The Summer of Kicks Read online

  So I’m walking. The heat burns at my neck, the top of my head, and maybe I deserve it. I let it burn, don’t even rub at it, not even for a moment of relief. Then, like clockwork, I hear a voice.

  ‘Hey, wait up.’ There’s wheezing. Heavy breathing. Not the good kind. I don’t look up because my eyes, I’m sure, are puffy and red, the way they get when people are trying not to cry in public.

  ‘Phew,’ she says and she’s the last person I want to see. ‘Well, what do you suppose that was – about twenty metres? I’ve gotta tell you that’s about all the running I’m prepared to tackle today. Whoo!’ This is followed by more laboured breathing and a healthy patch of catch-your-breath silence. ‘Hey, look,’ she says, awkwardly waggling a foot in front of us as we walk.

  Below the cuff of Mikayla’s jeans she’s showcasing a shiny new pair of Chucks. Rust. The exact same colour as mine once would have been. And if that’s not enough, she’s drawn on hers, too. Brittney Pigs logos on each of the four main faces. And in doing so, she’s kind of cheapened the cool shoe club. But hey. Maybe I did too when I started wearing them.

  ‘You’ve gotta stop doing that,’ I say.

  ‘Doing what?’

  ‘Doing stuff that I do.’ And there’s anger in my voice, and I’m glad as hell that I’m not wearing mine right now. ‘Just quit it.’ I look down at her shoes again and now I remember. I know exactly where mine are.

  I left my fricking shoes at Candace’s.

  ‘Hey, I was just, you know …’ she says. ‘I thought it would be cool if we had the same ones. I mean, it’s all right if we like the same things, you and me, isn’t it? That’s what friends do, right?’

  ‘Friends?’ It’s too much and I’ve stopped walking now. ‘For God’s sake, Mikayla, we’re not friends,’ I say. ‘We’re nothing, get it?’ And I can see my hands. They’re up in her face. They’re accusing, almost blaming her for this mess.

  ‘Starrphyre?’

  ‘Seriously, Mikayla, will you just piss off?’ It’s not a question. ‘Just leave me the hell alone.’

  And I’m walking again, picking up pace. I don’t know if she’s following me or not. I don’t turn back. I don’t see if she’s OK.

  Right now, I don’t care.

  Chapter 29

  Fade to black

  I’m two houses away now from home and our driveway’s empty. Warren’s big-ass car is gone, which means he’s gone with it, and with a little luck he’ll do us all a favour and forget where we live or drive himself off a cliff.

  Crap. My keys.

  I head round the back and try the door. The side window. The laundry window. Everything’s locked. ‘For frick’s sake, Nan, it’s not like someone’s going to home-invade us. Couldn’t you have left something open?’

  I spot the tiny window above the toilet and tip a pile of crap off a plastic chair and drag it over. With some wrestling, the flyscreen comes free and I lift one leg and then the other into the small opening, catching my leg on the corner of the toilet roll holder on the way down.

  ‘Shit!’ There’s blood on my calf. ‘Thanks a frickin’ bunch, Nan, really appreciate it!’ I head to the fridge to look for something cold to put on my leg, and see a bottle of Midori chilling. Maybe I’ll pour myself one. What does Mum drink – Midori and pineapple juice? I see the corresponding juice in the fridge. It’s just me and Nan. She’s glued to the TV, so hell, I could knock one back. If ever a day called for it, today would be it. But it’d be just my luck that I’ll drink it and fall into some kind of one-in-a-million girlie-drink-induced coma. I leave the bottle where it is and opt to drown my sorrows with a packet of rice crackers and hummus. I pull up a stool, sit myself at the breakfast bar and a note stares back at me.

  Gone to the movies with Rue, darling. Warren’s out all night with the football crowd. Dinner in the fridge. Look after your nan. xxx

  I head to the lounge room, where the sound of Jamie Oliver lisping at nine hundred decibels fills the room.

  ‘Hey, Nan, mind if I turn it down?’ I shout. ‘Nan?’

  She’s deaf as all get-out at the best of times, but today is not the best of times. Today is not the best of anything.

  ‘Nan?’ I call out to her again. But it’s not until I walk over to her, until I touch her hand, that it becomes perfectly clear.

  ‘Shit – Nan?’

  I call my mum.

