Six (10 page)

SO I WAS late. And I was cutting through Batesford Park, which can shorten my trip from The Mall by at least fifteen minutes, staying clear of The Woods of course, when a football landed at my feet. I stopped to pick it up and watched as Jacob Nicolson ran towards me. At least, I thought it was Jacob. I knew him from school, but it was a little hard to tell because his orange aura was pulsing off him like a neon sign and it was quite distracting.

I usually stay away from orange auras. They are the thrill seekers of the aura spectrum — addicted to physical danger — which has never sat well with my own personality aura, which is yellow.

But then he smiled, a warm, dazzling smile that was a little bit forward and a little bit shy all at the same time, and he held out his hand to me. So I placed my hand in his, ready to follow him wherever he led me. He squeezed my hand just the tiniest bit — afterwards I would wonder if I had imagined it — then he laughed and pointed to the ball.

‘Oh,’ I said. I handed him the football and he left, but I knew, even then, that we were meant to be together.

I didn’t tell anyone, not even Sarah, because technically I was still going out with Kiel Montgomery at the time and had been for the previous four months. But I filed it away as something to think about. And that’s all I could do. I couldn’t stop thinking about Nico and his beautiful smile and the warmth from his hand as it held on to mine.

I dumped Kiel soon after. I know other girls would think that dumping mid summer break would not be a good idea. Kiel had a car and he was handy when I wanted to go out at night, but it just seemed wrong to be making out with Kiel while all I could think about was Nico.

And then there was that awful day at The Woods. Even while I was in shock about what was going on, a small part of me was checking Nico out. I could feel the warmth coming off him, pulsing in waves towards me, and I wanted him to hold my hand again. The urge to touch him was so strong that I had to move away from him.

Life is full of rules. A lot of them are written down, and if you break them you can end up in big trouble. The other rules, the unwritten ones, sometimes don’t make sense to me. That day I wanted to tell Nico what I was feeling. But of course I didn’t. I mean, the timing was all wrong. There was definitely a bigger agenda going on there, but still…

I don’t know why it’s wrong to tell people how you really feel, what you really think. We waste so much time not saying what we mean and saying other things that don’t really matter. So I waited to tell him what I thought. And I did tell him, eventually.

No one talks about the girl from The Woods. Not Sarah or Nico or Finn. I don’t really talk to Virginia, but I’m sure she wouldn’t talk about that day either if she had the chance. It’s like The Woods girl never existed. Sometimes I think it’s just something that happened in one of my bad dreams. Then I’ll go online and check out the news reports about her and the Facebook tribute page just to convince myself that it was real. If I ever doubt it, I just have to look at Nico and see the black spot that sits on his heart to know that he thinks about her, too.

Who killed her? That’s what I want to know. Who killed her and why? Was it her boyfriend? Was it her best friend? Was it a random stranger that liked the look of her hair?

She had a name — Marley. She had a name and family and friends who miss her. She was a girl just like me. I still can’t believe we left her in The Woods. You wouldn’t even do that to a dog.

I MISS MY DOG Hootie. I used to tell him everything. Late at night he would scratch at the door and I’d let him in. Sometimes he’d even get on my bed, and I would stroke his smooth black head and long silky ears and he’d listen while I’d waffle on. He never judged me or told me to grow up. He never pretended to listen while he was really wondering what I could do for him.

It’s kind of nice that he still comes to visit. He keeps the shadows away. Which is good, because I know I’m not ready to meet them yet.

Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie

When the pie was open

the birds began to sing

Wasn’t that

a dainty dish

to set before

the King?

I DIDN’T KNOW Nico that well before he got together with Poppy. Our paths hadn’t crossed much at school; he stayed in his world of sport and I stayed in my world of study. The one good thing he had going for him was that he was Finn’s best friend.

Considering the boys that Poppy had previously fallen for, Nico was a big surprise. Poppy’s exes (or PX’s as I tagged them) had a uniform broodiness about them. Poppy loved love. She was always reading those stupid romance stories where men are the strong and silent types and women are weak and need to be rescued. In an effort to broaden her literary horizons, I gave her
Wuthering Heights
. It was the worst thing I could have done. She then became obsessed with
Wuthering Heights
and was constantly on the lookout for her perfect passionate Heathcliff.

I guess Nico could sometimes be a little bit brooding, but he didn’t seem particularly moody or particularly passionate, except about sport. Even when he was playing footy, it was like part of him held back a little — just in case. Yet there was something about him, a darkness I sometimes saw, that made me think he was living life on the edge.

‘Do you think, if I ever died, that I could come back and haunt Nico? Like Cathy did with Heathcliff?’ Poppy asked.

It was their six-week anniversary and the three of us were celebrating at the extended outdoor eating area at Silver Valley Mall. The Grill was an upmarket burger place with long wooden benches and a chalkboard wall which patrons were invited to write on. I was uncomfortable being there, but Poppy had insisted I come and I couldn’t find an excuse to say no.

