“Thank you. I just hope those aren’t the famous last words of Quade Kelly,” I tease.
I take off the handbrake and roll the car back onto the street. The car bunny-hops down the road until my brain remembers you have to do stuff with the clutch.
We drive past his house and through a few connecting streets. I’m doing it.
Out of the corner of my eye I see a young boy, probably about six or seven, riding a bike in his driveway, I slow right down, watching him out my window and then in my mirror as long as I can see him.
“You can go faster, Lace. The limit is sixty here.”
“Yeah, I know, but there are kids out today.”
“Got news for you. Kids are out every single day.”
“Be quiet. I know that.”
We take a trip around the quiet lanes, which suits me fine.
“How about we head down to The Strip?” Quade suggests.
Where someone I know will see me and I’ll get all distracted and crash into the ocean somehow? “Nah, not today.”
“Okay, well how about we take a left and we’ll head down to the school?”
I practise some parallel parking by the main pedestrian crossing, and then I work on my three-point turns in the car park near the oval. After I seem to get the hang of it, Quade directs me to take the bend which travels up and around the lookout, past all the multi-million dollar homes on the hill with their equally rich views. I have to swallow down when we pass his parents’ place.
The road narrows as the trees close in around us as we climb up the hill. I take it slow to avoid the potholes and the erosion along the side of the road. The occasional spider webs gleam with the afternoon sun behind them. Bloody spiders.
“You know I think I’ve actually got the hang of it,” I boast.
“You could drive before, Lace. Don’t forget that, but yes. You’re nailing it. We just need to work on your speed, Grandma.”
“Hey! Who you calling Grandma?” I screech and turn to scowl at him.
He chuckles and then looks ahead and points at the road. “Lace!” he yells.
A grey blur hops into my vision and jumps right in front of my car.
“Ah!” I cry out as I slam on the brakes, gripping the wheel.
Quade’s hands slap against the dash. His upper body jerks forward. I grit my teeth as the car comes to a grinding halt.
Bam! Quade’s head connects with the dash. By some miracle, my head doesn’t hit the steering wheel. The car stalls. The kangaroo stills at the side of the road, staring at us. Heavy breathing fills the small space as I process what just happened.
First day back in the driver’s seat. Nearly kill wildlife. Fail.
“Geez, Lace. You almost knocked my teeth out,” Quade says, rubbing his straightened fingers across his forehead.
Add to the list—nearly cause serious dental bill for beloved boyfriend.
The animal, unfazed, continues its journey, disappearing into the scrub. Oh God, I could’ve killed it.
“I-I’m sorry,” I say, pointing to the trees and gasping for breath.
“You really want a boyfriend with a gappy smile?” he continues.
“I panicked. What the hell is a ’roo doing jumping around on the road? Up here of all places?”
“Good reflexes, but you can’t jam on the brake like that. You’ll cause an accident.”
“My heart is beating like crazy,” I tell him as I place my hand over my heart, feeling the pulsing of it against my ribcage.
A warm hand covers mine, and I look over to a pair of cool blue eyes, which carry a calm that I try to draw on as I stare into them.
“Do you want me to drive back?” he offers.
“I think I’ll be okay. Just need a sec.”
---
When we get back to my place, the adrenaline in my veins isn’t pumping as hard as it was on the hill. My heart tingles with pride. I did it. I actually got into a car and drove. Thanks to Quade. I’d built it up as such a big obstacle in my head.
I turn off the engine and pull the handbrake on.
“You did good, Lace,” Quade says, unbuckling his seat belt.
“Do you reckon?” I ask, hoping he’ll be honest with me.
“We’re both still alive, the car is intact, and so is Skippy the bush kangaroo. That’s good in my books.”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right.” I let out a heavy sigh. “Do you wanna come in for a while?”
“I’d love to, but I can’t. I’ve got reports to finish up, but I promise I’ll be back tomorrow arvo at four o’clock for lesson two.”
“You mean you’re volunteering your life again?”
“Yup.”
