Dad stood up. His jaw was tight with anger. ‘Don’t you threaten me. I’m your father and I’ll raise you how I want. End of story. Now, get your sisters and meet me at the car. I’m taking you home.’
‘No, Dad. I’m not going until after the awards.’
Dad glared at me, sticking his face right up close to mine. ‘You’ll do as I say.’
I ducked my head and stared down at my hands, knotted together, in my lap. ‘Dad, I won the eight hundred metres today. I know it doesn’t mean much to you, but I won. I won when you told me I wouldn’t.’ Tears dangled on the ends of my eyelashes then trickled, hot and wet down my cheeks. My throat was dry and tight. I glanced up at Dad staring back at me like he didn’t know what to say or do. Gulping, I plunged on. ‘I love running and I’m going to keep doing it because I’m good at it. And I’m staying for the awards ceremony. Nick will drive us home afterwards.’
‘Ebony, you don’t know what’s best for you. I do.’
‘I know being hit isn’t what’s best for me.’
‘Where do you get off talking to me like that? ’
‘Dad, please.’ I looked up at him, tears streaming down my face. ‘Please listen to me. Why can’t you just love me and be happy for me? Why do you have to take your anger out on me? I’m a good kid.’
We were connected, Dad and me, for a brief moment as we stared into each other’s eyes. I tried to read his mind, to work out what he was thinking. I tried to plead silently with him to see me for who I was.
Just a kid. His kid. A kid who needed love and kindness. Not hitting and meanness.
I willed him to take pity on me and to finally, finally love me.
Dad tore his eyes away. The spell was broken. He looked so confused, like he didn’t know what to do. Part of me couldn’t help feeling sorry for him. I knew then that I really did love Dad, no matter what. I couldn’t help it.
I knew he was weak.
I knew he could be cruel.
But I still loved him with all my heart. And that would never change.
I also knew I had to stand up to him. I knew what I was doing was right. It was hard, incredibly hard and he was so stubborn. But he was also wrong. Finally knowing this gave me steel inside to think that I could make a difference. Maybe, if I could just get through to him, life would be better. For all of us.
Gritting his teeth as he spoke, Dad said, ‘Look. I’ll admit I lose my temper sometimes, but you have a way of making me angry. Like now. You need to be taught discipline and respect.’
‘Hitting isn’t discipline, Dad. That’s just your anger out of control.’
‘It’s the only way I know.’
I swiped at my tears. ‘Why can’t you learn a new way?’
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘Why not?’
‘I don’t know. I’m me. I can’t change.’
‘Couldn’t you speak to someone about it? I’d come with you or Mum might.’
He shook his head from side to side, his face hard, his lip curled. ‘Are you saying there’s something wrong with me?’
I felt sick to my stomach. Nothing was getting through to him.
Maybe Dad didn’t care enough. Maybe he didn’t love me enough.
Maybe he didn’t love me at all and this, this show-down would be for nothing.
I knew Dad wasn’t going to give in today. Not here, not now. It would take a long time for him to see that he’d been wrong. Maybe this was a start, though, and I had to accept it for what it was. A first step.
I stood up. ‘I’m not going with you, Dad. I’ll see you at home.’ I walked towards the grandstand.
‘I’m disappointed in you, Ebony,’ Dad called after me. ‘I never thought it’d come to this. That my own daughter would, would … ’
I turned back to look at him. ‘Would what?’
‘Betray me,’ he said coldly.
I didn’t know what to make of that. If only he knew. All I wanted was for him to hug me and say he was proud of me and say everything would be all right and that he loved me. Wasn’t that what dads were supposed to do? Normal dads like Mr Gordon and Nick did it, why couldn’t my dad do it, too?
‘I’m not betraying you, Dad,’ I whispered through my tears. ‘I just want you to love me.’
Not long after the carnival, Teena told me she was leaving. We were at school, on our bench under the fig tree when she broke the news.
‘Dad’s brother lives in Jessop and he wants us to move up there with him and his family.’
‘You can’t go,’ I said. ‘You’re my best friend.’
