Everything is Changed (18 page)

jake

The skate park is nearly empty. It's the best thing about coming when it's early evening in rainy Melbourne because nobody bothers, except the really hardcore skaters, and us. I'm not sure what Alex likes about skating, but for me it's a chance to just be. It's not about where I live, or not having a dad, it's just about skating and being in my own world.

‘You need a new back wheel,' says Alex as I skate towards him.

‘Yeah.'

‘I've got a spare at home if you want it?'

I nod. ‘Sure.'

Alex is always giving me stuff. Sometimes it's things he doesn't want anymore like his old mobile or bike, but I know it's not done to make me feel bad or like I'm the poor one. It's just who he is.

‘I've got a date tomorrow, Jake.'

My chest tightens. ‘Who?' I'm sort of holding my breath, hoping he doesn't say what I think he's about to say.

‘Ellie,' he says with a huge smile.

I've got no words. I knew this was coming. ‘Oh,' I manage.

He smiles again. ‘I saw her yesterday. At the chicken shop. Buying hot chips after school. We got talking. You know how it is.'

I can't believe my best friend would say that to me. So offhand, like I've ever asked a girl out.

‘We're going to the movies,' he says, rolling back and forth on his board.

I don't want to know about his date. I don't want to imagine them together. I skate past him and down into the bowl. I can't talk about Ellie. Instead I'm going to show him a carve grind trick I've been working on in secret, which he won't be able to do. Alex follows me and while I curve around the bowl just getting a rhythm, he sits down on the edge, his feet dangling over. He's never been much good at dropping into the bowl. Reckons it's not really him, but I think he's just scared. I was too at first but now it feels completely natural, like my body knows where to be. I start to skate around, further up the walls, in a curve, keeping my body weight slightly forward so I don't fall backwards. It's the weirdest feeling skating up a curved wall, and it takes a lot of practice to get it right. My elbows have been crunched so many times from when I've fallen off.

I wait until he's looking and then I skate right up to the metal edge of the bowl and, staying horizontal, let my tracks grind along the top before dropping back down into the bowl.

‘When'd you learn that?'

‘Last week.'

‘I'm impressed.'

I look up at him and see that he is. He's good like that. Impressed when you need him to be. I skate around the bowl while he sits on the edge watching.

‘Wanna learn?'

‘Nah.'

‘Chicken.'

‘Thing is, Jake, I really like my arms and legs and I don't want to break them.'

‘You're not going to break them. It's not that hard.'

‘Nah.'

‘Come on. Time to take a risk,' I say, sounding like I'm daring him. I skate back up and while grabbing my board, try to leap the last bit so I'll make it to the edge of the bowl near where he's sitting. But I misjudge it and start to slide down. He shoots his arm out and grabs me, pulling me up so I'm next to him.

‘Thanks.'

‘What's that say?' Alex points to a large tag halfway up the bowl.

‘Phazza …'

‘That's not a p.'

‘Yeah,' I say.

‘Nah.'

‘Maybe it's Razza,' I say, like I really care what it says. He shrugs and then before we can dissect the badly written tag anymore, the rain starts falling more heavily and we both make a run for it.

‘Your place?' he yells as we reach the road and drop our boards down. Skating in the rain isn't great but it beats walking.

‘Yeah. If we're lucky, we can catch the last of Reservoir Dogs.'

‘Then I'm not hurrying,' he says, and he stops skating and picks up his board, holding it over his head like it will somehow stop the rain. I slow next to him and pick up my board too, trying to walk in step, but his legs are long and mine aren't and I have to skip to keep up with him.

‘I found another article about him. Said he's an architect. Lives in Hawthorn,' says Alex quietly.

I knew we'd circle back to this. He can't help it. No matter what we're doing, he finds a way to weave something about the man back into our conversation. I've been trying to forget about it. Focus on school, on science, on trying to find Ellie at lunch. But Alex is always with me, so I never get to hang out with her. Not that it matters now anyway, because if they're going on a date then I've lost.

‘Jake? Did you hear me?'

‘Yeah. I know. Peter Waterman. Got a daughter our age. Married for years.'

Alex stops, but I keep walking. The rain is heavier now and it's pouring down my back. My shoes are soaked and I'll have to shove newspaper inside them all night just to try to bring them back. Alex hurries after me.

‘I keep imagining what everyone would say if they knew what we'd done.'

‘Yeah, well, they don't know.'

‘But what if he dies?'

‘He won't, Alex. It'll be fine,' I say with so much conviction I almost believe it myself.

