I’m about to cross the road when I see someone I recognise – the dreadlocked dude I shared a joint with that one time at the skatepark. I watch him weave through the crowd and join a full table.
A head of blue hair stands out.
I slip into the shadows of an alley before she sees me, and watch.
She looks all wrong, all jagged edges.
I force my head to stay still and try to focus on the image in front of me. Her hand is bandaged in dirty plaster with writing all over it, and her face is scratched up. Her chin is scabbed.
I’ve suddenly lost the desire to party.
Kayla
RONDEBOSCH, FRIDAY, THREE WEEKS LATER
I dislocated my shoulder on a downhill today. It was amazing.
I didn’t even bother going to the hospital this time – one of the guys popped my shoulder back in for me. The feeling of my own bones moving made my eyes roll back in my head. I hope my scream convinced them that it wasn’t the biggest rush ever.
Dexter thinks I’m crazy, but no one ever suggests I stop skating. If anything, I’m admired for my recklessness. I’m not a fragile little girl who cries after every fall – I’m a hardcore skater, and I have the grazes and broken bones to prove it. So far I’ve broken my wrist and my little finger, dislocated my shoulder and popped a knee. Every injury is better than the last. It’s the only time it doesn’t hurt to think about Fin.
When I’m older and have money, I want to get a tattoo of a pair of teeth taking a big bite out of a heart. I want it on my chest, where everyone can see it.
I’m getting really good at sneaking out. This time, I slip away while Lorenda and Jerome are watching rugby. Louis picks me up in his Opel Corsa.
Outside the reggae restaurant in Woodstock, the gang pushes two tables together. My appetite hasn’t been the same since the break-up, so I ask Ayanda to order me a beer.
Just sitting here makes me edgy. I want to get out and board more. I want to fly. But I hold it in. This is my crew. I have to fit in. And people need to eat, even if I don’t. I take a large swig of my beer and decide I want a shot too, but I don’t have any cash – my pocket money is as good as cancelled for the foreseeable future and I stopped showing up for my shifts at the ice-cream shop a couple of weeks ago.
I sink down onto my elbows, flinch from the pain, and bat my lashes at Louis, who still hasn’t given up.
“Let’s do tequila shots. Get this party started.”
He laughs. “What the lady wants, the lady gets.”
He disappears quickly and I lean back, swigging my drink with a smirk.
“You shouldn’t lead him on like that,” says Ayanda. “He’s a nice guy. One of the few still left out there.”
“I’m not doing anything,” I say.
She gives me a look.
I shrug. “Talk to him, not me. He knows I’m not interested.”
“That’s your problem, Kay. You say that, but your actions say something different. He’s not going to get the message if you keep flirting with him.”
I wish I could break this bottle over her head. Instead I roll my head lazily to face her.
“Back off, Ayanda.”
She arches her eyebrows and turns her entire body away from me. I don’t care. Louis returns with the shots, and I grab mine and knock it back.
I’m well into my second beer when I notice that twilight has started to settle around the city, bathing everything in gold and silver light.
I jump onto my seat. “Let’s go skate on the unfinished bridge.”
They all look at me like I’m insane. After a few seconds, Dexter grins and nods his head.
“Let’s do it.”
THE UNFINISHED BRIDGE is awesome. It’s an unused stretch of highway that goes nowhere, then stops suddenly in mid-air.
It’s like a scene from a comic book. Like Superman or Hulk smashed right through it. I press my earphones into my ears and roll downhill towards the edge, stopping just in time. Below, cars rush onwards, oblivious to us. Fin’s voice screams in my ears. My heart jolts at the sound and I can feel a sting of tears.
I probably wouldn’t make that fall. It would break all my bones, my back, my spine, my skull. My stomach lurches excitedly and I’m surprised at just how appealing the thought is.
I push my board back uphill and roll down again. I like that I have the choice to skirt death like this. It would be so easy to roll just a bit further … I push my board back up the hill, and Louis grabs me around my unbroken arm.
