Shift

  The moonlight on Miranda’s face had turned her skin and hair silvery-white. ‘We’ve got a lot in common,’ she said. ‘And I know you’ve had fun hanging out with me. Admit it.’

  Far away there was the sound of a car alarm going off.

  I shrugged. ‘Sure,’ I said. ‘It was fun. At first.’

  Miranda looked at me, eyes shining. ‘We can still have fun, you know,’ she said. She sounded excited. Hopeful. ‘How about we make a deal? I won’t tell anyone about Ami or your “history” if you don’t leave me.’

  ‘I’d rather have no friends than agree to that,’ I retorted. ‘You really have no idea, do you?’

  And then I saw that this was true. Miranda knew how to manipulate and twist people, how to drive them to the edge – even over the edge – but she knew nothing about being a friend.

  It was a long time before Miranda spoke again, and when she did her voice was subdued. ‘I don’t belong around here.’ She laughed flatly. ‘That’s stating the obvious, huh? But let’s be honest. I’ll never belong anywhere.’

  She hunched over herself, arms tucked under her legs, chin resting on her knees. The breeze was blowing her hair into her eyes and mouth. ‘You don’t know how exhausting it is,’ she said. ‘Being me. I’m so tired of it.’ Miranda rose to her feet. ‘I’m going,’ she said, stretching her arms out theatrically. ‘Out there.’

  ‘I’ve had enough of these stupid nerve tests,’ I said, furious that she was trying this again. ‘Get away from there.’

  She looked at me, a strange, sad smile on her mouth. ‘Would you be sad if I jumped?’ she asked softly. ‘Or relieved?’

  ‘I’d be pissed off,’ I snapped, ‘because I’d be the one left behind to deal with the mess.’

  Miranda’s smile vanished. I never saw it again. She took a step closer to the edge.

  ‘Miranda!’

  I don’t remember stretching out my arm towards her but I must have, because quick as a flash, Miranda took hold of my wrist. Her fingers dug into my flesh.

  ‘Come with me then,’ she said unevenly. ‘We can merge with the darkness. Together.’

  She shuffled up next to me, her grip strengthening, until she was right beside me, her voice in my ear, making the buzz in my head return. Or maybe it had never gone.

  ‘Be honest with yourself, Olive. People like us are too much hard work. We wear everyone down. We’d be doing everyone a favour by ending it all.’ Her words stabbed into me. ‘What difference does it make if you die tonight or in a few years?’ she said. ‘It’s not like your dad will care. Your brother’s just a kid – he’ll forget you pretty quickly. Your mum? Maybe. But you’ve caused her plenty of grief already. She might be less cut up than you think.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ I said, teeth gritted.

  ‘So who does that leave?’ said Miranda, as though I hadn’t spoken. ‘Lachlan?’ She snorted. ‘He won’t grieve for long.’

  If I shook my head hard enough, maybe I could keep the words out. ‘No.’

  Miranda’s face darkened. ‘I’m tired of you saying no to me, Olive. If you won’t do it on your own then I’ll make you jump.’

  She stood, yanking me up so that I too was standing. I was right on the edge of the roof now, and Miranda positioned herself behind me. We must have triggered one of Oona’s security lights because suddenly everything down below was dazzlingly bright. The grass shimmered. The trees pulsed. The swimming pool was the biggest, bluest eye you ever saw, staring right at me. This is it. The only thing I could hope for was to land in the pool and not on the concrete. I tensed up, waiting for the push. But it didn’t come. Miranda started to make this strange, choking noise, and a moment later she let go of my wrist.

  I stepped back from the edge, turning towards her. Her shoulders were shuddering.

  ‘Miranda? Are you crying?’

  Even though I was desperate to get away from her and the edge of that roof, I felt a tiny twinge of something. I knew about being sad and alone and how much it could wreck your life. Watching her, I felt a weird mess of things churning inside me. Anger and hate, of course. Fear. But something else too.

  ‘Poor Miranda. You’re so screwed up, aren’t you?’ I said.

  Instantly she turned on me, wild with fury. ‘Don’t you dare say that! Not ever!’ she snarled, her arm sticking out blindly to push me away.

  At first I had the strange sensation that the roof was tilting away from me. Then I realised what was happening.

  Falling.

  I was falling.

  Grabbing hold of something as you fall is an automatic response. Another one of those reflexes. But when I grabbed on to Miranda as I fell off the roof, it felt way more deliberate.

  Like I was thinking, If I fall, then you’re coming too.

  Did either of us scream? I’m not sure. Maybe there wasn’t time. Then the surface of the pool slammed against us, resisting us for only a moment before we plunged through.

  Cold. It was so cold in there. But the moment I was in the water, I felt all the tightness in my body dissolve. I can remember how Miranda looked, I think. Her hair swirling, the bubbles streaming from her nose. The wide, fearful eyes. But how could I have seen so much detail? It was crazy and chaotic in the water. I do remember one thing for sure, though – the feeling of Miranda’s fingers curled like tentacles around my neck.

