Shift (20 page)

The hardest thing was coping without Lachlan. It’s horrible to want to see someone so much it makes your whole body ache, while simultaneously living in fear of running into them. During
my first couple of weeks back at school, I had the feeling he was trying to get my attention, but I refused to meet his eyes. I knew I was being a total coward, but I couldn’t bear him
telling me he was sorry to hear about my illness, and – even worse – seeing the pity in his face. Seeing that, I knew, would reduce me to a blubbering mess. When the teacher rearranged
our seating and moved me to the front, I was relieved. It meant I didn’t have to stare at Lachlan’s back anymore.

The only person I did find myself watching was Miranda. That was a hard habit to break. I’d figured that she would fill the Katie-shaped space at school and take over all
her duties. But it quickly became clear that she had no intention of doing this. She completely cold-shouldered Cameron, who, after a couple of weeks of following her around with a desperate look
in his eye, gave up and slid away, looking wounded and confused. Miranda made no attempt to recruit new friends and went back to her old habit of sitting alone on her bench, hands folded together,
eyes closed. At first people would sidle up to her – still suspecting that she was in charge and that this sitting-around business was all part of it. But Miranda completely ignored them and
eventually they retreated for good.

As I was watching her do this one day, something from the shapeshifter website popped into my head – the bit that described how shifters ‘faded into the background’ when
they’d returned to their search phase. And even though I made myself repeat a hundred times
there’s no such thing as shifters,
I still found myself waiting for her eyes to spring
open and for her to
look
at someone the way she’d looked at Katie.

Obviously I didn’t tell Dr Richter about this. She’d just alter my medication again and go on about the dangers of letting my imagination run away with me. That’s also why I
didn’t tell her about what happened one afternoon about three weeks after I’d left the clinic.

I was unlocking my bike after school when a bug landed on me and disappeared down the back of my dress. I yelped and did one of those funny-looking dances that you do when you’re trying to
shake an insect out of your clothes while holding a bike. When the bug fell out, I shuddered. It was shiny black and nasty-looking, with a massive stinger. As it scuttled off, I noticed Miranda
standing a few metres away, watching me, and even when it was obvious I’d seen her, she didn’t break her stare.

I glared back at her, like it was one of those games you play as a kid to see who can go the longest without blinking.
This is stupid,
I thought after a moment, and was about to walk off
when something made my fingers tingle. Had Miranda’s eyes just
gleamed?

Get a grip, Olive.
Dr Richter had warned me that I might have a few low-level hallucinations –
visual tics
, she’d called them – while I adjusted to the new
medication. And sure enough, I realised what I’d seen was just the flash of sunlight on Miranda’s face.
No such thing as shifters,
I breathed.
Just a normal girl.

All the same, I found I was a bit shaky as I climbed on my bike. Sweaty too. Usually riding helps calm me down, but that afternoon it didn’t. The whole way home I couldn’t shake the
feeling that someone was behind me, gradually coming closer until I could almost feel their breath on the back of my neck. But every time I turned around no-one was there.

Near our classroom was a large noticeboard. Only school-related events were supposed to be pinned to it – swimming stuff, auditions for the school play, band practice
times – but people sneaked other things on there too. Once upon a time, the information on that board had shaped my life. Now I mostly ignored it. But one morning, not long after the bug
incident, something caught my eye. In between flyers for a second-hand book sale and a school-fete reminder was a face – the lushest of all faces – printed on a rectangle of shiny
sky-blue paper. I read the words over and over.

Luxe gig in Jubilee Park.
Not in New York. Not in London. Not even in Sydney. The flyer said that Luxe would be playing at the Rainbow Hotel. That evening.

For one beautiful moment I was floating – almost laughing out loud with the idea that I would finally get to see Luxe play. That very night. Then I crashed back down to reality.
Don’t be a wonk, Olive. That’s never going to happen.
The Rainbow was super strict about not letting in underage people – there was always a bouncer on the door and he
could spot a fake ID at a hundred metres. Plus there was no way Mum would let me see a gig that started at 10p.m. on a Tuesday night. It just wasn’t going to happen.

I leant my forehead against the noticeboard and felt all the joy slip away.
Just accept it. Stuff like that doesn’t happen to you.
I lifted my head and stepped back. Straight into
someone standing behind me.

Miranda.

The heavy exhaustion I’d felt a moment ago vanished. Now I was tingling with alarm. ‘What the hell are you doing standing behind me like that?’ I snapped.

Miranda didn’t move. ‘I was looking at that gig poster,’ she said. ‘Same as you.’

‘Big fan of Luxe are you?’ I muttered, turning away before she saw the way my hands were shaking.

Miranda didn’t answer. She began to hum a familiar tune. ‘Steeple Chaser’. I stared at her.

‘There’s another song I know too,’ said Miranda. ‘It goes,
Will I break it or make it with your half-hearted heart?’