“Are you mad? You shouldn’t go that close. Not in your state.”
I pull out an earpiece. “Relax. I know what I’m doing.”
“No, you don’t. Get away from the edge. It’s dangerous.”
I sigh and follow him to where the others are doing innocent kickflips on even ground. He’s right that I have to be careful.
I’m not nearly done punishing myself yet.
MUCH LATER, A bunch of us is sitting in Louis’s lounge passing around a bottle of absinthe while the guys swoon over OK Go videos on YouTube. Ayanda has bailed to work on a Fine Arts project so the only other female here is this shy girl called Jenny, who doesn’t really speak to anyone.
I sink deeper into the folds of the couch and message Ayanda to say she’s not missing anything, even though I’m still pissed at her for getting in my face earlier. I need to play nice.
Louis is in some sort of house-share vibe with two other students. The furniture is all old and mismatched and covered in colourful throws that look like a hundred dogs have slept on them. The lounge is the most lived-in room because that’s where the TV is. I lift my legs just as Dexter crashes onto the couch next to me. I extend my legs over his lap and take the bottle he offers. He’s moving his head in time to the music, his dreadlocks moving in their own directions. Everyone in this group has dreadlocks.
“So tell me. What music does Kayla like listening to?” he asks.
I shrug. “Anything. Rock. Rap.”
He raises an eyebrow. “Rap?”
I look away.
“I’m more into trance myself,” he says. “Or drum and bass. You coming to Electro Fest next week?”
“Hell, yeah – I didn’t know you guys were going!” It’s impossible to hide the enthusiasm in my voice. I’m going to have to sell something or bum off Louis to get there.
I shouldn’t be so excited by the chance to see Fin.
I take a long swing of the bottle.
“I like a girl who can handle her drink,” Dexter says, eyes dancing.
I’ve seen that look before. I glance over to where Louis, Joey and Jenny are sitting glued to the laptop.
“Maybe I’m just really thirsty,” I say with a small smile.
We share a look and I only feel terrible for a second. Here’s my chance to get Ayanda back for being so alpha female with me.
Dexter eases off the couch and motions for me to follow him into Louis’s bedroom. I bite my lip and creep silently behind him. We close the door and lean against it, lips locking.
This is my first kiss since Fin, and I give it everything I’ve got. I need to get the taste of him out of my mouth. Dexter tastes like cigarettes and for some reason, puppy. I laugh at the thought and he smiles.
“You’re really gorgeous, Kay,” he says. “And batshit crazy. In a hot way.”
I stop before it goes too far. I don’t even like Dexter that way – this is pure spite.
“We should go back before anyone notices we’re missing,” I say.
He stands aside and I Ieave first. Louis looks up as I walk into the lounge. I drop back down on the couch, flashing him my brightest smile.
So much for Ayanda and Dexter’s perfect relationship.
LORENDA AND JEROME barely register as I enter through the front door around midnight. Bar the occasional bout of shouting, Jerome has hardly said a word to me since I was expelled. As for Lorenda, she’s given up shouting and has changed tactics by trying to run every aspect of my life.
She’s desperate for me to have “some sort of future”. She’s managed to find a college in Harfield Village where I can go for matric, along with the other rejects.
I head to my room, but as soon as I shut the door, the dark thoughts close in.
I really have made a mess of my life.
I sit on the edge of my bed and view the messages on my plaster cast. I’ll have no friends left if I keep messing up. And the way things are headed, that day is going to come soon. Why couldn’t I have just kissed Louis like I was supposed to? Why did I have to mess around with Dexter?
But it was just a kiss. It hardly matters. Nothing matters anymore.
And when I’m gone, no one will even remember one tiny fuck up. I sigh and pick up my phone. For all I know, Fin has changed his number.
You tried to save me once.
My thumb automatically hits send and I drop the phone, knowing he’s never going to reply. Like all my other messages.
I want to destroy something. Burn something.
