Finding Home (3 page)

‘Yes,’ I said, ‘but please don’t tell anyone.’ An awkward silence fell over us; he licked his lips in a nervous fashion. Thankfully, a group of students walked into the room soon after and the moment was over. He walked off toward the front of the room, placing his drumsticks on the desk and opening a ledger.

Crisis averted
.

More kids came in, but the seat next to me remained empty. The same thing had happened yesterday, too. No one ever wanted to sit next to the new girl.

Our music teacher held up his hand for silence, ready to start the lesson when a tumble of books and body came running into the room. It collided with the empty seat to the right of me and settled in.

I felt my breath catch in my throat. It was Luke. Luke was sitting next to me!

‘Hey, Amy,’ he whispered. I turned to look. Sitting next to him, shoulder to shoulder, I had the opportunity to study him up close. Drops of sweat lined his forehead and his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, no doubt a result of his sprint to the classroom. I swallowed.

He’s even hotter than I remembered.

‘Hey.’ I could do this whole friend thing. I wouldn’t fall for Luke.

Then why am I still looking at him?

‘I love Music. I just wish I was better at the theory part,’ he said as he slouched under the table. My thoughts veered away from friendship, and I pressed my legs together. No way was I going to let any accidental spine-tingling, body-touching moments happen today.

‘You strike me as more of a sporty type,’ I said, staring at those toned arms again. I could just picture them throwing a football, or taking deep strokes through the ocean, or sliding around my waist.

Breathe, Amy. Just breathe.

‘Class, we have a new student today. I presume some of you already know her’ — he gave Luke a pointed look here — ‘but for those who haven’t, meet Amy. Amy, I’m Mr Davison. Welcome to our Music class.’

I felt fifteen pairs of eyes turn their attention to me, then shift back towards Mr Davison.

‘All right, let’s start where we left off last week. For most of the rest of the term we’re working on your major assessment piece,’ he said, ‘so get into your groups and continue working on your end-of-year performance.’ He sat down and everyone else stood up, shuffling around and moving into groups of three or four around the room.

I fidgeted in my seat, unsure of where to go. I guess it was time to go and see my teacher.

‘Wanna join our group?’ Luke said, breaking into my thoughts. He looked deep into my eyes, and I found myself right back where I was yesterday. I had no idea who ‘our group’ was, but clearly all I needed to know was that he was a member and, even though I was officially Not-Hitting-On-Luke, I still had to complete my Music assessment, didn’t I?

‘Amy, do you want to join Evan’s music group?’ Mr Davison pointed to a group of people I immediately picked out as ‘the nerds’ — their skirts were a little too long, and their pants just a little too high.

‘Actually, Luke just asked if I’d join his group instead. Is that okay?’
I am going to hell.

Mr Davison didn’t object, so I dragged my chair over to where Luke and two other boys sat.

These two guys were a lot more rock ‘n’ roll than Luke — in fact, they looked a bit like the roadies who would load Dad’s gear into his truck when we were on tour. The one on the left had messy-looking black hair and piercing blue eyes that made me want to shuffle in my seat. I could see the faint reaches of a tattoo creeping out from under his shirt. I shook my head. He had the sexy, bad boy thing going on big-time, although he’d have to have repeated a year of high school, since you had to be over 18 to get a tattoo. So. Not. Interested.

If he was dark and dangerous, the guy on the right was pale and a possible pothead. He had sleepy brown eyes, pale skin, brown dreadlocks, and piercings in his right ear that went all the way to the top. There must have been ten or more holes there, and I wondered if that should be my next step. Some crazy piercings
would
piss off Dad.

‘Hey, I’m Nick,’ the guy with the tatt said. His voice was surprisingly soft and light, completely at odds with his appearance.

‘I’m Ashley.’ The earring dude nodded at me.

‘Thanks for letting me join your group.’ I smiled, hoping they weren’t too pissed with Luke for inviting me. Neither guy seemed overly interested, but they didn’t exactly seem to hate me either.
Thank God
.

‘So, we’re working on a group piece for our end-of-year performance,’ Luke explained.

‘Luke plays bass, I play lead, and Ashley plays drums — please tell me you can sing or play some kind of an instrument,’ Nick said, looking at me with a faint smile playing at the edges of his lips. He leaned forward and stared at me, his eyes captivating.

