Run to Me (9 page)

‘Um. Just a sec.’

The door cracks open an inch and Isabelle’s face
appears in the gap. Everyone’s always telling Issy she looks like a younger
version of me, especially with the long blonde hair, but I’ve never seen it.
Her face is narrow, giving her delicate, feline features. 

‘Hey, Abby. Listen I’m just getting changed so
can we talk later? I’ll be downstairs soon.’

Her eyes look everywhere but into mine.

‘Is, are you all right? What’s going on? Your
mum’s a little worried. I thought we could have a chat. Just you and me.’

I raise my eyebrows at her and smile. Her eyes
meet mine for a second but then they dart away.

I try a softer approach. ‘You can tell me all
about Samuel.’

Behind her, in the room, something tumbles, or
rather is knocked, to the floor. I hear a dull thud on the carpet and then a
boy’s voice says ‘Shit.’

Isabelle squeaks like a mouse and slams the door
shut in my face. I bang on it a couple of times.

‘Is. Open the door.’

The handle turns but she’s got something
blocking the door. I bang some more.

‘Come on Is. Let me in now and I won’t tell your
mother.’

Inside there’s a lot of shuffling and two voices
whisper. Now I use both fists.

‘
Isabelle
.’

I try the handle again and this time the door
swings open. The room is a shambles. There are piles of clothes and magazines
all over the floor and the bedcovers are lying in one balled-up lump. Poking
out from beneath the bed is Mr Teddy’s threadbare limbs. He’d been a
first-birthday present from me. He hasn’t strayed too far since.

I glance at Isabelle. She’s by her dresser,
pretending to organise the contents of its top drawer. A boy with spiky blonde
hair is sitting at the desk. Samuel. His school shirt has been hastily
re-buttoned, the third button jammed into the second hole. He looks at me
sheepishly then drops his gaze to the floor.

‘So...’ I begin.

Isabelle, unable to control herself, dives at me
and grabs hold of my wrists.

‘Please Abby. Nothing happened. Please don’t
tell Mum. She’ll crack it, and we won’t be able to see each other. Please Abby.
Please
.’

She has the makings of a hickey on the side of
her neck.

‘OK, OK,’ I say, raising my hands as best I can
with her gripping them so tightly. ‘Let go. I won’t say anything.’

She releases my hands. ‘You won’t say anything?
You promise?’

I nod. ‘You’re lucky it was me who caught you.’

Isabelle rolls her eyes. ‘Who else would? Dad’s
not here. And Mum’s too...’ she mimes inverted commas, ‘
busy
.’

‘Well that’s perfect for us. We might just
manage to get Samuel here...’ I point at him, ‘out of the house in one piece.’

***

Matt and I dump our bags in the hall and head to
the kitchen for a snack. He’s still eyeing me off, with that look of pity mixed
with I don’t know what. Apprehension, maybe? He’s always been the serious one. While
I’m thinking up hair-brained schemes, as The Chief likes to call them, Matt’s
always the one watching from the sidelines, making sure I don’t lose my head.
He’s always had my back. And I suppose that’s what he’s doing now, but does he
have to make it so damn awkward? Does he have to ruin all my fun? It’s just a
little fantasising about a teacher. No harm in that, right?

‘So ready for me to kick your arse?’ I ask,
chucking him a packet of chips from the pantry.

‘Ha! You’re going
down
buddy.’

I crack open my packet and shove a handful of
chips in my mouth. We head back through the dining room into the lounge and Matt
pulls up a stump while I plug in the PlayStation. When we haven’t been able to
score some beers, and Matt’s not busy with Nicole, this is our afternoon
ritual. We can spend hours on the couch, only getting up to take a slash or
find some more food. We once had a twelve-hour marathon session. I remember
Bianca was chucking a hissy fit because she wanted to watch Home and Away or
some shit. I stood my ground so there was nothing she could do. Screaming to
Mum never helps because the old cheese hates arguments. She locks herself in
the bathroom and pretends she can’t hear us. 

‘Blue or red?’ I ask Matt, holding up the two
controls.

‘Blue.’