  ‘Honey, I can’t talk now. It’s only the previews,’ Mum whispers, ‘but it’s Brad Pitt’s new one. That boy rings some bells.’

  ‘Mum, it’s Nan,’ I say, urgently. ‘It’s Nan.’

  ‘Oh, darling,’ Mum’s laughing at something Rue has said. ‘Look, just set her up with the remote and an Earl Grey and everything will be rosy. We’ll be home in a few hours. Everything you need is there, OK. Kisses to you, byeee.’ And she’s gone before I can get a word in. I look over to Nan, slump-hunched on the flowery-as-buggery recliner chair, and wonder why the hell she didn’t try to call. Usually you can’t pry the phone out of her hands – if she can’t work the remote or doesn’t know how to latch the toilet door or if she’s lost her twin-visions, she’ll call. So why not today? I phone Mum back, tell her that she needs to come home, and she says she’ll be here in ten and when we’re done, although she hangs up at her end, I don’t reciprocate. I keep the line open because I don’t think I can face being alone.

  With my phone to my head, that sound of nothing, of no one, the deadness of sound offers me comfort and I’m waiting. Just waiting for Mum to come home. I look over to Nan, her face tilted forwards like she’s fallen into an uncomfortable sleep, and I wonder how it was for her in those last moments.

  And then I see the home phone. It’s in her lap. The tiny red light at the top flashing silently like an ambulance devoid of urgency.

  I check my voicemail.

  Holy shit. She did call.

  When Mum and Rue get home, Mum phones who she has to – family, doctors, or whoever it is you’re supposed to call when someone dies. A knock at the door and there’s somebody here, too. One of Nan’s friends, maybe. I’ve been in my room, so I don’t really know. Rue’s face appears in my doorway and she comes in and we just sit, mostly. She puts her arms around me and I start to cry and Rue does too, and I’m feeling so much guilt because I know right now, I’m not crying just about Nanna. Rue and I don’t say anything or even look at each other, but we don’t have to.

  It’s been maybe fifteen, maybe twenty, minutes since Rue left, and it’s just me and the ceiling fan again. My heart is thumping at me from inside my chest, and I never expected this. Not any of it. Who the hell am I? The kind of person who would cheat on someone? Ellie’s face from the last time I saw her fills my mind and I put that pain there – I put the hurt and the tears on her face. And yelling at Mikayla and hurting her, too? Let’s add ignoring Nan’s phone call – and for what? To try to dig myself out of a hole that I put in my own love life? I look to the fan above my head, still circling, and as my eyes finally begin to close, it’s the last thing I see, winding down on one of the worst days of my life.

  ‘Hey … psssSSSSTtt …’

  What? What the hell? What time is it?

  ‘Wakey-wakey!’ It’s just after four in the morning and Warren’s off his face. Completely. ‘Hey, little brother. Hey, I gotta tell you something.’ And he’s chatty. This should be a fun intermission to my sleep. The light flicks on, brighter than I remember it, and Warren leans in to me. Too close. He smells like someone spewed on him. Chances are they did. I know that if I needed to spew, he’d be my first target. ‘Simmo’s …’ He stops. A blank look spreads across his face, like he’s been reset. He shakes it off and starts again. ‘Simmo’s last-day-as-captain night … hey, listen. Hey?’ His palm connects with my cheek, wrongly assuming that I could somehow still be asleep. ‘So at the thing, there was this chick,’ he says. ‘Totally frickin’ kinda hot.
’ He stops to wipe a thread of elastic saliva from his lip. Gets it with the second attempt. ‘This chick,’ he continues, ‘she was workin’ on the … the boat cruise. Bringin’ plates of food around an’ … and she had this black skirt on, tight and … black, and we were all … like the whole team … all talkin’ to her, an’ she looked a bit like that chick – like maybe I kinda knew her or somethin’ …’ Another blank look. ‘Anyway … Nathe – old Natho, he was fully into her, but guess what?’ He leans in again, his mouth pressed hard against my ear. ‘Guess what, little brother? I totally nailed her!’ Warren makes a fist, sends it into the air and immediately follows it with a vertical finger to his lips – a sign that suddenly we’re both a part of the same big secret.

  Asshole. What a total asshole.

