Lucy

Ed’s breath wanders over me, and he spotlights that freckle on my neck with his eyes and the heat of the night is sharper than ever and it feels like we’re hanging from the sky or the ceiling. Swaying around each other without our feet on the ground. If we touched I wouldn’t be surprised to hear chiming. I press that tissue to his ear and my fingers tingle. He asks me what I think and I tell him he could let it heal or go all the way. He chooses go all the way.

He says it in a voice that makes me think cool, not idiot, and a line like that is one hundred per cent risk. I’m not sure of anything, not sure if he means what I think he means, not sure if the adrenalin is playing tricks on me. Not sure if he’s the one I like or if the one I like is Shadow. Maybe it’s both. It’s definitely not Malcolm Dove.

Like I said before, a girl doesn’t think clearly when faced with electrocution, and if Ed is a toaster then I am a girl with a knife. I’m about to say something in reply, maybe ask him what he means or just let him kiss me, which I think is where we’re headed, when I have a flash of Malcolm’s nose and a flash of him eating a cockroach and this wave rises in me and I’m pretty sure I’m going to throw up.

I think all the experts agree that throwing up while a guy tries to kiss you is bad. It puts all but the very, very keen off and I’m not sure that Ed is very, very keen. I try hard to stop thinking about Malcolm’s blood but the harder I try the more I think.

‘It’s Malcolm’s nose,’ I say to Ed, so he doesn’t get the wrong idea. ‘And the cockroach.’ I don’t want him to think it’s the thought of his kiss that’s making me sick.

‘Lean forward,’ he tells me. ‘And think about something else.’

‘Like what?’

‘Something good. What’s something good?’

We can definitely rule out this exact moment. ‘My glass. I like my glass.’

‘Okay, so talk about the studio. How long have you been working there?’

‘Since Year 10.’ I lean further forward and take deeper breaths. ‘My parents couldn’t afford the whole cost so I cleaned in exchange for lessons.’

‘Not a lot of money in writing or comedy, huh?’

‘Not a lot. But they have jobs on the side and one day Dad’ll get famous and Mum’ll get published. You don’t need money, anyway.’

‘You need it to pay the rent,’ he says.

‘But not to be happy.’

‘Glass makes you happy. Can’t do that without money.’

I sit up. ‘No. But there are ways. You find ways. Like cleaning.’

‘You think you could be happy? Cleaning for a living?’

‘Yep. If it meant I could do my glassblowing.’

‘You’d eventually want to work on your glass all the time though, wouldn’t you? Are your parents happy, working at some shitty job on the side of what they really love?’

‘I didn’t say that they have shitty jobs,’ I keep taking those deep breaths. ‘They have jobs on the side but they’re happy. Lately, Mum’s been writing loads. She’s nearly finished her novel.’

Since Dad moved into the shed she’s stopped saying she’s too tired to write. She comes home and cooks us dinner and we talk. She likes hearing about glass, about what I learn from Al. How I have to cool my pieces the right way or internal pressures make them explode.

After dinner I do my homework while Mum types away. We go until midnight sometimes, stopping for cups of tea but not talking because Mum says an artist needs headspace. Mrs J and Al say the same thing. So does Dad.

‘My mum really likes that she and Dad are artists, even if it means we don’t have much money. They tell me to work at my art, no matter what.’

‘Stop talking for a while,’ Ed says. ‘Breathe.’

I put my head down again and think about Mum telling me that a person has to do what they love and that money doesn’t matter. Dad didn’t move into the shed because they were fighting about money. It would be less confusing if that were the reason.

I feel better after a while. Ed’s breathing calms me. So does the wash of traffic coming from the side road. I sit up and look at the monster waves on the wall. ‘You think it’s a tsunami?’

‘Tsunami waves aren’t steep like other waves,’ Ed says. ‘If you were in a boat in deep water a tsunami might go underneath and you’d never notice. It’s only when they’re close to shore that they get big.’

‘I didn’t know that. You could be in trouble and have no idea.’

‘Uh-huh.’

I think back to what Ed said about the money. Maybe Mum and Dad are fighting because of that but I never realised. ‘I wonder what Shadow does for a living.’

‘Maybe he’s unemployed. Maybe he can’t get a job.’

‘He buys paint,’ I say.

‘Maybe he steals it.’

‘He wouldn’t do that. He’s not that sort of person.’

‘You didn’t think Malcolm was that sort of person.’

‘So you think Shadow is a bad guy?’ I ask.

Ed scratches his head and looks at me. ‘We should stop talking, in case you think of the blood and the broken bones and the cockroach.’

The others arrive while I’ve got my head between my legs again, taking deep breaths. ‘Things are going well I see,’ Leo says.

Jazz kneels and holds back my hair. ‘You got her drunk?’

‘I didn’t get her drunk,’ Ed says. ‘I got her attacked by Malcolm Dove. Technically, he attacked me and she attacked him. Broke his nose.’

Leo laughs when he hears that. He slaps me on the back, which really isn’t a good idea. ‘I need water,’ I say.

Jazz and Daisy help me over to the tap. After I feel better we move to the skate ramp and lean our backs against the curved concrete so we can watch the guys.

‘What do you think they’re talking about?’ Jazz asks. ‘It looks kind of intense.’

‘Maybe how much money Leo owes Malcolm,’ I say.

Daisy hugs her legs. ‘Dylan talks about that guy but I always thought he was exaggerating.’

‘He’s threatening to pierce Ed’s nipple if Leo doesn’t pay up.’ I stare across at the wave on the wall. ‘This has been the strangest night.’

