The Beauty Is in the Walking
Page 19
Understanding flowed quickly. ‘I know what you mean. Like your protest with the knives.’
I was so glad she said ‘your protest’ and not ‘our’ or simply ‘the’. Here was that insight I admired so much in class, or was ‘envied’ a better word?
‘I have to confess something about that. It wasn’t about Mahmoud. It wasn’t even about the injustice of what they did to him. It was about what I could do. I wanted to lead the way up those steps.’
Might as well get it all out there. Nothing I’d done for Mahmoud had changed a thing. I was working up the words when Chloe said, ‘Soraya wants to know why you took down her brother’s page on the Net.’
‘Soraya?’
‘Yes, we’ve stayed friends on Facebook. I told her what you’d done and she followed it from the start. Mahmoud, as well. Jacob, he came to her room every day to read what you’d written, your careful demolitions of every false assumption, exaggeration, every lie. He never said anything, but he only read your comments, no one else’s. Soraya’s sure of it.’
For a few moments I stared at her. ‘It never occurred to me,’ I muttered. But the Net was like that. You never knew who was looking at your stuff. ‘Just what I’d written?’ I asked.
Chloe shrugged. ‘That’s what Soraya told me.’
Why? I was about to mouth the word, then swallowed it. Any kind of answer would sound too neat, too self-serving. Sorry, Mr Svenson, no clarity of meaning this time. I gripped the wolf’s head in my hand and knew that some things couldn’t be smoothed out into words. They were too personal even to leave your own body.
‘I’ll put the page back up, if it means that much to him,’ I said rather lamely, and after that I floundered in silence. ‘When are you leaving for Schoolies?’ I asked finally, aiming for another chuckle maybe, or was it just to get us talking again?
Chloe did laugh briefly, but without any enthusiasm.
‘It’s not Schoolies I’m thinking about, Jacob,’ she answered, using my name in a deliberate way, it seemed to me. ‘It’s after. I’m not coming back to Palmerston, you see. Dad’s contract finished early. The packers are already here. I’ll go straight from the coast to our house in Brisbane.’
So soon! I was surprised at how much the news shook me. I knew she was going, of course. She’d never left any doubt, but I’d counted on the days before Christmas while we lounged around watching the letterbox for our results.
She was waiting for me to say something, that I’d miss her, maybe, or we should stay close on Facebook, but those were the same platitudes we’d made fun of already. I was empty of words.
She must have guessed this because she launched right in. ‘Look, I know you’re as tired of the question as I am, but what are you going to do next year?’
There is was, the bullseye of my restlessness. Tonight, Jacob, tonight.
Chloe seemed afraid I’d fob her off with a grimace. I half expected it of myself and when something different stirred inside me I was as surprised as she was. But the weight I’d carried like lead under my skin all week had lightened once I took my cane back from Dan. Chloe’s story about Soraya and Mahmoud had tossed aside what little remained, leaving my entire body free, lithe, limber.
I fell out of such thoughts to find her waiting for my answer. She decided I wasn’t going to offer one and in a voice that couldn’t quite hide her trepidation she said, ‘What I’m really asking is, will we see each other again?’
Same question wanting an answer. If I tried my hand at uni we’d meet, we’d see where things took us, but if I stayed in Palmerston . . .
I stepped across the gap between us and with the cane keeping me steady I used my other hand to cup her cheek in my palm. Despite the darkness, I could see her surprise at this sudden intimacy, but she didn’t flinch or back away.
Then I leaned the rest of the way and kissed her.
Chloe let my lips settle on hers and then she pressed forwards, just a little, and cupped my hand more closely against her cheek with her own. Our kiss lingered, but since I wasn’t counting I had no idea how long.
When I straightened up she took a moment to breathe and said calmly, ‘I guess that answers my question.’
about the author
JAMES MOLONEY is one of Australia’s best-known authors for the young. He has twice won the Children’s Book Council of Australia Book of the Year Award, but one of his greatest successes has been in winning the hearts of children and teenagers with his brilliant fantasy adventures beginning with The Book of Lies. He lives in Brisbane, where he writes every day in a shed specially built in his backyard.
copyright
Angus&Robertson
An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers, Australia
First published in Australia in 2015
by HarperCollinsPublishers Australia Pty Limited
ABN 36 009 913 517
harpercollins.com.au
Copyright © Buena Vista Books 2015
The right of James Moloney to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000.
This work is copyright. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright Act 1968, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
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ISBN 978 0 7322 9994 1 (paperback)
ISBN 978 1 4607 0404 2 (ebook)
National Library of Australia Cataloguing-in-Publication data:
Moloney, James, 1954– author.
The beauty is in the walking / James Moloney.
For young adults.
Detective and mystery stories.
Cerebral palsied — Fiction.
First loves — Fiction.
A823.3
Cover design and illustration by Darren Holt, HarperCollins Design Studio
Background image by shutterstock.com