This Thing of Darkness

  This thing of darkness I

  Acknowledge mine.

  – Prospero, 5.1.274–275, The Tempest, William Shakespeare

  For Maddie & Ben

  Follow that dream

  The fire leaned back, clenched its fist and punched me in the stomach. I fell backwards, landing shoulder-first on the grass in front of my house. Hair broke away from my ponytail and slapped me in the face.

  The lawn was thick and soft but the impact dazed me. It took me a second to get that it wasn’t the fire that punched me but a shower of glass exploding from the upstairs window – the one where Mum would have set up the Christmas tree next month.

  My neighbour from up the road helped me to my feet. Jeff. The same silver-haired guy who’d slammed through my door a few minutes earlier and dragged me out from the house, screaming.

  ‘Are you okay?’ he asked me now. ‘Where are your parents?’

  ‘Out.’ I couldn’t remember where.

  I shook my head and the tears burst. He reached for me but I made a run for the house. He grabbed my arm and I stopped short. I struggled, but he was too strong.

  ‘Mia’s in there!’ I yelled.

  ‘I tried, sweetheart. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.’

  I screamed my sister’s name but the fire swallowed it whole.

  Flames reached out from windows at either side of the second storey. Everywhere the night seemed to glow orange to a soundtrack of constant crackles and pops. I couldn’t stop the tremble in my body.

  Then, a siren. Lights flashed in the distance, drawing nearer.

  Thick grey smoke drifted up into the night, leaving a smell like melted plastic, wire and wood all blended together.

  A loud pop jolted me, cranking my heartbeat up another notch. Another window gone. The upstairs bathroom. Right next to Mia’s room.

  Oh my God, oh my God.

  The fire engine pulled up in front of me. Its long metal doors flung open and people in heavy gear and masks fell from the truck, readjusting their backpacks.

  ‘Is anyone inside?’

  ‘My sister!’ I yelled at them. ‘She’s upstairs. Hurry!’

  Suddenly a huge bang sounded from the upper level and the top right-hand window erupted in flames.

  I let out a scream.

  The fire had won.

  Chapter 1

  Three months later

  Abigail stared as if she didn’t recognise me, her sculptured eyebrows squeezing together into a straight line. ‘Riley, wow. You’ve … changed.’

  The gust from the café’s air conditioner blew long strands of shiny dark brown hair across her face until she absently tucked them behind her ear. Usually, such an assault to her carefully crafted look would annoy her, but she was too taken aback by what was, apparently, a completely new me.

  ‘It’s just my hair,’ I said, self-consciously smoothing the sides so they hung flat over my ears.

  I gave up on bleach over summer. Dark roots are the worst so I had my hair dyed something close to my God-given brown tone, not that I was very clear on what that was since I hadn’t seen it in so long. I still had to wear makeup, though. That would never change.

  Abigail stood, bumping the little round table. Her phone and a purse I hadn’t seen before slid to the edge. A menu in a plastic stand toppled over. She opened her arms into a wide ‘V’ and I stepped in, detecting a new fragrance. New school year, new identity. Reinvent yourself, right? Keep yourself interesting.

  She gave me a few light pats on the back and then pushed me at arm’s length so she could get a good look. ‘Wow, your hair!’ Her eyes toured my face and tracked down to my slightly expanded waistline. ‘You’re so … You look so … natural. Still unfairly beautiful, of course,’ she said with a laugh tinged with a hint of animosity.

  Abigail pushed overgrown fringe out of my eyes, looking at me a second longer like she was trying to work something out. She sat back down. ‘Do you want a drink? A muffin or something?’

  ‘I’ll wait for Ellie.’

  Abigail leaned over and rested her hand on mine. Her arms were so brown. How was that possible when she’d spent the last few months in wintry Europe? ‘Sorry I wasn’t at the funeral,’ she said, giving me a little smile. ‘So sad. She was so young.’

  ‘Yeah.’ I sucked in a sharp breath to steady myself. It had been months but I still woke every morning and went to bed every night with a constant heaviness in my head that wouldn’t let me forget that everything was different. Sometimes my head got so heavy that it was hard to stay upright. I just wanted it all to stop.