  Kick. The sudden strength came from nowhere and I kept kicking until I’d struggled up to the surface, Miranda still hanging from my neck. I grabbed a gulp of air, maybe two, before her panicked thrashing dragged us both down again.

  One kick, then another kick, then another. Up up up. There was barely time for a gasp of air before she dragged me back under. Get away from her or you’ll both drown. While there was still air in my lungs, I took hold of Miranda’s hands from around my neck and pulled them away. I expected her to fight me of course, to cling on with everything she had. But she didn’t. Miranda let me untangle myself and suddenly I was free of her. I began swimming up. Up, up and away.

  At first all I could think about was breathing again. I surfaced and gulped the sweet, incredible air, my weak arms clutching the pebbled edge of the pool. When I could, I looked around, expecting to see Miranda nearby, drinking in the air like I was. But she wasn’t. I worked up the courage to dunk my head into the water again, and saw a dark shape drifting just below me.

  I guess there are people who would’ve climbed out of the pool and left Miranda where she was. There are probably people who would’ve said things were better off that way. But that didn’t even cross my mind, and I’m glad of it. Because if I’d left her there, what kind of a person would that make me? Someone just as bad as Miranda. Worse, maybe. Or at least that’s how I see it.

  So I filled my lungs and dived down towards the dark shape. I hooked my arms under hers and tried to pull her up. It was difficult, so much harder than I’d thought, and I was about to go back up for air when someone dived into the pool and glided towards us. A sleek shape – fast and strong. For the second time that evening, Lachlan’s arm encircled me. He held me and I held Miranda and together we made it to the surface.

  Lachlan took Miranda from me and lifted her from the pool as I struggled out. I flung myself on the ground. How good it felt. How solid. I rolled over and watched as Lachlan turned Miranda on her side and cleared the water out of her lungs. She coughed and gasped and her eyes opened for a moment. Then she closed them again.

  ‘Is she OK?’ I asked.

  ‘She’s breathing, at least,’ said Lachlan. ‘The ambulance should be here soon. I called one the moment I saw you two in the pool.’

  I remembered something. ‘Dallas!’

  Lachlan nodded. ‘I found him. Had to kick in the back door to get inside. He’s messed up but I reckon he’ll be OK.’

  I nodded, suddenly feeling tearful. ‘I’m so glad you’re here,’ I said, my nose going all kind of weird and snuffly. ‘Although I’ve no idea how you knew where I was.’

 
Lachlan gave a little laugh. ‘I know you better than you think, Olive Corbett,’ he said. ‘When I got home I started daydreaming, what would she be doing right now? And then I realised that you were probably off trying to rescue Dallas.’

  Miranda’s eyes had opened again. She was watching us. Something inside me leapt.

  ‘She’s awake.’

  Lachlan crouched down beside her. ‘Miranda? Can you hear me?’

  She looked at him and her eyes were more serene than I’d ever seen them. ‘She’s not right in the head, you know,’ she said softly. ‘Your little girlfriend.’

  Lachlan frowned and leant in closer. ‘Pardon?’

  When she spoke again, her voice was stronger. ‘Olive tried to drown herself. Didn’t you know that? And then she got herself an imaginary friend. Ami. Olive mutters to her all day long, like a freak.’

  Insects buzzed and whirred around us as Lachlan’s eyes met mine, filled with confusion. He didn’t say anything, but I could see the question on his lips. Is it true?

  For a moment I couldn’t speak. And then I felt the fury rise. Rise and spill right over the top. I leant over Miranda so that my face was right above hers.

  ‘It’s lucky for you Ami’s not around anymore, Miranda Vaile,’ I said. ‘Because I know exactly what she’d say right now. She’d tell me to push you back into that pool.’

  Lachlan’s expression changed then. The doubt receded just a little, and a smile appeared. That same smile that I’d once thought was mocking. How did I ever make such a stupid mistake?

  ‘Who was this Ami?’ he asked, like he was scared of the answer.

  ‘She was just me,’ I said, and made my same old joke. ‘But with better hair.’

  Lachlan reached out and touched my face, my sodden hair, so tenderly I could have cried. He left his hand there in a way that gave me a sudden rush of hope. There was a whole lot of stuff I had to tell him. Obviously. But I felt that at least he would listen.

  ‘Well, it wouldn’t be hard to have better hair than you right now,’ he said teasingly, and I knew everything would be OK.

  There were sirens then, coming up the hill towards us. Lachlan stood up. ‘I’d better go and work out how to open the gate.’ He looked at me. ‘Want to come?’

  I nodded and together we walked towards the gate, leaving Miranda lying by the pool.

  Miranda wasn’t at school on Monday. She wasn’t there the day after either. Two whole weeks passed before I finally allowed myself to believe she wasn’t coming back. It wasn’t that surprising, I suppose. After all, it had always been just a matter of time before Oona got sick of Miranda and shunted her off to another relative.

