Road Tripping with Pearl Nash, page 1
Wakefield Press
Poppy Nwosu is an author of young adult fiction. She has published three romantic contemporary novels: Making Friends with Alice Dyson (2019), Taking Down Evelyn Tait (2020), and now Road Tripping with Pearl Nash (2021). She is the editor of the 2021 Wakefield Press YA anthology Hometown Haunts: #LoveOzYA Horror Tales.
Her work has been shortlisted for the Adelaide Festival Unpublished Manuscript Award and the Readings Young Adult Book Prize, and has been awarded the SA Writers Fellowship residency at Varuna Writers House, as well as an Arts SA grant. She has appeared at Adelaide Writers’ Week and Salisbury Writers’ Festival, among other places.
Growing up surrounded by cane fields and rainforest, Poppy studied music at university before living overseas in Ireland. She is now based in Adelaide, Australia.
You can visit her at www.poppynwosu.com.
Wakefield Press
16 Rose Street
Mile End
South Australia 5031
www.wakefieldpress.com.au
First published 2021
This edition published 2021
Copyright © Poppy Nwosu, 2021
All rights reserved. This book is copyright. Apart from any
fair dealing for the purposes of private study, research,
criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright Act,
no part may be reproduced without written permission.
Enquiries should be addressed to the publisher.
Cover designed by Liz Nicholson, Wakefield Press
Edited by Jo Case, Wakefield Press
ISBN 978 1 74305 877 0
For Gus
Prologue
DAISY One Year Ago
The concrete driveway is overgrown. And it’s dark. Also, the music spilling from the clattering windows is bad. Like, really bad: nothing but repetitive electronic beats. I’m trying to think of more excuses but that’s all I can come up with as Daisy drags me toward the front door.
She’s definitely not listening though.
I try out some more protests, think of anything I can to save me from the stupidness ahead. Daisy simply rolls her eyes as bass throbs in muffled beats through the thin walls of the building.
House party.
My own brand of personal hell.
Practically every person from school is inside that house. I’ll spend the entire evening hovering around the edges, feeling awkward and hating everything.
Yet I still can’t bring myself to tell her the biggest reason I want to be anywhere but here. Instead, I ask if she knows that my nana will kill me if I’m not where I said I’d be (at Daisy’s house studying for our end-of-year exams). Also, I mention to her that no one in there likes me. They all still think of me as that weird country kid, even after four years of living in the city. I remind Daisy I just got my braces and my teeth still hurt. (And that I look stupid.)
She’s not listening. I keep talking anyway.
‘Daisy, seriously. I want to go home.’
She snorts, flicking long hair across her shoulder. ‘You’re already here! Besides, how bad can it be?’
I try to clamp down on the irritation rising in my chest but seriously, I’ve been through this a million times with her. I speak through gritted teeth. ‘I can think of better ways to spend my Saturday. Like a million ways.’
‘Stop it, Pearl,’ snaps Daisy. ‘You agreed to come! I didn’t force you.’
She kind of did, but I shut my mouth hard on what I was about to say anyway, push it down deep because I value our friendship and I don’t like it when she’s mad. Even though she’s making me mad. So I don’t say the thing that’s burning inside my head, sizzling on the tip of my tongue.
I don’t want to be a third wheel.
Instead I blurt, ‘You don’t even know if he likes you!’
She stops her incessant pulling of my arm. Goes deadly still as dim light from the house spills over her face. Her voice turns low. And a little bit wobbly, which immediately makes me regret my words.
‘I’ll never know if I don’t go in there.’ She takes a big shaky breath, and it occurs to me for the first time that maybe she’s scared. I don’t get a chance to ask her though, because a group of boys pushes past us on the doorstep, laughing and shoving as they tumble into the house. I watch them go with a wrinkled nose.
Lachlan, the object of Daisy’s affections, isn’t with them, but his best friend is. Like the rest of them, he shoves past us as if we don’t exist. I scowl, rubbing my side where his elbow connected with my ribcage.
