This is Shyness (22 page)

When I return to the main room Wolfboy is sitting in a rocking chair, hoeing into a chocolate bar. The plastic bag full of herbs is in his lap and the room smells of pizza. Wolfboy's cheeks are all chipmunky with chocolate and caramel. He holds out his phone so I can read the screen: i'm in LOVE capital letter love Wolfboy grins. ‘What you have to understand is that Paul falls in love at least once a week. But he won't be coming home soon. He and Thom have gone to a party in the bush.'

I can't take my eyes off the bag in Wolfboy's lap. We've had chocolate all this time. How could I not know this? My stomach gurgles. ‘Have you got any more of those?'

‘Oh, sorry.' Wolfboy offers me the bag. He holds my gaze a second too long and then looks down. I wonder if he's feeling what I'm feeling, that we are alone in a house together. It's not like when we were at Wolfboy's. Thank god Paul and Thom are undomesticated. Imagine if there was a giant double bed in the middle of the room. Now that would be awkward.

I fish around in the bag until I find a bar, tear the wrapper off, and cram the chocolate in. My mouth floods with sweetness. Small flecks of oregano have invaded my mouthful but I don't care. So. Good.

Wolfboy gets up to use the basin.

‘I just realised we left Blake's bike by the fence,' I say to his back. ‘Yours too.'

His voice floats around the corner. ‘I'll get the bikes another time. If someone's pinched them then I'll get Blake another. I never ride mine anyway.'

I cram another bar in and find Wolfboy's bag lying near the front door. I lay the borrowed jumper flat and put my things in the middle. Wallet, phone, keys, lip balm, the coaster I nabbed from Little Death. My phone is still off. Shit.

My mum.

Without a doubt I'm out past curfew, by hours.

She'll have no idea where I am. I've stayed out before, but usually after we've had a fight, and never all night. I always let her know where I am: it's part of the deal we have. I bundle my things in the jumper, but keep my phone out.

I sit on the couch and wait for my phone to power up. Wolfboy wanders back into the room with
no shirt on
, drying under his arms with a handtowel. His chest isn't as hairy as I thought it would be. I had my face right up close to his, my lips on his lips, less than an hour ago. My phone beeps once.

Twice.

Three times.

Four.

‘Your mum?' asks Wolfboy. I have four messages— two voicemails and two texts. Oh god. I can't listen to the voicemail, not now. I scroll down to the text messages.

Baby, let me know you're safe. That's all.

My mum is the only person I know who uses correct punctuation in a text message, and refuses to abbreviate a single word.

And the second:
PS. I'm not mad. Stay where you are, but let me know you're safe.

I'm not mad
. Why wouldn't she be mad? She should be. Unless…I wonder if someone's told her about what happened at school. I can't think of anyone who would. I'm the only person in the Commons who goes to Southside. There's no way she could find out. Unless a teacher…?

When I look up from my phone Wolfboy has put on a different shirt and is looking at me, concerned.

‘Who was that?'

‘My mum.'

He sits in front of me, on the packing case that Paul and Thom use for a table. ‘Is she going to ground you for life?'

‘No. She wants to know where I am. Well, she doesn't even want to know that. She just wants to know I'm safe.'

‘You've got a pretty cool mum, then?'

‘Yeah. No. I don't know.'

I reach forward and grab his arm, feeling the muscle move under his shirt and skin. If Mum knows what happened, she'll go in to bat for me at school and probably make things worse. If she believes that it's not me in the photo, that is. My throat closes up. ‘I haven't come clean with you about everything.'

Wolfboy instantly looks worried.

‘I'm in the shit at school. That's why I came out tonight, and that's why I was drinking like a fish. When I found the card I thought it was the answer to my problems: I could just run away.'

‘Did you get suspended or something?'

‘No, nothing like that.' If I tell him more will he start to see my faults too? I take a deep breath. Wolfboy's told me the worst things about his life. I can do this.

‘It's just that everyone hates me at school.'

‘Everyone? Every single person in the school?'

