Dark Secrets (80 page)

Mike sat taller,
eagerness replacing his grin. “Wanna go for a run with me
instead?”

“
Yeah. Actually, I’d
love that.”

“
Great. Maybe we can
make a picnic out of it. What’d ya think?”

I nodded and filled my
gob again. “Yeah. I’d like that.”

* * *

“
So, do you wanna
talk about it?” Mike dropped to the grass by our picnic blanket and
gulped a few swigs of water.

“
Talk…about…what?” I
huffed, letting my hands catch me on the ground, then rolled onto
my back to watch the midday sun overhead.

Mike screwed the cap
on his water bottle, swiped the sweat from his brow and leaned
forward with his elbows draped over his hairy knees. “The reason I
came in to find you asleep on your windowsill last
night.”

As if controlled by a
body-stiffening remote, my limbs went long. I laid very still,
suddenly no longer aware of my exhaustion. “No.”

“
You know that won’t
gel with me, baby.” A bottle of water appeared over my face; I sat
up on my elbows and took hold of it. “You need to talk, and
whatever it is, you kn—”

“
It’s none of your
business, Mike.” I sat all the way up, unscrewed the lid and rolled
the bottle to my lips, letting the cool liquid melt the heat in my
throat. “Just stay out of my room if you don’t like it.”

He let out a short
sigh, not an agitated or a hurt one, just more…frustrated. “Here.
Eat.”

I studied the sandwich
for a long breath, then snatched it with just a little too much
hostility. “That won’t work on me anymore, Mike!”

“
Ara? Where are you
going?” Mike jumped up and ran after me as I headed toward the
swing set across the park.

“
Wherever you’re
not.”

“
Why?”

I dumped the sandwich
on the ground—with a pang of regret—and said, “Because I’m not
going to let you talk me into opening up to you.”

“
By giving you a
sandwich?” He stopped, making a point of laughing at me.

“
Yes.” I looked at
the discarded lunch. “Whenever you want me to open up, you feed me.
And it always works, but this is none of your business.”

“
Okay. Fine.” He held
his arms out to the sides, still laughing. “I won’t ask. We’ll just
hang. ‘Kay?”

The sandwich stared up
at me; I really wished I hadn’t thrown it away. I wondered if maybe
I could dust it off and eat it still. I knew I hadn’t been eating
enough the last few days because my arms and elbows looked so bony
and pale that the scab David left from drinking my blood looked red
and malicious.

“
Baby?” Mike went to
touch my arm; I dropped it to my side, not having realised I was
picking at the scab.

“
Push me on the
swing?” I said playfully.

The mask of concern
dropped from his lips, but stayed in his eyes even as they lit with
a smile. “Sure, baby.”

And that was that. He
didn’t even mention my weird sleeping habits again—or my mum, or
David—only Vicki and my relationship with her. But I assured him
things were getting better, and he said they must be since I
willingly called her “Mom” the other day.

When the park emptied
and a strong breeze swept half of our picnic away, we packed up and
jumped in Dad’s car, then headed home.

“
Are you okay?” Mike
asked, looking at my knees; I looked too. My legs were so stiff and
rigid that my knees turned completely white.

“
Yeah. I just—I never really feel quite safe in cars, now.
It’s like,
before
, I knew they could crash and that they were dangerous, but
now I know what that feels like, I don’t feel so
invincible.”

“
Blind faith gone,
huh?”

“
Yeah. But you still
have it.” I nodded to the road. “You don’t feel the fear of these
deathly metal machines.”

“
I know. I’m just one
of the lucky ones, Ara, but the same could be said about
you.”

“
What’d you
mean?”

“
You have a real sense of what danger is now. I know that’s a
pitiful consolation, but at the same time, you’re seventeen and you
have an understanding about life that no other kids your age could.
Cars
are
dangerous and people are blasé about that power. I’ve seen
enough accidents in my time on the Force to know how little people
value the power of these
metal
machines
.”

The car slowed as Mike
flicked on the indicator and changed gears; muscle by muscle, my
legs unclenched, and as we rolled at less than half the recommended
speed limit, Mike turned his head and smiled at me warmly—ignoring
the honking horns from behind us.

“
Thanks,
Mike.”

“
Anytime.”

When we pulled up in
the driveway at home, the engine going quiet, a finger appeared in
my peripheral. “Might wanna tie that up so you don’t trip,” Mike
said.

“
Uh, crud.” I bent
over my legs and twisted my lace into a bow, then looked up as the
door popped open.

“
Thanks,” I said,
unbuckling my seatbelt and jumping out. As the door closed after
me, the look on Mike’s face became apparent. “What?”

“
You didn’t yell at
me for opening the door.”

“
Oh.” I looked at the
car, then shrugged. “Guess I didn’t.”

“
I like this new,
grown-up you.”

Deliberately scanning
his broad shoulders, his proud, tall stance and school-boy grin, I
said, “And I like this new, hot-guy you.”

“
You think I’m
hot?”

“
Don’t flatter
yourself. I was joking.”

He faked a pout and we
walked up the fixed previously-broken porch step.

“
After you, my lady.”
He bowed, opening the door for me.

“
Thank you, kind
sir.” I ducked through.

“
You are more than
welcome, my pretty friend.”

“
Hey there,” Dad said
as he came down the stairs.

“
Hi, Dad.”

“
Did you have a good
day?”

I looked at Mike, then
back at Dad. “Actually, yeah.”

“
Good. That’s good,”
Dad said.

“
Well, I’m going to
unpack the car. I’ll see you upstairs for a movie?” Mike looked at
me.

“
Yeah, sure.” He
walked away, and Dad’s gaze seeped into my skin. “What, Dad?” I
asked with a smile.

