And I picture Hazel on Sunday, copying every expression Lisette made. Wearing the same clothes, the same hairstyle, the same fake tan. She wants to sit where Lisette sits. She wants to go out with Stephen. Hazel wants to be Lisette. And she thinks Megan is immature? ‘What kind of an idiot is she?’
Megan’s smile bursts free. ‘Obviously the kind that understands him in a way Lisette never could.’
‘The kind that wears a push-up bra,’ I say.
‘The kind that will be sitting in Lisette’s chair next year,’ Megan says.
‘The kind that keeps a diary,’ I say. ‘In her bedside locker. Stupid hiding place.’
And then I have to put my hand over Megan’s mouth because she’s laughing so loud.
CHAPTER 15
‘Lisette is going to find out that Hazel likes Stephen,’ Megan says as she drains a glass of milk after we eat lunch in my kitchen. She pours another and dunks a cookie in it.
I’m clearing the food away, and I shove a jar of jam aside and it makes me think of Ms Cusack. There are six jars in total there now. Seriously. No one even likes apricot in our house. I lift it out and take a sliced pan from the bread bin. ‘Let’s go to the park,’ I say and head for the front door.
‘Are you still hungry?’ Megan asks.
‘Nope, they’re for Ms Cusack,’ I say.
When we get to Ms Cusack’s door, I don’t ring the bell.
‘What’s wrong?’ Megan says.
‘What if she answers and asks us to come in? Dad says the floor is covered in pee-soaked newspapers,’ I say.
Megan steps back.
‘Not her own pee,’ I say. ‘Her cats’.’
‘Oh,’ Megan says. ‘Still, though. Gross.’
The red paint on the door is peeling so badly that older green paint sticks out in patches from beneath. I feel bad for her. I really do. But I don’t want to go in there. I put the jam and bread down by the door and walk away. If Ms Cusack hasn’t taken them in by the time we leave the park, I’ll ring the bell. Besides, I might catch a glimpse of her collecting it.
Megan spots Guitar boy as soon as we’re through the gate, and she goes straight over. He’s with the cute dimpled boy. I’d rather keep an eye on Ms Cusack’s front door than try to talk to two boys that I hardly know.
‘I hope you’ve been practising the chords I showed you?’ Megan calls out as we get close. Guitar boy looks up and goes red when he sees her, but he smiles too. She plonks down beside the two boys so I don’t have much choice but to join.
‘Have you been playing long?’ Megan asks Guitar boy.
He looks at her like she just asked him to list every town in the country in alphabetical order. Eventually he manages to say, ‘No. Just started.’ For a second, he stares at her, but then he adds, ‘You? I mean, the violin? Not guitar. Because I remember you said you play violin.’
‘Yeah. My mum made me take lessons until a few months ago. But I just get bored, you know?’
Guitar guy nods around twelve times, and his eyebrows get more and more knotted as he searches the sky above Megan’s head for something to say. Then the knots smooth out and he points at the other guy. ‘Cian kite-surfs,’ he says and sits back like he just unloaded a boulder. I’ve no idea what kite-surfing is but I don’t want to ask in case I’m supposed to know.
‘I’m learning, yeah,’ Cian says.
‘That’s like surfing while holding a kite, right?’ Megan says.
‘Yeah, kinda,’ he says.
Oh. That sounds cool.
‘Lucy draws,’ she tells them. ‘She won the Young Artist of the Year Award. Her portrait is hanging in the gallery.’
‘I came second,’ I correct her, but Megan waves that away like it doesn’t matter.
‘There’s a portrait of you in the gallery?’ Cian asks.
‘No, not me, it’s of Ms Cusack,’ I say.
‘Who’s Ms Cusack?’ Cian asks.
‘Her neighbour,’ Megan says and points across the park at her house. A tree half-blocks the view so I can’t see if she’s taken the food.
Now I have to explain. ‘It’s what I imagine she looks like.’
‘Why are you so interested in her all of a sudden?’ Megan asks. Then she says to the guys, ‘She’s been leaving food on her doorstep.’ She turns back to me and hands me silence like a present I didn’t want.