  ‘No-one blames you, Riles. It’s not your fault you couldn’t get her out.’

  ‘Yeah.’ My throat constricted, making the word come out scratchy. I swallowed. ‘So, how was your holiday?’ I said to change the subject.

  ‘Oh my God,’ she said, holding her hands in front of her face. ‘It was uh-mazing! Even better than last time. The coffee in Italy is to die for! They don’t drink their coffee hot. Not like us.’ She rolled her eyes. ‘Australians are so uncultured.’

  ‘You drink coffee now?’

  ‘Only the good stuff. Oh, here’s Ellie.’

  I exhaled a breath I didn’t realise I’d been holding. I don’t know how I would have made it through the past three months without Ellie.

  She came in fanning herself with her hand. ‘I’m so sick of this heat!’ she said. She slid an elastic off her wrist and tied her hair back. Silky black hair was one of the few things she’d inherited from the Chinese side of her family.

  I stood, gave her a hug, and so did Abigail.

  ‘Sorry I’m so sweaty,’ she said, pinching the front of her singlet and letting it spring back to her chest. ‘I’m going to order a smoothie.’ She looked at me. ‘Chai latte?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Abigail?’

  ‘Um …’ Abigail quickly scanned the menu on the table then ran her eyes over a nearby display case full of cakes, doughnuts and sweet slices. ‘Ugh!’ she said. ‘I got so fat in Europe with all those pastries. And that cheese. My God.’

  A holiday post from Abigail said she’d put on about ten kilos. It was more like two. Tops. I’m sure most people couldn’t tell.

  ‘I’ll just have a coffee. No, a mocha shake. No! An iced tea. Yes, an iced tea. The peach-flavoured one in the bottle. Thanks.’

  When did Abigail become such hard work?

  ‘How was New Year’s?’ Abigail asked after Ellie had gone to the counter.

  I tried to run my mind back a month, but it got a bit blurry after only a few days. ‘Fine. Good,’ I said vaguely. ‘Just me and Ellie. We left a thank-you note for your parents at the apartment.’

  Apartment. That didn’t do it justice. Abigail’s holiday place was a humungous open-plan palace that spanned a whole floor with killer views out to the ocean off Portsea. I’d really appreciated the feeling of space. And I was so relieved to get away from Mum. After the fire, we’d spent most of the summer at Nonna and Pa’s tiny holiday house in Rye. Dad drove two hours to work in Melbourne a few times a week, leaving me alone with Mum.

  When we came back we moved straight into a cramped rental property. My only break from Mum was that time I spent with Ellie over New Year’s.

  Abigail waved away my gratitude. ‘It’s empty most of the time anyway. They use the one in Byron now. The one we’re having for schoolies.’

  I’d forgotten that the three of us – Abigail, Ellie and me – had agreed to go to Byron at the end of Year 12. There was no way I’d be doing that now. My plan was to finish exams and then get away from Andersons Creek as fast as possible – the stares, the pity, the memories.

  I must’ve had a doubtful look on my face because Abigail said, ‘We’re st
ill going for schoolies, right?’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. Course,’ I lied.

  ‘Sorry I missed your eighteenth, too. I hope you celebrated in style!’

  ‘I didn’t do anything.’

  Abigail made an overly sad face, so I changed course. ‘What about you? Good New Year’s?’

  Her hand flew to her chest as if her heart had stopped. ‘Didn’t you see my post from Paris?’

  I shook my head. I’d hardly checked social media all summer because hearing about other people’s deliriously fulfilling lives only provided more incentive to binge another series on Netflix. I got sick of Abigail’s continuous posts chronicling a celebrity-like European vacation, complete with photos, giddy status updates (Soaking in the biggest hot tub I’ve ever seen!) and the occasional video of her attempting to ski.

  ‘It was so beautiful—’

  Ellie came back and placed a stand displaying the number three on our table.

  ‘Abigail was just talking about her holiday,’ I said.

  ‘It’s fine,’ Abigail said, waving her hands. ‘Tell me about yours, El.’

  ‘Ah … hung out with Lucas,’ Ellie began, ‘volunteered at Food for Thought … went away with—’

  ‘Volunteered? On the holidays?’ Abigail looked confused.

