You Don't Even Know (10 page)

As if any of us needed two hours to shower, dress and eat breakfast.

And if that wasn't bad enough, Dad was furious. Smoke pouring out his ears, laser beams shooting from his eyes furious. All because he, who was too busy to organise any of the holiday, discovered after we arrived at the motel that Mum had booked us as economy passengers.

Talk about volcanic eruptions. I took Mia and Harvey for a walk around the foyer as Dad exhausted his rage at Mum. For the rest of the night, and most of the morning, he bullied and blustered airline staff by phone and in person about upgrading us to business class. Nothing he said worked.

Gotta love family holidays!

The engines' roar eased as the plane climbed higher. I wriggled into a comfortable position. As my shoulders became heavy, Mia twitched in the window seat beside me.

“What's up, Mi?” I asked without opening my eyes.

“Harvey's kicking my seat.”

“He's probably getting comfortable.”

“But he keeps doing it.”

So much for sleep. “Hey, can you see clouds?”

She pushed herself up in her seat so she could see out the small window. “Uh-huh. And blue.”

“Yep, we're going right up past the clouds into the sky.”

“I know that. That's what happened when we went to Queensland.”

Okay, so the clouds and sky weren't a big deal for her. I thought about suggesting we play a game on her iPad, but it was too early in the flight to turn on electronic stuff, plus Mum had told me not to even think about it until we'd been in the air for a couple of hours.

“Alex,” said Mia, still looking out the window. “How come the plane doesn't fall out of the sky?”

As if I knew? It just didn't. “Um, because we're going so fast.”

“Faster than Daddy drives?”

“Faster than Mum too.”

Mum, sitting on my right, elbowed me. “Alex!”

“Okay, maybe not as fast as Mum.”

Mia giggled. A second later her face collapsed into a scowl. She crossed her arms. “Harvey's doing it again. Harder.”

I twisted to look through the gap between seats at Harvey. He sat behind Mia and beside Ethan. Dad was in the aisle seat, gripping the armrests, knuckles white.

“Hey, Harv,” I said, keeping my voice light. “Can you try to not kick Mia's seat, please?”

“Christ, Alex!” spat Dad. “We've barely left the runway.”

“And I'm asking Harvey, nicely, to watch his feet so Mi stays calm.”

“I swear, if you are going to bitch the whole way, I'll have you moved to the back of cattle class.”

“I don't get why we're in cattle class anyway,” said Ethan.

“We're crammed in here because your mother stuffed up the booking.”

Mum stiffened in her seat.

“How hard is it to book seats in business class? Even premium economy? Hardly rocket science.”

I gave Harvey a pleading look and slumped back in my seat. “Hey, Mi, want to play a game on your iPad?”

It's late. Or early. I can't tell which. At home I can judge the time of night by sounds and sights. TV jabbering in the family room meant it was before midnight. Dad would be sitting up, laptop on his knees, doing paperwork. A soft glow from Harvey's nightlight shining under my door but a silent house, meant it was after midnight. No glow, silence and a grey rather than black room and it was close to dawn.

In hospital, it's much harder to gauge. During the day the sound of a vacuum means it's about seven in the morning. The food trolley rattling and clanging can be one of three times – breakfast at eight, lunch at midday or dinner at five-thirty. But if I'm awake after ten, it's impossible to work out what time it is without checking my watch.

Nights are kind of eerie. The hall lights are dimmed and night staff prowl the corridor armed with torches, so it's never completely dark. Patients cough, cry out in pain and sleep talk. Night. Day. Day. Night. They roll on and on.

Tonight, something has woken me – maybe a dream or pain. Perhaps a night staff visit. Who knows, but I'm wide awake. I lie still for a bit, listening to muffled voices, rubber soles squeaking on lino floors and distant moaning.

The moaning, though faint, is disturbing.

I stumble out of bed and ease the heavy door of our room shut to block out the sound. On my way back to bed, I change direction and sit beside Mackie's bed. Her scrapbook is on the overbed table where I left it. I switch on the reading light and flick to the page after “To Do Before”.

