Darkhaven, page 24
‘Does someone have a question for me?’ she asked. She didn’t need an obnoxious voice for it to command the whole room. Her eyes darted around, seeking a guilty student to pin with their power.
Todd, fool that he was, rose to the challenge. ‘Yeah, miss. Do you masturbate?’
Mrs Johnsen stared at him, unflinching. ‘Yes.’
The class was shocked for just a moment, either unable to decide if she meant it, or not wanting to picture their teacher pleasuring herself. But Martin wouldn’t be outdone for idiot of the year. ‘Miss, I’ve got one too,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you wear a bra?’
Mrs Johnsen released Todd and fixed her gaze on Martin. Then she shrugged. ‘Because they restrict lymphatic flow.’
The class tittered. Mrs Johnsen straightened up. ‘You must all be done with your poetry discussions if you have moved on to other topics. Leila, please share what you and Samantha talked about.’
‘Ah, I, umm…’ Leila’s smirk faded.
‘Perhaps Samantha can remember more of your conversation.’ The teacher’s voice was ice-sharp.
Samantha shifted in her chair. ‘We were discussing something else, miss.’ She couldn’t contain her snicker as she flashed a glance at me.
‘I see.’ Mrs Johnsen peered around at everyone, taking in Cecelia’s chemistry notes, Michaela’s philosophy essay, Todd’s pornography, my lack of schoolwork altogether and every other offence to her final class with us. An evil gleam suffused her face. ‘There is a new assignment for you all. You have half an hour to write a five-hundred-word essay analysing a poem of your choice from the reading list. It is worth ten per cent of your mark. You will hand your essays to me at the end of class. Make sure your handwriting is legible.’
The class erupted in groans and complaints.
‘Your time starts now.’ Mrs Johnsen said, as if that would prompt everyone to work. The indignation only grew louder.
‘But miss, you can’t do that.’
‘I can’t write that many words!’
‘You can’t change the marks now! Can you?’
‘You can’t DO that!’
‘Do I have to count them?’
Mrs Johnsen’s eyes glittered and the outbursts trailed off. ‘Now,’ she said, sitting back at her desk and picking up her book, ’there will be silence.′
Except for the furious shuffling of pages and scratching of pens, there was.
Nancy did create a Milo cake, throwing a dinner party for me that evening. Alex even broke his health nut regime to sample the cake before he had to leave for the airport. Cecelia stopped studying for a solid three hours, Zenna made a chirpy appearance and Fiona recited her entire book report on the collected works of Elyne Mitchell to me.
Apart from not having heard from Keraun for almost two weeks – I’d wanted to invite him, just to see how he responded – the party was great until Dad arrived. He’d planned to pick me up, and it should have been fine, but Alex was late leaving, and they ran into each other at the door. I hadn’t noticed until my sharpened hearing picked up angry voices. I ventured down the hall, not really wanting to get involved, but also not wanting them to spoil the night for everyone else.
’…back off.′ Alex’s voice was a low growl.
I paused, hidden in the shadows.
‘She’s fine, Alex,’ Dad said. ‘Perhaps you’re the one who needs to back off.’
‘She’s my niece! Too many kids break in this system, and I won’t let it happen to her.’
‘I know you have issues, Alex.’
‘This isn’t about me.’
A pause. ‘Is it about Toby?’
I’d never heard of any Toby. I crept close enough to see them, shadowed silhouettes squared off against each other on the porch.
Alex sagged. ‘He was too young.’
Dad reached out and squeezed Alex’s shoulder. After a moment, Alex leaned against his brother. Dad patted his back.
‘We shouldn’t have done it,’ Alex muttered, his voice rough.
Dad stiffened and pulled away, holding Alex by the shoulders in front of him. ‘Done what?’
‘The program.’
Dad reached for his briefcase. My ears prickled. “Program” couldn’t be the Praegressus, surely – Dad had said Alex wasn’t involved…
‘The curriculum they put these kids through is too much,’ Alex continued. ‘Children need time to play and’ – he heaved a breath – ‘be kids.’
