For the first time I consider the youngish teacher’s grey, shining skin and recall the red glow to his eyes. He’s had a BIG night.
With the teacher gone the other kids make no pretence of doing their work. One year nine with long hair and four piercings I can see screws up paper and uses the library return chute as a goal. A girl with a shaved head pulls out her mobile and calls a friend.
Sebastian leans back in his seat and folds his arms. ‘Why are you playing dress-ups?’ A brow arches. ‘Not that it can’t be fun.’
I blink as I take in the teasing innuendo and then heat climbs up my throat as I imagine what other kinds of dress-ups he could mean. I hope the scarf and coat are doing their work to shield my skin.
I shift in my chair. ‘Chay asked me.’
‘That’s all it takes?’
I laugh aloud at his audacity and then stop in case the teacher returns. ‘Not for you.’
His beaten down puppy dog pout makes me laugh even more and I shove him lightly on the arm. He catches my hand and his eyes turn serious. ‘You could get in trouble.’
‘I know.’ As much as I love the intimacy of holding his hand I don’t need a warning. I’ve had plenty of pity the last few days and I don’t want him to think I’m being taken advantage of. I pull my hand away to fold with the other in my lap. Chay’s problems aren’t mine to spread around. ‘Chay and I have been friends for a long time and she needed me. I owe her a lot. When I first moved here, I didn’t know anyone.’
‘I know how you feel.’
I’d forgotten. ‘But you’ve settled in like you’ve been here your whole life.’
‘I’m glad you think so.’ I glance his way but he’s staring out the window, his focus somewhere far away. ‘Everything is always more complicated than it seems from the outside.’
‘I know.’
He looks at me then, head tilted. Really seeing me. ‘I think you do.’
I swallow and look away to break the spell. It’s hard to be serious wearing Chay’s clothes in the middle of detention. I’m not sure I want this boy to be able to read me. I like to think I’m good at keeping myself to myself – if you exclude stupid marches across the schoolyard to confront my ex-date to the disco.
‘So, why are you here for detention on this fine Saturday?’
He seems to accept my change of subject. ‘I was late to school.’
‘Why?’
A shadow flits across his face and the aloof Sebastian is back. ‘Overslept,’ he says eventually.
Now it’s my turn to study him. I didn’t think it was that personal a question, but I can read his ask-me-no-more signals like he’s straight out told me it’s none of my business.
‘Sorry for asking.’
Mr Jones staggers back in and we return to our study, effectively ending the conversation.
It doesn’t stop me thinking about it though. What could he be hiding? If I had to guess from his intent concentration on the computer screen in front of him, I would say he’s deadly serious about his schoolwork, so I don’t believe he’d just rock up late. Not without a very good reason.
Is he like Chay with trouble at home?
I sneak a glance his way but can’t read anything in his expression. Now I wish I’d asked more when I had the opportunity, even at the risk of him telling me to butt out.
CHAPTER
7
Time ticks by painfully slowly and I can’t focus. The longer detention lasts, the more I begin to blame Sebastian for my unease. Who is he to be so off-limits? I can’t think straight because of all the questions I need answered.
By the time Mr Jones heads out for another coffee I’m ready. ‘What does 404 mean?’
His head jerks up. He scans my computer screen, which is open to a blank word processing document. ‘You found it on a website?’
I shake my head. ‘You wrote in the dust the other day, outside the bathroom.’ He says nothing for a long moment and I try to act like I don’t have every moment of our conversation imprinted in my mind from replaying it a bajillion times. Maybe I misread, but it’s too late to back out now. ‘You wrote it on the ground when you were looking at me a lot like you are now.’
He nods like that makes sense. ‘I didn’t realise. I was probably thinking about class. It’s an error message you get on websites all the time. Means the link is broken.’
‘Oh, okay.’
He returns his attention to his computer but the zeros and ones across the screen don’t move. There’s something about the way he’s looking at the rows of numbers and letters – computer code I assume – that is too interested. Forced.
