Friday Brown (11 page)

‘Keep your voice down,’ she muttered. ‘Go for the main bedroom. ’

‘I can’t…

‘If you say can’t, you can’t.’ She looked me over and found me lacking.

‘What if an alarm goes off?’

‘Abort.’

‘But there are lights on. What if there’s somebody home?’

‘There’s nobody home. No cars.’

‘But what if…?’

‘Don’t worry. I wouldn’t send you in there if I didn’t think you could do it. I’ve got your back,’ she said and gave me that drilling stare.

I knew she meant it. And some pathetic part of me wanted to win her favour because she seemed to have all the answers. I wanted to ask her questions I would have asked Vivienne. Arden was the strongest, most real thing I had.

‘Okay,’ I said.

She cupped my face with her cold hands and kissed me gently on the lips.

I froze, stunned. Her lips pulsed with warmth and life when I expected more ice. It wasn’t attraction I felt, but a connection that ran deep like she’d plugged into a socket in my brain and we were both lit up from the same energy source. I would have done anything for her.

It was in this fog of invincibility that I strode to the brick pillar and braced my hands on the top. I bent my
leg back in an L-shape and Arden hoisted my featherweight easily. I sat on top of the pillar and unlaced my boots.

‘What are you doing?’

‘I can’t climb with these on,’ I said. ‘I need to feel under my feet.’

I kicked off the boots and swung my leg over a branch that bowed dangerously under my weight. I shuffled along, legs wrapped around it like I was straddling a horse. It levered me up and levelled out as I crawled closer to the main trunk of the tree. Leaves brushed my face and a bird fluttered out of reach. I heard the intake of my own breath each time my foot slipped on the smooth bark—but I never really believed that I’d fall.

Arden was below.

I crossed over to the next tree, the biggest. There, I needed to go up, not just across. There were no decent footholds and I had to perform the monkey-bar swing with my hands.

I felt at ease; all my doubts were without substance and my fear had gone. There was only exhilaration. It gave me extra strength and when I reached the roof of the house, I was smiling, warm, out of breath.

I was grace. I was in control. I was…alone.

When I looked down, Arden had disappeared.

I jumped. The gutter groaned under my weight as I pulled myself up onto the sloping roof. The tiles were dry. Yellow lichen gave me traction as I clambered up and over the pitch.

There were two small windows on the other side. Mentally, I measured the opening of the closest one. I decided that my body and hips would fit, but my shoulders could pose a problem.

Head first,
Arden had said.

I pushed the window and it opened without resistance. I put both feet through the opening and shuffled my hips. Once I was halfway through, I saw what she meant. My back was arched to breaking point. I had no force of my own, only gravity to keep me moving. With my arms above my head I was wedged half-in, half-out. The sharp edge of the window frame sliced my back. Sweat formed an icy layer on my skin.

Shit.

Through sheer will, spurred on by the threat of spending the night there, I pressed my shoulder blades together and wiggled them through the space. Near dislocation, my bones stretched the muscles past a point they’d never been before.

I gasped as I slid through, whacked my head on the sill, caught my wrists on the bottom of the window and landed with one foot in toilet water.

The seat was up. I put it down and sat there for a minute until my muscles stopped screaming. Muddy blue puddles pooled on the white tiles as I made my way to the door. I closed it quietly behind me.

I was in a hallway. My feet sank into plush carpet. I could just make out the shape of a doorway in the dark. I turned the handle and felt around for a light switch but
I couldn’t find one. I took a few steps, hit my shin against something hard and toppled onto a bed.

When my eyes adjusted, I could make out a tall dresser, side tables, the bed. The room smelled of expensive perfume and furniture polish.

I slid open the first drawer of the dresser. My fingers found satin and lace. I closed it and ran my hands along the top. Glass bottles clinked together and fell. I set them upright and opened the second drawer. There, I found the unmistakable shape of a jewellery box. It was unlocked, half open and spilling over with trinkets.

The first one I touched was heavy, so I figured it was only cheap costume jewellery. I didn’t want to take anything valuable. I yanked and it started a chain reaction; one by one, other necklaces caught and dragged and slithered into a pile on the floor. I ripped the heavy necklace free, scooped the rest up and stuffed them back into the box.