Teena smiled. ‘Best friends are forever, Eb. But in this, I’ve got no choice. Uncle Jim owns a banana plantation and he wants Dad to work for him. Dad’s so excited about it. We’ll have our family around us, my cousins, my uncle and aunt. Auntie Ruth’s really nice. You’d like her.’
In shock at the news, my brain struggled to keep up. ‘Bananas?’
‘Yeah, bananas. They’re these curvy yellow fruit things.’
‘Very funny. At Jessop?’
‘Yep. Jessop. You’d love it up there, Ebony. There’s heaps to do. Auntie Ruth calls it ‘God’s country’. Whatever that means.’
‘But it’s so far away.’
‘Only three hours.’
Now I was panicking. Three hours. It may as well be a world away.
‘We’ll talk on the phone all the time and you can come and visit in the holidays. Or I could come down.’
‘I thought you wanted to stay in Driscoll. I thought you weren’t going to move anymore. You said that on your very first day here. Have you forgotten?’
Teena shrugged. ‘We have moved stacks in the past. After Mum died, Dad could never settle anywhere. That’s why I’m so good at my “Meet Teena” speech whenever I start a new school. I’ve had to do it so many times.
‘But Jessop is a good opportunity,’ she said with a sigh. ‘Not only for Dad. For Luke and me. We’ll have Auntie Ruth to look after us and cook proper meals for us. We’ll have our cousins around. We might even start to feel like a family again. This will be the last time we move, for sure. I can feel it.’
I stared at her blankly.
‘Dad needs this, Eb. And I think I do too.’
‘I hate Jessop,’ I cried. ‘I don’t want you to go.’
Teena put her arm around my shoulders. ‘I know, but, look, the truth is Dad’s no good with money, all right? That’s why we live in an old house by the cemetery nobody else wants, why we have no furniture. Why I never have a proper uniform. It’s not that I don’t get around to buying one, it’s because we can never afford it.’
‘But, why?’
‘I told you Dad’s not perfect. He’s got no idea about money. All this moving has been bad for us that way, but if we live with Uncle Jim and Auntie Ruth, they’ll look after Dad, steady him down. It’s just what he needs. It’s what we all need.’
By the look on Teena’s face, I knew this was something she really wanted. Still, I couldn’t help feeling our friendship didn’t matter to her as much as it mattered to me. I’d relied on her and done things I never would have done without her, like making it to the state championships and standing up to Dad. How was I going to survive if she left?
‘But … ’
‘Here. I’ve got this for you.’ Teena handed me a photo. It was the one of us at her birthday party. We were both grinning madly, our eyes sparkling, arms draped over one another’s shoulders as we gazed at the camera. We looked so happy, like we were the only ones at the party. The only ones in the world to ever be best friends. To ever be in tune with one another. The photo sure was a keeper. It showed the best, the happiest smiles two forever friends could have.
Now all that was shattered.
‘And this.’ She handed me a wad of tissue paper.
I unwrapped it to reveal a dragon. ‘I can’t take this.’
Teena rolled her eyes. ‘Here we go again.’
I frowned. ‘It’s the on
e your mum gave you.’
‘That’s why I want you to have it. It’s the most precious thing I own. Other than the sundew you gave me, which, by the way, is flowering.’
‘It’s still alive?’
‘Yes. Anyway, I want you to have the dragon to remember me by. Maybe if you’ve got two dragons you’ll have double the magic and double the luck for the state championships. I know it helped you at the carnival.’
I nodded, blinking back tears. ‘Yeah, it did, but this is too much.’ I stroked the dragon with my finger. A tingle of energy zapped through me, causing me to gasp.
Teena nodded. ‘See? The magic works for you, too.’ She closed my hand around the dragon and gazed into my eyes. ‘It’s so you never forget me or our friendship.’
I sniffed and gave a weak laugh. ‘That’ll never happen.’
‘Well, I want to be sure.’
As I sat there staring at the dragon, a teardrop fell from my eye onto its wing. I brushed my tears away angrily and rubbed my thumb over the dragon wing to dry it. ‘What am I going to do without you?’