‘I heard he couldn’t even name one single plant in biology,’ I mutter. He doesn’t hear but Daisy shakes her head at me.
‘You truly embarrass me, Pearl Nash.’
‘What?’
‘Honestly, you can take the girl out of the country …’ She doesn’t even bother finishing the sentence. But believe me, I’ve heard it before.
I scowl even harder. ‘Knowing the name of a plant has nothing to do with being from the country!’
My nana is just into gardening is all. And she teaches me things sometimes.
I sniff. ‘Besides, he’s one of the worst offenders in there! Walking around school like he owns the whole place. Looking down on everyone.’
‘Sounds like you’re the one looking down on everyone. You know, you’re being pretty judgemental for a country girl.’
I grit my teeth again. But say nothing. Lately, the line between teasing and being mean is getting blurred, I think.
It’s hard work, but I let the comment go. Let the irritation that’s boiling in my chest go too.
‘Fine,’ I announce, waving my hand at the throbbing, light-drenched house ahead. I take a big breath. ‘Let’s do this.’
Daisy grins wide, eyes sparkling in the dark. She launches at me, grasping my shoulders into a tight hug. Which makes me feel better. I whisper into her hair, ‘Just promise you won’t leave me alone in there, okay?’
She pulls away and nods solemnly. ‘I promise.’
I raise my eyebrows meaningfully at her. ‘Because last time I had to spend the whole night next to that idiot who doesn’t even know how to name a single plant!’
‘He’s alright, though.’
I’m feeling annoyed again. ‘He’s not alright! See how he pretended he didn’t even see me just then? Came barrelling into me with his elbows? And besides, he totally insulted my braces.’
Daisy inspects me quizzically through the dark and then finally shrugs. ‘They do look a bit weird though.’
My mouth gapes open in disbelief, until she laughs.
‘I’m just teasing! You look great. And I won’t leave you alone in there like last time.’
I’m still frowning. And I’m already cranky, which is hardly the right mood for a party. Also, I’m highly aware that my current state of mind means if Lachlan’s best friend says even one slightly insulting thing to me tonight, there’s no way I’m going to be able to hold back. I take deep breaths.
Lately, I feel like I’ve been shoved onto the back foot with Daisy. Like something is happening that I don’t quite have a handle on yet. ‘You seriously won’t? You’ll stay with me?’
Daisy grins and wraps an arm tight around my shoulders as she shoves open the front door. Music spills across the patio in a heavy wave, dim lights flickering inside. She tilts her head toward mine, whispers, ‘I promise I’ll stay with you, Pearl Nash.’
1
MYRTLE WATTLE
‘You can’t leave me here, Nash!’
I certainly can. But I admit I’m wavering. It’s the puppy-dog eyes. And the rain, probably. I don’t know how I’m meant to stay defensive against all that wet skin and those shivers.
I suspect he’s playing me, though. He’s good at that kind of stuff. It’s summer, for starters. It’s not even cold.
‘It’s a petrol station,’ he breathes, eyes widening like this should mean something to me, other than, yeah. I am parked outside a petrol station. I had in fact noticed that already.
His palms press flat against the half-rolled-up front window of my Bedford van, wet fingers curled through the gap. As if he’ll slide his whole body through the second I unwind it any further.
I glare. ‘Call someone else.’
We don’t like each other. Never have. It’s our whole thing.
‘Who else?’ He gestures with one shivering hand behind him, looking traumatised.
Flat scrubby landscape and one rundown petrol station with a concrete toilet block. The sky is black with pulsing clouds, heavy and low against the flat stretching highway and shingled earth. Twisted, stunted trees in all directions.
Middle-of-nowhere shit.
I sigh.
‘It’s a petrol station, Nash.’ He says it again. Irritation creeps into his voice.
‘So what?’ I snap.
‘So what? So what?’ Obi takes a really deep breath. ‘So, every single outback horror movie ever made features a murder scene at a deserted petrol station. I am a young black male, Nash. What do you think happens to the young black male character in horror movies?’