‘It’s just . . .’ They all watch me. ‘Well, she grew up on this street. She must have had friends and family. She was probably happy. And now . . .’ I shrug because I don’t want to explain about her being an artist and what my dad thinks of artists. So I just say, ‘Now she’s alone. And poor.’
‘See,’ Megan says and points at me. ‘Nice person.’
But there’s something not right about what I’m saying. Because that might be the truth. I do feel bad that she’s poor. But I also want to know why she’s poor. And lonely. And if she really deserves it just for becoming an artist.
‘Hey,’ Megan says. Her tone has changed, her voice has a secret in it now. ‘Look!’ She raises her eyebrows in the direction of the park gate. I follow her gaze. It’s Hazel, with her head stuck in her phone, texting.
And immediately, the baby snakes in my stomach churn at the thought of Hazel’s secrets. But then I picture Megan on the doorstep this morning. Wilted. Hazel did that. Now Megan has a glint in her eye and a smile on her lips.
And it’s not like we’re going to tell anyone her secrets anyway.
‘I wonder who she’s texting,’ Megan whispers. ‘Your new violin will be as special as you.’
And I can’t help but join in. ‘The curves as smooth as your freckled skin.’
‘The strings as tight as your straightened hair,’ Megan says.
‘The wood as orange as your natural tan,’ I say.
‘The sound as sweet as your nasally voice,’ she says.
Megan turns so her back is to me. Over her shoulder she whispers, ‘No one understands you like I do,’ and then she wraps her arms around herself and rubs her hands up and down her waist pretending to be Hazel kissing Stephen.
The boys don’t know what we’re talking about but they laugh because Megan looks ridiculous.
Hazel lowers her phone and catches my eye. For a second you can tell she wants to turn round, but then she decides to come say hi.
She walks over and sits down between the guys and says, ‘What’s up?’
‘Where’s Lisette?’ I ask.
Hazel shrugs. ‘Left her after practice.’ Then she turns to Guitar boy. ‘I’ve been flat out practising since yesterday.’
Megan points to the guitar. ‘Can I?’
Guitar guy nods. He doesn’t even go red this time.
Megan strums a few chords badly. She hums along and it takes me a minute to realize she’s humming that tune they play when a bride walks up the aisle, and before I can stop myself, I’m laughing.
Hazel is still talking. ‘The idea that talent comes naturally is a myth, I mean, you really have to put the work in too, don’t you?’ she says, which is kind of the opposite of what she said last time, about Megan deserving to be in the orchestra because she’s a natural.
‘Didn’t you say you’re getting a new violin, Hazel?’ Megan says.
Now I’m not laughing. I’m nearly choking. I throw Megan a look but she doesn’t see.
‘Eh, yeah, I am.’
‘Will it be special?’ Megan asks. I try to kick her because she’s going too far, but I don’t want Hazel to see, so it’s just a tap and she ignores me.
‘Well, I’m having it made to order, so, yeah,’ she says.
Megan can hardly hide her grin. Hazel’s stare bores into her. And then I can see the moment that Hazel realizes Megan is laughing at her, that she’s missing something. She searches Megan’s face a second more, then she says, ‘I read your blog.’
The words are a grenade with the pin pulled, placed gently on the grass between us.
‘It’s funny,’ she says.
<
br /> Megan’s head goes completely pink. I think she may just explode with the pressure of not being able to say the words, I know it’s you leaving the comments.
But there’s something about Hazel’s smile. I’ve seen that smile recently. On Mr Reynolds. On Dad. ‘Have you guys read it?’ she asks the boys. ‘Megan’s funny. Sorry, I mean, Penny is funny.’ Hazel clicks her phone a few times and I before I can cut her off with something, anything, she starts reading.
‘Penny in the Park,’ she says.
‘Don’t,’ Megan says, but Hazel shakes her head as if she thinks Megan is being modest and keeps going.
And it’s like at home, when the room shrinks and the air gets stolen away and you know what’s going to happen but you can’t stop it. Hazel’s reading and the guys are listening and Megan’s looking at Hazel like her brain hasn’t caught up with what is happening yet. Then Guitar boy realizes it’s him in the blog and Megan’s face just freezes. He catches Cian’s eye for a second and then they both look away.
