‘Mrs Iranian? Is Jane home?’ I ask when I call on Wednesday morning.
‘Gracie, it’s good to hear from you. We were beginning to think you’d run away.’ Some jokes just aren’t funny, Mrs Iranian.
‘No, I’m still here. Can I speak to Jane?’
‘Hang on a minute, love. I’ll get her for you.’
‘Faltrain, what’s up?’ Her voice is clipped and short.
‘I wanted to talk.’
‘Let me guess. Something’s wrong and you need help.’
‘It is, Jane. Things are really, really bad.’
‘Faltrain, why should I care what’s wrong in your life when you couldn’t care less what’s happening in mine?’
‘What? That’s not fair.’ I’m not the one who walked away. ‘I care.’
‘But you didn’t care enough to call me back. I told you I needed to talk and you ignored me.’
‘That’s not why I didn’t call. I thought you were busy with other stuff.’
‘Other stuff ?’
‘You know, stuff other than me.’
‘I was. I was busy with my life that exists away from you. If a tree falls in a forest and Gracie Faltrain doesn’t hear it, you think it doesn’t still fall?’
It’s not like Jane to be cruel. ‘Why are you so mad?’
‘I’ll say this slowly, so you’ll understand. I have a life over here. In England. And it goes wrong just as much as yours does.’
‘I doubt that . . .’
‘Believe me, it does. And I’ve been trying to tell you about it for months, but you never listen.’
‘Yes I do.’
‘If I can find a gap in the conversation. Every time I try to tell you anything you cut me off and go on and on about Alyce and Martin and Flemming and Annabelle . . .’
‘Are you jealous?’ I ask.
‘This is not about me being jealous.’
And then she’s crying, and she’s so far away. Jane never gets upset like this. She says stuff like, ‘Suck it up, Faltrain,’ when I get out of control. She’s making up for lost time, today, hiccupping and snorting and choking, all together.
‘When was the last time you asked me about me, Faltrain?’
I think. Believe me, I think hard. I want to be able to give her a time and date, to prove that after eleven years I’m as good at being a best friend as she is.
‘I want to ask. I just forget, I guess. But that’s not why I didn’t call you again. I thought you didn’t need me anymore . . .’ My words drift on that ocean of silence sitting between us.
Of course, it’s easy to see now. I’m an idiot. In a million years Jane would never dump me. She’s been there for me in every major event of my life. And the second she needed me, I bailed. That’s crap. It’s worse.
‘What’s crappier than crap, Jane?’ I ask, hoping for a laugh to ease the tension.
‘Gracie Faltrain?’ she says.
‘I guess I messed up. I’m sorry.’ I’ve said that word a million times; half a million of them have been in the last few days. When you’re really sorry, though, it’s more than a word. It’s a feeling in your chest heavy as rocks. You want to rip open your skin and empty them out.
‘Why didn’t you just tell me how dumb I was being, Jane? You have before. You know sometimes I’m an idiot.’ Jane’s always the one to pull me back when I’ve gone too far.
‘I needed you to get it this time, Faltrain. I needed my best friend without having to ask for her.’
‘I’m here now. Will you tell me what happened?’
I can feel her sigh from here. ‘Life’s so bad at the moment. I don’t have anyone, and you’ve got Alyce and Martin and Flemming and Annabelle.’
‘Annabelle?’
‘Yeah, I even miss Annabelle Orion. That’s how awful it is over here.’
‘I thought things were okay. I thought you had heaps of friends.’ So many you didn’t need me.
‘I did, at first. I fitted in because I was the new kid and I had this accent that everyone thought was funny. And then I guess I got a bit too popular, maybe, or one day I said the wrong thing . . . I don’t know. But this year a girl called Veronica White started spreading rumours about me.’
‘Like what?’
‘Like I thought I was too good for everyone over here. Stuff like that, nothing big. But Faltrain, it only took a day for everyone to leave me. Twenty-four hours and I went from top of the charts to zero. It made me see that I don’t have any real friends.’