He wasn’t my type. I was much more interested in sporty, sexy,
unavailable
Luke, but for some weird reason I still couldn’t look away.

‘I can sing or play the keys if you want,’ I offered, not breaking his gaze. I looked closer. His eyes had little flecks of navy blue in them, breaking up the ice.

‘See? I knew she’d be perfect for us!’ Luke broke the staring match between Nick and I by slapping him on the back. I felt my senses return with a jolt.

‘You talked about me?’

‘Yeah, of course,’ he admitted and gave a little grin out of the side of his mouth meant just for me. ‘I wasn’t going to let you get stuck in any old group.’

My eyes widened. Luke had planned on letting me join his group, which meant he didn’t hate me. He officially — at least a little bit, at least as a friend or a music-learning acquaintance — liked me.

‘I’m gonna go get the gear,’ Nick said, excusing himself and heading towards the storeroom. As he left, he threw us a strange look. Ashley flung back his chair and abruptly followed, leaving Luke and I as alone as you can get in a room full of other students.

‘Thanks for, um, hooking all that up,’ I managed to stutter out, trying not to stare again. A shadow fell over us as Mr Davison walked over to our corner.

‘How’s everything going?’ he asked, interrupting my silent perving session.

‘Great. Amy’s our missing singer,’ Luke said. If the sun had gleamed through the window, I was sure it would have flashed off his pearly whites.

‘Well, make sure you contribute to the piece, Amy. I’m sure you’ve got a lot of talent,’ Mr Davison said. Did I imagine the smirk accompanying that last line? Surely a teacher wouldn’t make fun of a student because of her parent, would he?

Before I had time to dwell on it, Nick and Ashley returned. Nick was carrying a bass in one hand and a lead guitar in the other, with Ashley limping in behind as he made an abysmal attempt to twirl his drumsticks. I stood and followed the boys to a little door on the other side of the room. Inside was a tiny rehearsal space, complete with drum kit, amps, microphones and more. The gear looked reasonably old, but the fact that the school had it at all made me smile. Maybe being a student here wouldn’t be so bad, after all.

Luke took the guitar from Nick and held it awkwardly. He looked like he could drop it at any second, but his vulnerability only made me want to help him all the more, to put my arms around him and teach him to hold it correctly.

‘Come on, guys, let’s show Amy what we’ve come up with so far!’ Nick gripped the neck of the guitar and strode towards one of the amps, plugging it in without hesitation. His face came alive with anticipation, his eyes glinting with enthusiasm, his posture changing, becoming more focused.

At a nod from Ashley, the boys started. They began to play a rock song, and I found myself tapping my foot. The bass line snapped, the drums beat hard and, through it all, Nick strummed his guitar and plucked out the notes to a gutsy riff that I wished I didn’t recognise as good. Luke and Ashley held it together, but Nick — he held his own.

At the end of the song, I took down some notes, and as I familiarised myself with the tune, they played it one more time. They repeated the pattern over and over again until I could confidently hum a few notes and pick out the melody.

All too quickly, class was over. Nick and Ashley gathered the instruments and returned them to the storeroom, while I lingered in the tiny studio. I willed practice to go on just a little longer, to hold on to my Luke-time for a few more moments.

‘That was great.’ I beamed from ear to ear. ‘Thanks for letting me join.’

‘No, thank
you
,’ Luke said, holding my eyes for just a second more than was needed. ‘I’m really glad you’re here.’

Blood rushed to my head. There was no way I’d misheard him. Gorgeous, talented and lovely Luke had just said he was happy that I was at his school. In his class. My heart did somersaults.

‘Anyway, I’m gonna go meet Coral.’

Suddenly, his words seemed harsh. One moment I was in flirt heaven, then the next I was falling through the air with no parachute. He was rushing off to meet Coral? Even though he was ‘really glad’ I was there?

My head spun. I’d gone from on top of the world to confusion in mere seconds. Did really Luke like me? Had I only imagined him flirting with me? And, if he could flirt with me so blatantly, what the hell was going on with him and Coral?

After school, I was headed to the takeaway shop again. I’d been there almost every day since I’d first started at Cherrybrook.

Initially, after first meeting Lily, I’d started loitering near the school car park when classes had finished in the hope that she’d invite me to hang out. Today, I’d stopped near her car, pretending to reply to an important text on my phone, when I saw them. She was already inside with some guy, his lips on her lips. Then her ear. Then her neck.