“And how do you know I’m available tomorrow afternoon?” I am until six, anyway.
He leans in close and taps my nose with his finger. “Because your father said you’re not working.”
How often are Quade and my father talking on the side? What else are they chatting about?
“Oh. Well I guess I’ll make myself available for you.”
I wave to Quade as he pulls away in his truck and walk inside the main house. The smell akin to a good bakery hits my senses the moment I walk into the house. She’s not, is she?
I find Mum fussing around in the kitchen with her hair tied up, and her white apron with smears of chocolate all over it. Bowls and dishes are stacked high in the sink, and flour, chocolate shards and measuring cups are scattered over the bench top.
Normal kids my age can’t wait to turn twenty-one. Not me. Mack, Faith and I were going to celebrate it in style with a huge joint party. Now, I don’t even want to acknowledge the special day, because I get to turn twenty-one and Faith doesn’t.
“How did the lesson go?” Mum asks, as she fills up the kettle with water from the tap.
“Not bad.” I shrug.
A smug smile passes over her lips. I bet she’s busting to say “I told you so” after her and Dad have nagged me for years, promising that it wouldn’t be as daunting as I thought. Funny how Quade suggests it and I put up much less of a fight. I guess I was just used to saying no to them. It became an automatic response.
“You seeing Quade tomorrow?” she asks, as she places two teacups in a cleared space near the kettle.
Thank you for no “I told you so”.
“Yeah, we’re having another lesson. I don’t think he knows it’s my birthday, though.”
Mum huffs and clangs the metal bowls as she puts them in the sink. “Don’t you young people talk to each other?”
As if I want to remind him of my birthday, which will just bring up the fact that his sister’s birthday is three days later. I don’t need to draw extra attention to it.
“We do, it’s just … Mum, I said I didn’t want a big deal,” I grumble as I take a seat on a timber stool. Tomorrow will be a non-event, and I’m okay with that. I should use the morning to start looking for a job. It’s time to seriously think about my future. “Just a night where I get to have dinner with both you and Dad is all I want.”
“Sweetheart, I made a cake. That’s not a big deal, and your father and I are having dinner with you tomorrow, as promised, but there are other people in your life who want to celebrate with you—people who love you, Lacey. Please don’t shut them out.”
I rest my elbows on the table and look into her hazel eyes which beg me to give in, to let her have this celebration. I guess I should look at it in the light that she has a daughter to celebrate with.
“Just a few others, Lacey. Please let me do this for you.”
I reach across and take her hand. There’s no point being stubborn. This is important to my mother, more so than it is to me, so I can’t deny her. “Okay, Mum,” I whisper.
Her wide smile creates crinkles at the sides of her hazel eyes. “Great, that’s settled then. We’ll leave at six.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
“You’re killing me in those shorts, Lacey Lou. Like you have no idea how much.” His warm fing
ers brush against my cheek. Quade moves in close, blocking me from leaving the room.
“Rise and shine, birthday girl,” Mum’s happy voice shrills from the corner of the room. A hit of sunlight probes into my eyes. Thanks for killing my sexy dream, Mum.
“What time is it?” I grumble, trying to focus on her face, which is hard to see with the light beaming behind her.
“Early. You know what your father would say.”
“He who sleeps does not catch da fish,” we both mock in Dad’s accent and laugh.
“I thought maybe I should go in and help Dad today. I know he said I should take time off, but—”
“It’s your birthday. You’re not expected to work. Besides, your father is closing the shop tonight so there won’t be nearly as much to do.”
He’s closing it? I would’ve thought he’d get my uncle and auntie to cover. Lily as well. Tears well in my eyes. God I love him. “B-but he hardly ever closes the shop?”
“You’re the apple of his eye, Lacey. He’d do anything for you.”
Cue tears.
I swipe at the wetness leaking from my eye.
“Now now, don’t cry. Your brother sent me a message on that Viber thingy you put on my phone. He says he can Skype now.” She takes my laptop off my desk and sits it beside me on the bed. “Happy birthday, my sweet girl.” She plants her lips on my forehead, smacking a loud kiss.
