Shift

  I picked up the Magic 8 Ball and gave it a shake. ‘Should I redo my room?’

  The words slowly floated up in the green plastic answer window. Maybe later. I smiled. Sensible object, that 8 Ball. I put it back and floomped onto my bed, put on some music. Last time I came back from the clinic, there’d been one song, ‘Celladora’, that I listened to over and over. This time I chose a different track. Number three, ‘Steeple Chaser’. I lay back on the bed and closed my eyes.

  ‘Knock knock.’ Mum stuck her head between the curtains. ‘Can I come in?’

  I sat up. ‘Sure.’

  Mum sat down and pulled one of the cushions into her lap. She seemed kind of nervous or something, fidgeting with the cushion’s zip in this annoying way. Weird how I’d begun noticing all these funny little habits in the people around me since the clinic.

  ‘Noah called,’ she said. ‘He’s wondering if you could work on Saturday. If you’re over your, ah, flu.’

  I lay back down again. ‘Actually, I thought I might take a few weeks off.’

  Mum unzipped the cushion, then zipped it up again. ‘Dr Richter thinks it’s a good idea for you to get back into things as soon as possible.’

  Of course Dr Richter would think that. Dr Richter has never experienced date night at the Mercury. Especially when you no longer have your best friend there to help you get through.

  ‘I’ll see how I’m feeling,’ I said.

  Mum nodded. I kind of hoped she’d go then, so I could get on with lying on my bed listening to music. But she stayed there, zipping and unzipping. ‘I called the school too,’ she said after a moment. ‘I spoke with Mrs Deane to let her know you’ll be back next week.’

  ‘I bet she was thrilled to hear it,’ I said. ‘Did she update you on all the goss?’ That was a joke, obviously. Because if there had been any goss it would’ve all been about me.

  ‘Actually there was something,’ said Mum. ‘It’s about Katie Clarke.’

  ‘Let me guess,’ I said. ‘Katie is threatening to leave school if I’m allowed back in.’

  Zip. Unzip. Zip.

  I was on the point of pulling that freakin cushion out of Mum’s hands when she added quietly, ‘Olive, I have some very bad news.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Katie is dead.’

  Katie Clarke had died of heart failure. That was the official story, at any rate. Apparently her rapid weight loss put strain on her heart and it suddenly just gave up. It had happened in the early evening, during the dinner period. By the time the doctors got to her, it was too late. Only Miranda had been there to witness her passing.

  At least she wasn’t alone – that’s what everyone kept saying.

  The memorial service was at school the following Monday. At first I was going, then I wasn’t, then I finally decided that I would. I arrived deliberately late – after everyone else had already gone into the hall – and hung at the back. The entire school was crammed in there and it was stuffy as hell. A few faces turned around as I walked in but I kept my eyes straight ahead – just in case one of the faces was Lachlan’s. By now he must have found out, like everyone, about my temporary conscious psychosis. I wasn’t ready for the look on his face when he realised I was back. Now that he knew he’d been chatting up the school nutcase.

  Katie’s family were sitting up the front. Katie’s mum was flagpole-straight but her dad was sagging in his seat, like he’d been deflated. Between them was Katie’s little sister, Hannah. She kept turning in her seat to sneak glances at all of us. She’d grown heaps since I’d last seen her. She looked like Katie did when we’d first become friends.

  Directly behind them was Miranda, her head slightly bowed. What was different about her? Her hair looked a little lank and unwashed. But that’s not surprising, is it? I imagined Dr Richter saying. For someone who has just lost her best friend? It wasn’t just her hair – even the way she sat seemed different, as did the small movements she made in her seat. She seemed … sad.

  A thought appeared in my mind. One Dr Richter would not have approved of. She’s just pretending. I shoved the thought away. Stuff like that was not going to help me get away from this place.

  Miranda is not dangerous. This had to be my mantra from now on. She’s just a normal girl. Bitchy, but normal.

  We sang a hymn – awkwardly because no-one knew the words – and sat there in silence while Goodbye England’s Rose was played over the PA system, even though Katie was neither English nor particularly rose-like. Then Mrs Deane stood on the stage and spoke about Katie. She abandoned her usual clipped, precise talking style for once and went on and on about how Katie had been an integral part of the school. How she’d shown an avid interest in everything that was going on around her. She talked about how many people had admired Katie. How we’d all looked up to her. ‘Katie was a role model for so many students,’ she said.

  It was like listening to a fairytale – one that began long, long ago …

  I zoned out, unable to stand it. But the moment Mrs Deane’s voice faded to a background buzz I found my own Katie memories rising. The sleepovers in primary school where we’d spend the entire night planning for high school and agonising over how terrible it would be if we didn’t end up in the same class. Our first solo trip to the Mercury together – when Katie had laughed so hard that popcorn had flown from her mouth and landed in the hair of the guy in front of us. All the school events we’d organised together and how I’d teased her about her obsession with details.

  It was strange thinking over those things. Stuff I hadn’t thought about for ages. It reminded me how for a long time, it had felt really good being friends with Katie. And then, when things started to go bad – when the person I was inside no longer matched the way I looked – I’d hidden it from her for as long as I could.

  Despite myself, I believed what she’d said in the hospital, about not telling everyone that I’d tried to kill myself. Katie Courtney Clarke could be shallow and self-centred, but she wasn’t a liar. The old Olive was the one who was manipulative, deceitful and mean, and I’d projected all of that onto Katie.

  When I tuned back in again, Mrs Deane was speaking directly to Katie’s family. Katie’s mother had started making little noises, horribly private sounds that it felt wrong to be hearing.

  ‘I’m sure I’m not the only one here who feels that our school will be a much darker place without your daughter’s sunny smile,’ said Mrs Deane. ‘We are glad we had the chance to be warmed by it.’ Mrs Deane’s eyes moved away from the Clarkes and swept the hall. ‘For those who were close to Katie, the upcoming months will be particularly hard,’ she said. ‘We will support you as much as we can.’

  Miranda’s head stayed bowed, her hair falling down over her face.

  There was another hymn and that was it. Katie Clarke was gone. The double doors were opened wide and everyone filed out – clearly relieved to escape from the stifling room. I stood at the back, watching them all leave, wondering if I should go and say something to Katie’s family. But what would I say exactly? That I was sorry? It sounded so stupid. It would be better just to slip off with everyone else.

  As I stood there dithering, I found myself looking right into Miranda’s eyes. From across the room they looked kind of cloudy. And then, her face began to fold up. She’s going to cry, I thought. Maybe she really did care about Katie.

  But Miranda didn’t cry. Instead, her mouth widened into a yawn – big and luxurious. When she’d finished, she gave me a little smile. I looked away, my heart pounding.

  I squashed myself back into my old routine as best I could. In class I perfected my paying attention face. I did just enough homework to avoid being hassled by our new substitute teacher in home room. I stacked cups and scooped popcorn at the Mercury. My meds were ingested at regular intervals. I made it through each day like this, being measured and controlled. I tried not to think, and the only time I allowed myself to feel anything was when I burrowed into bed at night and put myself to sleep by listening to Luxe. Luxe
was the one good thing in my day.

  At school I slunk from class to class with my headphones on, although strangely no-one seemed to be gossiping as much as I’d thought they would. I’d steeled myself for the whispering and rapid changes of conversation when I entered a room, but for some reason it didn’t happen. It was almost like they didn’t know about Ami, and what I’d said to Miranda – even though that had to be impossible.

  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 t
he 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.