All of a sudden, the takeaway shop seemed a good option again. I walked out of the car park and onto the road, and completed the ten-minute ramble down the main street. I could have gone to Lou’s and holed myself up in my room for the rest of the afternoon, but she always wanted to talk and I most certainly did not.

Instead, I walked up to the counter and ordered some hot chips. I sat down at the plastic-coated table that was pushed up against the big, glass window with the chipped sign on it and waited. My nails scratched at the little raised piece of plastic on the table’s edge.

It was starting to get dark, and long shadows were creeping across the street. I stared at the words painted on the window. The signage was badly weathered and was missing the letters ‘T’ and ‘W’. I was trying to mentally rearrange the letters in the word ‘-AKEA-AY’ and give them some sort of meaning, when Nick came into view. He stopped right in front of the window and smiled at me, a shy sort of half-grin.

I lifted the corners of my lips, and he nodded. It was a really strange moment — me staring through the window, at him staring in at me. I felt like I was in a fishbowl.

‘Number 89,’ the woman from behind the counter called out. I don’t know why she bothered with a number. I was the only one in there. I stood up, scraping my chair back and grabbing the paper-wrapped bundle, and walked into the street.

‘Hey,’ Nick said. He’d changed out of his school uniform and was now wearing jeans and a black tank top, even though the weather was winter-cold. It completely exposed the intricate black design inked down his arm. I couldn’t look away. The pattern was so detailed and a tiny, little bit sexy.

‘Hi,’ I replied.

His blue eyes flashed toward mine, and then down to his tattoo. A mischievous smile lit up his face. ‘You can touch it, if you want,’ he offered, raising his arm and closing the gap between us.

‘No, no, that’s totally fine,’ I said, blushing.

‘What are you up to?’ He asked. This time it was my turn to tease. I started to giggle. ‘What? What’s so funny?’

‘You! You teased me for checking out your tattoo,’ I said, in-between breaths, ‘but then you asked me what I was doing. I just walked out of a takeaway shop, and I’m clearly holding hot food of some kind. You don’t think that maybe I’m about to have a snack?’

‘Maybe I was just fishing for an invite to help you eat it.’ Nick grinned. There was something about him I liked. Eating another bag of hot chips by myself was probably not good for my health anyway, so why not?

‘Sounds good,’ I replied. I smiled at him and started walking towards the beach, a short block away. We covered the distance in silence, strolling along. His hands were in his pockets, the wind whipping through his black hair and leaving it slightly on end.

I self-consciously tucked a wisp of hair behind one ear, wondering if I looked as messy as I felt.

When we reached the sand, I kicked off my shoes and socks, and sank my toes into the cold, sandy granules beneath me.

‘Are you crazy?’ Nick asked and shook his head. ‘It’s freezing!’

The beach, the sand and my exposed toes reminded me of being young, of a time when Dad wasn’t in a band and when Mum had been working in marketing. In those carefree days we’d sometimes fly up to visit Aunt Lou in the summer holidays. I used to love laughing and playing on this very stretch of beach, as we made castles, buried our feet and attempted to body surf.

‘I’m a city girl,’ I said, shrugging. ‘I wanted to remember what sand feels like.’

‘You’re insane.’ Nick stopped behind me. I looked back to see him struggling to balance as he removed one of his big Converse sneakers from his feet.

‘You don’t have to —’

‘I want to,’ Nick reassured me, hopping around to keep from falling over as he yanked off the other one.

Shoes in hand, we walked down the beach until we reached a patch of sand next to a dune that was slightly sheltered from the oncoming winds. No one else was on the beach but us. This was our own private oasis.

We sat down. I opened up the paper parcel, the delicious aroma of chicken salt and fried potato wafting out onto the breeze. I gestured for Nick to try some as I grabbed one myself, relishing the taste of its salty, crisp exterior and its warm, fluffy insides. You’d think I hadn’t eaten lunch a few hours beforehand.

‘So, how are you liking —’

‘Don’t say it! If I have to answer another “How are you liking Cherrybrook?” question, I may commit suicide.’ I grabbed a chip and shoved it, whole, into my mouth. ‘Or murder.’ I wiggled my eyebrows dangerously in his direction, threatening him into silence.