‘You have me.’
‘It doesn’t feel like it. I haven’t had anyone to talk to in months. Do you know what that’s like, Faltrain?’
No. I’ve always had her. Or Alyce. Or Martin.
‘And you haven’t even heard the worst of it. Veronica came up to me last month, and said she wanted to be friends again. She told me that Alexander Hood was dying to go out with me. And when I turned up for the date, half the kids in my class were there to watch me get stood up.’
‘The oldest trick in the book,’ I say.
‘I know. It’s in one in three teen movies.’
‘I think it’s closer to one in two.’
‘And I fell for it. Hook, line, and sinking fast.’ Jane sighs. ‘I heard her say to the other kids that I deserved it. That I think I’m better than anyone else. I’m the butt of everyone’s jokes, now. I spend every lunch in the library.’
‘That sucks,’ I say.
‘You don’t need to tell me that. I was mad at Veronica for a while, but then Mum said something that made a whole lot of sense. She told me that the Veronica Whites and the Annabelle Orions of the world are idiots. “They’re the ones missing out, Janey. The world’s three-dimensional. And they only see the surface. Anything deeper makes them scared.”’
It hits me then that Jane and Alyce do have a whole lot in common after all, more than I do with either of them. Not because they’re both hanging out in the library, but because they have the same way of looking at things.
People should be able to see the world from whatever angle they want. As long as they’re not blocking anyone else’s view. The stupid thing is, most of the time it’s the loudest, roughest ones who get to see everything. People like Annabelle and Veronica and me, we elbow our way to the front, and get it all, the mountains, the oceans, the sky, the grass. And what do we do with it? We have a quick look and then turn around and laugh at the people who are standing at the back.
I guess that’s why people like Alyce see the world differently. They have to make some stuff up. They spend a lot of time imagining what the view might be like. But you know, sometimes, when all you have of the sky before the sun drops is a quick glimpse of fire between the trees, it looks all that much brighter because of the black shapes in front of it.
I remember the day that Annabelle teased Jonathon Smith about his hair and Jane stood up for him. ‘He should get a haircut,’ I said. ‘Or you’re gonna have to spend your whole life as his bodyguard.’
‘What right has she got to make him feel like crap, Faltrain? That kid can wear his hair any way he wants,’ Jane had said. And she was right. She was smarter in Year 4 than I am in Year 11.
I’ve never really seen the big picture before. Never panned the camera up and seen how the world looks from long shot. Jane and Alyce and Susan, dumped before their big dates. Me and Annabelle and Veronica, tearing down anyone who isn’t on our side.
‘Are you still there, Faltrain? You’ve gone quiet.’
I take the deepest breath. Something tells me that after this question I might not come up for air for a long time.
‘Is that me, Jane? Am I like Annabelle Orion?’
‘You’re not as close as I thought, if you’re finally asking that question.’
I can’t believe people on the other side of the world could see it and I’m just waking up now.
‘Jane, what those people think, it doesn’t mean anything.’ For the first time all year, I actually believe that.
??
?I know. But thanks for saying it, Faltrain. You don’t know how much I needed to hear it.’
‘What would really fix you up is one of our all-night DVD sessions.’
‘Get that player running, then.’
‘I wish we could.’
‘No, I mean it. I hadn’t said anything yet because I was so angry at you. But Dad’s flying back to Australia for a month. He said I could come with him.’
‘You’re coming home?’
‘Don’t get too excited. It’s only for a month.’
I’m not proud. I’ll take any bit of home I can get.
Jane listens now as I fill her in on everything that has happened. ‘You are in way more trouble than me,’ she says after I’ve finished.
‘I thought I was helping.’
‘I know. Deep down Martin and Alyce know that, too.’
‘Do you think he’ll come back?’
‘I wouldn’t give up hope yet. Martin Knight hasn’t stopped looking at you since he saw you play soccer in Year 7. You just never noticed till last year. Wherever he is, you’re with him, Faltrain. So are his dad and kid sister. I should know; you can move away, run away, it doesn’t matter. Life sticks to you.’