Dad’s posture relaxed. ‘Don’t worry, Alex. I’m looking out for her.’
‘Are you sure? Because –’
‘Stop questioning me!’ Dad snarled. Alex shrank back. Even I started at his tone.
‘You’ll be late for your flight,’ Dad added, turning to the door.
I scurried back to help clean up the kitchen before he spotted me, wondering what had him so on edge.
With school over, exams pressed with increasing weight, building on the horizon like tomorrow’s thunderstorm. I had no time to think about the strange argument between Dad and Alex. It was Saturday morning, one week before mocks and less than eight weeks until ATAR. Cecelia was studying and Zenna had a driving lesson, so we’d postponed our milkshakes at the Shack. I resigned myself to the fact that the only way I had any hope of passing Economics was if I put in some serious reading and just tried to commit as much to memory as possible. I settled onto my bed at Dad’s with my textbook open in front of me.
My phone rang. I glanced over, thinking maybe Cecelia had an English question. It was Keraun. My stomach fluttered, although that could have been the leftover Milo cake I’d had for breakfast.
‘Hey,’ I said.
‘Hey.’
I broke the silence. ‘What’s up?’
‘I, ah, have to go out of town for a bit.’
‘Okay.’
‘I thought I should tell you.’
That was odd. We didn’t owe each other anything. But somehow, I was glad he had called. God, or rather Husa, forbid I should miss him randomly showing up in the library or at my house. ‘Thanks,’ I replied.
‘Sure.’
I broke the silence again. ‘Where are you going?’
‘There’s a weather anomaly happening in Europe that I have to sort out. My system seems to have broken down there. All that carbon dioxide.’
‘I don’t recall you driving a hybrid.’
I could hear his grin over the phone. ‘Maybe I’ll get one of those next.’
‘When…’ I began, then stopped. Was it presumptuous to think he was coming back? For me? He must have things happening all over the world. Or the universe.
He pulled the words from my head anyway. ‘I’ll be back soon. Good luck with the exams.’
‘Ugh.’
‘Well, buckle down, or whatever it is you say, and I’ll be back to help you celebrate when you’re done. Assuming you pass,’ he added. I could almost hear the cheeky grin.
‘I will definitely pass,’ I replied, with more confidence than I felt. ‘Well, probably.’
There was a more comfortable pause.
‘Gabby, how are you going with your decision? About Darkhaven?’
Terrible. Anguished. No idea what I was going to do. Steal his spaceship or whatever it was and fly away. ‘Fine.’
‘Liar.’
I sighed. No point arguing.
‘You’ll figure it out,’ he said.
‘Helpful,’ I replied, with only a hint of sarcasm.
‘Sorry, I have to go,’ he said suddenly. ‘I’ll see you later, Gabby.’
‘Yeah. See you,’ I said, feeling a pang of something I’d only ever experienced reading books. The phone beeped, and he was gone. The sensible part of me suggested I get on with my studying, forget all about Keraun and assume he wasn’t likely to land in Perth again, since he’d probably forget about me. The less sensible part started imagining what kind of weather anomaly I could create to bring him back and how I could perhaps answer all my life questions by dedicating a career to such an experiment.
I ended up in the pantry looking for chocolate.
Chapter 26
The Shoemaker Clue
Exams were never going to be good, but I’d imagined that I’d skate by with my intuition. Having an accurate instinct for the answers had been helpful in class, and I’d maintained fairly good grades just with that and my minimal attempts at homework. But I sat down to my first ATAR exam – Mathematics Applications – feeling hollow. The sure feeling I used to get when solving a problem that let me know I was on the right track was gone. Any sense of how to approach something I couldn’t remember seeing before was also gone. Since it all felt like a lost cause anyway, I spent most of my remaining study time writing in my journal, trying to figure out what had happened to my intuition. And what to do about Darkhaven. Was it worth the cost? My mind ran in circles.
