One of the boys, the biggest in fact, stepped in.
‘Hey, Xena,’ he said. ‘Let’s stop messing around, okay? Let’s just take them to Headquarters. Their parents will trade craploads to get them back and you know it. What the hell are we waiting for?’
Xena put a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
‘What are we waiting for, Ziggy? What are we waiting for? We’re waiting for me to give the order, aren’t we? We’re waiting for me to make up my mind. That’s what we’re waiting for.’
Like Aiden, she didn’t raise her voice but Ziggy turned away regardless. She nodded at the rest of the group and turned back to face me.
‘What are you doing here, huh? Why’d you come to the park?’
‘Someone said there were mangoes here.’ I was still snivelling, so it came out all broken.
That made her laugh. Most of the group gave a chuckle.
‘Mangoes?’ she said. ‘That’s the best I’ve heard in ages. I wish, rich kid. I wish. And what, you thought you’d just wander down here, pluck a couple of juicy mangoes from our park and stroll back to class, huh? Unbelievable.’
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. I had no idea what I was apologising for. ‘Please let us go.’ But the other boy had scared me. I hadn’t thought of kidnapping. Why hadn’t I thought about kidnapping? Our parents were enormously rich, one of the wealthiest couples in New South Wales. Maybe the wealthiest. They’d pay a fortune to a kidnapper to get us back and it wouldn’t make a dent in their bank account. Suddenly I needed to go to the toilet. My legs started trembling and I really believed I’d wet myself there and then.
Xena smiled.
‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Since you asked so nicely, you can go.’
Ziggy threw up his hands. ‘Are you crazy …?’ One look from Xena stopped him.
‘But hey, rich kids,’ she said. ‘Stay in school where it’s safe, okay? Stay at home with your rich parents in your big house and don’t come here again. This here’s the real world, you understand? You wouldn’t like it here. It’s not a place for you.’ She turned and walked along the cracked footpath towards the distant trees. The rest of the group followed her a few seconds later. Ziggy was the last. He gave us one last stare. Its hardness was like a punch to the face.
Aiden and I walked past the graffiti on the wall, through the arch and out onto the street. I tried not to look behind and I tried not to run. But when I couldn’t keep control anymore, I glanced back. The park was deserted and there was no sign of the street kids. It was as if they’d melted into the landscape.
But I didn’t care what my eyes told me. I ran as hard as I could, Aiden keeping pace at my side. We didn’t stop until we came to the school fence.
Mr Meredith was waiting for us on the other side.
We were in trouble. But at that moment, it seemed trivial compared to the trouble we’d just been in.
3
Dad drove the car himself, which he only does at times of great stress, when he needs something to do with his hands.
Mr Meredith had rung him when it was discovered we were nowhere in the school grounds. Charlotte hadn’t said anything, which was probably good. Going off to find non-existent mangoes would be an embarrassing explanation. Now I could say we just felt like we needed a walk and that we’d only gone a couple of hundred metres before returning. No need to mention being surrounded and nearly kidnapped by a gang of street kids.
Dad sent us to our room as soon as we got home. About the only thing he said was that this was a situation he and Mum would deal with together. He’d get her on his tablet just as soon as she was out of a meeting in Melbourne that couldn’t be interrupted. For the next hour Aiden and I would just have to stew.
It turned out to be an hour and a half. We couldn’t even use our tablets because Dad had strictly forbidden it, and the library was out of bounds too. Aiden just sat cross-legged on his bed and I guess I should have used the time to talk to him, if only to get our stories straight. But somehow it didn’t seem important. I knew Aiden would let me do the talking anyway and that he would echo whatever I said. He’ll lie through his teeth to protect me. He’s done it before. Many times.