‘What if I never see him again?’ I can cut back everything there is of me: the lies; treating Alyce like she’s not good enough; hurting Jane. But I can’t cut away what I did to Martin. I’ll never come back if he doesn’t. ‘His dad and his sister will lose everything, Jane. Because of me.’
‘Faltrain, this is bad, I won’t lie and tell you anything different. You pushed him towards leaving. But he made the final decision. He didn’t just all of a sudden think, “I can’t cope with everything”. He was coping a little less every day.’
‘It’s still my fault.’ I’m quiet for a bit, but Jane hangs on, waiting for me to find the words to describe what’s dragging me under the ocean like stones in my pockets. ‘I can get to tomorrow,’ I say. ‘And the next day without him. But how do I get to next year and the year after that?’
‘There’s only one way to keep going, Faltrain. Fix what you can. And then find a way to live with the rest.’
‘Jane,’ I say before I hang up. ‘I’m really, really sorry.’ I may as well start fixing what I can, right now.
39
I’ve never felt more like cheering for her than I do today. ‘Go Gracie,’ I shout.
Helen Faltrain
I’m on the freaking bench, Mum. Where is it exactly that you want me to go?
Gracie Faltrain
Living with your mistakes isn’t easy. Martin still isn’t in goal today. Alyce’s seat is still vacant. It makes the whole place feel empty.
I sit this game out on the bench like I have for the past three Saturdays. I don’t want to be a part of the way they’re playing anymore. If Martin comes back I want him to see that I’ve changed.
I hate the bench. It’s hard and uncomfortable but it hurts my pride more than anything. Woodbury and his mates have a bye. They turn up to watch the game and make me feel like crap. ‘This makes the third game that you’ve played from the bench, Faltrain. Too much for you, is it?’ they say on the way past.
I want to tell them to get lost. I want to say that even if we lose this game we’re still into the final, so shove that. I don’t say anything, though. That sort of talk got us into this mess in the first place – even I can see that. And I’m looking to get out, not get in deeper.
Martin wanted me to walk away from the way I’d been playing and I wouldn’t listen to him. I haven’t listened to him all year. The only person I have been hearing is Gracie Faltrain. I can’t take back the lies I’ve told. I can’t take back looking for his mum. But I can do this for him. I figure after all I’ve done, it isn’t too much to ask.
40
‘If you’re ever lost, Marty,’ Mum always said when I was a kid and we were out together, ‘go back to where we started. Go back and wait for me there.’
Martin Knight
For weeks I’ve sat in class wishing I was next to Alyce. Maybe I could be, but I don’t have enough guts to ask. Every time she catches me staring she straightens her glasses and looks the other way.
I do more Alyce-watching than I’ve ever done in my life. All this time I’ve known her, I’ve only seen parts of the package. Her reading. Her weird taste in clothes. How bad she is at sport. But those things make her who she is. They make her funny. And smart. And strange. All the things I like about her.
She always opens the door for people. Everyone else barges through and Alyce waits until whoever is walking with her is safely on the other side. She’s not letting herself get pushed around. She wants to do it.
She can walk from one side of the quadrangle to the other with her face in a book, and not bump into a thing.
She shares her lunch with Freddy Jabusi when he forgets his. They’re eating together in the yard when I walk past this Friday. I want more than anything to stop and talk to her. To tell her how worried I am about Martin. She straightens her glasses. And I keep right on walking.
After school I walk to the same place I always do. To see Mr Knight.
‘There’s no news, Gracie,’ he always says. I never stay long. Sometimes I go into Martin’s room, act like I’m looking for clues to where he’s gone. Really I just want to sit on his bed. Or do something stupid like smell his soccer shirt. I figure he must be coming back if he hasn’t taken it. Martin wouldn’t leave that behind.