I stretch my arms overhead and sit up, stuffing my pillows behind me for support. “Thanks,” I say through a screeching yawn.
“Why don’t you do the hook up thingy”— she makes a circle with her finger, motioning at the screen—“and I’ll go get your breakfast.”
“Thanks Mum.”
I fire up the laptop, and go to the bathroom and splash water on my face. After a minute, my hair is somewhat tidy and I don’t look entirely like a wreck. Like someone who stayed up watching back-to-back episodes of Suits when they should have gone to bed. It was a bit sad to watch it alone, but served as a reminder of the good times.
Getting comfortable beneath the covers again, I pull the computer onto my lap and open up Skype.
My phone beeps with a message. A huge smile stretches across my face when I see who it’s from and what it says.
Lily: Wanna hang at the beach later this morning and then go stuff our faces with ice cream for lunch?? #DoIt
I chuckle to myself as I text her back.
Me: I’m in. I’ll meet you at Runaway Beach at eleven :P
Lily: Sweet. Be prepared to see me eat my weight in dairy #Moo
Mum breezes into the room with a tray of orange juice, coffee, and pancakes piled high with chopped banana and berries on the side, and maple syrup drizzled in a zig-zag pattern. Breakfast of champions.
“What’s so funny?” she asks as she places the tray on my beside table and moves onto the other side of the bed, sitting on top of the covers.
“Oh, it’s Lily. I’m gonna meet her at the beach later and then we’re going for ice cream.”
“That’s nice, dear.” Mum looks at the screen and scrunches her nose up. “Is it working yet?”
“Oh, one sec.” I dial Ricky, and a second later he accepts the video call.
“Heeeeyyyyyyy,” he says, his voice crackling a little through the speakers. His dark hair is wild and his white T-shirt looks like it should have been washed a day or two ago. Boys.
“Hey Ricky,” I say and smile. It’s been ages since we’ve Skyped. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was avoiding us.
“Happy birthday, Sis. You are now totally legal to get wasted overseas. Smoke pot in Colorado if you want to.” He chuckles. Arse.
Mum pokes her head into view. “Now, Ricky, I’m sure that’s not on Lacey’s mind.”
Ricky groans as he smiles through his teeth. “Oh, Mum. You are there. Hey. Course I’m joking. Duh.”
“Where is Josefine?” Mum says, and cranes her neck as if that will help her see around Ricky’s lounge room any better.
“Ah, she’s not here,” he says. “Anyway, let’s talk about Lace. What you doin’ today?”
Do I tell him I’m job hunting? Will he freak out about me leaving Dad in the shop? I don’t want to put any pressure on Ricky to come home. Dad promises he’ll be okay. It’s Ricky I worry about. I don’t want him to come back and resent Dad for it.
“Um, this morning I’m going to start looking at jobs and update my resume, and then go to the beach and eat ice cream until I burst.” I blurt out in one big hit.
Ricky moves closer to the camera, his dark brows pulling together. “You’re leaving the Palace?” he says in a higher-pitched tone.
“She handed in her last assignment. Any day now she’ll have her diploma,” Mum says and wraps her arm around my shoulder, leaning her head against my temple. “We’re so proud of her.”
“Wow. That’s really cool, Lace. You always had the brains out of the two of us.”
“I will take that compliment,” I say and grin.
“Ha, you would.” He scratches at the longish stubble on his chin. “Who’s gonna help Dad out, then?”
“We have a lovely new girl,” Mum says, proud as punch. “She’s been a real find.”
“A new girl, huh?’ he says. “Is she good?”
“Yes,” Mum and I say at the same time and then laugh.
“Well, I’m proud of you, Sis. Don’t worry; it’ll work out with Dad. ’Bout time you got to do something for you.”
A tear springs to my eye. I nod and focus on holding it back. I don’t wanna cry. “Thanks.” Does he realise how much that means to me, coming from him? How my anxiety levels just took a dive?
A loud series of knocks comes from the computer, and Ricky turns his head to the side of the room.