‘I'm going to the overpass,' he says quietly.

‘No way.'

‘Yeah, I just want to see it. I haven't been back. Please.'

It's the last thing I want to do, but I can't let him go alone. Besides, I sort of understand why he wants to go.

‘But it's pissing down,' I say, shaking my head so the water sprays from my hair.

‘Come on.'

I start following him down the road behind the back of the houses to where the overpass is. It goes over a huge concrete wall that lines the freeway to supposedly block out the noise, but there's always a hum droning in the background. Don't get me wrong. I like it. It fills a lot of gaps. But there's this thing about living so close to the freeway that means you're constantly drawn to the idea of leaving. It's not like living on a suburban street where everyone is travelling at the same pedestrian speed. This is a freeway. A major road that does little more than get people very fast out of where they don't want to be.

Instead of heading up to the overpass, Alex starts walking down the hill to the wall. There are gaps in the large concrete sheets you can squeeze through to get to the gravelly edge of the freeway.

‘Thought we were going up,' I say loudly.

He shakes his head. ‘Nah.' He slips through a gap and is lost to me for a second, until I follow him.

It's a Saturday night so the cars are flying along, all eager to get to the city where the fun begins. Alex is in front of me. But I'm staying back here, right next to the concrete wall where I know nobody will find me because they'll be too busy looking straight ahead. I already know what I'll say if I get caught here. That I'm walking to a blue emergency phone box because Mum's car has broken down.

The cars whoosh past, the sound loud and angry. Their lights flick across the gravel so I can see where I'm going. For ground that isn't supposed to be for pedestrians, there's a lot of rubbish underfoot. Food wrappers, chip packets, stubbies. It's like a party went off down here. I'm trying to work out where the accident happened. I'm slightly in front of the overpass so it has to be near here. I wait for another batch of cars and check the concrete wall for signs of the crash. There are tyre marks along the gravel. I imagine blood.

I try to find broken lights or glass but there's nothing here, just dirt and gravel and a few spindly shrubs trying to grow. There's no sign of anything that could have caused an accident.

Alex is walking back to me. His head is down, his eyes scanning the ground, rain dripping from his fringe. I see him bend to pick something up.

‘What is it?' I yell over the noise.

He hands me a broken bit of headlight. The sharp plastic piece digs into my hands as I close my fist around it. But maybe it's from the headlight of the man's car.

‘Let's go,' he says and we run back along the wall, seeking the shadows. We sneak under the overpass, where the noise of the cars is even louder, amplified by all the concrete. Graffiti splatters right up the walls, bragging about how easy it is to get down here and make your mark. I find the gap in the concrete wall and duck through, away from the cars.

I wait for Alex to speak as we walk back up the hill and onto the road. I wait for the longest time but he doesn't say anything. We walk through the back streets, to the intersection where he has to go up and I have to go down. I keep heading towards my place, expecting he'll follow.

‘I'm going home, Jake.'

I turn and see him walking up the road, his head still down, still scanning. And I say nothing as I shove my hand into my pocket and feel for the broken headlight, rubbing the sharp end with my thumb.

*

I gently slide my key into the lock. It clicks.

‘Jake?'

I don't bother being quiet now. I walk in and let the door shut behind me. She's still in her green uniform, feet up on the couch, eyes as baggy as they come.

‘Hey, Mum.'

She smiles and holds out a packet of chips. Cheese and onion. The only flavour I really can't resist. I take a handful and perch on the edge of the couch, crunching the chips in my mouth.

‘How was work?' I ask through the crunch.

She sighs before answering. ‘It was okay. Think old Mr Murphy isn't going to make it.'

‘Oh,' I say, knowing how much she likes him. He's been in the hospital for weeks now and nobody ever visits.

‘He didn't eat his dinner again, which means there's chocolate mousse in the fridge if you want it.'

‘Nah, thanks.'

We're both quiet for a minute. She flicks her attention back to the telly as I work myself up to asking a question I hope she can answer. She is a nurse after all.

‘Hey, Mum … when people go into ICU, do they usually come out okay?' I'm hoping she's mostly focused on the TV and her answer will be automatic, and she won't start churning through the reasons why I might be asking this at this time of the night.

‘Depends on what's happened to them …'

So far, so good. She's still watching her crime show. As long as an ad doesn't come on and ruin her concentration, I might get the answer I want. ‘What about if they're in a coma?'

‘That depends too … if the coma's been induced by the doctors or if they came in like that …'

The screen changes to something bright and loud, advertising a hamburger joint. It's enough to make her turn to look at me and I know I've been sprung.