Fake.
Maybe the whole 404 thing was about me after all.
I swivel so he can’t see my screen and do a search. In seconds, I know more than I ever wanted to about this standard error code. It means the client was able to communicate with the server but the server couldn’t find what was requested.
It’s a perfect summary of his slightly confused expression when I wasn’t heartbroken about the Joel-Lana thing.
I close the page before he can see. Not that he’s even looking my way.
I don’t mention the 404 error again but store it away in my mental Sebastian file. Something taking up more and more of my brain capacity the longer I spend with him.
I don’t know if it’s Chay’s outfit that gives me daring or whether it’s that I’m not in any hurry to head home to an empty place, but when detention is over and we’re walking out I fall into step beside Sebastian.
He bumps my shoulder in a friendly way. ‘You did it.’
‘Ouch.’ I pretend to rub at the spot but my grin gives the lie to playing injured. ‘I did, didn’t I?’
Somehow Chay’s scheme has worked without a hitch. Partially thanks to Sebastian. Tall, gorgeous Sebastian, who seems to be developing a habit of being in the right place when I need him.
‘What are you doing now?’ I blurt the question.
It’s the closest I’ve ever come to asking a boy out. And it’s so far away from an actual date suggestion he probably doesn’t even recognise it as an invitation. Wearing Chay’s clothes for a morning can’t change my personality completely.
My phone buzzes before he can answer. I don’t need to look at it to know it’s Chay. She’ll want to know how the detention thing went. She might even want to catch up later.
‘Are you going to look at that?’ Sebastian asks.
‘No.’
He hasn’t answered my invitation-question and I’m not up to asking it again – no matter how much red lipstick I’m wearing.
We walk on in silence toward the school gates. It’s easy, it’s comfortable and despite the fact that the breeze has picked up and I’ve lost all the feeling in my legs again, I’m happy to be here with Sebastian.
Leaves swirl around our feet and a plastic rubbish bag overflowing from the bin is picked up and flies away into the heavy sky. I turn my head to follow its path until it’s a white speck in the distance. At my side, Sebastian does the same.
My phone buzzes again at the gates.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to get that?’ There’s that look again. The 404 puzzled look, like I’m not computing as he’d expect.
‘It will be Chay.’
He nods. ‘Checking to make sure the plan worked and you followed orders.’
I bristle under the implication. ‘She does a lot for me too you know.’
He holds his hands up in surrender. ‘I didn’t say otherwise.’ He starts walking again. Toward my house. ‘Aren’t you coming?’
I’m not sure how to answer. Yes, that is the way I would go but the leap of my heart hopes there’s more to the question. Which is stupid because after my spectacular fail with Joel I should be steering clear of all boys. Especially mysterious boys completely out of my league, who happen to be the brother of the girl I’m setting up to be dumped by a fake guy on the net.
But he’s so Sebastian and I can’t resist. ‘Wi
th you?’
There’s a shyness to his smile now. ‘I have to work this afternoon but I thought maybe I could walk you home first.’
I clench my jaw to keep it from dropping open.
‘If you want,’ he adds when I stand there stunned and silent. ‘It’s on my way to work.’
‘Great. That would be great.’
Great is so nowhere near the explosion of joy doing a breakdance inside me but even I know it’s not cool to launch into a twirl in front of a boy who’s walking you home.
In my excitement two of my books slip from my hands. Sebastian leans over and picks them up. I’m relieved – I’d probably end up face first on the ground if I tried to bend over in these shoes.
‘You want to write movies, huh?’
I take back the book on screenwriting I grabbed on my way out the library and shove it away. ‘No. Maybe. I probably won’t even get a chance to read it.’ That’s not true. Although I picked it up on a whim, I’m looking forward to reading it, but acting on my interest in making stories is so new and private. I’m not ready to own it, and not to this boy. ‘Anyway, how did you know that’s what it was about?’
