White Lady (15 page)

I grit my teeth, nod, and step towards the door Mick points to.

Mick’s room looks like a dungeon out of a theme park. I can’t help but smile at the creativity.

“Cool,” I say.

Mick sits on the edge of his bed and smiles too. What is all this about? Are we both pretending to be okay with each other now? And we haven’t technically had an argument. Are we even a thing?

“Look.” I take a deep breath and exhale through my teeth. It causes a slight whistle and puffs up my lips. I made a pledge to myself just now, to be strong. So that’s what I’m going to do. I need to be adult about it. Just say what’s on my mind. I can’t keep going like this without clearing the air. I owe it to myself to know that truth, and I owe it to him to know where we stand with each other.

“I like you. A lot,” I say. “But I found something out. About you.”

Mick stands and crosses his arms.

“And I don’t know what to think. I’m not supposed to say anything about it. But I can’t—” I shake my head and pick at my thumbnail. “I can’t
not
say anything. It’s driving me nuts. And I—”

Mick’s nostrils flare as he smiles. “What?”

“You know that girl at school I’ve been hanging with?”

“What, the Jap chick?”

I nod. I don’t really like the way he spits “Jap.” Makes me think that what Kimi said is true. I stare right into Mick’s eyes to see if his pupils dilate. I heard somewhere that that’s what happens when you lie. But they don’t. Either he didn’t do the shit she said, or he’s a pro at this.

“Well, she said you threatened to rape her if she didn’t let you
cut
her. She said you’re a psychopath. That you get off on seeing blood.”

Now that I’ve said it out loud, I realize how ridiculous it sounds.

Mick laughs. A lot. So much so that he clutches at his stomach and falls backwards onto his bed.

“You’re fuckin’ kidding me, right?”

I bite my bottom lip and shake my head.

“Fuck me! That chick spun some serious shit on ya. I hardly even know the bitch.” Mick runs his hands over his head and swings his body into a sitting position at the edge of the bed. “You really believe I’d want to stick my dick into that skanky whore?”

“I—” My bottom lip trembles. So he denies wanting to rape her, but he hasn’t said anything about the cutting. Should I read into that? And does he really have to call Kimi names? I know it’s sort of just his way, and that Kimi isn’t all that innocent, but it makes me feel even queasier than hearing him call
me
that stuff. If he doesn’t know her, what right does he have calling her a skanky whore?

Mick breathes heavily through his nose as if to try to calm himself down. He steps closer to me and gently takes my cheeks in his hands. I look into his eyes. And all I can see in them is pain. Why does he have to be so mean all the time? I don’t get it.

Maybe we’re both broken.

Maybe we’re two halves of the same stone.

Maybe we’re in each other’s lives now, to help each other become whole again, and I’m just being a self-centered bitch jumping to stupid conclusions.

Mick moves in closer. I let him. He licks my top lip, and then sucks it into his mouth, and right before I close my eyes, to let myself slip into his strange but comforting warmth, I glance towards the floor beside his bed and notice a photo of that man. That
same
man from the photo in Kimi’s house, and in that footy photo of Dad’s.

I gasp and pull away. I kneel on the floor and pick up the frame. I hold it tightly in both hands, and stare at it for a moment before jumping to my feet and shoving it into Mick’s chest. “Who the fuck
is
this guy?”

Mick looks confused, then snatches the frame from my hands. He glances at it, and then at me.

“It’s me dad. What’s the fuckin’ problem?”

Mick searches my eyes. I do the same to him.

“Ya know him?” Mick says, then flings the frame onto his bed. I pick it up again. I stare at it for ages, trying to convince myself I’ve made a mistake. I chew my bottom lip until I realize it hurts.

“Mia. What the fuck?”

I look up and say, “He used to be my dad’s best mate. He’s in all his footy photos at home. Did you know this?”

“Uh … nah, I didn’t, but so? What’s with the freak-out?”

“I saw a photo of him in Kimi’s bedroom too.”

Mick rubs his hands over his head. “What?” His voice goes really low.

“I know. Weird, right?”

Mick stares out his window.

“I think—”

“What?”

I shake my head. “I’m not sure, but I think he might be her foster dad.”

Mick grabs his head, kicks his wall, and shouts, “Fuckin’ arsehole cunt!”

I stare at his knuckles turning white.

“What’s going on?” I say as quietly as possible.