‘Why would you want to come back and haunt Nico?’ I asked.

‘Because I love him so much I don’t know how I could live without him,’ said Poppy.

‘Well, technically you’d already be dead,’ I said with a laugh.

‘You know what I mean,’ said Poppy crossly.

She rearranged the salt and pepper shakers on the table.

‘Does Nico do drugs?’ I asked suddenly.

‘What are you talking about?’ she asked.

I knew it was bad form. I knew this was supposed to be a night of celebration, which is why I was surprised when I was invited along. But Nico was as jumpy as a skinned cat, and he’d been to the mens’ room twice already.

‘Do you want me to go?’ I asked. ‘I think I should go.’

‘No.’ Poppy held my arm. ‘Just… why would you ask me that question? Nico is an athlete—’

‘Maybe he’s taking steroids—’

‘Sarah!’

‘I’m sorry.’ I sipped my mineral water. ‘He seems a little…agitated.’

‘Look, Dr Lum, Nico is not taking drugs. He does not use steroids. He does do protein drinks, but I think they’re legal—’

‘I’m sorry, Poppy…’

She drummed the tabletop with her fingers then seemed to make up her mind about something. ‘I promised… you can’t tell anyone what I’m going to tell you now,’ she said finally.

I crossed my heart, which was pumping a little harder than before, and we made a pinky promise pact.

‘Nico’s worried about… you know… that day. In The Woods. They had something about it on TV last night.’

I sipped my drink slowly. ‘Well, the body was found, so…?’

‘And that’s the point,’ said Poppy. ‘Nico’s shirt. What if the police found it? What if they trace it back to Nico?’

‘Could you ask your Mum? If they’ve found the shirt, that is.’

‘You know she won’t discuss her work with me,’ said Poppy.

‘Well, if they do trace the shirt back to Nico, we’ll just tell them the truth,’ I said. ‘We found her. We called the police. End of story.’

‘I’m pretty sure we could be charged for obstructing justice or something,’ said Poppy.

‘It’s not as if we could help the police any further,’ I reasoned. ‘We found her. That was it. It’s not as if Nico’s done anything wrong.’

I’d been feeling more uneasy about the whole incident as time passed. I’d picked up the phone a couple of times to ring the police and tell them the whole story. I’d even walked to the police station once, intent on going in and purging the story from my conscience, but then I just kept walking right past it. ‘Oh, yes, hi, I’m Sarah Lum, Councillor Lum’s daughter, and I’d like to tell you how I didn’t report a crime.’ I just didn’t see how that would work without it rebounding on Dad. And Poppy.

‘But what if the police don’t believe us?’

‘Nico’s got four witnesses who will tell the police exactly how that shirt got to be there,’ I said. ‘He needs to stop worrying.’

‘Yes.’ Poppy didn’t seem convinced. ‘Here he is. We were just wondering where you’d got to,’ she lied. ‘And here’s Finn, hey, glad you could come.’

And that was the second-last time we ever talked about the problem with Nico.

Can you keep a secret?

I don’t suppose you can

You mustn’t laugh, you mustn’t smile

but do the best you can

THE SOUND OF laughter from the kitchen and a jarring burst of music from an ad on TV drove Nico into his room. He closed his bedroom door with a near-silent click and sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for his heart to stop racing. He dropped his head between his knees and waited for the dizziness to settle.

‘Hey Nico… whatya doing?’ Nico’s younger brother, Andrew, stood at the door, a packet of chips in one hand.

Nico raised his head. ‘Get out!’

‘Hey, I just wanted to—’ Andrew ducked, just missing the shoe that had been thrown at his head. ‘You’re a psycho!’ he said, slamming the door behind him.

Nico felt a tiny river of perspiration run down the back of his thigh.

‘Maybe I am,’ he said.

His phone buzzed — a message received. He waited a beat, before pulling it from his pocket and checking the caller. Fish. He probably wonders why I’m not at training, thought Nico. The idea of training made him feel a little better. Football drills. He could do them in his sleep. There was a sameness to the kicking and the running and the ache in your muscles that was comforting. If he could get to training, everything would be all right. Nico pulled his school bag across from the corner of the room and sat down on the edge of the bed again. He emptied the contents of the bag onto the floor — a waterfall of paper, a lunchbox, footy boots and shorts.

He was going to be okay.

Jacob Nicolson was captain of the school football team, the Firsts. Everyone thought he would get a tertiary sports scholarship at the end of the year. There had been interest from football clubs already willing to pay him for his talent but Jacob — Nico to his friends — had promised his parents that he would finish school. And that meant uni.

But first he had to pass high school.

His phone buzzed again. Nico opened the text, expecting the worst, but it was a short message. Typical Fish.

‘Where U?’

Nico’s hands shook as he shed his school uniform and dressed in his football gear. One of his socks had a hole in the heel but he ignored it. He slipped one foot into a shoe from under his bed and found its companion near the door. He threw his footy boots into a gym bag.