He leaned in, kissed
my cheek and said, “I’m just happy to see you happy again.” Then,
he followed Mike into the kitchen, leaving me alone in the wake of
his odd suggestion.

I was glad he’d fallen
for the illusion that I was happy; he needed it—needed to relax a
little and not worry so much that I was suicidal. And even though,
right now, I could feel a small sliver of happiness, as I looked up
to the coming night through the small window above the front door,
I knew that feeling was fleeting.

Chapter
Twenty-Seven

It might’ve been a
dream, but it was as close as I’d been to him in two days; I rolled
over in bed and flipped my pillow to the dry side, wiping the moist
layer of ageing tears from my cheeks.

Outside, the thunder
rolled again; it’d been that way all night. Bad weather was
brewing, but it hadn’t the strength to burst out and become a
storm. I didn’t mind the thunder tonight, though, because I
understood its pain—how it felt as though it just couldn’t get
free—to be where it was supposed to be. It was trapped, caged in by
the wrong conditions.

I rolled over and
watched the numbers change on my alarm clock, the gentle green glow
reminding me of David’s eyes. But each time I’d fallen asleep
tonight and opened my eyes after twenty minutes to see that glow,
it only made me feel hollowed out, reminding me how his eyes looked
in the dream I just woke from; he was scared, running—trying to get
away from something. Maybe from me. Maybe from the Set. I didn’t
know. All I knew was that he wasn’t here and he never said goodbye.
What if he’d been arrested for hanging out with a human? What if
they’d read my History paper and were torturing him right
now?

I sat up, clutching my
pillow, my heart racing.

“
Hey, you’re up,”
Mike whispered softly, pushing my door open a crack. “You ready to
leave?”

“
What, you wanna go
now
?”

“
Yeah, it’s a long
drive.”

“
You never mentioned leaving
this
early.”

“
I know.” He grinned,
opening my door fully. “I planned to wake you—figured I’d save my
ears from all the whining last night about getting up
early.”

“
What makes you think
I’d have whined?”

Mike just raised his
brows, rolling his head down a little.

“
Oh, fine.” I jumped
out of bed. “I’ll get my bag.”

“
Might wanna put some
clothes on, too.” He nodded to my pyjamas and closed the
door.

I threw on my bikini,
shorts and a shirt, then slipped into my flip-flops and met Mike at
the car—dragging my feet the whole way.

We stopped off to grab
an egg muffin from Macca’s, then took to the highway, leaving this
sleepy little town behind for the day. As the sun peeked out from
the eastern hills, I rested my head on the window and tried not to
fall asleep. “So, why are we going to a beach four hours
away?”

“
Because.” Mike
shrugged, tossing his coffee cup into the brown paper bag our food
came in. “I liked the pictures.”

“
Fair enough, I
suppose,” I said, then reached for the dial on the stereo. “I wanna
play that one again.”

“
You liked that?”
Mike put his window up as he spoke, and my cheeks tingled where my
hair had been whipping my face.

“
Yeah. I mean, it’s a
little morbid—for my tastes, but—”

“
Hey. There’s nothing
morbid about Metallica.”

“
There is about that
one.”

“
It’s one song out of
how many?”

I stared up at him,
not one ounce of care showing in my expression.

“
Fine. I’ll play it
again. But no more knocking the music,” he warned with a joking air
to his tone.

We arrived at the
beach just as the Sunday sun woke the rest of the world. Mike
parked Dad’s car in the only empty space left near the boardwalk
and wandered casually around to open my door.

“
Your Majesty.” He
bowed, offering his hand.

“
Merci,” I replied
politely, returning the bow.

“
Ah, so the boyfriend
finally got you speaking French, too, huh?”

“
How’d you know he
spoke French?”

He frowned at me for a
second, his eyes falling on my silver locket. “I just assumed,
because of the uh—” He pointed to his own neck.

“
Oh.” I touched the
locket. “Yeah. He did—does—speak French.”

“
Well,” Mike said,
sounding awfully cheery, “It suits you—French. You should speak it
more often.”

“
Nah. I don’t wanna
learn it, then wake up one day and realise all the disgusting
things you’d been saying to those girls all these
years.”

“
Ha!” His whole upper
body jerked toward the heavens with his burly laugh. “Yeah. Second
thoughts; don’t learn French.”

I smiled, folding my
arms across my body as Mike walked to the trunk, flipping the keys
around on his index finger.

“
Nice beach, isn’t
it?” he said, fussing about, pulling things out.

“
Yeah.” I turned and
faced the coast, the gentle summer breeze greeting me to the day.
Down by the water, families built sand castles and couples walked
hand in hand, stopping to kiss and marvel at the horizon. I once
had that fantasy—to be right there, standing toes in the ocean with
David, kissing as the sun went down, which made coming here with
Mike feel kind of strange—kind of…sad.

“
Well, what’re you
waiting for?” Mike offered his hand to the view before us. “Go
ahead. I’ll catch up.”

“
Really? You don’t
want help carrying all that?” I nodded to the picnic basket, the
blanket and a dozen other things.

He closed the trunk
and shook his head. “Just go, baby.”

Without further
encouragement, I pulled off my shorts and shirt, left them on the
ground for Mike to grab on his way down, and flew to the call of
the ocean, my feet barely touching the sand before I hit the
whitewash with the grace of an elephant. The waves enveloped my
ankles, cooling the burns on the balls of my feet, leaving behind a
tingle, like sherbet mixed with cola, as they receded.

I could almost
believe I was back home in Perth. And even with my eyes closed,
unable to see the origins of the noise around me, I could
feel
the brightness of
the day, filling me with the hope that some things in life were
still normal. I placed my hands to my knees and bent closer to the
water to catch the light breeze coming off it, feeling my toes sink
into the soft, grainy sand as the waves swam back out to
sea.