I hand him the blue control and take a seat next
to him on the couch. I don’t know why I bothered asking. He’s always blue.

‘Time to whip your arse,
Parker,
’ I say,
smirking.

‘Bring it on,
Beckett
.’

I laugh. We’re so predictable. Been using the same
bits, cracking the same jokes, for ten years. I was seven when Matt moved here.
Reggie was around but I didn’t like him much then. Hell, I don’t like him much
now. But I was a bit of a nigel-no-friends, I remember that. Couldn’t seem to
keep anyone’s attention for long enough to have them over to play or whatever
we did when we were seven. I think that was when I was into Matchbox cars and
Lego, but even that didn’t tempt them.

Matt was different though. He took a liking to
me from day one, asked me over to his place after school. It was the first time
anyone had done that and I reckon I must have been shitting my daks. I was just
a little tyke, might have thought Matt was going to kidnap me or something.
Chop me up and feed me to the pigs, like I’d heard Mum and The Chief talking
about while they read the paper. Not that I knew what ‘chopping up’ meant, or
whether or not Matt even had pigs. Who knows? Maybe I thought nothing. Maybe I
was just happy to have a friend.

I remember thinking Matt’s house was a castle.
His folks were still together then so they had a lot of cash. There wasn’t much
left once his dad split, but when I met Matt it was the golden age of the
Parker family. Matt’s bedroom was twice the size of mine and they even had a
pool.

Keeping my eyes on the game I nudge Matt with my
elbow.

‘Hey,’ I say. ‘Remember that day we met? And I
came round to your old place?’

Matt’s got his concentration face on. ‘Yeah,’ he
mutters. ‘What about it?’

‘Nothing.’ I shake my head. ‘Just thinking about
the pool and everything.’

‘And the time you wet the bed when you slept
over?’

I turn to him. ‘I never.’

‘Yes you did! It was all over the place. Mum was
cursing left and right.’

I press the pause button on my control.

‘Hey,’ says Matt. ‘What are you doing? I was
just about to slog you one.’

‘I never wet the bed.’

Matt picks up his chip packet, tips his head
back and pours the left over crumbs into his mouth. ‘Yeah you did.’

‘You’re bullshitting.’

‘Ask my Mum. She still remembers it because she
had to chuck out the sheets. And they were some special ones she’d had for
years or something. Belonged to my Nan I think. Ask her. She’ll remember. The
sheets were stained yellow, man.’

‘Well what about you with your stupid
night-light? And the old cheese having to check for monsters under your bed?’

‘So what? At least I didn’t piss myself.’

We crack up. I’m laughing so hard I roll myself
into a ball and almost fall off the couch. Matt’s face goes all red and he’s
slapping his thigh. Bianca appears at the door, hands on hips, rolling her eyes
at us. Trying to act all high and mighty she tuts and shakes her head. I give
her the finger and she leaves.

‘Righto. Righto,’ I say, pulling myself
together. ‘Let’s get on with it.’

I re-start the game and we spend half an hour
beating the shit out of one another. By five thirty I’m a hundred points
behind. Matt’s managed to get a lot of lucky shots in, jabs to the chest and a
few roundhouse kicks. He’s pummelling me with a left-right combo when The Chief
walks in.

‘Who’s winning?’ he asks, flopping into his Lazy
Boy.

I don’t bother telling him. He can see the
scores on the screen. I try to fight off Matt but I’m down to my last bar of
power juice. He gives me an uppercut and I sail through the air, landing on the
pavement with a splat.

‘So Matt’s kicking your arse hey Paul?’

He’s got that smug look on his face and I want to
club him one for real. I shrug, but I don’t say anything.

‘Maybe you could teach him a thing or two, Matt,’
he says, reclining in his chair with his hands behind his head. ‘Paul’s such a
big softie he can’t even win a virtual fight.’ He laughs.

Matt looks at me but I keep my eyes focussed on
the T.V.

‘It’s only a game,’ says Matt.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see The Chief
looking back and forth between Matt and me. Probably trying to decide if he can
be bothered heaping it on me or not. Matt busies himself draining the rest of
his Coke. He knows better than to get in the middle of this shit. The Chief
lowers his arms and stands up, the Lazy Boy moaning as he releases his weight.

