Graffiti Moon (4 page)

I lock up my bike and walk into Barry’s. I don’t come here all that often on account of it being the crime scene of my first date. Jazz and I mostly hang at the coffee shop on Kent Street. She works there every Saturday telling people’s fortunes.

Jazz swears she’s psychic and I’d say that was rubbish if her predications didn’t have this way of coming true. She predicted I’d be allergic to guava juice, which was something I’d never tried. I drank a litre of it in the name of scientific research. Dad called me Big Face for weeks.

When I arrive she’s sitting in the back booth, dressed for action and sucking on a lollipop. Mum leaves out horror dentist photos whenever Jazz stays over at my place. ‘Takes more than that to shock me, Mrs Dervish,’ Jazz tells her. ‘I see into my future and my teeth are just fine.’ Mum rolls her eyes.

Her long dark hair has little plaits and flowers here and there and she’s wearing a pink dress and killer boots that she bought at a secondhand store on Delaney Street. The price tag said fifteen dollars but she beat the guy down to ten.

Next to her, Daisy’s even more dressed for action in a black singlet dress and green silk slippers. Her outfit matches her eyes. They’re winter seas lashed with black that stand out even more because of her short blonde hair. She’s the sort of girl who gets stared at. She’s the sort of girl who likes being stared at.

I check my reflection. I look like I slept in my faded jeans and Magic Dirt t-shirt. Maybe I did sleep in them, come to think of it. I pull up my hair and push a couple of paintbrushes through the bundle to keep it out of the way.

I slide into the booth.

‘You’re late,’ I say.

Jazz points her lollipop at me and gives me the serious look.

I steal a chip. ‘Okay, I’m late, but if the plan’s to stay out all night, what’s the hurry?’

‘She’s got a feeling,’ Daisy says. ‘The next guys to walk through the door are the ones we’re meant to hook up with.’

‘Have you seen the guys that live around here?’ I ask.

‘Lucy’s right,’ Daisy says. ‘Some of them aren’t pretty.’

Daisy knows the crowd. She’s a sheddy so she comes here a lot. Jazz and I only started hanging out with her about a month back when we were put in an English group together. I always liked her; we just move in different crowds and go to different places.

Inviting her tonight was a spur of the moment thing. She and Jazz and I were squashed behind a bush this afternoon, hiding from her boyfriend, Dylan, and his mates. They were slamming everyone with eggs to celebrate the end of Year 12.

‘Romance is in serious need of some resuscitation,’ Daisy said while yolk slid down her face. She looked at Jazz and me, caked over with egg. ‘I’m really sorry my boyfriend is such an idiot. I’m definitely breaking up with him,’ she said. ‘Tomorrow. If I do it before then I’ll have no one to hang out with on the last night of Year 12.’

‘Hang out with us,’ Jazz said.

Another egg hit Daisy in the face. She didn’t need much more convincing.

‘Are you really breaking up with Dylan?’ I ask while she’s looking towards the door. ‘You’ve been together since the end of Year 10.’

‘I really am. I don’t know why I’ve stayed with him till now. It’s too long to be explained by temporary insanity.’

‘Lucy’s waiting for romance.’ Jazz says it like I’m the girl suffering from temporary insanity. ‘I’ll settle for action. I’ve got one last night before my parents come back from holidays. After that it’s all study all the time till exams. Every entry in my Year 12 diary can’t be:
Watched TV, watched TV, flossed, kissed my parents goodnight, secretly watched more TV.
Tomorrow I’m writing:
Stayed out all night. Kissed someone.
’

Jazz heard last week that she got an audition for the College of the Arts. I’m pretty sure she doesn’t need the drama course. ‘Kissed someone,’ I say. ‘Not anyone.’

‘Okay. Kissed someone cute. Like that,’ she says, pointing at the door.

‘No way,’ Daisy and I say together.

‘This is perfect.’ Jazz checks her reflection. ‘Leo Green’s in my English class. I like the way he writes. I don’t know the guy with him.’

Daisy grins, and looks at me. ‘It’s Ed Skye. Lucy, you remember him?’

‘Vaguely.’

‘He’s hot,’ Jazz says. ‘Perfect for you.’

Daisy stops grinning. ‘That leaves Dylan for me. I don’t want Dylan.’

‘We’ll find someone for you along the way,’ Jazz tells her. ‘Ready?’

‘No,’ Daisy and I say at the same time.

‘Good. We’ll head over and let things unfold.’

‘I’d really like tonight to stay folded,’ I tell her.

‘Not an option,’ Jazz says, handing Daisy and me a piece of gum each. I didn’t seriously think it was.

Some things take forever. Waiting for a bus when it’s raining. Getting waxed after winter. Lining up to get tickets for a band. Waiting for a coffee in the morning. The walk across to these guys isn’t one of those things.

I blink and I’m there, staring past them through the window at the bridge. The lights on it are sending little warning messages: walk past the table, run, head to Al’s and wait on the steps for Shadow to come back.

‘Hi,’ Jazz says, standing at the table.

Leo looks at her and grins. ‘Hi.’

‘Hi,’ Dylan says.

‘Shut up,’ Daisy tells him, and makes the introductions. ‘Ed, this is Jazz Parker. Just a warning, she’s psychic. So don’t go thinking bad thoughts. You know Lucy. Leo, you know Jazz and Lucy. Jazz and Lucy, you know Dylan. He’s the idiot who threw eggs at us today.’

Ed looks at me like he wishes I’d disappear and if I had the choice I’d grant that wish; I’d turn into smoke and blow away. I want to sit on the other side of the table from him so he doesn’t think I’m interested but there’s no room on the other side so I sit as far away from him as I can and try to have an out-of-body experience.

