Graffiti Moon (5 page)

‘I’ll take a wild guess and say us.’ Leo leans back. ‘Girls and money. I’ve got a good feeling.’ He checks behind him for about the fiftieth time tonight.

Him and Dylan keep talking and laughing and acting like they don’t care that we might get caught later at the school. I look out the window and think about the sky in Bert’s book. About how the clouds look like they’re moving but they aren’t. It’s the same ones flicking over, again and again and again.

It’s serious business time so Jazz and I walk into the same cubicle. Daisy crams in, too. ‘Is this like the cone of silence?’ she asks after Jazz locks the door.

‘It’s more like the cubicle of truth,’ Jazz tells her.

Jazz and I met like this when she arrived a few months into Year 10. I was about to lock the cubicle door when she pushed it open, slammed it shut, covered my mouth and hissed, ‘Shhh.’

We listened while Holly Dover and Heather Davidson came into the toilet and squealed Jazz’s name. ‘She’s not in here,’ Holly said when no one answered. ‘Let’s look in the library.’

‘They’re hard to shake,’ Jazz said after they left. ‘They’ve been following me since the canteen.’

‘We call them the HDs,’ I told her. ‘You know, because of the high-pitched surround sound of their voices.’

‘I had a feeling I didn’t want to be their friend even before they spoke. I’m psychic,’ she said, and looked at me looking nervously at the door. ‘Psych
ic
. Not psy
cho
. I’m Jazz Parker.’

‘Lucy Dervish,’ I said.

We were friends from that second on. I hung with loads of different people before her. I like having friends from different groups. Some days I’d sit with the kids in my book group. Some days with the arty types. Some days I played chess. Some days I painted my nails black.

In the end I fell into having a best friend easily, though. Jazz is the sort of person who invites herself places and she doesn’t follow the rules of high school geography. She likes chess and the supernatural and drama and Shakespeare and sport. ‘I’m eclectic,’ she said to the HDs once, and I could see them trying to work out where she plugged in.

She looks at me tonight while we’re in the truth cubicle. ‘Why’d you lie?’

‘I didn’t.’

‘We’re out there talking about Ed and you say nothing about him being the broken-nose guy. That’s a lie, right?’ She looks at Daisy.

‘It’s withholding the truth,’ Daisy referees.

‘Fine. Why’d you withhold the truth?’

‘You’re psychic. I assumed you knew,’ I tell her.

She gives me the serious finger. ‘You can’t joke your way out of this.’

‘I felt stupid and I knew you’d mention it as soon as we walked over and I knew if you thought I’d liked Ed once you’d push me to like him again and I
don’t
like him.’

‘But he’s so cute and he’s friends with Leo.’ She drops her voice. ‘Luce, when we were in the street talking, Leo’s arm brushed my arm. I got static electricity
down there
.’

I can’t help laughing. ‘So go out with him. Tell me about it tomorrow.’

‘I want to tell you about it while it’s happening.’

‘He’ll probably think that’s weird,’ I say.

‘I want you to get static electricity.’

‘I’ll go rub my feet up and down on the carpet for a while when I get home. I promise.’

‘I remember static,’ Daisy says. ‘Dylan and I used to have it. Now he won’t even come with me to Queensland for an end of Year 12 trip. He worked all year to get the money and then he spent it on a Wii. Don’t you want static?’ she asks me.

‘I do. Just not with them.’ I nod in the direction of the café. ‘I want someone like Shadow.’ Not someone
like
him. ‘I want Shadow.’

‘Someone you have almost no hope of meeting,’ Jazz says.

‘Dylan knows him,’ Daisy says. ‘Him and Poet.’

I’ve been tracking Shadow for years. Kids make stuff up about him all the time. He’s dead, he’s overseas, he’s studying art. As far as I can tell, none of it’s true. ‘You mean Dylan knows someone who knows someone who might know them.’