I tried to leave the room as I found it. I smoothed over the creases on the bed and buffed the dresser’s knobs with my T-shirt. In the hallway, I fumbled for the toilet door and turned the handle.

It wasn’t the toilet. It was a bedroom. The faint glow of streetlights bled through the slats of the blinds and I could see a bed. And a person on the bed. Faint music came from his headphones. He was lying there, naked to the waist, wearing only a pair of jeans. His eyes were closed. One leg was crossed over the other and one foot tapped. His chest rose and fell evenly while my lungs were plunging and sucking like bellows.

I knew who had left the toilet seat up.

He opened his eyes.

We exchanged a look like a shooting star—brief, intense, over.

I ran for it.

My feet skidded sideways on the wet floor and my legs went out from under me. I landed hard on my backside, flung out my arm, slammed the toilet door and locked it. I scrambled for grip like a dog on a linoleum floor—pedalling hard and going nowhere, leaving halfmoon turtle tracks in the slush. I twisted and landed on both elbows, yelping. If I hadn’t been so scared I would have laughed at my clumsiness.

I stood slowly.
Breathe. Think.

The door handle moved one sinister rotation before he must have realised I’d locked it. He didn’t jiggle it. His composure made me more terrified. I backed up slowly and wound the necklace around my fist.

What do you do when you open your eyes and see a barefoot intruder standing in your doorway?
He should have yelled or reacted, shouldn’t he? Weird. I thought maybe he was priming for a run-up.
What if he had a key?

I stood on the toilet seat and managed to crawl back through the window, even though my arms and legs were jelly.

Out on the roof, I was exposed, caught in the million-watt glare from the floodlights next door. Half blind, I tried to climb back over the top of the roof without rolling off.

Getting back onto the tree was a hit and miss affair.
Miss
when I swung my leg over the branch and slipped,
hit
when it flung back and smacked my face. My eyes watered and my lip swelled.

Where the
hell
was Arden?

I was about two metres away from the fence when the porch light came on. I risked a glance back.

The guy was standing there, scratching his head. He’d taken the time to put on a shirt. He looked stunned.

I vaulted onto the footpath and took cover behind a bush.

‘Jesus. What happened to you?’ Arden said, emerging from the shadows.

I jumped. ‘There’s someone home,’ I whispered. ‘Go! Just
go
!’

Arden laughed and followed when I ran off. She overtook me without even trying, boots clomping. She was gasping for breath and holding her side. It was only when we eased up and stopped about three blocks away from the house that I realised she was laughing.

I had left my boots standing on the brick pillar. Like bloody Cinderella.

Arden put her arm around me and drew me close. She prised my fingers apart and extracted the necklace. In the light it was hideous—a garish mix of blood-coloured stones set in cheap, chipped silver. A heavy silver crucifix dangled in the centre.

I massaged my palm. The shape of the cross was imprinted on it.

Arden stroked the stones, then slipped the necklace over her head. She tucked the cross between her breasts.

I knew it was the thievery, not the bounty, that pleased her. But when she kissed my forehead and wrapped her trench coat around my shaking shoulders, I decided that guilt was a small price.

I was back, safe, under her wing.

CHAPTER TWELVE

The next morning, my boots were sitting at the foot of my mattress as if they’d walked home all by themselves.

I sat up. Looked around. Was it a joke? Did Arden go back to get them?

Carrie snored softly. Bree was lying on her back with her arms folded under her head, coat-hanger style, smoking her breakfast cigarette.

‘You’ll burn this place down,’ I said.

‘Pfft,’ she said and flicked her ash onto the floor. ‘Where did you and Arden go last night?’

I ignored her, sat up and stretched my aching body.

‘What happened to your face?’

I touched my swollen lip. Overnight, it had split and I could taste dried blood. I catalogued my other wounds: scratches on my arms, a throbbing tailbone, a scrape on
my upper back. Raw and sore all over.

‘Reconnaissance and retrieval mission.’ I shrugged. The boots sat there like an accusation.

‘You don’t have to be like the rest of us,’ Bree said in a serious tone.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

‘Yes, you do.’ She lit another cigarette. ‘Welcome to the Dark Side.’