  ‘Hey, it’s all cool though,’ he says. ‘Even though that other chick was hot, I’m still … like, totally into your sister,’ and he leans close to me again, almost losing his balance. ‘I’m gonna ask her to freakin’ get married,’ he says, ‘and you know why?’ But he keeps on talking, giving me no chance to respond, and I can feel the space behind my ears and in my throat burning with angry blood. ‘’Cos Simmo’s bet me five bucks … no, wait … five hundred bucks that I won’t. That, little Starrphucker … that’s the easiest five hundred I’ll ever make. An’ anyway, it’s not like I have to go through with it. Just gotta ask her. And hey – here’s the kicker,’ he says, poking a finger into my chest. ‘As long as I keep the receipt, I can take the diamond sucker back and I’m off the hook.’

  ‘You’re a tool,’ I say to him. I want to say more, but I’ve gauged my opponent, and pissed Warren’s not the kind of guy I want to start something with that might end with him punching me in the face.

  ‘Hey, only a tool would have a cake and wouldn’t eat ’em both … some shit like that, haha,’ and he trails off, rolling onto his bed where he’ll lie for the next unknown number of hours, snorting and grunting through the deep sleep of a drunken moron.

  I lie here in bed at 4.15 in the morning, wide awake, with one extra thing to fill my head. Because today wasn’t hard enough. I think about what Mum said, about life being like a roller-coaster. It’s an analogy that I’m happy to get onboard with. I don’t want to be stuck riding the merry-go-round or the crappy ferris wheel. I want the Aqua-loop. The Death Drop. The Tower of Terror. ‘Hold Me, Thrill Me, Kiss Me, Kill Me.’ But if the past twenty-four hours have all been just one small section of the roller-coaster, then it must have been the scary-as-hell-ass-backwards-through-the-pitch-black-tunnel part. Surprising? Thrilling? Frightening? Today, and this whole week if I think about it, has been all of those things. But at this stage of the ride, there’s still no way of anticipating what’s ahead. Not a single shred of a clue. Right now there’s only one thing I can see with any clarity at all. And that’s what’s already behind me.

  And that doesn’t help me one bit.

  Chapter 30

  The pre-Christmas plus-one luncheon spectacular

  I’m sitting outside, opting for some time away from all the chatter in the kitchen. The big old jacaranda that hovers above me has cast a net of speckled shadows across the table, which is really two tables pushed together covered with a tablecloth so that it looks like we own one huge impressive table. It’s quite an illusion.

  Mum and Rue are inside, just the two of them. And Nan would have been in there, too, fussing and wiping and getting both hands in to toss the salads. Mum’s been surprisingly upbeat since it happened. Since Nan went. I figure she’s doing that for us and maybe for herself, too. Nan was such a legend and I can’t get my head around her not being here anymore. She came, she kicked ass, she left, and it’s going to happen to all of us – that’s a bullet you can’t dodge. And with Nan shuffling off to the big bingo hall in the sky, I’ve been compiling a list in my head of what’s really important. Some things you take for granted. Clean underwear. Family. Oxygen. Vital organs. Some you ignore but should pay more attention to. But there’s something else that has had my attention.

  Do I want to get hit by a bus without telling Ellie how I feel? Without apologising properly and laying my soul bare for her? Not nudey-rudey bare – just telling her straight. No bullshit. No fear. Risking everything for someone that I’m pretty sure is worth risking everything for. But I can’t talk to her – not yet. Scene called the other morning morning and told me I had to ‘sort my shit out with Ellie’ before he’d offer me any more shifts, and according to Mum, the best thing I can do for Ellie right now is to give her space. So for the past couple of days, I’ve been sitting at home, just me and my plus-one – big fat regret.

  Nan’s service has to wait until after Christmas and I’m sure it’s going to be a real ballbuster because no matter which way you slice it, funerals suck. I’ve been to a couple before – Grandad’s and Great Auntie May’s – and they’re a tough gig on any day, but when you’re already feeling like I do, when you’ve already lost someone …

  ‘Oh, honey, why don’t you just give Reece a call?’ It’s Mum coming out to rescue me. ‘I know that your little heart’s breaking, Starrphyre, but it’ll be ten times worse when everyone arrives. You don’t want to be sitting all alone in the middle of a gaggle of couples, trust me.’ She puts a hand on my shoulder. I don’t really want her hand on my shoulder, but it’s there. ‘Give him a call.’