This one isn't filled with crafty stuff but pictures of hearts, silhouettes of couples kissing and all that girly stuff. Two pictures aren't stuck down. The first is of a red-and-white hot air balloon against a blue sky. The curling writing underneath in black ink isn't neat or decorated, but scrawled. The words are pressed into the paper.

If every sucky day in the history of sucky days was lined up in a row, today would be right at the head of the queue. And that would be because today sucked
. Big-time.

As if I haven't put up with enough. Chucking, mouth ulcers, needles, the shivers, that foul metal taste in my mouth and being bald. Today in the middle of school assembly, right when it felt like all that stuff was way behind me, I fainted
.

Collapsed
.

Passed out
.

Whatever
.

One minute I was counting the ridges in the basketball stadium roof while Miss Hindmarsh droned on about rubbish, and next minute, I was all hot and sweaty and cold. My vision blurred and then – bam! Nothing!

Until I woke up in the aisle on my back, with Mr Jacobson and Miss Sutherland leaning over me. I could see right up Mr Jacobson's nose, which was not pretty
.

But that wasn't the worst of it. No, my humiliation hadn't even begun
.

Somehow when I fell off the chair, my school dress hoicked up to my armpits and nobody, not even Miss Sutherland, bothered to pull it down. And guess which knickers I was wearing, mainly because I was too stuffed to go searching for any others? Yep, the massive bog-catchers covered in old lady roses that Tammy gave me for a joke
.

If Mum hadn't been busting her gut, working three jobs, I would have been wearing my Bonds knickers, which would have been way less embarrassing
.

But not even the granny bog-catchers was the worst of it
.

Oh no, the mortification factor had a long way to go yet
.

Some idiot called an ambulance
.

Did anyone call an ambulance when Rosie Pyrillo fainted because of her period?

Or when Jake Lansa fainted while we were watching that childbirth DVD in biology? No!

But the short-haired girl who used to have cancer faints and it's all ambulances, hospitals and a thousand scans
.

So now, I'm sitting in this uncomfortable hospital bed and no one will tell me what the hell is going on. Mum and Tim and Dad are in some stupid meeting with my doctor. Who knows where my little brother is. In fact, I'd rather not know, because wherever he is will involve shoplifting, alcohol or pot. Probably all three
.

All alone, bored stupid, embarrassed, waiting
.

Yep, today sucked a big, slimy one
.

I lower the balloon picture and stare at Mackie's sleeping face. My mind is blank, except for one word, written across it in heavy black print – CANCER.

I flip back through the scrapbook, looking for some kind of hint about times or dates. None of those, but I do find another picture on the same page that isn't glued down. Beneath a couple kissing under fireworks is a list.

U
PDATED LIST … TO DO BEFORE
I
'M
20
.

*
Kiss a hot boy while on a Ferris wheel
.

*
Kiss under fireworks
.

*
Kiss under water
.

*
Kiss in the rain
.

*
Swim with dolphins
.

*
Sleep on a beach
.

*
See Sydney Harbour Bridge and the Opera House
.

*
Buy a homeless person lunch
.

*
Rope swing into a river
.

*
Watch every episode of
Once Upon a Time
– again
.

*
Have an all-night Disney animated movie marathon –
Mulan, Pocahontas, The Little Mermaid
and
Hercules
for starters
.

*
Go on a road trip with Tammy and Granger
.

*
Go hot air ballooning
.

*
Do the Sadako thing – make a thousand paper cranes and have my wish come true – that the cancer has gone. Forever
.

*
Ride a camel
.

*
Taste custard fruit
.

*
Watch the sunrise
.

*
Watch the sunset until it's totally gone
.

It feels like my bones, blood and muscles have turned into wet sand. I close Mackie's scrapbook and place it back on the overbed table. Hand on the closed book, I sit there for a moment watching her sleep. An image of that stupid vampire sitting watching his equally stupid girlfriend sleep flashes into my mind. I ease out of the chair and shuffle back to bed with that word pulsing in my head – cancer.