It doesn’t seem right that there isn’t more being said about him. There were five minutes on the news the day after he left, and a couple of follow-up segments, but nothing else. I guess kids run away every day. At school we had the police come to ask us if we’d seen anything. Constable Blythe smiled at me. I kept my eyes down.
‘Everyone knew him. Everyone liked him,’ some kid said in that quick news segment. It’s true. But it doesn’t tell you enough. It doesn’t describe how his hair always stuck up at the back or that when he said ‘Faltrain’ he opened his hands like he was trying to catch a wide ball in goal.
When I turn up at Martin’s house tonight, Mr Knight pulls out a chair for me to sit down on. ‘There’s news?’ I ask.
The last thing Mr Knight told me was that the police had found Martin’s mum, Alison. Mr Knight said her name like a language he knew once, but hadn’t spoken in years. ‘She hasn’t seen him, Gracie,’ he said. And disappointment coated his face. Tonight he has a look of hope, though.
‘There was a sighting of a boy fitting Martin’s description buying a ticket to Dromana.’
‘Where’s that?’
‘It’s a little town near the beach. It’s the last place we went on holidays together before Alison left. Did Martin ever tell you about it?’
I wish I could say yes, for both our sakes. ‘Sorry, Mr Knight.’
‘I remember us being happy there, those two weeks. It was like everything that was bothering Alison stayed in the city. When we drove away, the only thing in the car was the four of us.
‘Martin and his mum spent most of the time in the rock pools. I took the kids to the surf beach a few times, dunked them in and pulled them out. Marty said it felt like a washing machine. His mum said, “How would you know what it feels like inside there?” Every day was fine. Every day was warm. Alison said the sky was the colour of bird eggs; I’ve never forgotten that. The rain didn’t start until the last day, when we were leaving.
‘I’m going to find him, Gracie.’ After he says that, I notice two old suitcases sitting near the table. ‘I should have gone to find him a long time ago.’
‘Martin told me that you were trying. He was happy about that, Mr Knight. I’m the one who didn’t think it was good enough.’ If it were me, I’d want my dad to know that I hadn’t doubted him.
‘He’s a good kid. But I only met him halfway after the Championships.’ A car horn sounds from out the front. He looks at his watch. ‘Karen!’ he calls. ‘That’s our taxi. We have a train to catch. This time,??
? he says, brushing my shoulder with his hand, ‘I’m going the whole way. Karen and me and Martin, we’re coming back together.’
Karen walks into the kitchen and picks up her suitcase. It looks too heavy in her hand. Mr Knight reaches out and carries it for her.
If Dad’s right and cyclones start over warm oceans, then the last place the Knights were happy together is where Martin’s storm started. A part of it, anyway. Some of the bad weather came from me; I know that now.
If Mr Knight has a chance to undo all of the damage that’s been done, it makes sense to go back to where the rain and wind began. He can’t stop the cyclone now that it has started. But he can look at the patterns. Maybe he can stop it from happening again.
41
I am a dog.
Alyce Fuller
If Mr Knight has the guts to go to Dromana, I can pick up the phone.
‘Hi, Mrs Fuller. Is Alyce there?’
‘Gracie, love, she just left. She’s gone to the dance.’
‘With Flemming? I mean Andrew?’
‘No, dear. She went on her own. Her dad drove her. She looked so beautiful.’
‘I bet she did, Mrs Fuller.’
I don’t waste time getting changed.
Alyce is stepping out of the car when Mum and I drive up. She’s wearing this dress that cuts in at the waist and flares out, dark blue with silver around the edges. It’s the colour of nighttime, full of stuff too far away to see: acres of stars, and black holes and burning galaxies. She looks amazing, a hundred times better than when she was wearing that dress I picked out for her in the shop. A million times better than anyone else here.
Flemming thinks so, too. He might be holding Susan’s hand, but it’s Alyce he can’t stop staring at. He’s got the same look in his eye that he has on the soccer field when he knows he’s kicked wrong and lost his chance for goal.