Trying, trying. Nope. No luck. I can’t get no astral projection. This couldn’t get more awkward if we all tried.

‘You want to get some air?’ Leo asks Jazz, and they walk outside. Daisy follows them and Dylan follows her. Okay, it could get more awkward if we all tried.

Don’t think about Ed. Think about Shadow. Think about meeting him. Think about what you’ll say, standing in front of him. Think about taking him into Al’s studio and showing him shiny pink glazes that blaze in the light. Think about night slowly turning into day and Shadow not disappearing and you there, not disappearing with him.

I look over at Ed. He’s staring out the window giving Leo the thumbs down. I wait till he’s looking at me then I give him two fingers up. He gives me two fingers back. I give him the middle finger. He gives it back to me. I don’t know any more signs so I make up one. Three fingers. Take that, mister. He sticks up four. I call your four and raise you five. He skips straight to ten and does something with his thumb that disturbs me. I remember a sign I saw on TV once and bounce my hands on my lap. Ed bounces his lap right back.

‘Good.’ Jazz slides back into the booth. ‘You’re talking.’

‘I can’t believe you’re still this mad at me,’ Ed says.

‘You grabbed my arse.’

‘You broke my nose.’

‘
You
broke
his
nose?’ Jazz asks. ‘
You
grabbed
her
arse?’

‘I was fifteen and I slipped and she broke my nose.’

‘Wait a minute. How do you slip onto someone’s arse?’ Jazz asks.

‘I meant slipped up. I slipped up and she broke my nose.’

‘You’re lucky that’s all I broke,’ I say.

‘You’re lucky I didn’t call the police.’

Leo, Dylan and Daisy slide into the booth. ‘Did you know Lucy broke Ed’s nose?’ Jazz asks.

Ed closes his eyes and silently bangs his head on the wall.

‘I took him to hospital,’ Leo says, grinning. ‘He had to sit for five hours in one of those gowns with his arse hanging out.’

Okay, if someone says ‘arse’ one more time I’m going to have to levitate to get away from the humiliation.

‘I can’t believe he grabbed your arse,’ Jazz says.

I concentrate really hard. Nope. No good. I can’t get no levitation. ‘I need a bathroom stop.’ I grab Jazz by the shoulder. ‘I have a feeling you need one, too.’

‘Do I need one?’ Daisy asks, smiling.

‘Sure,’ I say. ‘Toilet stop for everyone.’ Leo grins and stands up. ‘Not you.’

‘Careful,’ Ed tells him. ‘Not a good idea to make her mad.’ I hear him laughing till the toilet door shuts. Before it does, I make sure I swing my arse a little. Take that, mister; you wish you could get some levitation.

‘She’s swinging her arse on purpose,’ Leo says, laughing. ‘I like her.’

I laugh with him till the toilet door shuts and then I stop. ‘I don’t like her. I’m going home.’

‘No way,’ Leo says. ‘I want to hang out with the Jazz Lady and she wants someone for Lucy.’

‘I’m not someone for Lucy.’

‘Jazz thinks you are.’

‘Jazz thinks she’s psychic. Jazz is delusional.’

‘Daisy won’t hang around without the other two,’ Dylan says. ‘She’s mad because I threw eggs at her head this afternoon.’

The three of us think about that for a second.

‘That was stupid to throw eggs at her head,’ Dylan says.

‘Flowers work better.’ Leo leans across to me. ‘Look. We’ve got six hours to kill before the job and three cool girls out for adventure. What’s the problem?’

‘The last adventure I had with her ended in hospital, that’s the problem.’

‘So don’t touch her arse this time.’

‘I’ll try to remember that.’

First piece I ever did was for her. A girl with roads and rivers and deserts running across her skin. Highways on her neck that went all the way cross-country. Off to the side of her was a guy with the hood of his car up and smoke pouring out of the engine.

I painted it in the middle of the night with a piece of white tape over my nose and two bruises over my eyes. I didn’t even check behind me for the cops. ‘Arrest me,’ I was planning to say if they turned up. ‘Come on, do it. Arrest me.’

No cops showed and I stayed there till the sun blurred the dark. It wasn’t even a good sunrise. Factory smoke swallowed the colour before it had a chance and the whole sky was cloudy white.

It took me weeks to ask her out. I’d been stalking her locker, stalking her before school and at lunch and after school. I even Googled her. Found a picture on the school website from this time we’d gone to the National Gallery in Year 9. She was staring at a Rothko painting and I was this sad little dot in the background, staring at her. I’d been checking out the Vermeers and I came round the corner and there she was. All pearls, all eyes, all skin, all mouth.

I watched her at school, too. While she was drawing these pictures of people tangled together. I kept dreaming me and her were tangled like that. Kept dreaming of this spot she had on her neck, this tiny country. I wanted to visit, to paint a picture of what I found there, a wall with a road map of her skin.

Mrs J paired us up for a research assignment on Jeffrey Smart and I was watching that spot and she looked up from her book and caught me making travel plans. ‘What?’ she asked.

‘Nothing,’ I said. ‘Only. I was thinking. We should see a film.’

She sat there tapping on the table with her pen and my blood was tapping and I was all desperation and no cool, sitting there making plans to move to some country far off the map. But then she said yes and my chest got sucked somewhere and I walked around with this hole in me all week. I kept thinking I wouldn’t make it to Friday night. That something would happen before then to mess with my luck, something like a nuclear bomb going off so there was nowhere for us to meet.

‘Pretty harsh,’ Leo said when I called him to come get me because she’d left me in the gutter with a broken nose. She never even called to check she hadn’t killed me. A date like that makes a guy wish they would drop the bomb. Right over his house.

‘What do you think they’re talking about in there?’ Dylan asks, looking towards the toilet.