  No-one spoke about Miranda’s sudden disappearance from school, or even mentioned her name. It was like they’d forgotten she was there in the first place.

  It was almost a month before Oona’s body was found. One of her regular delivery guys became suspicious about the uncollected mail spewing from her letterbox. He scaled the fence, opened the unlocked front door and found Oona dead on her bedroom floor – gloves on, clutching a can of disinfectant. Died of natural causes, the local paper reported. Heart attack.

  When I heard that, I’d instantly pictured Oona returning early from the trip and dropping dead in horror when she realised germ-encrusted strangers had been in her house. And it was all too easy to imagine Miranda driving off coolly in Oona’s car, the one that only I seemed to have noticed was missing. But one afternoon, I suddenly remembered Oona’s closed bedroom door the night of the party. I found myself wondering, my skin pimpling up, if she’d been lying there dead the whole time. Just as quickly, I made myself push the thought away. There were more important things to focus on, like sorting out stuff with my family. Miranda had taken up enough of my life.

  Fixing things with Mum and Toby began with some hardcore apologising – which wasn’t so difficult because I felt pretty terrible about the things I’d said. And then I had to spend a lot of time at home watching boring movies and eating bad cake. It was all worth it though, because things really changed after that. For instance, Mum said that after our fight she’d realised she had been taking me for granted, and now she pays me for babysitting. I still cook a lot, but that’s mostly because I want to protect Toby and me from tofu schnitzels.

  Sorting out things with Dad is taking a bit longer. I realised I was really, really mad at him for leaving us so suddenly, and without saying goodbye. When I told him that on the phone the other day, he said he felt he had to go or he’d explode. ‘It wasn’t anyone’s fault, Pet,’ he said. ‘It was just one of those things.’ That sounds like a dumb excuse to me. I’m still mad at him, but at least I don’t feel like it’s my fault he left, and I’ve decided that I will see him again. Eventually. Maybe it’ll be easier to talk about this stuff when we meet up.

  It was because of Lachlan that I started to make more of an effort with people at school. You know, talking to them, and not just avoiding them because they might think I’m weird. I am weird, and you know what? That’s OK. So are most interesting people. Lachlan seems to get that, and I like the way he sometimes makes gags about imaginary friends. Like it’s just something quirky. I can laugh now, even if I do still miss Ami.

  Lachlan and I have been spending a lot of time with Dallas, getting him back on track. Lachlan helped Dallas patch things up with Vinnie and Pearl, and he’s even been working on finishing the album with them. There’s a new edge to their music these days. A good one.

  But mostly it’s just the two of us, me and Lachlan. Unless you count those thousand butterflies launching inside me every time we kiss. Sometimes I meet him down at the beach in the morning and we’ll go for a swim or stretch out on the sand, listening to music.

  For the first few days it was mostly me talking – telling him about everything that had happened, and about Ami. Why I needed her around. Why I don’t anymore. But now we talk about other stuff too – like what we might do when school finishes. It changes all the time of course, but the latest plan is to head overseas and buy a van, then drive around the world. We’ll stop at beaches during the day and go to gigs at night.

  So there hasn’t been much time to think about Miranda. But just occasionally I find myself wondering what she’s up to these days. Where she is. That’s the thing – she could be anywhere, doing anything. It’ll sound strange but I feel like there’s still a bond between us. Maybe I miss her, just a bit. I know that’s kind of crazy, but I can’t deny it.

  Last week, with a thumping heart, I typed Miranda’s name into Google. Nothing came up. But that doesn’t mean she’ll never reappear. I’m pretty sure she will, actually. Somewhere. One day.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  This book owes a huge debt to the amazing people at Hardie Grant Egmont; in particular the incomparable Hilary Rogers for liking the idea from the start and for helping so much with the early drafts. Thanks to the wondrous Marisa Pintado for her excellent editing and manuscript advice, the early morning Skype sessions and the virtual arm-patting. I am enormously grateful to Charlotte Bodman for all the work she’s done for this book at the markets, as well as to the HGE marketing team for their promotional support.

  Vielen Dank to the staff at the Langen Flugsicherung Biblioteque and to all librarians in general – especially my personal favourites, Jim and Julie Badger.

  Thanks to Kylie Boyd for the Interesting Fact. A big cuddly squeeze to Mads for letting me use Bim-Bim and Spanner’s names in this book.

  And finally enormous, heartfelt thanks to Matt Wallace for your endless, unwavering support. This book would never have been finished without your help.

  About the Author

  Em Bailey is an Australian living in Germany where, despite having been a vegetarian for many years, she now enjoys the occasional Wurst. Em used to be a new-media designer for a children’s television production house and is now a full-time author. Shift is her first YA novel, although she has written a number of books for children under a different n
ame.

  When she’s not writing, Em is generally getting lost, losing stuff, reading, hanging out with her friends and family, and listening to Radiolab podcasts. Like Olive, she doesn’t like leggings that look like jeans, but has no problem with tofu schnitzels.

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