The trees get closer and the park gets smaller and it’s just us with these words churning between us.
Hazel reads, ‘His fingers touch mine as he shows me a chord.’
Hazel reaches out and puts a hand on Megan’s arm like she’s saying, so good. Like Megan is having as much fun as her. But Megan’s not blinking and Hazel keeps going and Megan’s eyes are begging Hazel to stop.
‘I love this part,’ Hazel says and reads the section where everyone sees Penny’s massive boobs. The boys cough in embarrassment. Megan makes this tiny sound, like a mouse caught in a trap.
Hazel reads to the end, drops the phone and finishes with a loud, steady clap. ‘It’s really funny, right?’ she asks no one in particular. She reaches over and touches Megan’s knee. ‘Honestly,’ she says. She gives her an encouraging smile. Then the smile warps like plastic in a fire, into one of concern. ‘What’s wrong?’
Megan is a statue.
‘Is it the comments?’
Oh, no, don’t. Please don’t.
‘Someone’s been leaving horrible comments. She just needs to ignore them,’ Hazel says, but she’s not even looking at Megan now. Her hand is on Megan’s knee, but she’s looking at Guitar boy. And she’s lifting her phone again.
I have to do something to stop her. Even though I know I shouldn’t, I say, ‘How’s Stephen?’
Her eyes dart to mine as she holds the phone in the air. I glare right back at her.
She shrugs. Her eyes go back to her phone.
‘You like him,’ I say. I’m not supposed to know. But I’ll lie, say I saw them in the park or something.
But now it’s Hazel that doesn’t blink. ‘No, that’s Lisette.’ And then she reads. ‘Yes, I’m sure they were all absolutely shocked by what is under your T-shirt, Penny. Sorry, I mean, isn’t under there,’ Hazel drops the phone. Shakes her head. ‘Tell Megan she should just ignore that stuff.’ And she actually stares at Guitar boy until he says, ‘Yeah.’
‘Your blog is brilliant, Megan,’ Hazel says and gives Megan’s leg a little tap. ‘So funny.’ Then she sits straight. ‘I better go practise again. Our concert is in three days and I’ve a solo and I’m so not ready for it. I’m going to destroy it!’
Her smile is an invitation for one of us to tell her that she’ll be great. No one speaks.
I’m in shock. I can’t say anything. How can she be so cruel?
She stands and goes towards the fence. Guitar boy, Cian and Megan look anywhere but at each other.
And Hazel’s just going to waltz away.
In the next second, I’m jumping up and running after her.
‘You knew!’ I call.
She’s at the gate when she turns. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘You knew those were the guys from Sunday, Hazel, don’t pretend you didn’t know!’
‘Megan’s blog is made up,’ she says. ‘Penny isn’t real.’ And her eyes twinkle as she repeats Megan’s words. Because that’s the winning ticket.
‘But she didn’t want them to read it,’ I say.
‘So why put it on the internet?’
‘She didn’t think they’d read it. They wouldn’t have, except for you.’
‘Don’t you think the blog is good?’ she asks.
‘That’s not the point!’
But Hazel goes on like it is the point. ‘I think it’s really good. And if she’s embarrassed by it, that’s not my fault.’ She looks over my shoulder at Megan and puts on that fake concerned face again. ‘Is she?’
‘What?’
‘Embarrassed?’
‘Yes, by you!’ I say.
But she’s too fast for me. ‘Really? Okay, I’ll go back and apologize.’ She starts off, and I do exactly what she wants me to do. I grab her arm.
‘No, don’t!’ I say.
‘Lucy!’ She shakes her head like she’s lost. ‘What do you want me to do?’
How is she doing this? Twisting it back on me. She knows exactly what I mean, I can see it in the smile in her eyes.
‘Just leave her alone,’ I say.
She points to her house. ‘That’s what I was trying to do, Lucy. But if you think she needs me?’ She raises her eyebrows.
‘No, she’s fine,’ I say.
‘Well, you better tell her to take it down if it upsets her that much,’ she says.
Every part of me wants to say something that will snatch the smile from her face. But I don’t. Because I don’t have the right words.