I don’t answer.
‘Do you want me to tell you?’
‘No.’
‘They die, Nash. They always die. It’s literally a death sentence if you leave me here!’
‘I feel like you’re exaggerating—’
‘I’m not exaggerating. Look at me, does this seem like the face of an exaggerator?’ He shoves his nose real close to the narrow gap at the top of my window. Brown eyes, buzz-cut. He’s got bad skin across his cheeks and water dripping from his lashes.
And he’s got puppy-dog eyes.
‘Do you want me to die, Nash?’
I bristle. ‘You won’t die. A bus will come through soon.’
‘I’ll die, Nash.’
He keeps staring through the gap, rain-slicked fingers tapping on the glass, his whole body vibrating as he makes soft, sad sounds, like that’s going to change my mind.
The puppy-dog eyes turn into kitten eyes.
Turn into baby-seal eyes.
I can’t resist baby seals.
Finally, I let out a defeated grunt.
‘Alright,’ I snap.
Obi’s mouth curls into a wide, sudden grin. Dimples appear in his cheeks. Both sides.
I scowl. Mr Charming turned on like the flick of a light switch. Dimples like that are magic. They even make everyone forget the acne scarring on his cheeks.
Obi sure knows how to work it, and that only annoys me more.
A moment of silence passes as I attempt to control my temper. He shifts from foot to foot, sneakers crunching on the wet gravel outside like nails on a chalkboard. Finally he snaps, ‘Are you going to let me in or what?’
So much for trying to charm me.
I raise my brows at him from the driver’s seat, elbow on my knee and hand across my mouth.
‘It’s not locked,’ I inform him curtly.
He tries the handle of the sliding door at the side of the Bedford. ‘Huh. So … it was always unlocked? You didn’t lock me out?’
Things were definitely not meant to go like this.
Daisy was meant to be here, sitting in the passenger seat of my rundown Bedford, engine roaring, feet on the dash, her hair flying in the wind.
Instead I’m stuck with this idiot. In the middle of nowhere.
It becomes clear I’m not planning to answer him, so Obi just shrugs, the lightbulb grin back on. Like the sun shining through rain clouds. Magic dimples and all.
I roll my eyes. That shit doesn’t work on me.
Obi shoves two heavy bags into the back, and I don’t love how they shower wet grit across the thin mattress laid out in the body of the van. Rainwater leaks from the canvas and soaks into the foam.
I scowl at him. ‘Can you clean that first or something? This is my car, Obiara.’ I stuff up the pronunciation of his full name, I know I do. Not on purpose though. ‘It isn’t some piece of junk!’
Not strictly true. The van is an utter piece of junk, inherited from my grandpa, a man obsessed with old junk.
He glares back at me. ‘Oh-byo-rah,’ he corrects, sounding it out.
I curse Daisy again beneath my breath as I curl around in the driver’s seat, on my knees now as I grab a towel from the van floor and shove it beneath his stupid bags. We almost knock heads as I get up and remove him from my vicinity with a hand to his sopping wet shoulder.
A jagged flash of lightning flickers across the sky, the heavy clouds almost purple now. In the distance, a sheet of water approaches across the desert, a visible wall of rain.
‘Um … Nash, can I like, get in now?’
‘I already said you could, didn’t I?’
Obi flashes another of his dimpled grins, almost blinding me. It appears forced though, like he’s trying to play nice for the sake of his ride. The sliding door slams shut behind him—too loud for my liking, because I love this car—and then his wet sneakers squelch and scrape across the gravel as he throws himself into the passenger seat.
Just in time.
The wall of rain envelops us, the world outside turning white and misted, water battering the metal roof as a roll of heavy thunder rumbles overhead. Sheets of it slam hard against the windshield and I chew my lip.
Do I want to drive through this on the highway?
I’ll barely be able to see.
I guess I think about it too long, because Obi clears his throat. He’s still flashing that smile, but it’s worn thin at the edges.
‘So …’ he says, and then stops.