So I spent my time thinking about the girl. I’d never known anyone like her and although I should have been revolted by her dirtiness and the fact she hung out in a gang, I wasn’t. She was fascinating. Aiden would probably say that I thought she was fascinating precisely because I’d never known anyone like her. Maybe the exotic is always fascinating. Whatever. I couldn’t help but imagine the life she led and the history that brought her to that park and into my life, albeit briefly. And why did she just let us go? There didn’t seem to be much logic in it.
All my thinking was pointless, of course, because I’d never see her again. But it passed the time.
Dad had made the video call through the media room, so we sat in the front row while Mum’s face, two metres high and one metre wide, gazed down on us. She was not happy and the size of the image made her expression even more terrifying. A small part of me registered this as unfair. Our faces and bodies would seem tiny to her. She loomed like a monster.
‘I cannot begin to tell you how disappointed I am in you two,’ she started. ‘What were you thinking? My kids, truants?’
I opened my mouth to speak, but it was obvious my contribution was not going to be welcome, so I shut it again. Mum was like a rollercoaster. She’d started and momentum was building and building. We’d just have to cling on, terrified, until she came to a stop.
‘I can’t even begin to count the number of times you’ve been told to obey the rules, that you must not, EVER, go out by yourselves, that the world is a dangerous place, more dangerous than you can begin to imagine and yet, what do you do? Huh? What do you do? You jump over a fence to go off on your own. God knows why.’
I opened my mouth to lie about our motive, but closed it again.
‘Anything could have happened to you. You could have been attacked, God forbid, kidnapped or murdered or …’ Aiden and I stared at her eyes, blinking only occasionally. ‘Are you totally stupid, the pair of you? Or is it that you simply don’t care what you’ve done to us today? Your father was worried sick. He was close to breaking down and sobbing when he rang me and that was after you’d been found. I can only imagine what he must have gone through when you were missing, when he got the call from the school. Plus the damage you’ve done to that teacher. Apparently he was distraught as well, and could quite possibly lose his job over this. And it would all be thanks to you. But you didn’t think about that, did you? You didn’t stop to think how this would affect anyone else. You only think about yourselves. A pair of selfish brats.’
My eyes filled with tears. Mr Meredith. Mum was right. I hadn’t thought that us going off without permission might affect him and it would never have crossed my mind that he could lose his job over it. What had we done?
‘So what have you got to say for yourselves, huh?’
And suddenly I found that I didn’t have anything to say. I’m sorry? That wasn’t going to cut it, but I couldn’t think of anything else.
‘I’m so sorry, Mum.’
‘Not good enough, Ashleigh Delatour. Not good enough at all.’
‘It was my fault.’ I’d almost forgotten Aiden was there. I turned towards him, my mouth open. ‘It was my fault, Mum,’ he continued. ‘It was all my idea and Ashleigh didn’t want to go but I persuaded her. She tried to talk me out of it. I’m the only one who’s to blame.’
There was silence for a good ten seconds. Mum’s eyes went from me to Aiden and back again as if weighing our words and our expressions.
‘Is this true, Ashleigh?’ she asked finally.
‘I …’ I couldn’t think straight. I was being offered a way out. Well, not a way out, but a lifeline from complete responsibility. But could I let Aiden take the blame for something that was entirely my idea? Would I have done that if the situation had been reversed? Of course I wouldn’t. You’d have to b
e dumb to plead guilty when you were innocent. And you’d have to be a total bitch to let someone else take the blame, especially your own brother.
‘Er, well. Yes. That’s true,’ I said. ‘Mainly.’ I kept my eyes fixed to the floor.
No one said anything for the longest time.
‘You will go straight to bed after dinner, both of you,’ said Mum. ‘And there will be no tablet use for a week. You can take books from the library, but that’s it. Your father and I will decide whether or not you’ll be allowed on the school camp next month. At the moment, I’m inclined to cancel it because it’s obvious you can’t be trusted. And for all I know the school will cancel your booking for the same reason. We’ll talk about it when I get home.’
And she ended the call without even a goodbye.