‘I’ve got material for my drama audition coming out of my ears,’ Jazz says.

‘Lucky you. I’ve got it coming out of my mouth,’ I tell her, and she hands me some gum and a roll of peppermints. I give her and Daisy the details about Ed almost kissing me.

Jazz whistles. ‘If you hadn’t nearly vomited I’d have said you were in.’

‘You think I put him off?’

‘I’m saying it’s something you have to consider. Then again, you did break his nose and he came back for more. Daisy?’

‘Vomit doesn’t turn a guy off. I remember this time I had the flu in Year 10. Dylan skipped classes to sit next to me with tissues and a bucket. He never does stuff like that anymore.’

‘Sometimes you sound like you still like him.’ Jazz hands her some gum as well.

‘I do like him,’ she says. ‘You know he arranges the textbooks in his locker in alphabetical order?’

I shake my head. Some things you can’t guess about a person.

‘But he forgot my birthday. It’s today.’

‘Then we forgot it too,’ I say.

She laughs. ‘You never knew it. But now I’ve told you when it is I bet you remember next year.’

‘You should have told us before,’ Jazz says. ‘We could have celebrated.’

‘I wanted Dylan to remember on his own because he forgot last year too. When today he said, “I got something for you,” I thought he’d remembered. Then he threw a carton of eggs at my head. What sort of girl likes a guy who does that?’

Jazz rubs Daisy’s shoulder. ‘On the bright side, eggs are good for the hair. Your hair looks great tonight.’

‘Thanks.’ She stretches her chewing gum till it breaks. ‘But I’d rather have bad hair and a birthday present.’

‘I think Ed still likes Beth,’ I say after a while. ‘I asked him why they broke up. He wouldn’t say.’

‘Guys don’t always talk about that sort of stuff, Luce,’ Jazz says. ‘That’s not necessarily a bad sign.’

‘She was at the party looking for him,’ Daisy tells me. ‘He knows that and he hasn’t called her.’

‘He doesn’t have a mobile phone.’

Jazz thinks for a bit. ‘The important thing is, Beth’s not here and you are and there was an almost kiss so you’ve got a window.’

‘I thought you liked Shadow,’ Daisy says.

‘Shadow is a figment. She’s got to forget Shadow. Ed is real and standing over there with an almost-pierced ear.’

Jazz might be right. I’m still on the fence between Shadow and Ed but I’m leaning towards falling off on Ed’s side. ‘What should I do?’

Jazz thinks again. ‘Don’t talk about the almost kiss. That will kill any hope of future kisses. People like you and Ed have to grab each other and go for it.’

‘People like me and Ed?’

‘Uptight people,’ she says.

‘I’m that bad?’

‘You are, and it’s worse because Beth Darling is like that singer from the Bleeding Hearts.’

‘Oh my God.’

‘Don’t worry, you’ve got your own style,’ Daisy says.

Sure I do. She might be like the singer from the Bleeding Hearts but I’m cool too. ‘I’m like Courtney Love without the drugs, right? Edgy. Full of unspoken feeling.’

‘You’re a brick when the guy is real and in front of you,’ Jazz says. ‘Don’t take that the wrong way.’

His ex is grungy-sensitive-girl-band and I’m a brick when I’m not being delusional. ‘It would have killed you to humour me with the Courtney Love comparison?’

‘Bricks aren’t bad.’

‘Say that when one’s sailing towards your face.’

‘There’s hope if you take my advice. Stop over-thinking it, stop wishing for a Shadow you’ll never find and start flirting with Ed.’

‘Ed may need a faceguard,’ I say. ‘I flirt like chopper blades.’

‘So start slow. Ease into it.’

‘Flirt like slow chopper blades,’ Daisy says, blowing a bubble that pops on her face.

‘So what’s happening with you and Leo?’ I ask. ‘Did he leave you to get the van?’

‘It was like he wanted me to follow him but he couldn’t tell me that so I followed him without being asked.’

‘The stalker defence,’ I say.

‘He danced with me all night and recited poetry. He was begging for a good stalking. Anyway, so Daisy and I catch up with him and Dylan after a while and we walk the couple of blocks together then Leo makes us wait at the corner. He wouldn’t tell us why.’

‘Maybe the van has something to do with the money.’ I look at Daisy. ‘What do you think?’

She shrugs. ‘I think Ed and Leo are good guys. I think Dylan’s an idiot but he’s a good guy too. Leo’s brother knows some scary people, though. Leo probably didn’t want us to freak out when we saw who he was borrowing the van from.’

‘That makes sense,’ Jazz says. ‘So you don’t think it was because Emma was at the place?’

‘She’s not the type of girl who’d be out in the middle of the night. She’s the sort of girl Leo could take home to his gran.’

‘Why does he live with his gran?’ Jazz asks. ‘What happened to his parents?’

‘Ed said they drank a lot,’ I tell her.

Jazz sits up. ‘I’ve been dancing with the guy for two hours and you know more about him than I do. All I know is that he likes poetry. I mean, why does he need a van anyway?’

‘Guys like vans,’ Daisy says. ‘No mystery there. I know what you mean, though. It’s frustrating. Dylan hardly tells me anything.’

We look across at the three huddled shadows. ‘Something’s not right,’ Jazz says. ‘They look like they’re plotting. Doesn’t it look like they’re plotting something?’

‘Is it time to kick Dylan?’ Daisy asks.

‘It might be,’ Jazz answers, and we watch their outlines move.