‘Why?'

I shrug. ‘We were discussing comas at school the other day and I just wondered about it …' I say as lightly as I can.

‘Oh, it depends on heaps of things.'

‘Like what?' I just wish she'd tell me the man was going to be okay.

She shrugs. ‘I remember hearing this story at work once about this young guy who came in. He was in a coma and the scans were showing brain damage that would mean he'd be paralysed forever, so the doctors were trying to get his family to turn off the machine. They refused. Said they knew he'd be okay. Four months later, he came out of the coma and eventually walked again. Go figure.'

‘So people can recover fully?'

‘Yeah, of course.'

Her show flashes back on and she pats the couch beside her, telling me to sit. I know her crime show will put me even more on edge, so I fake a yawn. And she laughs.

‘Sorry, you're tired … off to bed. I've got a late shift again tomorrow night, so you'll have to make something for dinner.'

‘Night, Mum.'

I lean down and kiss her on the cheek. What would she say if I told her? We have a pretty honest relationship. I know Alex reckons it's weird, or maybe he's jealous because his mum's slightly uptight, but I like it. It makes Mum happy knowing stuff about my life and being involved, and she's given up a fair bit for me, so why not make her happy?

From the door to my room, I look back and see the top of her head. She's only thirty-three but some nights she seems really old, like it's too late to change anything and she'll be in this flat, working in that place, forever. If I go to jail, then her worst fears will be realised. All of her sacrifices will have been for nothing.

alex

I wake up caught in the memory of last night. The car. The smash. Us running.

And then I see Jake asleep on my floor, still in his clothes, with a blanket over him and one of Sass's beloved teddies under his head as a pillow. Lottie is curled up next to him, spooning him like she always does when he sleeps over. He looks so calm, so innocent. He looks just like he always does. Like nothing's changed. I won't wake him yet. I just want to lie with it. Inside me.

I don't remember if he let his mum know that he was staying here. I don't remember that part of the night. Or what we did when we came home. I don't remember anything after the crash.

I click my fingers and Lottie looks up. She wriggles out from under Jake's arm and stands at the bottom of my bed, panting. I pat the doona and she tries to jump. It's almost comical watching her. She takes a bigger run-up but still can't quite scramble to the top. I reach down and scoop my hand under her and pull her up next to me. Her fur smells like damp salami. I need to give her a wash on the weekend. Or pay Sass to do it.

Lottie licks my face and my eyes fill with tears. It's stupid crying. There's no reason for it. I don't even know if there's anything to worry about yet. And then I realise I haven't checked the news. I grab my mobile and search. The Age. Herald Sun. Local radio. There's nothing about a man on a freeway. There's just more about housing crashes and the economy. I'm sure that's good. It must be. If it doesn't make it to the paper, then it's not news. And if it's not news, then it's nothing to worry about.

It's going to be okay.

‘Jake,' I say as I hurl my pillow at him.

‘Shit,' he says, rolling over and trying to bury his head under it. I wonder how long it will take. A couple of seconds and then he looks up. He's remembered too.

‘You don't think …' he whispers, rubbing sleep from his eyes with his knuckles and looking even more like a little kid.

‘Nah,' I say, sounding much surer than I am.

‘But it hit …' he starts to say, his eyes wide like the whole conversation excites him.

Shaking my head, I try to reassure him. Or maybe myself. ‘I checked the news. There's nothing.'

He nods and then grins up at me wildly. ‘Well, that's a fucking relief.'

‘I just wish we hadn't run,' I say, but don't look at Jake as I say it because I worry he'll see the guilt.

‘Yeah, we should've hung around, but you said run and it freaked me …'

‘No, you said run.'

He pulls a face. ‘No I didn't. You did.'

I shake my head. He's wrong. I'm sure of it. ‘But I wanted to go down and see if he was okay.'

‘What? Bullshit. You'd already started running.'

Had I? Was it me who ran? I don't remember.

‘And that sound …' says Jake, sitting up.

‘Yeah. That sound.'

That smashing and then the quiet and then the horn that just blared and blared and blared.

He lies back on the floor. ‘School.'

‘Yep.'

Jake rolls onto his side and stares at me. ‘You okay?'

‘Yeah. I think. You?'

He half shrugs. ‘Guess this sort of thing happens all the time. Not like we killed anyone. It was an accident. And he crashed. He'll have insurance.'

‘Yeah. He will. He'll get a new car out of it.'

‘Probably happy about it.'

‘Buy something fancy.'

‘Did him a favour.'