I watch him as the pasted edges of his grin slowly falter. I can’t help but be curious. ‘They seriously just left you here? Daisy and that?’
Obi says nothing as rain sloshes against the front of the Bedford. I swear the whole van is shaking from the howling wind.
I try again. ‘They seriously just kicked you out at this shit petrol station and told you to beg me for a lift?’
The grin disappears completely, swallowed whole. ‘Yeah.’
I scowl. ‘She didn’t even text me.’
‘No reception.’
I point through the roaring rain toward the ramshackle petrol station. ‘There is literally a payphone over there!’
Obi blinks. ‘What’s that?’
‘A payphone?’ I stare at him blankly. ‘What do you mean?’
He rolls his eyes. ‘It was a joke, Nash. No one uses payphones anymore.’ He rubs an impatient hand across the misting glass of his window, squinting through the rain. ‘Look, can we just go, or what?’
This infuriates me even more. Ordering me around in my own car.
But I start the engine.
It sounds sick actually, like it’s choking. But I keep my face blank so Obi can’t tell I’m worried. Or if not exactly blank, a scowl, which is what he’s used to from me anyway. Wouldn’t want to change things up too much.
‘Yeah, we can go?’ I mutter, pulling out slowly onto the road. Considering it’s school holidays, there aren’t many cars around. I’m glad. I’d be too scared to drive this slow old thing in a traffic jam in this weather.
I roll down my window a little because the car is stifling, summer heat hanging heavy in the air, more humid than I’m used to. Rain spills through the gap. It wets the bare skin of my legs and slides down the pale, cracked leather of the seat.
I roll the window back up.
I’m pretty keen on staying silent and just concentrating on the road through the rain, but Obi has other ideas. ‘Ouch,’ he says. He fishes around beneath his bum and drags out a battered paperback: creased cover and dog-eared pages. He raises his eyebrows. ‘What’s this?’
I try to snatch it, but he pulls it from my reach. He’s grinning again, skin still damp. But the grin looks a little sharper now, so I guess he’s just as unhappy with the situation as I am. Outside, rain hisses down. Relentless, flat land seeps away behind us as I drive slow and careful up the highway.
‘Give it back!’
He doesn’t.
‘Is this seriously what you read in your spare time, Nash?’ Obi shows me the cover—two people embracing in a wild Scottish-style landscape, his billowing shirt in a low V and her dress half unbuttoned. Judging from the deep dimples appearing in his cheeks, Obi finds it all quite amusing.
A nice story to spread when we meet up with all his friends.
‘Put on your seatbelt,’ I snap. My face is hot and flushed. No wonder Daisy and Lachlan kicked him out. ‘It’s my nana’s book, okay? Not mine.’
His grin grows wider. ‘Sure it is. It’s always the country kids, isn’t it?’
I shove back my hair, which keeps falling into my eyes.
‘What’s always the country kids?’
I’m pretty sure I don’t want to know. But if he says what I suspect he’s going to, I’ll kill him.
He shrugs. ‘You know, the ones you least expect. For example, you dress like a boy. And your mouth is full to the brim with braces. At school you never talk unless Daisy is around to hold your hand. Except when you want to pick at me, for some reason. But the whole time, you’re reading juicy romance books about delicate fair maidens. Unbelievable.’
It isn’t exactly what I suspected. It’s a new variation. New enough that I gape at him.
My mouth is full to the brim with braces?
My cheeks flush hotter, and I run my tongue over my teeth self-consciously. Metal ridges and sharp edges. All this mocking reminds me again why it’s better to avoid Obi. And Daisy’s boyfriend, Lachlan.
And lately … Daisy herself.
Not that Daisy mocks me exactly. Or at least, I know she doesn’t mean to. She just … gets caught up in the way Lachlan is. And she doesn’t seem to protest when other people do.
I attempt to smooth my cropped hair, feeling a little winded. I can’t even find the words to cut Obi down, instead saying weakly, ‘Can you please just put the book away?’
