Outside In

by Chrissie Keighery

  Jordan tilted her head to the side, listening for a moment. Jack’s parents had split. But he was laughing. Seemed happy. How could that be?

  In a private spot, deep inside her, Jordan tucked away the question.

  Then she followed him out the door.

  The light had faded but still she followed.

  Frank’s flat was like a flipped-around version of her dad’s. A mirror image, but with different furniture.

  ‘They’re all pretty much the same,’ Jack said. ‘Some have more bedrooms.’ His blue eyes rested on her brown ones and focused. ‘You’ll get used to it all.’

  Jordan breathed in. Held the breath. She felt like he was seeing inside her, into the mess. It was strange that it seemed all right.

  She looked away first. Around Frank’s flat. She breathed in the smell of loneliness.

  Jack took a seat at the kitchen table while Frank banged around in the kitchen. His kettle was the old-fashioned type, where you had to light the stove and wait until it whistled. Wanda leapt up onto Jack’s lap.

  ‘Don’t let Wanda jump up on you like that,’ Frank grumbled.

  Jack lowered Wanda to the ground. In two seconds, she was back.

  ‘Geez, Frank,’ Jack teased, ‘seems like Wanda might be used to doing this. For some reason.’

  Jack shot a grin at Jordan and stroked Wanda’s fur under her collar.

  ‘Gotta train the dog,’ Frank said, putting a teapot on the table. He brought over three cups that rattled on their saucers.

  ‘Yeah, you have to be strict, don’t you, Frank?’ Jack said, straight-faced. Jordan felt as if something was tapping at her heart. The something had the same rhythm as the pats Jack was giving the dog.

  Jordan took a sip of sweet tea and looked into the lounge room. On the mantelpiece was a sepia photo.

  ‘Ruthie and me on our wedding day,’ Frank said softly.

  Jordan felt a lump in her throat. She didn’t need to be told that Ruthie was gone. The lack of her was everywhere.

  ‘It’s been better since you got Wanda, hasn’t it, Frank?’ Jack said.

  Jordan froze. She was staring at Jack, couldn’t stop herself. She could hardly believe this was basketball Jack. The Bouncing Jock.

  He was so still.

  ‘It has, Jack,’ Frank said. His fingers rubbed Wanda’s neck. She was the recipient of all that spare love. ‘It has.’

  Jordan tucked her toes under a cushion and flicked on the new plasma with the remote control. It wasn’t a Wednesday, so the building was Jack-less. But she could still feel him there.

  Her mum was out for the evening at some stupid work function, so they’d decided that Jordan should stay at her dad’s. That meant they had spoken to each other. Made arrangements. They had arranged her.

  The couch at home was much harder. Leather. Old imprints of Jordan had softened it in places. But this, this new one at her dad’s, was really comfortable. It was maroon velveteen. Jordan wouldn’t have chosen the colour, but it was sinky. When she stretched her body out, it billowed around her, cloud-like.

  Some clouds looked solid. But they weren’t. You would fall through them if you were stupid enough to try to lounge on top.

  ‘Hey, Poss. What do you think?’ asked her dad.

  ‘’S’OK,’ Jordan said. She pulled up her knees, so her dad could sit at the end of the couch.

  He eyed the remote that she held tightly in her hand. Jordan looked at the clock on the wall. She waited as it ticked over another minute, wondering if he would say anything as news time came closer.

  ‘So, you’re getting on well with the boy from down-stairs?’ her dad asked, adjusting his glasses.

  Jordan raised her eyebrows. He used to be a stirrer, her dad. When she’d had a crush on Blake way back in primary school, he’d used it for his personal entertainment. Quips about what Jordan and Blake might do together. Taunts about sharing peanut-butter sandwiches. Bite for bite.

  There was a smile twitching around his lips. Jordan muted the TV. Her dad muted the smile.

  ‘Maybe you could bring him over for dinner or something?’

  Jordan stretched out her legs again. Kicked him lightly. Even though he was behaving. Maybe because he was behaving?

  There was a sudden rap on the door, and then another. Jordan’s dad shrugged, motioning for Jordan to answer it.

  She took the remote with her like a hostage, and her dad followed.