And then we both stop. And we both know. And we both get up because there's nothing left to say.

‘Want a shower? I'll get you a towel,' I say.

‘Nah. It's okay.'

I sniff, pretending to smell the air around him and he hits me on the arm. It's playful. It's normal.

‘But I am starving,' he says.

‘You're always starving.'

‘True. I am.'

We walk into the kitchen where Sass is already shovelling Weetbix into her mouth. She looks up and smiles.

‘Didn't know you were here,' she says to Jake, who shrugs a sort of lazy hello. ‘Can you walk me, Jake?'

‘Yeah, course,' he says, sitting down next to her and grabbing a cereal bowl.

‘Did Alex tell you about my new school?'

I manage a smile and then leave them to their breakfast. I wish I had half of Sass's confidence. I go to my room and check the news sites again. Still nothing. I refresh just to make sure. The only new article is about some celebrity who got caught robbing a lingerie shop. Like we're supposed to care.

I grab yesterday's clothes from the floor. I'm about to put them on but then I stop. I can't wear these. They feel wrong. Like they're somehow evidence of what we did. I bundle them up for the washing and find clean clothes. And check the news again. There's still nothing.

I'm feeling almost normal as I head out to the kitchen, stuffing everything into my bag. I've got my script with me. Maybe drama class will be a good thing. It might make me forget.

Sass is still explaining her new school to Jake when I head back in.

‘Come on, Jake, we've got to go.'

‘No. Jake's taking me,' says Sass. ‘And I'm still in my pyjamas!'

‘Walk yourself to school. We have to go,' I say, earning a furious look from my sister.

Jake shrugs at Sass like there's nothing he can do and lets me drag him out.

‘We need to go back,' I say to him as we reach the front door.

We both pull on the muddy sneakers parked in the shoe rack. Even my sneakers feel wrong. Like someone can trace my footprints back to the overpass.

‘Why?'

I slam the front door behind us.

‘Because maybe we'll find some clues.'

‘Who are you, Scooby-doo?'

I can't help but laugh. ‘No. But don't you want to see what's there?'

‘The car's probably been towed. Nothing will be there.'

‘But if … if something happened … then maybe the police are there.'

‘Then I don't want to go back,' says Jake, looking at me like I'm some sort of stupid.

‘Yeah. I guess. But we can just walk across the overpass like we do it everyday.'

‘No. Because then we'd have to walk back again and it will look really obvious. Besides I need to go and get my bag and stuff from home.'

He's right. I nod. ‘Okay. I'll come with you.'

‘Sure you're okay?'

‘Yeah.'

‘If it's not in the news, then it's fine, Alex.'

‘You sure?' I say. ‘Maybe we should go to the police.' But even as I say it, I want him to talk me out of it.

‘Nah, it's fine. I'm sure.'

‘Okay.'

We walk in silence. I don't know what's in his head but I know what's in my mine – doubts and confusion.

‘Maybe we should skip school today,' I say as Jake comes out of his place with his backpack.

‘No way,' says Jake.

‘But …'

‘Alex. I've got double science. You've got Old Dogger. It's going to be a good day.'

He smiles at me as he slings his bag over his shoulder. ‘Besides, I can't skip school. My record is perfect. I haven't missed a day this year.'

‘Nerd.'

‘Yep. And proud.'

‘Aren't you worried at all?'

Jake looks across at me, his eyes as brown as ever. And he shakes his head. ‘No point worrying now. So far there's nothing to worry about.'

‘You're right.'

‘Glad you finally realised.'

I punch him lightly on the arm and we head down the hill towards school. As we get closer, I take my phone out of my pocket and hit refresh.

Jake elbows me. ‘Stop checking,' he says.

‘Sorry.'

‘Just try and forget about it. Pretend it's just another day.'

‘I can't.'

‘Yeah you can. You're the actor, remember?'

We walk in through the big glass doors of the main building.

‘Boys,' says Tien as we walk past.

‘Man-child,' says Jake in return.

Tien gives us the finger as we head to our lockers. Jake's right. It is just another day.

‘Jake Reynolds, finally,' says Mr Cap behind us.

Jake and I both jump. So much for just another day.

‘Yeah,' says Jake in a voice that gives away everything.

‘You're wanted at the office,' says Mr Cap.

‘Why?'

‘I have no idea why. But they've been calling your name for the last five minutes. I'm just doing a community service by telling you.'

Jake nods and once Mr Cap's gone, he leans in close. ‘You don't think …'

‘Nah. If it was anything to do with that, I'd be called too.'

‘Yeah. Course.'