Dinner was a cheerless affair. No conversation and definitely no chips. When we were done, Dad took us to the library and watched as we selected books to take to our room. The library is just off the swimming pool room. I could see the pool through a window, but I knew there was no point asking if we could swim. Mum had only forbidden tablets, but I knew Dad would add swimming to the list of banned activities, if only because he’d said nothing when Mum was selecting our punishment and he must have felt that he should have had a go too. It’s the way I would’ve felt.
Our library is huge and Mum and Dad are very proud of it. I tried to count all the books once but gave up when I got over twelve thousand because I lost count and couldn’t be bothered to start again. Everyone else seems to have books stored electronically and we have that too, of course. But our parents have always said that there is nothing to compete with the feeling of a real book in your hands and the sensation of turning pages. High humidity apparently wrecks bindings, so Mum and Dad have the library temperature controlled. There’s even an old-fashioned small generator that would keep the place cool when the regular electricity goes out and our batteries fail. Not that that’s ever happened in this house. But they’re taking no chances. Seems we might have to sweat, but the books must always be cool and comfortable.
I like the old kids’ books best, so I took a Shaun Tan from the shelf. His drawings and paintings seem like they’re from a different world, one I recognise but can’t quite place. When I turn the pages, I turn over my imagination as well as his. Aiden chose a science fiction novel.
We lay in bed reading but for once Tan wasn’t able to take me with him. I kept going over the events of the day, the terror, the fascination, the feeling of being deliciously alive in the darkest moments of fear. I worried about Mr Meredith and what I’d say to him in the morning, assuming he hadn’t lost his job in the meantime. If he had, I’d bug Mum and Dad to employ him, at a better salary than teaching paid. We could make up a job for him. I couldn’t bear to think I was responsible for him being sacked. I knew, I’d been told, that unemployment was so high that the chances of finding employment once you lost it were slim to say the least. Finally, I put the book down on my chest.
‘Thank you, Aiden,’ I said.
‘What for?’ He didn’t put his book down.
‘For protecting me. For taking the blame, saying it was your idea when we both know it was mine.’
‘Oh, that.’ He turned a page. ‘You’re welcome.’
‘Why did you do it?’
He glanced over at me then. His face was puzzled as if my question was entirely unreasonable, almost unfathomable.
‘You said it yourself. To protect you. You’d have done the same for me.’
That doesn’t make sense, I thought. How does that make any kind of sense at all? Obviously I wouldn’t have done the same for him because I could have told the truth, exposed his lie and taken responsibility. But I hadn’t.
Sometimes I hate him for making me feel bad about myself. I wonder if he does it deliberately.
After lights out he tried to take my hand, but I wasn’t in the mood. I lay in the darkness and listened to thunder rumbling in the distance.
4
‘We owe you an apology, Mr Meredith,’ I said.
I was so relieved when he popped up in class first lesson, seeming happy and relaxed and most definitely not like someone who was working out his notice. But we had to wait until recess for the opportunity to speak to him privately. Now he looked at us over his glasses, head bowed. I could see a small bald patch on the very top of his scalp. It was sprinkled with dandruff.
‘I believe you do,’ he replied. No smile. He wasn’t going to make this easy for us and I couldn’t blame him.
‘Sorry, Mr Meredith,’ I said.
‘Sorry, Mr Meredith,’ said Aiden.
‘We’re so glad you didn’t lose your job,’ I added.
‘Hmmm.’ Our teacher took off his glasses and cleaned them with a small cloth he took from his trouser pocket. ‘It is easy to say sorry,’ he continued, ‘and even easier to accept it. Which I do, by the way. Apologies accepted. But …’ He put his glasses back on and regarded us. ‘I do wonder if you are really sorry or if an apology is just something you feel should be offered.’
I opened my mouth to assure him we were genuine, but he held up a hand.