  ‘I s’pose I could.’

  Mum heads back inside, returns with a bowl of coleslaw, a chickpea salad, and Rue has the pear and walnut.

  ‘Watch him, Mum,’ Rue says. ‘He looks jittery. Like he’s going to run off with the salads and sell them on the side of the road.’ She sends an unpleasant stare my way.

  ‘Well, I suppose we should probably get started,’ Mum says. ‘Lord knows when your father and the undesirable will turn up. It’s not like him to be on time. Do we have enough seats?’ Mum finger-point-counts around the table. Me and no one. Mum and no one. No Nanna. I think there’ll be enough seats.

  ‘All right, we just need to leave three round there for your father,’ she says and heads to the far side of the table.

  ‘Three? Is Desiree bringing her mysterious child along?’ Rue asks. ‘Dibs not babysitting.’

  ‘I’m out too, Mum,’ I say. The last thing I need is some painful tweenie to have to amuse.

  ‘Look, I’m sure she won’t be any trouble,’ Mum says. ‘Although I’m just speculating, this being the first time they will have brought her out into the light of day. I was beginning to think that Desiree had made her up.’ Mum scans the table for anything that she might have forgotten. ‘OK, just a couple of last-minute bits and pieces in the kitchen and I think we’ll be hot to trot.’

  ‘Want any help?’ I offer.

  ‘No, you’re fine, honey. Just find your place and we’ll be out in a jiff.’

  ‘So tell me again – why are we doing places?’

  ‘Look, I know it’s not really our thing – it’s all Warren’s doing. He set the table before he went out and thought it would be a nice touch. It was actually a really sweet gesture. He even wrote the cards himself.’

  ‘He can write?’ I say. ‘It’s a Christmas miracle.’

  Mum and Rue head inside and I spot my card and pick it up. It’s no surprise that Warren’s spelled my name wrong. Instead of two r’s together and a p-h, he’s written Losery Little Brother. And marking a place at the table beside me, drawing even more attention to the emptiness of the chair it represents, is a card that reads, Losery Little Brother’s date. As if.

  ‘Honey?’ It’s Mum again, coming up from behind. ‘Have you phoned Reece yet?’

  ‘What? No, I’ll do it now,’ I say.

  ‘Nope, no need.’ Mum says. ‘It seems like your plus-one’s arrived.’

  I turn and my plus-one is walking towards me, hair swooped across to one side, held back with a clip, and I’ve never seen her in a singlet top before. She loo
ks cute in her short tartan skirt and ten-hole Docs. But why the hell is she here?

  ‘Your mum dropped in to work today. She kind of hunted me down, I guess.’ Ellie tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘Anyway, she told me about your nan,’ she says. ‘Tough break. Thought that maybe you could use some company. Christmas and all,’ and she reaches out to the place card beside mine. ‘Is this me?’ She assesses it, then takes a seat.

  ‘Ellie,’ I begin. ‘God, Ellie, I’m sorry. I’m just … I’m sorry about everything,’ I blurt out. ‘I was such an ass and if I could make it all go away I would, and I get that you probably hate me right now, but … if there’s anything I can do to fix it …?’

  ‘You’re sounding all desperate,’ she says calmly. ‘It’s very unbecoming.’ And I don’t know if I’m supposed to laugh, if we’re OK to laugh yet, but I do, and she laughs a little too, and it feels like out of the thousands of random puzzle pieces around me I’ve stumbled upon the two that just might go together.

  ‘Hey, listen,’ she says. ‘I’ve been thinking about, you know, that whole thing. The way I see it, it was one of those girl-of-your-dreams one-off raging-hormoney-type situations, where the super-hot girl jumps on you and your pants are making all the decisions for you, right?’

  It’s my cue to nod. I don’t, but I’m nodding inside.

  ‘Bottom line? I guess we all make mistakes,’ Ellie says. ‘Sometimes they’re really big mistakes.’ Her face is less playful now. ‘I figure that some of these mistakes might be too big to get over, you know?’ And I know. ‘But I have a cunning plan.’ She turns to me and her hand finds my knee. ‘What’s say we start from today,’ she says. So simple. So matter-of-fact.

  And I don’t know quite what to say.