The book is pretty nondescript, with a picture of a cat on the front.
‘Lana has it.’
Of course she does. The flare of interest I had in the subject dies down beneath the realisation that we might have something in common.
I don’t want to be anything like that girl.
As I fall into step beside him again I’m thinking. Overthinking, Chay would say.
Is him being here something more than that he happens to be walking near my place? Is it a response to my almost-invite from earlier? Is it a coincidence? How does he even know where I live?
The questions bounce inside my brain wanting to get out.
It only takes one block of me searching for something – anything – to say before one of them escapes.
‘How do you know where I live?’ It’s a fair enough question. I think.
His electric blue shoes kick at a stone and it rolls away down the street. ‘Your mum is the hairdresser, right?’
‘The only one in town.’
He adjusts his duffel on his shoulder. ‘My sister has been there a few times since we moved here. She might have mentioned it was a house too.’
‘Lana?’
Duh.
Of course it’s Lana. The ball of unease in my belly returns with a thud. I picture her downstairs in the salon, beneath my feet, chatting to my mum, hearing God knows what stories about me. I’d have thought a girl like Lana would be pretentious enough to make the drive to the city for hair appointments.
‘Yeah.’ He sounds as miserable as I feel when he confirms my guess.
I up the pace and rip off the scarf keeping my hair back, unable to stand the itchy, sweaty confinement a second longer.
Lana’s pretty much been to my house.
I need to find out what Mum’s been saying to her, but she won’t be home for hours and hours. Maybe I could call. She said she’d have her phone for emergencies and I’m pretty sure this classifies.
Although she might not see it that way.
‘Wait up.’
I turn. Sebastian is a whole house length behind me. I must have walked faster than I thought. I use both hands to try to smooth out my hair while I wait but it keeps flying away in the wind. I tie it back using the scarf instead. ‘Sorry,’ I say when Sebastian catches up. ‘I didn’t realise I’d left you.’
‘My sister has that effect on people sometimes.’
His sister … Why does she have to be his sister? A change of subject is in order. ‘So, do you have a brother?’
It’s supposed to be a joke because I’d have heard if there was another new Elliot. Our school isn’t big enough for it to have gone unnoticed.
But at my question his lips press together and face turns away. Now it’s his turn to walk a little faster. The easy rhythm we shared at the start of the walk is gone.
‘You don’t have to answer.’
He stops, runs a hand through his mussed-up hair, and exhales a long sigh. ‘Actually, I have another … sister.’
‘There’s more like Lana?’
His frown creases into a grin. ‘Poppy is nothing like Lana.’ There’s a light of affection in his green eyes. They shine from it. ‘She’s nearly fifteen years younger for a start.’
Maths has never been my strong point but it only takes half a second. ‘She’s one?’
‘Nearly.’
‘Wow. That’s a big age gap.’ I manage not to ask anything inappropriate about second marriages or anything.
He brushes over my comment. ‘Anyway, she’s the reason I was late for school. I had a nappy to change.’
His eyes are on me, watching for my reaction to the news he’s a hands-on brother.
My head tilts as I try to imagine him changing a squirming kid’s dirty nappy. Nope, can’t picture it. Is this why he seems so much older?
‘Does Lana have to help out too?’
His chuckle isn’t the relaxed rumble of earlier. ‘Babies aren’t really her thing.’
‘That, I believe.’
The thing making my head spin is that as far as I know, most year twelve boys don’t have much to do with babies either. I know Sebastian is different – it’s part of why I can’t stop thinking about him – but his revelation takes some getting used to.
‘Mum looks after her mostly. She had to leave her job when Poppy was born.’ He shrugs. ‘I wanted to explain.’
‘Thanks. I think.’
This time his grin is more like the one I’ve become used to. ‘We’re here.’