I reach across to my bedside table and scratch in my drawer till I find my protractor set lying somewhere at the back. I lie back and begin poking tiny holes in my leg.
Red dots in the shape of an “F”.
Finlay
CITY CENTRE, SATURDAY
I follow the Hello Kitty hairclip to the girls’ bathroom. I should probably ask what its owner’s name is, but all I care about are the drinks she’s been buying me.
We crash into a stall and I kick the door closed. She’s all over me, pink lipstick smearing all over her face and mine. I pull at her skirt, bite her shoulder. She throws her leg around me and I grind up to her. Blonde hair goes everywhere, gets caught in my teeth. She rakes her nails down my back. We slam our teeth together, spit sloshes everywhere. I pull her skirt down, run my hands over the soft skin of her thighs.
Then stop. Because when I close my eyes, it’s not Hello Kitty Girl anymore.
I can’t do this. I slump my head, press my lips together and slowly push her away. She’s not the girl I want to be with right now.
But I don’t want to be with the girl I can’t stop thinking about either. It’s been nearly two bloody months, and I can’t get that damn girl out of my mind. I turn and punch the door on the way out.
The dance floor beckons and I slam into anyone who gets in my way. Some girl catches my eye. Black hair. Madonna piercing. She smiles and takes a sip from her drink. I make my way over. I have to keep going.
“Didn’t you used to be in Dark Father?” she asks.
“Yeah. I’m doing my own thing now. Odin Son.”
She laughs. “That was you? I heard you puked all over the stage and got thrown out.”
I give her a dark look. “It’s all part of the act, baby. Rock and roll lifestyle. Buy me a drink and we’ll see if you can keep up.”
She purses her lips. “Alright. I like sad cases.”
The cold Black Label’s in my hand and I’m about to lose interest in her when familiar voices catch my attention. I look left and see Brendan and Bones and their new crew, so I throw my arm around Madonna and lead her away from the bar. “Let’s drop this place and go to The Bunker. Drinks are cheaper.”
She pries my arm away with her gel-nailed fingers. “Why don’t you go to The Bunker on your own. That place is gross and I’m here with my friends.”
Without a second glance, I tuck my drink inside my coat and make for the stairs. I haven’t seen or spoken to Brendan since he kicked me out of Dark Father, and I don’t want to talk to him – I want to punch him.
Soon I’m stumbling along the dirty streets by myself with no crew, no girlfriend, no money. I toss my glass bottle against the wall, and hear the satisfactory smash behind my back. I don’t need anyone.
At The Bunker, I spot this heavy metal girl – Chantal, I think – who’s never been able to hide her feelings for me. I grin at her, and she and her friends all shout, “Heeey!”
These can be my new people. Not some stuck-up bimbos at that lame-ass club. The drinks start flowing and I lean back and burp.
That’s when I see Kayla.
She looks up and sees me, and does a little double take. I wish I could look away, pretend like I haven’t seen her. But it’s too late for that. She looks away first and follows her skater friends into another room.
My first instinct is to follow her. The pull is strong, like half my body just tore itself free and walked off. It takes everything I have to force myself down onto the barstool and hold my head in my hands, blasted by all the thoughts I’ve been trying to avoid.
I broke her. Like a monster. I promised her the world, and took it away the second she gave in to me. Just like every other jerk.
But she screwed me over just as hard. She drove in the knife before I even had a chance. I’m flooded with all the anger I’ve been pushing back. I stand up and throw my barstool across the room.
“What the hell, Fin?” says Probably-Chantel.
But before I can storm off, I’m grabbed on all sides by security. They throw me onto the street like a bag of trash.
“Don’t come back here. We know your face.”
I give them the middle finger and stagger off. I hate that she walked away first. I wish she would stop haunting me.
Kayla
RONDEBOSCH, SUNDAY
I wake up in a cold sweat and check my phone. It’s three am. There are no new messages.
It’s not like I expected him to text me anyway – he’s made it pretty clear that he doesn’t want any contact with me. His silence is driving me crazy. I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling.