‘You'd better go,' I say, relieved it's him and not me.

‘Okay. Keep your phone on. I'll text you.'

‘'Kay,' I say, watching him leave.

My heart is pounding as I shove my bag into my locker. I've got a study period first up, so it doesn't really matter if I'm late. Everyone around me is hurrying off to class, but I just stare into the inside of my locker like it holds the answer. The graffitied metal walls stare back.

Before last night, the worst thing Jake and I had ever done was tag the back of the old milk bar with a Sharpie. And even that was a pathetic attempt at graffiti, because the Sharpie was one of Sass's and the end had been worn down, and it kept getting stuck in the bricks. So rather than the bold image we had in our heads, our tag looked like some little kid's first attempt at writing their own name. And within about three days, it had been covered over with spray paint anyway.

Jake and I are the good kids. We hand our work in on time. We get mostly okay marks. We're involved in extra-curricular activities. Last night was a mistake. And now I'm not sure what to do with that.

What if somehow someone saw us? What if they know? What if this is it?

Tien bumps into me and I hit the locker.

‘Oh shit, sorry, Alex,' he says, sounding quite genuine.

I give him a look.

‘I was just trying to muck around. You okay?'

‘Yeah. I'm fine.'

‘Come on, let's go to the library.'

Tien and I always study together on Tuesdays. If you can call watching YouTube videos in the library studying. He's so smart he doesn't need to study. And I'm not so smart it doesn't make much difference.

Tien talks enough for five people so he's perfect company today. By the time we've walked into the library I've heard about breakfast, his brother's wet dream and some science experiment he's keen to try. He's heard nothing from me.

‘You wanna grab a table? I've got to go find a book,' says Tien, handing me his backpack.

‘Sure.'

I take one of the spare tables in the corner, near some year elevens who are all crowded around a laptop watching something. I'm supposed to be working on a persuasive text for English but instead I take out my phone. Nothing from Jake. That's a worry. I wonder if I should call him.

Instead I reload the news site. I scan everything. But there's no mention of the accident. It's almost nine so that must mean something. I need a drink. Or maybe chips. The canteen won't be open yet, but the vending machine always is.

I leave our bags on the table, hoping Tien won't be pissed at me for abandoning his stuff.

I'm heading out the doors when I hear a laugh. It's Jake. It has to be. His laugh is one of those sounds I'd know anywhere. I look down the corridor and then I see him. Walking along with some girl I don't know. He's laughing and she's smiling and it's the weirdest thing I've ever seen. Jake doesn't talk to girls. Except my little sister. He's always embarrassed around them. But he looks so sure of himself. She's wearing baggy denim shorts and long, striped socks and her hair is sort of lopsided but in a cool ‘she cut it herself' kind of way. She doesn't look like the other girls at our school so maybe she's new.

I know I'm staring at them but I can't help it.

And then he looks up and sees me just outside the library doors and I expect a smile, something to include me in whatever it is he's doing, but he just stares blankly at me like I'm nobody he wants to see.

But it's too late. We're headed for each other.

‘Alex,' he says, in a really flat sounding voice. The smile's gone. And the laugh.

‘Whatcha doing?'

‘I'm showing Ellie around. She's new,' he says, pointing to the girl, who is now looking at me with a slight smile.

‘Hi, new girl called Ellie.'

‘Hi, boy called Alex.'

And we smile at each other for what feels like ages but is probably only seconds, until Jake coughs.

‘Um, we've got to go. I have to show Ellie her locker,' he says, like getting a locker is the most important thing in the world.

‘Nice to meet you,' she says to me and then she tugs out the elastic from one of her short ponytails and reties it. The ponytail is crooked and shooting off in a strange direction but somehow it looks just right.

‘See you around, Ellie,' I say softly.

‘Yeah,' she says.

As they walk off, I notice her bright green Converse and the way she sort of skips as she walks to keep up with Jake. He's not laughing anymore and they seem pretty quiet, and I watch them until they disappear around a corner.

I make it through Old Dogger's English class and I'm heading outside to the basketball courts when Jake slams into me.

‘Look,' he says, shoving his phone at me. I see the photo. I scroll down fast. I only have to read about ten words to know.

‘Shit,' I say. Jake tries to take back his phone but I want to read it all. Every word, like somehow it will get better by the end.

‘Shit,' I say again, like it's all my fault.

‘Yeah. I'll say.'

Then I see the words ‘wife' and ‘daughter'. I see the words but I can't actually process them. I just keep reading them over and over like they might actually disappear if I read them enough.