‘Time for a beer,’ he says, walking to the door.
‘The news is on in ten so you’d better shake a leg boys.’

In silence Matt and I pull ourselves up off the
couch, switch off the PlayStation and pick up our empty cans and chip packets.
We don’t bother taking the rubbish to the kitchen bin, instead we head straight
out the back to my room. As soon as I’ve closed the door I’m looking for
something to kick. My joggers are lying on the floor beside my bed. I take a
big swing with my leg and the left one goes sailing across the room, banging
against the wall and dropping onto my desk. The right one follows it a couple
of seconds later.

‘Why don’t you tell him about McFadden?’ asks
Matt.

‘What good would that do? I got my bloody arse
kicked, remember?’

‘But if he knew you’d fought...’ Matt lets his
voice trail off.

 I try to stop my mind from jumping but all the
thoughts are flying around, bumping into each other. I take a seat on the bed
and punch the mattress beside me. Matt pulls up my desk chair and straddles it
backwards. He doesn’t say anything more, he just waits for me to calm down.
We’ve been here a hundred times before.  

***

‘That is
so
not true,’ screams Isabelle,
thumping James playfully on the arm. ‘Don’t lie J.’

James holds his hands up in defence, his eyes
shining with glee. ‘I swear, I swear,’ he says before using his index finger to
mark a cross over his heart. ‘Cross my heart and hope to die.’

‘
Really
?’ Isabelle asks, a cheeky grin
spreading across her face.

At the end of the table Bill is scraping the
remnants of roast chicken off his plate. He loads his fork with the final piece
of breast meat and a couple of stray peas before wiping his knife clean across
the pile. ‘Hang on a sec,’ he says, dishing it all into his mouth. ‘Who’s
David?’

Isabelle claps her hands like an excited
toddler. ‘David is like
the
hottest guy at school. I mean he’s like Brad
Pitt hot. All the girls want to be with him.’

Bill laughs behind his bushy moustache. ‘Even
you, Issy?’ he asks.

Isabelle nods enthusiastically. ‘Sure,’ she
says. ‘He’s
per
fection.’  

‘Oh he is, is he?’

During this whole exchange I notice Kim has been
watching Isabelle closely, and frowning. Now she lifts her wine glass to her
lips and shakes her head slightly. As she tips back the glass her eyes land on
me and I feel my face start to blush. It does make me feel uncomfortable to
know Isabelle’s secret. I wish I’d stayed downstairs, minded my own business. I
just hope I’m not around when the fall-out happens. Because it’s only a matter
of time. Isabelle’s bound to slip if she’s intent on being so reckless.  

‘What about Samuel?’ Kim asks.

Isabelle’s eyes focus on me then dart just as
quickly away again. I search Kim’s face for signs of revelation but she seems
oblivious. Her hands are folded neatly on the edge of the table, behind her
empty plate, as though she is about to say grace.

I smother a smirk by pretending to wipe the
corners of my mouth with my napkin. After what I saw earlier between Isabelle
and Samuel, no amount of praying can stop that crash course. Two teenagers,
hormones raging, horny as all get out; there’s no stopping them. I can remember
as clear as day my own misspent youth. I wasn’t much different to Isabelle. In
fact, I was worse. The number of boys I let get to second base before I’d even
turned sixteen...well... let’s just say I’d need both hands to count them.

‘Yeah, Issy. I thought Samuel was ‘
the
greatest guy alive
’’ says James, using his fingers to simulate quotation
marks.

‘He is.’

‘But not quite
perfection
? Not like this
David character.’ Bill leans back in his chair and chuckles.

Trust Bill to see the funny side of these
daunting teenage years. Kim should really try taking a leaf out of his book. I
smile at Issy but I can see she is getting frustrated with her parents. I shake
my head at her. Confessions often brew out of anger, or rebellion. But I know
now is not the time for the truth. It’ll only start a screaming match, and one
I’d rather not participate in. I decide to steer the conversation away from
Samuel.