With exams came the onset of Perth’s relentless summer heat. The gymnasium warmed up like a greenhouse and my thighs, only half covered by my skirt, stuck to the plastic chair while the 37-degree day pressed on the nerves of three hundred anxious students like a soporific. I stumbled through the maths questions, skipping every second or third and only finishing half of the problems I did tackle. I ran out of things I could do just as the invigilator marked the thirty-minutes-remaining mark off the whiteboard, meaning no one could leave until the end. I flicked through the pages again, hoping some answers would jump out at me, until I finally gave up and rested my cheek on the cool desk. My neck twinged – the needle jab from the Taskforce still hadn’t quite healed. Maybe it was infected. I shouldn’t be able to get infections, but it was the Taskforce. Who knew what crazy stuff they had.
Geography was better, in part because I wore longer shorts that prevented my legs from assimilating themselves into the furniture. Economics may as well have been in German. English was easily my best, since half of it was comprehension, so I just had to read the material provided and answer some questions about it on the spot. I’d never actually finished A Tale of Two Cities – I’d left my library copy at Alex’s and couldn’t be bothered going all the way back to get it – so I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw there were two options for the long-answer question. I wrote an acceptable essay linking Harwood, Hawthorne and the feminist movement, resisting the urge to include a quote from Todd or Martin as proof of my point, and finished week one of exams feeling drained. At least I only had Human Biology left. I hadn’t heard from Cecelia all week. Even with my recent distractions, this was the longest we’d ever gone without seeing each other.
For some insane reason that I’m sure was clear before the reality of Year 12 – not even mentioning my Event and Darkhaven – set in, I’d thought it would be a good idea to do my driving test on the Saturday in the middle of the exam period. I’d almost forgotten I’d booked Zenna in for the same day. Cecelia sent me a cursory good luck message.
‘She didn’t send me one,’ Zenna remarked, mock-insulted, as we waited in the Driver Services seating area. Dad had dropped me off for my final driving lesson and gone to pick up the car we’d finally agreed on. If everything went well, I’d be driving my new – well, new to me – Mazda 3 home and he’d call his driver.
‘It doesn’t actually say my name,’ I said, showing Zenna my phone. ‘Just “good luck”. I think we can count that for both of us.’
Two officious examiners carrying clipboards came towards us. ‘Good luck, Z,’ I said as we parted.
Zenna nodded back, looking faintly green. ‘Yeah, you too,’ she croaked.
The air was hot and heavy with an overcast sheen as I followed my examiner outside to where my driving school car was waiting. Hopefully it wouldn’t rain until after the test. I started out doing everything right, checking seatbelts and the handbrake and that the car was in neutral before I turned it on. Then I stalled it as I pulled out of the car park.
‘It’s all right,’ my examiner, a woman named Sally, said. ‘Just start the car and carry on.’
The second attempt was better. I made up for it – in my mind, at least – by nailing the hill start, but then in my smugness I nearly forgot to indicate to go around a parked car on the road and only just remembered in time. I snuck up behind someone doing ten kilometres under the speed limit. Keraun flashed into my mind, blasting cars off the road with his lightning tricks. Unhelpful. I banished him from my thoughts and maintained a respectful distance behind other cars for the rest of the trip, being over-careful to indicate for the correct lengths of time everywhere.
‘Well, you need to work on consistency,’ Sally said as she made marks on a complicated-looking matrix. ‘Your indicating in particular could be better. But you passed.’ She tore off the top page and handed it to me. ‘Take this and go back inside to arrange your licence. Congratulations.’
She got out of the car and that was it. I sat still for a minute, breathing deeply, before going back to the service counters. I could barely wipe the stupid grin off my face for the photo and started signing the form with an excited flourish until I realised I was supposed to keep the signature within the white box. I collected my permit papers and turned to see Zenna walk in, ashen-faced. I felt bad for her but couldn’t quite squash my own excitement.
‘No luck, huh?’
‘You could be less smug.’ She glowered as she walked up to the counter and handed her form over. I stood in the middle of the room staring at her back, torn between pity and anger at her unfairness. It was hardly my fault she couldn’t get it together. She turned and marched out of the building.