Mark, the pool manager, dumped a cardboard box on the desktop. “Latest newsletters. Hot off the press.”

“Want me to stick them on display?” I asked.

“That'd be great, mate. Can you freshen up the other brochures too, if you have time before your turn on the deck? Gotta make a call.”

“Too easy.” I'd just added a bundle of newsletters to the display stand and had topped up the membership and swimming lesson pamphlets when a voice echoed through the pool foyer.

“Alex, how's it going?”

Fish was one of our regulars. Burly, fit guy who looked uncomfortable in a suit. He turned up every day around twelve-thirty, give or take a few minutes. He would hang around the desk chatting to whoever was on duty about the state of the new car market and the benefits of Mazdas, which he sold. Then he'd change into speedos and churn up and down the fast lane for forty-five minutes. When he was done, he'd chat to the lifeguard on duty, disappear into the change rooms and stop by the desk on his way out for another chat – usually about footy or his three daughters.

At least that used to be his routine. He hadn't been around for a couple of weeks.

“Fish, been slacking off?” My voice faded as I turned and saw him. His suit hung from his shoulders, his face was gaunt and his thick hair shaved.

He ran his hand over his head. “Like the new look? Shaved it off before it fell out. Cancer mate. Of the liver.” He shrugged. “Bastard, eh?”

What was I meant to say? Sorry? Short hair suits you? Good weather? “That sucks.” Lame, but at least it was something.

“You said it. Figured it'd be good for me to get back into swimming while I feel well enough.”

“Yeah.” The change in his appearance had sucked all sense from me.

“So you going to scan my card?”

“What? Sorry. Sure.” I took his membership card and hurried back behind the counter.

I scanned the card and was about to ask about work when I figured he probably hadn't been there either. “So, how are the girls?”

Instead of sparkling, Fish's eyes darted from me to the card. He sucked in his lips. “Good, Alex, good. See you on the way out.” And he was gone. No long chats, no customer stories.

Mind blank I grabbed a walkie-talkie from the charger and the bum-bag filled with medical stuff and followed Fish through the glass doors to the pools.

Inside the pool area, people cut laps, kids played in the shallow pools and parents watched from plastic seats. The smell of chlorine was stronger and the air denser.

Jessica met me by the kids' pool. “Pretty quiet really. But watch those guys.” She jerked her head at three guys a bit younger than me, who were treading water in the deep end. “They've been okay, but are starting to wind up.”

“No worries.”

“Scott's patrolling the west side of the building.”

She nodded and left. I headed to the guys Jessica had mentioned and started scanning the pools. Fish emerged from the change rooms. Instead of burly he looked frail and tired. He slipped into the water and started swimming, not his usual smooth style, but a choppy, jerky stroke.

A massive splash and raucous laugh echoed through the pool complex. I could tell by the waves splashing over the pool lip that someone had just bombed.

The three boys Jessica had warned me about wrestled and pushed each other under the water.

“Oi,” I said, marching towards them. “No bombs and no wrestling. Cut it out, now.”

Mullet-boy dismissed me with a glance then duck-dived to grab the thinner guy's foot and drag him under the water again.

I stepped to the pool lip. “Did you hear me? No more bombs, and stop the wrestling or you'll be banned from the pool.”

“Says who?” asked mullet boy, now sitting on the pool ladder.

“Says me.” I stood with my feet a little apart and my left thumb hooked into my the bum-bag around my waist. The two in the water exchanged a look. I braced myself, ready for a scene. “Your choice, boys.”

“Righto, we were only mucking around.” Mullet boy slipped back into the water and dog paddled down the pool. The other two followed.

Eyes fixed on them, I headed back to the corner and continued scanning the pools. That's when I noticed Fish climbing the ladder onto the pool deck. Normally he'd strut to one of us on duty and chat while he towelled off his hair, but today, he wrapped the towel around his waist and limped to the change room.