusting his bag on his shoulder.
My foot hesitates midair. “Why?”
He shrugs again and looks at the ground, then at the sky, then at me. “Can I?”
“Uh, okay. If you want to.”
This is so awkward. We walk slowly and I keep adjusting my bag on my shoulder, carrying my board under the other arm. After a while Ponytail Boy notices and reaches across to take my bag straight off my shoulder, slipping it over his own.
“Thanks,” I say, looking away. I start chewing on the ends of my hair. I turn around, but there’s no one behind us.
“So your name’s Kayla?” he says after a long silence.
I swing to face him, my armour slipping on. “How do you know my name?”
He looks surprised at my tone. “From the recital. I remembered.”
“Oh yeah. That. You were there with not-your-girlfiend, Julia.”
He looks down at his feet. “Yeah. She wanted to go support her friend, but she didn’t want to go alone. Her brother is a friend of mine.”
“Her friend, Lucinda. Right.” My voice has turned icy.
My brain is starting to put two and two together. Julia was sitting right next to him. Of course she knew I was checking out her boyfriend.
This is part of some elaborate set-up to get me back. I stare ahead resolutely, determined to not let any weakness show, but I’m already on the defensive. “Did Julia or Lucinda say anything about me after the show?”
He looks away so I know they did.
“What did they say?”
He sighs and gets a sad look. “Nothing nice.”
“Ah, of course. I’m shocked. My jaw is literally on the floor.”
When he laughs, it somehow makes me want to laugh too, even though the situation is hardly funny. I stop myself.
“So you know my name. What’s yours?” It comes out as a demand.
“Fin. Finlay. It doesn’t really matter. I go by Thor sometimes as well.”
I blink in surprise and he gets a complete panicked look on his face, like he can’t believe he just admitted that.
“Like in The Avengers? The graphic novel, not the movie obviously.”
“You’re into comics? That’s pretty rare for a girl.”
“Not really. Have you even been to FanCon? You’d be surprised how many girls are into comics.” A flutter emerges in my stomach and I stop walking.
He stops too and turns around, frowning. “What’s wrong?”
This is all just an act. There can only be two reasons why he’s here. The first is that he’s pretending to be interested in me as part of a set-up – there’s no way Lucinda would let me get away with making moves on her best friend’s guy. The second is a lot, lot worse. He’s heard the rumours about me and wants to score behind his girlfriend’s back.
I swallow. “Can I have my bag back for a second?” I ask as sweetly as I can manage. The words are thick in my mouth.
He slips the strap off his shoulder and hands it to me. “What’s wrong?”
I drop my board and jump up. “Absolutely nothing, Thor.” I kick off and fly downhill, pressing the earphones back in my ears as I go.
It takes two seconds for him to cease to matter.
Finlay
RONDEBOSCH, THURSDAY
I watch Kayla disappear out of sight for the third time. Man, I royally messed up. I shouldn’t have said anything about Jules. Or that pianist – Lucinda or whatever her name is. I shouldn’t have rocked up at her school like a crazy person. I don’t even know why I’m here. I start walking and immediately replay the exchange in my head. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. I kick the crap out of a garbage bin till it falls over.
I head to Brendan’s house and am on time for practice for the first time ever. I stalk past Jules’ room and go straight into the studio. Brendan and Bones look up in surprise. DJ is also here. He plays dubstep at the Friday night clubs.
“Whazzup?” he asks.
Bones pulls his smartphone out his jeans pocket and checks the time. “Thought you were a ghost, man. You’re never this early.”
I hurl down my bag and irritably swipe my hair out my face. “Whatever. I skipped detention. Let’s just do this.”
I rage into the mic, throwing down rhymes I didn’t even know I had in me:
What the … damn, girl.
You got me walk at night,
miss the light, lose the fight.
Zombie me, I watch you, stalk you, miss you,
don’t even know you.
Me a pale echo lost to night.