Dad leaned against my little red car. ‘So, who’s driving?’
I shrugged, hoping he’d drop the upbeat attitude.
‘Gabby,’ Zenna muttered, looking at her feet. Dad threw me an apologetic look, but I could see pride mixed in there as well.
‘I’ll leave you girls to it, if you like,’ he said, fishing his phone out of his pocket and turning to me. ‘I have to fly out tonight. Alex is on his way home.’
I nodded, my mouth watering for a celebratory dinner at Harrys. Dad gave me a hug, whispered “well done” in my ear and slipped across the road to wait for his driver away from the stream of people flowing in and out of Driver Services. Moments later, the Mercedes pulled up, paused, then sailed away.
I turned to Zenna. ‘Milkshakes?’
‘Nah.’
‘Walk on the beach?’ Storm clouds smudged the horizon. The beach would be wild and enthralling. From the footpath, of course.
‘I just want to go home.’ Zenna’s voice was flat.
‘Did you book another test?’ I asked as we settled into the Mazda and I connected my phone to the Bluetooth. It felt weird, sitting in the driver’s seat without a supervising adult next to me. I was more nervous now than I had been during the test.
‘No.’
‘Don’t you need it before the summer internship?’
She didn’t reply. I navigated out onto the busy road. After a few sets of traffic lights, my fingers started to relax their grip on the steering wheel. That made using the indicator a bit easier.
We didn’t talk again as I drove to Zenna’s house. Except for the occasional lurching clutch release and one missed turn-off, the drive was uneventful.
‘You’ll get it next time,’ I said as she was about to get out. She turned and looked at me for the longest time. Her eyes were flat and hollow.
‘What would be the point?’ Her voice was almost too soft for even me to hear, and it took my brain a moment to register what she’d said.
‘What do you mean?’ I asked, but it was too late. She’d already got out of the car. The door swung shut.
I sat in Zenna’s driveway for a while, typing out a text message, then deleting it, typing it again, deleting it. I tried to think of a way to reach out to her. No matter how I worded it, it sounded presumptuous or silly. Hey, if you want to talk, I’m here. Obviously. Don’t worry about your licence. But she was worried, and fair enough. I hope you’re okay. Dismissive. The whole time I was just hoping she’d come back outside and we could talk and joke about it. She didn’t.
A text from Alex interrupted my next attempt to type a message, asking me to pick up some coconut milk on the way home. Sighing, I tossed my phone onto the passenger seat and drove away.
I managed to find Alex’s favourite brand, a local raw food mob called Triple L that made a lot of cold press juices and the kind of carob treat I didn’t care for. Coconut milk in one hand, I juggled my keys in the other, but the key wouldn’t fit into Alex’s front door. Sean’s face sprang to mind and my skin chilled. He’d said I’d have nowhere to go. Had he made good on his threat by locking me out of my homes? I wished I had my intuition back so I wouldn’t walk straight into a trap.
The key caught the light as I jiggled it, glinting metallic oran—orange. Alex’s keys were silver. I was using the key to Dad’s house. I laughed in relief, my grip loosening, and the keys fell to the doorstep. I bent to pick them up.
The corner of something sticking out from under the doormat caught my eye. It was a postcard, one of the free promotional ones from Lartte. This one was a cappuccino with foam art that reminded me of the Cheshire cat. I turned the card over.
Gabrielle
My blood stopped moving around. It was Alex’s handwriting, and this time it wasn’t about chocolate wafers.
With numb fingers, I scooped up my keys. When the correct key still didn’t go into the lock, I stooped and peered at the keyhole. A key was snapped off in it. I turned back to the street, searching within myself for some clue. It had to be Alex’s key in there – he and I were the only ones with keys – so he’d snapped it off himself accidentally, or deliberately to stop me from going in. Or, a nastier warning whispered in my mind, someone had stolen his keys and used them. If I’d had my intuition, I would have had a pretty good idea what had happened, but all I could do was guess. At least I didn’t need intuition to follow the first clue.