I look up over his shoulder. It’s the back entrance to my place, the driveway I strode out of a few hours ago. I look down, almost surprised to see my bare legs. Talking to Sebastian made me forget I wasn’t dressed as myself.
It also made the walk home pass far too quickly.
‘Where do you work?’ I ask the question to keep him here a minute longer. I’m not ready to watch him walk away.
He hooks a thumb over his shoulder. ‘The computer shop.’
‘You’re a computer nerd?’
‘I’ll take that as a compliment.’
He can, because he’s unlike any computer nerd I’ve seen. My tongue is on strike again as my brain tries desperately to think of something to say. ‘It’s nice out. Want some company the rest of the way?’
It’s only once the question is out of my mouth that the pain in my feet from Chay’s heels registers to my brain. But I don’t care. I’ll hobble if it means I get to spend a bit longer with Sebastian.
‘That would be nice.’ He looks up at the clouds, which are becoming darker by the second. The wind is picking up too. ‘Perfect weather for a stroll.’
It’s only an extra two blocks down the main shopping strip from the salon. I enjoy every second despite my ankles and toes feeling like I’m striding through shards of glass with every step.
‘You’re really into computers, huh?’
He launches into a description of his favourite programming language and the uni courses he plans to do nearby.
When he pauses for breath I’m ready with my next question. ‘You don’t want to go somewhere bigger?’ In my head I add ‘better’.
‘No, do you?’
‘I can’t wait to get away. I’m going to study business and be a brilliant success.’ My plan doesn’t ring as true as it once did, but saying I want to write movies seems the stuff of fantasy.
He seems to consider this. ‘I’ve only been here for a few months, but it doesn’t seem so bad.’
‘But everyone knows everyone. You do one stupid thing and the whole town knows by dinnertime.’
Like a ghost, Lana looms between us. Thanks to his sister, everyone in town was talking about me just days ago.
He doesn’t argue the point, though, and moments later we reach his work.
We stand at the door to Dave’s Compu
ter Emporium. It’s more of a poky second-hand computer shop than an emporium, but I guess Dave has delusions of grandeur.
‘I’d better go in. I was supposed to start three minutes ago.’
‘Three minutes? Now I know you live on the edge.’
He grips the door. ‘I’d suggest we meet later but I promised I’d get home.’ He hesitates. ‘I have to look after my sister. The little one.’
‘It’s fine.’
Of course it’s not. Of course I’m looking into his green eyes and trying to work out whether he’s making an excuse to avoid me. But it’s not as though I expected this would turn into a date.
Hoped maybe.
‘Bye.’ I make my feet move before I say something dumb and Sebastian spends the whole afternoon at work regretting he ever offered to walk me home.
‘Hey.’
I turn back at the sound of his voice.
‘I finish at five. I could sneak half an hour if you wanted to meet for ice-cream.’
Do I? Yes!
‘I think I’m free,’ I say casually.
My phone beeps again with another text. I still haven’t looked at the first.
‘That reminds me.’ Sebastian closes the distance between us and holds out his hand. I pass him my phone. A second later he hands it back. ‘My number is in there in case you discover you’re not free.’
He’s just given me his number.
Now I’m teetering on Chay’s heels and it has nothing to do with their height or the cold. It’s all about Sebastian. My hand clutches the phone like it can keep me from falling. Into his arms.
‘I’ll see you then.’
* * *
I set up my laptop on the kitchen bench and prepare my lunch while I wait for it to start up. A check of my phone tells me the texts were from Chay and I reply briefly telling her I survived detention.
You’re the best
Lunch is my favourite combination of peanut butter and banana on fresh white bread, heated for twenty seconds in the microwave to make a gooey mess.
Mum hates the whole concept. I always have it when she’s out.
A flashing red light on the answering machine alerts me to a message. It’s from Mum, saying she’ll be late. Any other time she would have tried my mobile if she missed me at home. Was she deliberately trying to avoid talking to me?
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