‘No. He actually knows them. He says so all the time. “I went here with them and they went here with me.” Sounds like they see him more than I do. He acts like it makes him cool.’ She thinks about it. ‘I guess it does make him a little bit cool.’

I grab Jazz by the shoulders with my insides ticking fast. ‘I’ll come tonight if we look for them. We can go to places Dylan thinks they might be. You get a night of action with Leo. I get Shadow and romance.’

‘Sounds like a book my Aunty Glenda would read,’ Jazz says.

‘Please, please, please.’

‘I wouldn’t mind getting Poet,’ Daisy tells her. ‘His writing is very cool.’

‘Please,’ I say again.

Jazz grins. ‘Okay. I’m up for a Shadow hunt.’ She tries to open the door but the lock’s stuck. ‘That’s weird.’

‘Is this like an omen?’ Daisy asks.

Jazz unzips her boot and takes it off so she can slam it at the lock. ‘It’s not an omen.’ Slam. ‘Tonight.’ Slam. ‘Is going to be great.’ Slam. ‘I’ve got a feeling.’ Slam. She puts her boot back on and looks at us. ‘Okay, we’ll have to climb out of here.’

She stands on the toilet seat and heaves herself over the wall. We hear her hit the ground. Daisy winces. ‘This doesn’t mean anything,’ Jazz calls. ‘Trust me. I’m psychic.’

I come out of the bathroom and the first thing I see is Ed. Okay, it was a long shot but I was half-hoping he’d cease to exist while we were gone. I feel a little tingle when he turns around but I put it down to the fall I had during my toilet escape. That and the thought of meeting Shadow.

I don’t look at him as I slide into his side of the booth. I’m not here for Ed. I’m here for my young and scruffy artist. ‘Lucy and Daisy want to find Shadow and Poet,’ Jazz says.

‘Who?’ Ed asks.

‘Graffiti artists,’ she tells him.

‘They do stuff all over town.’

‘They call them writers,’ Dylan says.

‘Whatever,’ Daisy answers. ‘We want to meet them.’

‘I mainly want to find Shadow,’ I say.

‘We can do that.’ Leo grins. ‘That’s a great idea.’

‘No, that’s a stupid idea,’ Ed says. ‘That’s the stupidest idea I’ve ever heard. How would we even know where to look?’

‘Daisy said Dylan knows them,’ Jazz tells him.

‘Really.’ Ed stares across the table at Dylan, who looks like he’s about to do a runner.

‘You were lying?’ Daisy asks. ‘Typical.’

‘I wasn’t lying. I see them all the time.’

‘So prove it,’ she says. ‘Take us to the places they hang out and if we find them, introduce us.’

‘He can do that,’ Leo says. ‘Right, Dylan?’

I’m holding my breath. I’m crossing everything on the inside. Lungs, kidneys, ventricles, the whole deal. Please don’t let Dylan be lying. An idiot could see there’s something going on between these guys but I figure it’s that Ed would rather cease to exist than hang out with me.

I imagine what Shadow looks like: paint-spattered clothes, a face that’s got a million ideas running underneath it. I imagine him touching me so I get static without having to rub my feet up and down on the carpet. Please, please, please.

‘Right,’ Dylan says slowly. ‘No problem.’

‘Now
I
have to go to the toilet.’ Ed looks at Leo and Dylan. ‘I got a feeling you both need to go too.’

‘Guys don’t go to the toilet together. That’s messed up,’ Leo says.

‘That’s not the only thing that’s messed up.’ Ed grabs Dylan’s shirt. ‘Move.’

I watch them till the toilet door swings shut. ‘You think Dylan’s telling the truth?’

Daisy checks her face in a little mirror then hands it to Jazz. ‘You want me to find out?’

‘Let’s not ruin the mood by calling them liars.’ Jazz looks in the mirror. ‘I hate my freckles,’ she says, and hands it to me.

‘I like freckles,’ Daisy says. ‘And I won’t ruin it. I’ve got this special way of getting the truth out of Dylan.’

‘How?’ I ask.

‘I kick him in the balls.’