It hurts to think of him. He was so close. An apparition. But that’s the reason I keep going back to The Bunker, isn’t it? To maybe catch a glimpse of him. It’s all I think about. The old me is completely lost. I don’t know who I am anymore, but he also looked different. Sweaty and dirty and unbrushed. His sexy stubble is now a full-on caveman beard. He looks like a stranger.
I wish I knew how long it takes to stop loving someone. I’ve been tossing and turning all night, every night. Every centimetre of me aches. But the ache inside is the worst – and it won’t go away. I don’t know how to feel better. It’s like the misery is slowly poisoning me to death.
I get up and get changed, one-handed. Lorenda shouted her voice hoarse at me earlier, when I came home past one. And here I thought she’d given up on me. She’s probably cried herself to sleep by now.
I fetch a bottle of vodka from Jerome’s study and then creep out of the house as quietly as I can. Escaping through the window is a lot harder with broken bones, so I’m forced to leave the old-fashioned way, through the door. I don’t even know where I want to go. I just want to be out. I leave my board behind. I want the anonymity of worn sneakers slapping softly against the pavement.
My feet take me past my old school of their own accord. The gate’s closed in my face. I wish Lorenda had never made me come here in the first place. I’m so angry at how badly everything’s turned out for me. It’s fitting somehow that I’ve come back to haunt this place. After all, it’s where all my problems started.
It’s cold, so I slip my hands into my pockets and feel the outline of Louis’s box of matches. The box is coarse and hard. It takes up the whole world. I look up at the shadowy buildings in front of me and suddenly what I need to do is clear.
I pull my hoodie over my head and skirt the perimeter, looking for a way in. There’s always been a hole in the wire fencing round the back. It’s funny how students can’t wait to leave school at the end of the day, but keep finding ways to sneak back in at night. If Ms Bennet knew what went down here after hours, she’d go nuclear. When I find a me-sized hole, I crouch down and slip inside.
I’ve attended enough concerts and evening music practices to know there’s no security here. I walk resolutely towards the Music building, surprised at how familiar this route feels in the dark. I circle the building, test the doors. Everything is locked up.
&nbs
p; I stop outside the hall, imagining the circular room inside, filled with rows and rows of fabric seating and wood. Lots of wood. Great for acoustics.
Perfect for fires. I smile at the thought.
Am I really doing this? Hell, yeah.
I know that alcohol is flammable – I paid attention in Science. Sometimes.
I kick off my right shoe and bend down, ignoring the twinge in my knee, to take off my sock. I stuff it in the neck of the vodka bottle and give the bottle a shake, making sure the sock gets nice and soaked. Lighting a match outside proves a challenge with one arm, but once it catches, I hold it to the material, waiting for the flame. It eats up the sock quickly. Standing up, I extend my good arm and throw the bottle as hard as possible. It goes right through the window – Lady Luck is smiling down on me for once.
I back away, but not so quickly that I miss the best part.
I keep my eyes trained on the window, my breath held. It’s a while before I spot the smoke. I wait. Suddenly, the whoop of a flame rises up.
I leg it back to the fence.
It takes all my willpower not to run once I’m out. I circle the block a few times, looking back every few seconds to see if the fire has grown. My patience is rewarded when a thick cloud of smoke wormholes into the air. I’m walking home when I hear the first sirens.
It feels delicious.
WHETHER IT’S FROM guilt or an effort to get Lorenda off my back, I’m sitting in the lounge studying for a homeschool test when the police come. I’m covered in coloured pens and highlighters and open books, and I’ve done my hair up in a top knot in such a way that the shaved side is hidden. I look up innocently as Lorenda leads an officer into the room.
She sighs. “There was a fire at the Music school and Mr Emersen listed you as a possible suspect.”
I laugh. “Seriously? That’s ridiculous. When was the fire?”
“Early hours of this morning.”
Lorenda swivels and shoots me a panicked look, but I’m ready. “What time?”
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