‘Oh, I don’t know. Go on to be a famous athlete. Win Olympic Gold. Who knows?’
I laughed at her ridiculous suggestion. ‘Yeah, right.’
‘Either way, you’ll be fine.’
‘No, I won’t. I’d never have stood up to Dad if it wasn’t for you. I wouldn’t have gone to the carnival if it wasn’t for you. I wouldn’t be anything without you.’
‘Rubbish! Hey, has your dad been better?’ She watched me closely.
‘He was so angry with me after the carnival. He didn’t speak to me for days. But standing up to him must have done something because he hasn’t had a drink since. He hasn’t hit me, either.’
‘See, maybe it did work.’
I shook my head. ‘I don’t know if it’s that simple. He’s given up drinking before, but it’s never lasted.’
Teena pulled a slip of paper out of her pocket and handed it to me. I unfolded it. A telephone number was written on it. ‘What’s this?’
‘It’s the number of a helpline you can call if things get bad.’
‘Like those places you see on the TV ads?’
Teena nodded. ‘Right. These people can help you. You know you can always call Dad and me, but we’re going to be three hours away.’
‘Do you have to keep reminding me?’
‘Shush! I’m trying to be serious. These people can help kids like you.’
Kids like me.
What sort of kid was I? I wondered.
‘They want to help. So, if you need to, promise you’ll call them.’
I nodded.
‘But I hope you never have to use it.’
‘Me, too.’
Two days later, Teena was gone. I was so upset, I didn’t go to see her off. I couldn’t. I stayed in my room and cried all day.
Even when she phoned from Jessop to talk to me, it wasn’t enough.
I missed her desperately.
I couldn’t believe it when Dad actually agreed to let me go up to Jessop for a week during the school holidays. I was going to travel up on the train by myself and everything.
I couldn’t wait.
When the Gordon twins and their mum arrived sombre and dead-eyed like a funeral procession, I should have known something was wrong.
‘Sheila, how are you?’ Mum, with baby Louise cradled in her arms, greeted them at the door.
May and Rose wound themselves around Mum’s legs, staring at Mrs Gordon. Mum and Sheila Gordon knew each other, but I wouldn’t say they were close. The most time they’d spent together was on canteen duty. A drop-in from Mrs Gordon was unheard of at our place. Even if her face hadn’t told me, I knew straight away something was up simply by her being here.
‘Not bad, Trish. Mind if we come in?’ Mrs Gordon said.
‘Of course not. Come in.’ Mum held the screen door open, at the same time shooing my sisters and a pair of buzzing flies away.
Mrs Gordon nodded at me. ‘Hi, Ebony.’
‘Hi.’
I tried to catch Chloe or Miranda’s eye as they tramped into the house. They wouldn’t look at me. Instead, they swung their eyes around our lounge room, silently taking in the sparse, clunky furniture and faded carpet.
‘Hey,’ I said.
The twins smiled weakly then turned their eyes to their mother. Something was definitely wrong. Sweat prickled my armpits.
Was it something I’d done?
‘Would you like a tea or coffee?’ Mum eased Louise gently into her bouncer then hurried into the kitchen.
‘Tea, thanks,’ Mrs Gordon called after her. She sat at the dining table, the twins following her mutely, their heads bent as they studied the faded wattle-patterned tablecloth.
I sat with them. Waiting.
While the kettle boiled and Mum arranged homemade pumpkin scones on our best plate, Mrs Gordon tried to make conversation. Disjointed words were strung together about the weather, the soft drink business, the pool they were putting in. She seemed desperate to fill every blank pocket of air in the house, desperate to avoid the real reason for her visit.
Eons later, Mum set the teapot and scones on the table then sat down. Mrs Gordon coaxed a crooked smile onto her lips.
What did she have to be nervous about? I wondered.
‘Was there – ’
‘There’s something – ’
Mum and Mrs Gordon spoke together.
‘Sorry,’ Mum said. ‘Was there something you wanted to talk about?’
‘Yes.’ Mrs Gordon nodded. ‘Only … I don’t know how to start. You see, I’ve got some bad news.’