  On the landing stood two little boys. One was dressed in a red-and-blue Spiderman suit. The costume was too small for him. It stretched tight over his belly and finished just under his knees. His face was covered in painted-on spider webs.

  The other boy was smaller. His costume looked supermarket-cheap. A plastic armour breastplate with a few cracks in it. A plastic silver sword with a chewed tip.

  The kids were quite real. Not pretend at all.

  ‘Hello,’ announced Spiderman.

  Jordan leant against the doorframe. There was something else holding her up, too. A feeling.

  Spiderman pulled at the crotch of his costume, trying to loosen its spidery hold.

  ‘Um, Dad, I think it’s Spiderman and Hercules,’ Jordan said, pulling at her bottom lip.

  ‘Yeth,’ said the smaller one proudly. ‘I’m Hercules.’

  Jordan’s dad rested his hands lightly on her shoulders. Testing to see whether he had permission.

  ‘And how can we help Spiderman and Hercules today?’ he asked, his tone very serious.

  ‘We’re nick-knocking!’ Spiderman said, unhinging another wedgie.

  ‘On random doors,’ added Hercules.

  Her dad’s laugh was snorted. Jordan had almost forgotten how he did that.

  ‘Fergus, Chandler? Dinner!’ A woman’s voice echoed in the landing. The superheroes turned and raced off.

  ‘I remember when you were about their age,’ her dad said as they walked back into the living room together. ‘You had a Wonder Woman costume. Wore it to bed five nights running and wouldn’t let us wash it.’

  Jordan tilted her head and looked at her dad. Not quite in the eyes but not so far from them.

  She had a sudden memory of sleeping in the Wonder Woman suit. Of a nightmare and creeping down the dark hallway to her parents’ room. It was always smarter to get in on her dad’s side. Mum wasn’t so good at getting woken up in the night. Could get grumpy rather than soothing. Jordan whispered the bits of the nightmare she could remember, her mouth to his ear so as not to wake up Mum.

  There’s a bad man following her. She turns up the pathway, and she can see her house, but she can’t get to it. It never seems to get any closer. The bad man has heavy footsteps and she doesn’t know what he wants from her. She only knows that he isn’t good. So scary.

  And then they swap. Her dad’s mouth is near Jordan’s ear. Don’t forget, he whispers, that Wonder Woman has superpowers. When the bad man comes, you can fly. Just fly away, my baby. All the way home.

  Jordan snuggled her feet back up onto the couch, letting them rest against her dad’s leg.

  ‘I’ll ask Jack,’ she said, throwing the remote over to him.

  Another Wednesday, and they kept on coming.

  ‘Did you finish your map, Jords?’ Cecila asked. ‘We’ve got geography fifth period. If you didn’t do it, I could come to the library with you and give you a hand. I’ve got some spare graph paper.’

  ‘I’ve got heaps of fine-tip pens too,’ Lee added. ‘You kind of skipped the last assignment, Jordy, so maybe you’d better –’

  ‘It’s OK, guys, I did it,’ Jordan replied, and she smiled, though she kind of wished they’d all stop helping so much. She’d actually done the map quite well. Had even wondered whether she should take it over to her dad’s tonight. Her dad loved that kind of thing.

  Jordan took a step backwards. She wanted a little space.

  It wasn’t really raining, but a slow drizzle took sport off the agenda, at least for a while. The gang stood under the canteen roof.
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  The boys were edgy, bumping into each other on purpose. Meredith was stirring Sam, something to do with bum fluff that Jordan only half-heard. Sam went red, and then got Meredith in a headlock. Jordan rolled her eyes. Poor dorky Sam, trying to cope with feisty Meredith. They looked about the same size from this angle, and confidence gave Meredith the upper hand. Good luck, mate, Jordan thought. She shifted herself out of the line of fire.

  The two of them smacked into Jack. Tomato sauce from his sausage roll decorated the tip of his nose. Lee reached out and wiped it with her finger. Lee, who liked things to be tidy.

  ‘So, what’s on tonight?’ Jordan asked Jack.

  ‘I bought a new collar for Wanda,’ Jack replied, seeming not to notice the tomato sauce incident. ‘Thought we could drop in to Frank’s and give it to her.’

  Jordan leant against a pole. She noticed Jack’s eyes were smiling more than his mouth.