The night comin’ down on me,
Thor’s hammer crushing me,
but you still there,
waiting for me to stop being me.”
We eventually have to stop because I’ve worked myself up too much.
“Where do you come up with this stuff?” asks Bones, pressing one earphone cup to his ear. “We’re going to have to start a new LP soon.”
Brendan isn’t smiling. “We should be practising our old tracks.” He stresses way too much.
“Yeah, yeah. Be right back. I’m going outside to smoke,” I say.
I sit on the back step, pull out my phone and Google the name “Kayla Murphy”, congratulating myself on remembering her full name. There’s more than one Facebook profile, but only one in Cape Town. I open it up and see the same brown eyes staring back at me from beneath a black beanie.
My heart somersaults. They’re not sad in the photo.
She only has twenty-three friends. I send her a friend request, feeling reckless, and slide my hand over my face.
You’re being such a psycho right now, Fin.
I put my phone away before I lose my nerve and go back inside. The girls have joined rehearsal. I pick up the mic again, ignoring them.
I know I should be practising existing songs but the words just flow:
Does anybody know me?
Who me, why me, what I’m supposed to be?
I saw you there, everywhere.
Now you gone.
Should I follow?
Let you be?
I’m nobody, a freak.
Never be, ever be,
good enough to be
the One.”
It takes me a moment to realise the music’s stopped.
“That was sick, man,” says Brendan, smiling for a change. “You working on a new track? Did anyone record that? I like it.”
I twirl the mic in my hands, unable to say anything. I’m grateful that he’s trying to be nice, but Bones probably put him up to it.
We knock out a couple more tracks before I start losing concentration again. I should go home before Jules corners me. I think the old man is out anyway. He’s being going to the bar a lot lately. Maybe I’ll be in luck.
“I’m gonna go,” I say. “This was good. Amazing stuff.”
“You should get here early more often,” says Bones.
“What are you talking about? I’m Thor, remember? I come in my own time.”
“That’s what she said!” is the resounding chorus as I turn my back.
Jules springs up but I’m too quick for her. I jog down the passage and pull out my phone. Kayla hasn’t accepted my friend request but she has messaged me. Anticipation burns in my chest.
What do you want?
I laugh. It’s a start. I slow my steps to concentrate on writing so I don’t make any spelling mistakes.
I know you must be thinkin
g that I’m stalking you or something, but I’m not. I just want to get to know you.
She’s online, and her reply comes seconds later.
LOL. I know they set you up to talk to me. I wasn’t born yesterday. I looked up your profile. I know you’re some big-shot rap artist. Guys like you don’t randomly talk to girls like me.
She’s looked up my profile. I can’t keep the grin off my face. I stop walking and sit down randomly on the wet pavement.
Who’s they? No one set me up to do anything. I’m no one’s dog.
Okay. But don’t you think it’s a bit weird that I see you at my recital with another girl who is friends with someone in my class who hates my guts, and then you suddenly appear outside school wanting to talk to me?
She’s been hurt. I thought so. I bite down hard on my lip.
When you say it like that it sounds dodgy. But it’s not like that. I don’t even know those girls. I was there because I was too trashed to refuse Jules’ invitation. You know Brendan from Dark Father? She’s his sister. I shouldn’t even have been there.
Why am I telling her this? I’m just feeding her the ammunition to lay it on me. But I can’t stop now. Before she can reply, I rattle off another message, telling her about the night she gave me the middle finger.
You were the one that almost ran me down? Asshole!
I laugh, which morphs into a cough. I need to lay off the weed. I’m starting to sound like an old man. My phone beeps again.
So what do you want?
What do I want? How do I tell her that I can’t get her out of my mind without sounding crazy?
I dunno. To see what you’re about.
It takes her a while to reply.
I don’t think that’s a good idea.
Okay, how about this. It doesn’t have to be in person. Talk to me here or on WhatsApp. I promise you this is not a trap or a set-up or anything.
Tell me what Lucinda said about me.
Mine Page 5