Hazel walks out of the park. I’m shaking with anger. I don’t feel bad about reading her diary any more, she deserves it. I have to get back to Megan. So I turn around. Then I realize she’s already gone.
I run back to the guys. ‘Where did Megan go?’
And I guess Guitar boy is not stupid because he says, ‘The opposite direction to her.’ He means Hazel. Megan must have left through the gate across from my house. So I run that way. But I don’t see her on the street. I ring her phone, but she doesn’t pick up. I send her a string of texts, but they all say the same thing and mean nothing. Because Hazel might not be worth getting upset over, but the horrible things she does and says are.
Slowly, I cross the road to my house. And I’m so angry at Hazel and worried for Megan, that I almost don’t notice the book on Ms Cusack’s doorstep.
Searching the windows for a face, I go up. Then I look left and right, just in case my dad has come home early again. But there’s no one watching me.
I grab it and hop back down into the street again. Turning it over, I read the title. Of Mice and Men. And this time the note says, I hope you are reading faster than I can eat.
It’s a small book but it feels heavy in my hand
. Behind the door, she’s in there.
I move to my front door. Megan is missing. Mum’s out. And I have one and a half books to get through now, so I might as well make a start.
CHAPTER 16
We’ve had dinner. One of those dinners where Dad doesn’t tell Mum that he’s going to pay back a loan to Mr Reynolds, and Mum doesn’t tell Dad that she was gone most of the day all dressed up, and I don’t tell anyone that we broke into Hazel’s house.
The room is filled with silent questionables darting around between us.
Right now we are pretending to watch TV in the family room. It’s Who Wants to Be a Millionaire? Mum’s on one couch, Dad’s on the other and I’m on a chair. Mum’s holding her phone where Dad can’t see it and she’s checking it every few minutes, and Dad’s got his laptop open beside him. I bet he’s waiting for the money to arrive so he can send it to Mr Reynolds.
He looks over at Mum. He waits but she refuses to notice because she’s still not talking to him. ‘I’m getting ten million off Seanie,’ he says.
It’s hard to keep ignoring him now. Mum nods. ‘Good,’ she says and continues pretending to watch TV.
Maybe she doesn’t care what that means. But I do. ‘Does that mean you can flip The Old Mill, Dad?’ And th
at soon, everything can go back to normal.
He lifts an eyebrow. ‘Almost. Another few days.’ He winks. Then he looks back at his screen and a smile cracks his face. ‘Speak of the devil. There she is, the little beauty.’
He turns a grin on both of us. Mum doesn’t even blink.
‘Can I see?’ I say and Dad’s grin spreads. He pats the couch. I hop up and sit down beside him. His bank account is open. And it shows a transaction for ten million.
‘So what now?’ I ask.
Dad shoots a look at Mum. ‘Eh, well, I’ll use it for the next stage of development.’
But that’s not what he said earlier to Oly. He said he’d transfer it immediately to Mr Reynolds.
‘Do your old man a favour, go get us a coffee?’ he says.
I can’t really say No, so I go into the kitchen and by the time I come back with a tray and two coffees, Dad’s sitting back with his arms spread over the back of the couch, wearing a lopsided grin. ‘Ah, lovely stuff,’ he says to me.
I sit beside him. He turns his laptop away from me.
‘Any biscuits with that?’ he asks. ‘Actually, wait, I’ve just the thing.’
Dad slides his laptop onto the couch and leaves the room. Mum picks up her phone and starts texting. I hear Dad climb the stairs.
I want to see it. To know if Dad’s lopsided smile is what questionable becoming illegal looks like. Above my head, I hear him move around.
Lifting his laptop, I click on the open web page to his bank account.
And there it is. He did it. Ten in. Ten out. The beginning of the end of The Old Mill.
I hear Dad move again. I picture his lopsided grin and I know that later tonight, I’ll draw it and stick it up in the attic.
Then I have an idea.
In the bar at the top there’s an option to ‘Save as pdf’. I click it. Then I open my email account, attach the pdf and send it to myself. Dad’s feet are on the stairs and my heart is in my mouth.
Deleting the pdf, I close my email account and slide the laptop onto the couch.
Later, when no one is around, I’ll print it out and stick it beside my drawing.
The Words That Fly Between Us Page 8