‘Seems like it. I can't figure out what I did. I know I'm not the easiest person to be around sometimes, but still…'

‘Did you get into a fight?'

‘Not really, not a physical one. It might be easier if we did just slap each other and get it over with. It's mostly this one group of girls, but they have sway in my year level. The government should probably hire them for their expertise in psychological warfare.'

Wolfboy shakes his head. ‘I haven't known you for very long, but one thing I do know is that you're a good person. I can't imagine why anyone would hate you. Look at the way you got along straightaway with Paul—he's the world's most awkward person—and how you charmed the pirates and that guy in the elevator. Who could hate you?'

I rest my head on Wolfboy's arm. His kindness puts me in danger of crying again. I can't tell him any more. Everything at home is still waiting for me. The thought makes me feel exhausted to my core. I've got to go back. ‘Can we rest for a little while?'

‘Sure. I'm not tired, but why don't you lie back and I'll wake you in a bit?'

Wolfboy ruffles my hair. He looks like he's going to lean in and kiss me on the cheek, but maybe I flinch or have a strange expression on my face because he stands up and moves away. He makes himself comfortable in the rocking chair again and picks up a comic.

I take off my boots and sink into the couch. I'll just close my eyes for a few minutes.

30

I don't know where I am at first. There's leather under my cheek, and a square shape right in front of my face, so I can't be in my bedroom. I try to sit up, but I feel like I've been hit by a truck. I lie back down until my foggy head clears.

It takes ages for my brain to wake up and tell me I'm in Paul and Thom's house. I must have fallen asleep on their couch. It's still dark so I can't have been asleep for long. I sit up with a spinning head. Instead of making me feel better the nap has annihilated me.

Wolfboy is asleep in the rocking chair with an open comic on his lap and his feet resting on the packing chest. One hand is clenched around something small, the lighter

I think, and he doesn't make the barest of sounds.

I stand up and pad quietly to the window.

The gardens are greeny-grey and dark. There's another dead lawn behind the cottage, dotted with empty flowerbeds. A gazebo on the far side, and then a patchy line of trees. Shadows everywhere; the moon tucked somewhere behind the house. I realise I could have been asleep for a long time: the darkness doesn't mean anything. I didn't notice the time when I turned my phone on. Another fairytale feeling creeps over me. Maybe I'm like the Japanese fisherman who parties on the bottom of the ocean with the beautiful princess for three nights, only to return to the surface and discover sixty years have passed.

I drink some water at the basin and then find my phone wedged into the back of the couch. 5:27 a.m. No new messages.

I sit on the couch with my bundle of possessions in my lap and watch Wolfboy sleep.

He's a long way under. Only the rise and fall of his chest let me know he's not dead. I notice for the first time how thick his eyebrows are. This is the first chance I've had to think beyond this night. What happens next? Wolfboy might think I'm great now, but how long will that last? It won't take long for me to mess this up. I'm not so deluded that I think it's all someone else's fault I don't have any friends at school. Wolfboy doesn't know me at all.

As I watch him sleep, something slides inside me, a lens slips away and everything looks different. I don't know him either. Take away the last seven and a half hours and he's a stranger.

The cottage is small and there's not enough air.

I realise that I can't stay here. I have to leave. Better to quit while I'm ahead.

I find a Sharpie and a scrap of paper on the sideboard. Wolfboy doesn't stir. I sit on the couch and write him a letter before I change my mind. At first I struggle for words, but then I just write whatever comes into my head. When the paper is full I fold it in four and leave it on the packing chest.

I examine Wolfboy's sleeping face for the last time, searching for the part of me that wanted to hold his hand, touch his arm, his cheek, to know his mouth, but there's nothing. It's better this way.

I sling my ukulele around me and carry my boots in one hand. The door creaks loudly. I don't look back. I step quickly down the cottage path and onto the main avenue, clutching my bundle against my stomach. When I'm a safe distance away I stop and pull my boots on. The temperature outside takes my breath away all over again. I follow a new path past a basketball court and a playground. Gravel paths slice the gardens into triangles and squares. One square is full of trees lying on their sides like toppled drunks. There's a road beyond the playground. I wonder how far I'll have to walk before I can get a cab.