  ‘Who’s Wanda?’ Lee squeaked. She tried again, as though training her voice. ‘Who’s Wanda?’

  Jack delivered his reply to Jordan. She felt it coming. Felt it land. Felt Lee’s eyes watching it, too.

  ‘A dog. At the flats where us poor children of divorced parents are forced to go.’

  Jordan could feel Cec and Lee freeze. She knew they’d be worried about Jack saying it out loud. The D word. Jordan took a Twistie from Lee’s packet as she realised it didn’t stab her. It wasn’t sharp, coming from him. There was no sympathy. It wasn’t a parade. There was just an understanding.

  She watched as a basketball was tossed onto the courts. And of course, Jack followed. He moved. And Jordan felt like she could move, too. She could shed some of the sadness. Jack had proved that.

  That afternoon maths dragged. Art sped.

  Eventually, Jordan’s dad was there again, drumming on the steering wheel. But this time, Jordan didn’t want to change the station. It was daggy music, and it suited him.

  ‘Hi, Poss. Now that’s a bag! Did you bring some extra stuff?’

  He turned on the ignition, not waiting for an answer. Jordan slid into the passenger seat and pulled out her map. Her dad spread it out over the steering wheel. The car idled.

  He traced the tiny squares of the map with his finger. Her hospital drawing was clumsy, when she saw it like this. She should have used one of Lee’s fine-tip pens, not a black texta.

  ‘Poss, this is really good. It’s not easy to do everything to scale like that.’

  When he folded it up, he did it carefully. Made sure he used the right creases like it was a real map.

  He took a deep breath, and it was weird how he still let the car idle. ‘In case you forgot your pjs again,’ he said, nodding his head towards a plastic bag in the back.

  Jordan reached around and grabbed it. She looked inside. She didn’t know they made Wonder Woman pjs in her size. Red and blue and white.

  As they sped along the highway, Jordan smiled a small smile.

  ‘Thanks,’ she whispered.

  He was right. It wasn’t so far. They turned left past the triangle park and into the car park. He switched the ignition off and the two of them sat there for a moment.

  The driver. The passenger. The father. The daughter.

  His hands rested on the steering wheel, as though, somehow, it could still take them somewhere else they needed to go. As though they could still choose a direction.

  ‘Are you OK, Poss? You want to get a milkshake or something? You want me to drive you somewhere?’

  Jordan looked into the back seat again at her bulging bag and her new pjs. She would leave a second uniform at Dad’s. And some clothes. A few photos, maybe. There was still plenty of stuff at her mum’s.

  In the front pocket of her bag, he poked his head out. It was one thing that would move with her, from Mum’s to Dad’s. From Dad’s to Mum’s. One good eye. One dangling eye. A little bit of portable comfort.

  Zebra.

  Jordan breathed in. Exhaled. ‘Nah, let’s just go up. Let’s just go home.’

  lee

  Lee watched as little droplets of rain clung to the canteen roof. They paused for a moment, in raindrop-anticipation of their last seconds of flight, before they fell to the concrete below.

  Jordan reached across and pinched another Twistie from her packet, bringing her back to reality.

  She always felt like this when Jack was around. Part of her dreaming away, the other part panicking.

  What to say. How to act. How to pretend her heart wasn’t thumping madly under her school dress. Wondering and hoping that maybe, please God, Jack might feel just a tiny little bit the same. There had been signs, Lee thought. Although it wouldn’t be the first time she’d got that wrong.

  When Jordan had been away, Jack had paid her attention. He really had. He’d asked her to help him in Art. Lee had leant over his drawing, helped him with the shading. His arm had been so close to hers. She could feel the rise and fall of his chest just next to her.

  That same day, Jack had waved her over. He and Sam had saved her a spot in the canteen queue.

  And when they’d played basketball the other day, Lee felt it again. Jack was guarding her as she dribbled the ball down the court. His muscly arm reached out, trying to flick it mid-bounce. And then, a total, definite foul as he reached around her waist. He had swung her around, his big hands sending waves of energy pulsing through her. The pulsing continued even after he stopped touching her, like the shivers after a tickle.