  ‘Yeah.’

  ‘Like, work? Unpaid work?’

  Ellie laughed. ‘Yes. It’s important. Plus I need good stuff for my résumé.’

  ‘Your résumé? It’s only the start of the year!’

  Ellie twirled the order number. ‘School will be over in, what, nine months? We have to think about the what then.’

  ‘Since when have you thought about the what then?’ Abigail asked.

  ‘Since now, I guess.’

  ‘I’ll have to buy a car, I know that,’ Abigail said. ‘My parents have decided to be tight arses and said I have to pay for half.’ She pushed out her bottom lip.

  ‘Which half?’ Ellie asked, smirking.

  ‘Ha ha.’ Abigail frowned. ‘There’s no way I’ll be able to save twenty grand.’

  Ellie’s mouth fell open. ‘You’re buying a forty-thousand-dollar car?’

  ‘MINI Coopers aren’t cheap. So little and cute, but not cheap.’ Abigail smiled. ‘Like me.’

  Ellie let out an unsympathetic laugh. ‘You’ll have to get a job.’

  Abigail nodded. ‘It’s so depressing. I don’t know how I’m going to fit it in with dance and everything else.’ She made a sulky face. ‘Is there anything going at Kmart?’

  ‘Uh-uh. I’m not getting that many shifts myself. I think they’re pissed off I wasn’t available much over the holidays.’

  Suddenly Abigail looked outside. ‘Lola just walked past,’ she said, leaning over the table. ‘I heard she finally got her V-card punched over the holidays. Some taekwondo douche.’

  I shrugged my shoulders. Last year I might have cared.

  Ellie was now busy checking her phone and didn’t look up. Abigail’s smirk quickly fell away and she grabbed onto her phone, pulling it into her chest with both hands like a security blanket.

  The guy from behind the counter delivered our order, placing each item one by one in the middle of the table rather than asking who had ordered what. His eyes lingered on me a moment too long, and I saw that familiar flash of pity.

  This is why I hated leaving my bedroom now. Dealing with my parents was bad enough, but even in town everybody knew what had happened to Mia. Their eyes told me everything they felt: You were the big sister, you were supposed to protect her. Hanging out by the creek and sketching had become my only saving grace.

  ‘Riley?’ Abigail said.

  ‘Sorry, what?’

  ‘Want to come over for a swim after this?’ Abigail asked.

  I shook my head. ‘I have to go to school.’

  ‘Today?’

  ‘Just for a bit. Paperwork or something. You know, from missing some exams last year …’ My throat clenched. Everything in my life had changed. Everything I did, thought or said seemed to remind me of that. There was Just. No. Escape.

  Ellie slid her chair closer to mine and rested her hand on my thigh. ‘It’ll be okay,’ she said. ‘We’re here for you.’

  I felt my lips quiver but sucked back the emotion. ‘I know. I’m fine.’

  Ellie’s eyes focused on mine, as if encouraging me to say something resembling the truth.

  ‘I’m fine,’ I repeated. ‘Really.’

  It was just one more year. Then I could leave Andersons Creek. Leave everything and everyone behind me. Forget.

  Everything would be okay then.

  Chapter 2

  I stood at the administration window watching the office lady lightly drum her fingers across a keyboard. She looked up. ‘Hello, Riley.’

  ‘Hi.’

  ‘Ms Sperry’s expecting you,’ she said. ‘Go right in.’

  I heard paper shuffle behind me and twisted my neck to see a guy, probably my age, sitting in the waiting area filling out a form. Skinny legs poked out of loose-fitting shorts, and his narrow shoulders, visible under a singlet top, were hot pink from a recent sunburn.

  He glanced up as I walked past and tried to give me a smile, but his teeth caught on his bottom lip. Long eyelashes fluttered from under a faded black cap.

  I didn’t recognise him, and I knew everyone.

  Ms Sperry’s door was open but I still knocked. I’d only been in the principal’s office twice in my years at Andersons Creek High. Once in Year 7 when I had to give my version of a fight I’d seen in the school yard, and again in Year 9 when a substitute teacher accused me of calling her a ‘black cow’. I’d actually said ‘fat cow’, which at the time I didn’t think was as bad. Note home and detention for me.