“Ya can’t get involved. Okay? Stay out of it. Forget what ya saw.”

“What do you mean?” I can’t just forget what I saw. His face is all over my house. Something is going on. And it’s weird.

“It’s … fuck, Mia, ya ’ave no idea what this means.”

“Explain it then.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Because …”

“Mick, I’m not your little sister. Whatever it is, I can handle it, alright?”

Mick’s jaw is clenched; he’s staring straight into my eyes. I can see he wants to tell me something. What’s stopping him? Is it really so bad?

“I know—” I hesitate and reach for Mick’s hand, but decide against it and cross my arms instead. “I know we’re kinda new, but you can trust me, you know. You’re the only person that’s ever—” I shrug, sigh, hang my head.

“I know,” Mick says with a slight laugh. “I feel the same about you too.”

I nod, smile, step closer, and lean into Mick’s chest. His heart beats against my right cheek. It’s fast but certain, a steady beat. I should trust him. Not push. I have never seen him talk to anyone in school. Ever. But he talked to me. And now I’m in his bedroom. That’s something. And the closer we get, the more he’ll tell me. I have to be patient. If I care about him, and he cares about me, I have to wait this out.

But something weird is definitely going on here. Everyone in this house seems to be stepping on eggshells.

“Mia,” Mick whispers. “Why the fuck didjya get involved with this chick?” He wraps his arms around me and kisses me on the top of my head. He holds me tightly. I don’t want to move. I close my eyes and try to slow my breathing down so it matches the way Mick’s heartbeat slows.

“Me dad. He’s—” Mick pauses and leans his head against mine. Something is breaking his heart. I can sense it. So much so that I imagine hearing it crack in his chest.

“He’s a criminal. A fuckin’ drug lord.”

My eyes flick open, but I don’t move.

Mick swallows. “He’s hiding behind an alias since the cops almost caught him in the middle of a fucked-up deal. I guess now I know where he is.” Mick laughs. “He used to always say that no one ever thinks to look in their own backyard. Guess I’m as big a fuckwit as everyone else.”

I pull away slowly. Is he for real? And my dad played footy with this guy?

“Okay,” I stammer. “What’s this all got to do with you? And why is Kimi out to get you? Do you think she’s, uh—”

Mick nods. “I’m workin’ with ’im.”

“What!”

“Shh! Keep your fuckin’ voice down.”

I cup a hand over my mouth and look at the picture of Mick’s dad on the bed. He looks so kind and friendly. A real family man with a big white smile.

Mick’s eyes are rimmed with tears. He sits on the bed and lets himself fall backwards. He stares at the ceiling with his hands on his head.

“I have to. I’ve got no choice. If I don’t do what he asks, he’ll—”

“He’ll what?” Great. His dad is blackmailing his own son?

“Doesn’t matter. But I’ve got this stash of fucking bullshit weapons that I have to exchange for coke by the end of the month. And if I don’t do it, then I’m fucked. And it won’t just be me who suffers.”

“And it’s your
dad
? Your dad who’s asking you to do this?”

Mick nods. “He’s a heartless fuckin’ cunt who almost—”

“We should tell my dad. I mean, maybe he can help you. I mean, they used to be really close, I think.”

Now I understand why Dad never speaks about him.

Mick jolts upright shaking his head. “No way. No fuckin’ way.”

“Why not? This shit, it’s … you wanna go to prison?”

Mick takes a deep breath, grabs the waistline of my jeans, and pulls me onto the bed next to him. “If I tell ya everythin’, ya have to promise ya won’t breathe a fuckin’ word of it.”

Maybe if Mick can trust me, I’ll be able to convince him to do the right thing. So I agree. “I won’t,” I say. “I won’t say anything. But my dad, he can help. I’m sure he can. If you ever want him to.”

Mick stands up and walks to the window. He closes the curtains over the already closed blinds as if it’s somehow going to make the room soundproof.

“No, he can’t. He can’t because me mum can’t know about this.”

“But your mum is married to your dad. Surely she knows what he is.”

“Yeah. She does. And she keeps a pistol hidden by the fuckin’ front door. Every day, she checks it’s still there. And loaded.”

I gulp. “What are you saying?”

“What I’m sayin’ is, me dad has threatened to, ya know, do some fucked-up shit if I don’t do what he asks.”

“What, you mean—” I pause, then mouth, “murder?”