When I reach it the road is dark and unpromising. I follow the edge of the gardens, walking until I cross another path. It takes me back towards the centre until I'm standing at the fountain again.

I've lost all sense of direction: up and down, as well as north, south, east and west. I look around me, at the horse rearing above the pond, and the gravel under my feet, and I don't know what to see or feel. There is nowhere comfortable for me at this moment.

I sit on the edge of the pond and stare into the night. The trees are dark, silent giants. Dead but still standing, like stars extinguished thousands of years ago that still twinkle in our skies.

I was going to have to leave Shyness anyway. I test myself by trying to imagine Wolfboy taking the train across the city to Plexus in broad daylight. I try to imagine what he would look like sitting in our tiny apartment eating biscuits with Mum. No. Ridiculous.

I want to cry, but I've cried enough tonight. There are no answers in the still, black park. Are there monsters in these woods? Are there monsters out there in Shyness, or Plexus, or is it all in my head?

There's a gentle snicker to my left. I glance across and realise I'm sharing the pond with a tarsier. It sits on the rim, a metre away, and looks ahead, unblinking. I click my tongue to get its attention.

Instead of turning towards me the tarsier swivels its head away from me, and keeps on turning it
almost three hundred and sixty degrees
, until its eyes look directly into mine. It's one of the weirdest things I've ever seen, and unsettling as hell.

It's enough to make me stand up and walk back towards the cottage. Each time my foot strikes the ground I hear the words
not-afraid
,
not-afraid
.

31

The cottage door is locked. I keep turning the handle as if a miracle will happen, but nothing changes. We just walked in earlier so I can't understand why the door won't open now. Maybe Wolfboy did something to the catch.

I'll have to knock.

It takes several tries but eventually Wolfboy comes to the door. He is still sleepy enough to be confused about why I am on the doorstep and not the couch.

I push past him, speaking quickly. ‘Sorry. I went outside to pee. I thought I'd left the door open, but when I came back it was locked.'

I put my stuff down on the packing case and pocket the letter as smoothly as possible. Wolfboy doesn't seem to notice.

‘I forgot to warn you there's no bathroom.'

‘It's okay. I went in the bushes outside.' I sit on the couch, right back where I started. My voice and my movements feel unnatural. The best defence is a good offence. ‘Where do Thom and Paul shower then?'

‘My house. Or they don't. There's a public toilet on the other side of the fountain but it's a bit of a walk. Did you fall asleep too?' Wolfboy asks.

‘Uh-huh. How long do you think we were out for?'

‘No idea.' Wolfboy rubs his hair and sits next to me. I chance a proper look at him. He looks like himself again, just with sleepier eyes and messier hair. ‘So, I've been doing some thinking.'

My stomach lurches. ‘Yeah?'

‘I've been wondering if my parents know Ortolan is back.'

The nervous feeling goes away. I thought he was going to say something else.

‘They never ask you if you see her?'

‘I only ever speak to my mum, and I haven't called her in months. We never talk about anything important anyway.'

‘You never wondered about Diana, about her kid, I mean?'

‘I was younger when I first found out she'd had a baby. I didn't ask any questions. I just didn't think about it. But now that I am thinking about it, there's something I want to do.'

‘What's that?'

‘I want to speak to Ortolan. Ask her a few things.'

‘That's a good idea,' I tell him. He's quiet while he twists his shirt-tails in his hands. ‘You mean right now, don't you?' I suppose they do things at all hours here.

‘I want to go before I chicken out.' He pauses.

‘Do you want me to come with you?' I ask.

‘I think I should do this on my own.'

‘Oh.' I feel a twinge of disappointment, even though it was me who was doing the walking out not so long ago.

‘I thought I could walk with you part of the way and show you where to get a taxi. Then I can go on to Ortolan's house.'

That sounds good. That sounds like a scenario I can manage.