It was so strange hearing these words from Miranda. Maybe that’s why I spoke. ‘“The Great Divided”.’

‘You’re surprised,’ she said. ‘That I know Luxe.’

Yeah, just a bit,
I thought. They had always felt like something private – something that belonged only to me. ‘Where did you hear them?’

‘Same place you did,’ said Miranda. ‘The internet.’ Her mouth curved up. ‘The lead singer is kind of hot, isn’t he?’

‘Dallas. Yeah. He’s pretty lush.’
And the sun is quite warm.

‘I haven’t told anyone, you know,’ said Miranda suddenly. ‘About Ami, I mean.’

My neck burned. ‘Oh,’ I said. ‘Right.’ Ami was the last thing I wanted to talk about. Especially with Miranda.

‘You don’t need to be frightened of me,’ she said, leaning in closer.

‘I’m not.’ I tried to match her tone, cool and confidential.

‘No? Well, prove it,’ said Miranda. ‘Come to the gig with me tonight.’

I tapped the flyer. ‘It’s over-18s,’ I said, rolling my eyes. ‘They won’t let us in.’

‘I’ll get us in,’ said Miranda. A statement. ‘So there’s nothing stopping you.’

I swallowed.
You have to face your fear, Olive.
‘Not possible,’ I said. ‘I’ve tried to get in there, like, ten times before.’

‘Try eleven times,’ said Miranda. ‘This time it’ll be different. I guarantee it.’

The bell rang. Down the corridor I could see our substitute teacher heading towards our classroom. She looked kind of anxious. It must be crap to be a substitute teacher. Always filling in for
other people. Never staying anywhere long enough to belong. But maybe that was why they did it.

‘Sorry,’ I said tightly. ‘I have plans already.’

Lucky for me, Miranda didn’t push it. She just shrugged.

‘No problem. But if you change your mind I’ll be out the front of the Rainbow. Quarter to ten.’

Mum had a big rush order to get done that afternoon, so I helped Tobes with his homework. For dinner I made my specialty, known in our house as Something From Nothing. Tonight
that meant scrambled eggs on toasted muffins with some carrot sticks artfully arranged on the side.

It kept me busy, but it wasn’t enough to completely distract me from thinking about Dallas and the gig. I felt jingly, restless, and I kept wondering where Dallas was at that exact moment.
Was he already in town? Every time I heard a car on the street, I wanted to run to the window. If it was Dallas driving past, I figured I’d just somehow
know.
I wished I could conjure
Ami up again and get excited with her. I never really believed I’d get so close to meeting him, and only Ami could understand. But Ami was gone.

After I’d cleaned up the dinner stuff and convinced Toby that dentures were not as cool as he thought and that he should brush his teeth, I went to my room to attempt to do some homework.
It was always a struggle, but that night it was impossible. In the end I put on some music and lay on my bed.

Around nine, Mum looked in. Everything about her was worn out. ‘Your slippers have been chewed on,’ I said.

‘Not by me,’ said Mum. ‘I think Ralph’s worried they’re trying to eat my feet.’

I laughed. ‘And everyone said he’d never make a guard dog.’

Mum smiled. ‘Thanks for doing dinner, Liv,’ she said. ‘What would I do without you?’

Have an easier life,
I thought.
Still be married. Worry less.

Mum yawned. ‘I’m going to bed,’ she said. ‘I’ll be reading for a while if you want me. See you in the morning.’

There was the rattly whirr of our near-death bathroom fan and a few minutes later the click of Mum’s bedside light.

I thought about climbing into bed myself, but I was wide awake. The band would definitely be at the Rainbow by now. They’d probably done a sound check and were finalising their playlist.
Maybe the others were keyed up but Dallas was laughing and putting them all at ease. It was frustrating to know that he was so close by – but remained totally unaware of my existence.

The tree in our backyard creaked back and forth as the wind blew in from the bay. Nuts and leaves pinged like rain against the roof. I sat up.
Maybe I should go after all.
Why not?
Sneaking out to a gig with Miranda would definitely be one way of proving I could
face my past.
I wasn’t stupid enough to think I’d actually get into the Rainbow. But maybe
I’d catch a glimpse of Dallas through a window. That wasn’t completely impossible, was it?

I got up and crept out into the hallway, heart thumping. The house was quiet. I moved down to Mum’s room and peeped in. The bedside light was still on but Mum’s eyes were closed, an
open book rising and falling on her chest.

At the front door I hesitated. This was pretty crazy. But the reasons to go kept appearing in my head. I’d be back in an hour – probably sooner. Mum wouldn’t even know
I’d gone. And this might be my only chance to see my music idol, the one guy in the whole world that I knew instinctively would understand me.

I grabbed some money, pulled on my sneakers. There was no time to change – and anyway, if I went back to my room I might lose my nerve. It wasn’t until I was already on my bike,
riding towards the Rainbow, that I realised I’d forgotten to take my meds.
Oh well.
I could take them when I got home.