  Lee had giggled as she protested, as the ball rolled over to someone in his team. She knew right then that she would re-live that moment a thousand times, way after the game was finished…

  Sam bounded into the cramped space of the canteen. He and Meredith were play-fighting. Meredith must have baited him like she always did. Lee felt a bit sorry for Sam, even though he was the one who had Meredith in a headlock. His face was red and blotchy with the effort, and the punches Meredith delivered to his legs actually looked kind of painful.

  They careened through the crowd, and Lee held her breath as they ploughed towards Cecilia, because they just shouldn’t plough into Cecilia. She was too small, too fragile to cope with stuff like that. Lee sometimes thought Cecilia was shrinking while the rest of them were growing and filling out. It was a worry.

  Lee breathed again when she saw that Cecilia had managed to angle her body sideways, making an arc of space that Sam and Meredith pushed through. Sam’s elbow, wrapped around Meredith’s head, bumped into Jack. Jack was about to take a bite of his sausage roll and the bump left him with a dot of tomato sauce on his nose.

  Without thinking, Lee reached out and wiped the sauce off.

  Jack didn’t even look at her.

  ‘So, what’s on tonight?’ Jordan asked Jack, speaking to him like he was an ordinary human.

  ‘I bought a new collar for Wanda,’ Jack was saying to Jordan. ‘Thought we could drop in to Frank’s and give it to her.’

  Jordan leant against a pole, casually. It was amazing, Jordan was amazing, the way she was always so cool. Even after all the horrible stuff she’d been through with her parents’ separation, she was still able to play it cool.

  ‘Who’s Wanda?’ Lee asked. She could almost see the shapes her mouth made as she spoke, the way her lips curled around the words. She was so awkward. It wasn’t even her proper voice that came out of those mouth shapes when Jack was around. She tried again. ‘Who’s Wanda?’

  Lee waited for Jack’s eyes to cross over to her. She bit her lip, hard, when they remained fastened on Jordan.

  She shouldn’t have wiped tomato sauce from his nose.

  Jordan was still leaning against the pole, as though her deep brown eyes weren’t shining. As though being dark and exotic was a bit of a yawn.

  ‘A dog,’ Jack replied, still looking at Jordan. ‘At the flats where us poor children of divorced parents are forced to go.’

  Lee felt herself stiffening, a hammering in her heart. That wasn’t the way you spoke to Jordan. You had to tiptoe
, walk on eggshells. She wasn’t ready to talk about her parents, she hadn’t even opened up to her girlfriends. You had to let Jordan sort through this stuff in her own time. Didn’t you?

  She was shocked, really, when she saw Jordan smiling her half-smile.

  Jordan and Jack were co-owners of this conversation. They were an exclusive club of two, and three was definitely a crowd.

  Lee had been so worried about Jordan. How she didn’t talk, how she didn’t seem to want to do anything.

  Obviously, Jordan had been talking and doing.

  With Jack.

  Lee took a sip of her apple juice, trying not to care. The straw dropped from her mouth too quickly, and there was a splash on her school dress. She felt her face redden as she brushed the juice stain quickly with her fingers. But it wasn’t like anyone noticed.

  It was a relief when Meredith shoved her hand into Lee’s packet of Twisties, laughing at her own greed, her mouth full to bursting. Lee took the cue. She offered around the Twisties, trying to burst the bubble that Jack and Jordan floated in together. Cecilia took a couple and moved away.

  Finally Jordan looked away from Jack. She inspected the contents of Lee’s Twistie packet and took the biggest one.

  Stupidly, Lee held the packet out to Jack. And if she had ripped out her own heart and held it in her hands instead of a Twistie packet, it would have happened the same way. He would have shaken his head, no, thanks, and his eyes would have returned to Jordan, or onto some other beautiful girl that Lee wasn’t.

  It would never be her. Could never be her. It was never her with anyone, let alone a Jack. What had she let herself think?

  Suddenly, other parts of the basketball game came back to Lee. The way Jack ran over to Jordan, checking to see if she was OK after the ball had hit her in the face. The ball was tucked securely under his arm like he was cross with it, was putting it in time out. Jordan denied that it hurt, though it would have. But Jordan could always get people to believe what she wanted them to believe.

  Lee thought about the way Jordan just was, and how she somehow got what she wanted without seeming to try.

  The way Jordan and Jack matched.