‘That’s pretty special,’ I tell her, and hand back the mirror.

Jazz gives us a serious finger each. ‘Okay, let’s keep our feet to ourselves and not get paranoid.’ She lowers her voice. ‘Quick, Daisy. Spill everything you know about Leo before they get back.’

‘Okay. He’s pretty wild. Less wild since he moved in with his gran, but still, he does some crazy stuff.’

‘More crazy than when he used a chain of guys’ shirts to abseil out of the classroom window while the teacher’s back was turned?’ Jazz asks.

‘No, pretty much that level of crazy. His brother Jake’s been in some trouble with the police, though. I’m not sure of the details.’

‘Has Leo been in jail?’

‘He was taken to the police station but they didn’t lay charges. Dylan never told me what he’d done. Emma, his ex-girlfriend, said he vandalised her house.’

‘Emma Forest?’ Jazz asks. ‘His ex is the girl in Year 11 with the big . . .?’

‘That’s the one,’ Daisy tells her.

Jazz looks at her chest. I pat her shoulder. ‘Guys care about personality too.’

‘Girls like me started that rumour.’ She looks at Daisy. ‘When did they break up?’

‘Not sure, but it was a while ago. He hasn’t had a girlfriend since.’

‘No girls at all? If there’s been a drought I’m in with a chance.’

‘Well, no, he’s been with girls. Lots of girls. Lots and lots of girls. Lots and lots and lots –’

‘Okay, I get the picture,’ Jazz cuts her off. ‘What about Ed? Just in case Lucy needs a backup plan.’

‘I won’t need a backup plan. Ow. Don’t kick me.’

‘I don’t see him much since he left school. He was going out with Beth Darling. Private-school girl. St Catherine’s, I think. She’s pretty and smart. He works in a paint store now, somewhere in the city.’

‘Maybe that’s how they know Shadow. Maybe Ed sells him paint,’ Jazz says.

‘Maybe. Dylan never said.’

‘Why’d he leave school?’ Jazz asks.

‘Lucy.’

‘Me? Oh my God.’

‘Gotcha,’ Daisy says. ‘I don’t know why he left, exactly. The rumour was he cheated. Leo said that was crap.’

I always wondered why he left, if it was because he’d cheated or if it was something to do with me. I tried to look at him that day in Art when Mr Fennel caught him with the essay. He didn’t take his eyes from the window, though.

I missed him after he’d gone. I mean, it’s not like the tingle feeling stopped because he grabbed my arse. I spent the weekend after our date wishing I could stab him with my fluffy-duck pen and staring at the phone hoping he’d call. Dating is a very tricky business.

‘You’ve got a weird look on your face,’ Jazz says to me. ‘What are you thinking?’

‘Nothing,’ I tell her.

‘Is that possible?’ Daisy asks. ‘To have absolutely nothing in your brain? Because sometimes I ask Dylan what he’s thinking and that’s what he says. Just once I’d like him to say he’s thinking about world peace or saving the whales or something.’

‘It’s not possible,’ Jazz tells her.

‘It’s possible. He’s not a complete idiot.’

‘No, I mean it’s not possible to not think anything.’

‘That’s what I tell him. And you’d know, being psychic and all. How does that work, anyway? Do you hear people thinking?’

‘I get a feeling sometimes. My mum’s way more psychic than me. She’s got this sixth sense that she uses to track me day or night. This is my first chance in seventeen years to be off her radar. She’s overseas so I’m counting on the time zone messing her up.’

‘What are your parents like?’ Daisy asks me. ‘Do they let you do stuff?’

‘Yep. They’re artists. They met at uni and fell madly in love.’

I don’t look at Jazz. My parents are something we hardly ever talk about anymore. Not since I asked her to use psychic abilities to see if Mum and Dad’s living arrangement was a sign that they were getting a divorce. She took the lollipop she was eating out of her mouth. ‘It’s a
billboard
,’ she said. ‘And I don’t need psychic abilities to see it.’