‘What you did was … not safe. My job is not really that important compared to your safety.’ He smiled for the first time. ‘That’s not to say I’m not glad to still have it. And I’m grateful to your parents for ringing up the school board and pleading my case. But you could have died out there. And I would have spent the rest of my life knowing I should have prevented it. You’d be dead, so your suffering would be over. The suffering of your parents, your family and friends would just be beginning. Think about that, Ashleigh and Aiden Delatour, before you do anything like this again.’
We promised we would.
‘Then we won’t mention it anymore. But I should tell you that you are first up for the oral presentation after recess. You decide which of you is going first.’
Aiden and I glanced at each other in alarm. An oral presentation? This was the first we’d heard of it.
‘The first you’ve heard of it?’ said Mr Meredith as if reading our minds. ‘That’s because the assignment was given out yesterday afternoon. You know, when your father had taken you home. I think you’ll find that if this comes as a surprise, it’s your fault and your fault only.’
‘But we haven’t prepared,’ I said.
‘No,’ said our teacher. ‘So you’d better use the next fifteen minutes wisely. A two-minute talk on something about you that stands out from the crowd. Now go. The clock is ticking.’
I hate oral presentations at the best of times. Aiden doesn’t seem to mind and I figured he wouldn’t be fazed by this bombshell. But I could feel my face flush with the first symptoms of panic. We went out to the verandah.
‘What are we going to talk about?’ I asked.
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘We’ll think of something. Just don’t go on about how wealthy we are, okay? Don’t talk about the pool or the library or how Mum has her own company and travels the world. People don’t like that. They think you’re bragging.’
I knew he was right, but it also occurred to me that if I didn’t mention those things then how were people expected to know? Anyway, he wasn’t helping. I wanted to know what I should talk about, not what I shouldn’t. I was going to tell him this, but he beat me to it.
‘I’ll go first to give you a bit more time to prepare. You tell them what it’s like to be the eldest of identical twins. That’s a subject very few people can talk about.’
For two minutes? I’d be lucky to get to fifteen seconds before running out of stuff to say. I can talk an awful lot at home, according to Mum and Dad, but when I’ve got loads of people staring at me, I dry up. It’s embarrassing. But Aiden was right. I was probably the only expert on this subject for a fifty-kilometre radius. At least.
‘The thing that really makes me stand out from the crowd is that I have Klinsmann’s disease,’ said Aiden.
He stood by the teacher’s desk, h
is hands clasped in front of him. He didn’t fidget and his voice was clear and steady. The words didn’t pour from his mouth either, like happens with so many kids. His gaze roamed the class, made contact with everyone.
‘This is a condition that affects one in approximately twenty million, though most people who have it don’t have it as severely as I do.’ He held up a hand. ‘But don’t worry. It’s not something you can catch by sitting next to me or by breathing the air around me. You’re safe.’ He paused and allowed the class to digest this. ‘Some of you might think that if I have this disease, then Ashleigh must also have it, since it is generally believed that identical twins have identical DNA.’ He looked at Charlotte as he said this. ‘But that’s not actually true. Sometimes, very very rarely, one identical twin can have a genetic disorder that the other doesn’t have. That’s because Ashleigh and I have different karyotypes and that means we are not genetically identical, though we are in every other way. I’m glad my sister doesn’t have this disease, because it’s not very pleasant to live with, to tell you the truth.’
He paused again. The class was completely silent and it occurred to me that, although Aiden tends not to say very much most of the time, he certainly knows how to use words when he does. He was keeping the audience guessing about what Klinsmann’s disease actually involves. Even Mr Meredith was leaning forward and concentrating and he must have known about Aiden from the medical records Mum and Dad had to provide the school.
‘I used to have to go into hospital every few months for treatment for this disease when I was younger,’ he said. ‘Now that I’m older I don’t have to go so often. Once or twice a year. And the surgeons put me to sleep and they operate, cleaning out almost all of my lower intestines.’
Catch Me If I Fall Page 3