“I, ah, gotta go,” he says. “Happy twenty-first.” He places his outstretched fingers to his mouth, makes an exaggerated “mwah” noise and then blows me a kiss.
I blow one back to him.
“Bye, Ricky,” Mum says and waves. “I’ll do the Viber thing with you later.”
Ricky chuckles. “Yeah, Mum. Bye.”
The call is disconnected.
“I really miss that doofus sometimes,” I tell Mum and take a sip of the creamy cappuccino she’s made for me. I hum in appreciation. “I really needed this.”
“I need some of that coffee myself. I completely wore myself out yesterday making the chocolate cake to rival all others.”
I pass the cup to her and she takes a sip. “Can’t wait to taste it, Mum.”
We sit for a while as I eat breakfast and talk about resumes and jobs and what it’s like out in the real world.
By the time I leave for the beach, I’m feeling more prepared than ever to take life by the collar and lead the way. Just like Faith did.
---
At eleven, Lily is waiting at the beach, a bright blue boogie board in hand. She has a black flat cap on and a sheer white kaftan over the top of a rainbow-patterned bikini.
We swim. We get hammered by the occasional wave. We laugh. Lily is much smilier than usual. It causes a fluttering in my heart every time I catch her let her guard down.
And when we’re done with the sand and surf we each eat a bowl of ice cream with topping and nuts that’s bigger than the size of our heads.
Then I remember.
Faith’s favourite ice cream—cookies and cream with nuts, sprinkles and caramel syrup. I remember how we used to get our giant waffle cones after a beach session and then ride our bikes home one-handed while we licked the melted ice cream from our salty fingers.
Some of the best days of my childhood involve treats from the Carousel Ice Creamery.
I try to strategically wipe away a tear as Lily is pre-occupied wiping chocolate sauce from the corner of her mouth. I should be happy. So far, today has been the perfect birthday. Well, as perfect as it can be without my bestie.
Lily dips her finger into the chocolate sauce on the edge of her glass bowl and dabs it on my che
ek.
“Now we’re both covered in chocolate,” she says and winks.
Then, for a moment, I forget. I focus on the here and now with my friend, Lily.
---
“You’ve yawned like the whole lesson,” I chastise Quade. “It’s distracting.”
The whites of his eyes are splintered in red, and he isn’t as switched on as normal. I routinely get in trouble for not stopping long enough at stop signs, but today I reckon I could have rolled through and he wouldn’t have said a thing.
“Didn’t sleep well,” he says through a giant yawn.
“Yeah, well yawning is contagious,” I say as I yawn. “So cut it out. Trying to concentrate here.” I poke out my tongue at him.
“If you wanna talk about distracting, how about the fact you haven’t stopped talking about Lily since we got in the car?”
A smile stretches across my lips as we pull into my driveway. I had fun today. Lily is awesome. “Lily and I had a good time. It was a good day.”
I pull up in front of the gates and shut off the engine, proud of another lesson done and dusted. For some reason, Dad is waiting in front of the garage.
Quade and I get out of the car.
“Hey, Dad,” I say with a wave as I pull my satchel over my head.
“Hey, Mr Marone,” Quade says, his face contorting as he fights a yawn.
“A word, Quade?” Dad calls him over with a jut of his chin. My feet plant to the ground. Guess I’ll give them a second.
While I lean against my car, Dad talks, but from this distance, all I can hear is mumbling. Occasionally, Quade gets a word in, but mostly nods with his arms crossed under his chest.
Dear God. Is Dad giving him the chat about the sliced balls? Should I step in and save Quade from the embarrassment?
Dad wraps his arms around Quade’s tall frame. Quade hugs him back and then they both laugh and look at me.
I stride over to them, now curious about the smiles stretched across both of their faces.
“Something you’d like to share?” I challenge, one hand on my hip.
“Just saying ’ow good it is to ’ave ’im back in our lives,” Dad says, with a slap to Quade’s back.
Losing Faith (Surfers Way) Page 18