I cupped my hands over my mouth and gave my best impression of Darth Vader breath.

Bree smiled and cocked an eyebrow. ‘What’s that?’

First
Peter Pan,
then
Star Wars.
Maybe my upbringing wasn’t as culturally barren as I thought.

‘Shut up or get out,’ Carrie grumbled and rolled over.

Bree went downstairs first.

I pulled on my jeans and a T-shirt and followed. The guilt and fear of the night before was still stuck to my skin. I could hear Arden laughing in the kitchen.

‘How did my boo…’ I started.

It was obvious now that my boots didn’t get there by themselves.

The guy was there. The bare-chested guy from the house. The bare-chested guy from the house I broke into, and stole from. He was so tall he made everything around him look like dollhouse furniture. Elbows and angles stuck out as if he’d only ever grown up, but not out. He was pale, dark-haired and unremarkable, sipping coffee from Arden’s mug like he belonged there.

Arden was relaxed, sitting cross-legged on a crate.

Bree was smiling a lot and refilled his coffee without being asked.

Darcy sat on the floor with her knees up to her chest, one arm wrapped around them. For once, she kept her nasty looks to herself.

‘You’re a girl,’ the guy said and stared at me.

I crossed my arms over my braless front, shoved my hands into my pockets, then folded them back over my chest. I didn’t know what to do with them. They felt like leftovers, or an untucked shirt. Had he called the police? Is that why he was there?

‘I was asking Arden who the boy in my room was last night. Except you’re not a boy.’

‘Obviously,’ I snapped.

Arden laughed. There was something deeply satisfied about that laugh.

‘I didn’t think you’d be there,’ she said to him. There was no apology in her tone. ‘I didn’t know you were back.’

He leaned forwards on his elbows. ‘How about you tell me next time you want to break in and I’ll save you the trouble by opening the front door,’ he said.

They knew each other. My skin prickled. I covered my confusion by making myself a coffee and, when I’d recovered, I sat down at the table. ‘Who’s he?’ I blurted.

‘Wish,’ he said carefully. ‘Who are you?’

‘Friday,’ Bree answered for me. ‘She’s new.’

‘Wish. What kind of a name is that?’ I said.

Wish smiled. His face changed from unremarkable to miraculous.

I smiled back as if he’d tapped a reflex. He could have been a set mousetrap and I’d still have reached out and touched him to see how he felt. How do you go from ordinary to fascinating with one lopsided smile? Then he opened his mouth and I was annoyed all over again.

‘Friday. That’s a boy’s name, isn’t it?’

‘It’s good to see you,’ Arden interrupted. ‘I’ve missed you.’

I looked around for Malik. There was an invisible, twanging cord between Wish and Arden. I wondered if Malik knew; he didn’t seem the type to share.

‘I’ve missed you, too,’ Darcy said. ‘Are you coming back or what?’

‘No, he’s not,’ Arden snapped. ‘He has a higher purpose now.’

‘I’m over eighteen,’ Wish said softly. ‘The rules have changed.’

‘Your rules or theirs?’ Arden said.

‘Both.’

Arden nodded. She spread her fingers. ‘I know, I know.’

I put my hand up. ‘I have some questions. Like, why did you ask me to break into his house when you could have knocked on the front door?’

‘That’s no fun,’ Arden said, laughing.

Wish looked at me and leaned across the table. ‘I have a question for you, too,’ he said. ‘Did you ice this?’ He
touched my split lip with his finger.

In my head I was whispering,
No, no, no. He’s going to touch me like that, then disappear.

My mouth said, ‘My real name is Liliane.’ Infantile. Forgettable.

‘Nobody cares who you really are.’ Darcy got up, dusted off her pants and stormed out.

She pushed past Silence, who hovered on the bottom step. He was brushing his teeth, lounging in the doorway, drooling foam all down the front of his hoodie. Still gripping his toothbrush in his cheek, he walked over to Wish. They bumped fists. He turned to spit in the sink.

‘How’s it hanging, buddy?’ Wish said. ‘It’s been a while.’

Silence asked a question using his finger-puppet language.

Wish obviously got it. ‘No, I’m not back. I just came to retrieve something.’ He gave Arden a hard look. ‘I know she took something for you.’