Mick stands still, doesn’t even blink, but he doesn’t have to say a thing. My hands tremble, and I have a huge craving for a pill. Why did I flush them down the toilet? Today of all fucking days? I suddenly feel faint and break into a light sweat. I have to lower myself to the floor. It feels safer here somehow.

Mick kneels next to me. Silent but caring. He moves the hair away from my eyes and squeezes the back of my neck. He grabs an almost empty bottle of water from the floor, spins the cap off, and hands it to me. I take it and drink the two mouthfuls that are left.

“You have to do something,” I say. “You have to get outta this.”

“It’s okay. He promised to lay off as soon as I get this one thing done for him.”

“One thing? Is it possible for it to just be one thing and then over? I’ve seen those true-crime TV series about this stuff. Would he really let you off the hook?”

Mick shrugs.

“You really think he’d do something so drastic as killing your mum if you didn’t? It sounds crazy. There’s no way he’d kill your mum. He’s just trying to get the most out of you, right?”

“I dunno. But I can’t let me mum find out about this. It’d destroy ’er if she knew he was fuckin’ with me like he did with her. She’d do something that she’d regret. I know ’er.”

I lean my back against the edge of the bed.

I’m in this now.

I’m mixed up with a criminal. Oh my God.

Now what do I do? I can’t just run away from it and pretend it’s not happening. I mean, how do I even act around Dad now? I can’t just blurt out, “Hey, dad, did you know that your ex-footy mate wants to kill your girlfriend?”

This is insane.

“I want to help,” I say, before I’ve even thought about the consequences. “Let me help you.”

Mick stares at the wall for a moment and nods, “Maybe ya can.” His eyes shine, and it worries me. I hope he doesn’t ask me to do anything with those weapons he was talking about. “Maybe ya could try ’n’ find out if Kimi has anythin’ to do with me dad’s shit.”

Whoa. Okay. I’m sorta relieved he didn’t ask me to commit a crime, but this is still a little out of my league. I’ve never tried to manipulate anyone in my life.

“How?” I say. I sound like an idiot. A wimp. I take a deep breath and repeat the question with a bit more confidence.

“Jus’ do what yer already doin’.” Mick smirks. “Play ’er. Like she’s playin’
you
.”

Chapter 37

Mick: Sometimes
fuck
means shit all.

I help me mum clean up the kitchen after dinner.

I’m dryin’ dishes.

She’s washin’ ’em.

We get to the cutlery.

She always leaves ’em last.

Her hand movements get slower.

She slides the soapy sponge up ’n’ down the blades of the knives.

A smile creeps up on ’er face.

Like she don’t even know it’s there.

“Mum,” I say.

She don’t say nothin’.

“Mum,” I say a bit louder.

I give her shoe a gentle kick.

She stops what she’s doin’.

Looks at me in shock.

And ’er smile becomes tears.

I put the tea towel down.

And walk out the back door.

Chapter 38

Sonia: Knives + throats + blood = bliss

I’m alone in the house. The kitchen is clean. I turned the knives upside down in the dish rack so only the handles are visible. I stare at them. Fighting the urge to turn them around. I take a deep breath, and it quivers on the way out. I cover my mouth with my hand. I hold that hand in place with my other hand.

I scream.

I scream again.

I can’t handle it anymore.

I pull a carving knife out of the dish rack, the extended ting of the steel as it brushes against the other cutlery initiates calm.

I look at my reflection in the blade. Stare at my eyes staring back at me in disgust. When I thought Ibrahim had left for good, I thought I could get through this. But now that he’s back, I can’t stop thinking about him.

Every night, for the past week, I’ve been standing in the shed for hours, smoking cigarettes, hoping he’d drop by.

Before I can stop myself with my usual rationale, I run the blade of the knife across the top of my left arm. The warm soothing blood oozes from my skin and releases the pressure in my head as if I’ve injected myself with a sedative.

I drop the knife to the floor. It clangs on the tiles. I spread blood all over my arm and admire the patterns it makes on my skin.

Ibrahim. I miss you.

Chapter 39

Mia: And it all starts to make sense.

I skip class on Monday and lie flat on my back in the middle of the old football field, the tips of the overgrown grass gold and crispy from the sun. I flick off my shoes with my toes and shade my eyes with my right arm. I lie still, in silence, until the air around me begins to whistle lullabies, and anonymous insects take on the roles of backup singers.