  Ms Sperry looked across from her computer monitor and her eyes widened a little. ‘Oh, Riley,’ she said as if she was expecting someone else. ‘Come in.’ She wheeled herself out from behind the desk to a small, round table at one end of the office and motioned for me to sit.

  ‘You look like you’re doing well. How are you?’

  Was she talking about my obvious weight gain or was it more to do with the fact that a virtual grenade had recently exploded in my face, blowing up my whole life? Either way, I told her I was fine.

  ‘And your parents?’

  ‘Okay.’ I tried to smile, but it felt awkward.

  Ms Sperry usually dressed up for school but today she wore a cool cotton dress in a floral pattern. Her blonde hair, which was streaked with silver, was tied back and she was hardly wearing any makeup, accentuating the lines running away from her eyes and mouth.

  ‘So, you got the letter?’ she asked.

  ‘Yeah,’ I said, ‘but I just want to make sure it’s right. I don’t have to do anything?’

  ‘No. Your application was successful and you’ll be given a derived examination score for those exams you missed. They work it out based on your marks throughout last year.’

  I nodded, relieved that I wouldn’t have to repeat any units or sit makeup exams. I didn’t need any more roadblocks on the highway out of Andersons Creek.

  Ms Sperry took in a breath and then exhaled. ‘This is going to be a tough year, Riley,’ she said, her tone soft, ‘in a lot of ways. I know we haven’t had a lot to do with each other but I’m here if you need anything, and of course Ms Reinhart’s always available if you want to talk.’

  I pictured Ms Reinhart, the school’s student welfare officer, all six feet of her, trowelled on makeup and a deeply concerned look permanently fixed on her face.

  ‘Just so you know, she’s put together a photo memorial for Mia. It’s near the Year 8 locker bay.’

  The sound of my sister’s name stabbed at my chest. Pressure built behind my eyes but I steadied myself with a deep breath that I hoped went unnoticed. ‘Mum said something …’

  Ms Sperry studied me for a moment, then spoke again. ‘Riley, can I give you some advice?’

  I didn’t answer.

&nb
sp; ‘Don’t shut yourself away this year. There are so many activities you can get involved in … sport, student council, the school play. Speaking of which, I’ve let Mr Tewksbury know to expect your help for set design again this year. We’re doing Twelve Angry Jurors, and I know what a fantastic job you did on last year’s play.’

  She looked at me for a reaction. I remained silent.

  ‘I guess what I’m hoping is that you won’t be too wary about meeting new people this year … making new connections. Might do the world of good.’

  There was a tap at the door. It was the guy from the waiting area.

  ‘Sorry … um … I’m finished but there’s no-one …’

  Now that he was standing I got a better look at him. A lost refugee came to mind. His singlet top had black-and-white vertical stripes down the front and looked like it had been handed down from a brother twice his size. It was long, hanging halfway down his shorts, and I could see the concave in his chest at the top, a few hairs sprouting there. His feet were dirty in his thongs like he’d walked five kays on a dirt track to get here. But he had a nice face. Smooth, almost childlike features. And those eyelashes.

  ‘Take a seat, Dean,’ Ms Sperry told him. ‘I’ll be with you in a minute.’

  He disappeared again and Ms Sperry backed away from the table to let me know we’d finished. ‘You got those second-hand uniforms we sent over?’

  ‘Yeah. Thanks.’

  ‘We’ll get you a winter one, too, so tell your mum not to buy anything.’

  ‘Thank you. It’s really … Anyway, thanks.’

  ‘It’s the least we could do. No point buying all that gear just for one year.’

  As much as I desperately wanted out of Andersons Creek, that one year was what I still had in front of me. No, not one year. Two hundred and eighty-eight days according to the countdown app I’d set up on my phone. Then I could move away to uni. Get far away from the memories.

  Two hundred and eighty-eight days.

  The slap of my thongs echoed through the empty school hallway, the otherwise stillness and quiet making me shiver. Even when you had to leave class in the middle of a period for the toilet or something, the school was never silent. There was always a buzz from somewhere.