Her eyes touched mine. I looked away. It had to do with me, then. Nervously, I ran my jacket zipper up and down, up and down.
‘There’s been an accident,’ Mrs Gordon said. ‘A terrible, terrible car accident.’
Seconds ago, I hadn’t been able to look at Mrs Gordon. Now, I couldn’t look away.
Mum stiffened. She handed my sisters a scone each. ‘Go play in your room, girls.’ She turned back to Mrs Gordon. ‘Someone we know?’
Mrs Gordon sipped her tea and sucked in a wobbly breath. ‘I don’t know any other way to say this. And I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but, as you know Nick Costaleena used to work for Dave. That’s how we heard.’
Heard what? I wanted to scream.
Mum nodded impatiently.
‘Apparently, there was a car accident at Jessop last night,’ Mrs Gordon continued. ‘You know how bad the roads are up that way. Anyway, it was pitch black and raining. Nick was driving home with the kids after taking them to the movies. There was a head-on.’
The hair on my arms stood on end. Cold air tiptoed over my flesh.
‘Nick and the kids were hit?’ Mum whispered the question shrieking inside me.
‘No, they weren’t in the accident. They arrived right after, before the ambulance even. Nick told the kids to stay in the car then got out to help. For some reason, Teena didn’t do as she was told. She got out and ran along the side of the road, I suppose to help her dad. That’s when she was hit.’
‘Is … ’ I croaked, ‘is she all right?’
Mrs Gordon gulped and shook her head. Everyone stared at me. Miranda. Chloe. Mum. Mrs Gordon. I could feel their eyes branding my face, but I didn’t know why. Teena wasn’t in the accident. Other people were. Other anonymous people. Why was Mrs Gordon telling us this stupid story anyway?
‘Teena was hit by an oncoming car,’ Mrs Gordon said. ‘The driver didn’t see her in the dark. She was killed, Ebony.’
My skin turned cold and brittle, like it was going to peel off in great big sheets. No, I wanted to say. Teena couldn’t have been killed. There was no way she was dead. Not someone like Teena. Not someone so clever and funny and alive.
Not Teena who’d saved me.
Not Teena my best friend.
Since I lost Teena there’s been plenty of days when I don’t want to get out of bed. When I j
ust sit in my room and hold my dragons – her dragons – and think about the past. Sometimes, the days have seemed so sad and lonely without her.
At first, I didn’t want to do anything. I didn’t want to eat or play or go to school. I didn’t want to laugh in case my face would crack and I’d start crying again. In case it was wrong to feel happy even though Teena was gone.
Most of all, I definitely didn’t want to run. I even missed the state championships I was that sad. Everything, everywhere, reminded me of Teena, especially running. Without Teena, even the touch of the wind on my skin hurt. All I did was think about her and wish, wish, wish so hard that she would come back.
But she didn’t.
Now, as the months creep by, the pain of losing her is easing.
I’m starting to feel normal again. The time I spend thinking about her, crying for her, grows less and less.
Everyone keeps telling me what I’m feeling is natural, that it’s part of “the grieving process”.
It still doesn’t make it any easier to bear.
Mrs Murcher made sure I went to see a special counsellor in Oxford to help me through what I was feeling. She arranged it with Mum and Dad and strangely enough Dad didn’t even kick up a fuss. First time for everything.
The counsellor has been really good, not just about helping me let go of Teena, but with listening to what I have to say about Dad, too.
The good thing is that I’ve started running again. I figured I owed it to Teena to keep going with it. The dragons help me, too. I still feel like they’re kind of magic, that they help me race. And sometimes they help me to win.
Hearing Teena’s voice in my head urging me on helps too.
I keep my precious dragons in a shoebox under my bed now. Mr Gordon gave me a new pair of sneakers a few weeks back, I think he was trying to cheer me up.
The box makes a good home for them, and I wrap them in the left-over tissue paper to protect them. I also keep the photo of Teena and me, the one Nick took at her birthday party, in the box along with a scrap of paper, torn from the local newspaper.
It’s Teena’s funeral notice and it reads:
Running from the Tiger Page 11
