Lifespan of Starlight (18 page)

If the police investigate, there’s a lot they won’t understand. The history map of
the chip is going to confuse them no end, but we can use that to distance Mum from
all this. I am an illegal who was born outside the city limits, so our story goes.
Mum found me living at the park and offered me a place to sleep. There’s no proof
that she knew the chip was stolen and no proof that I was living with her before
the chip showed up. The fact that she’s a social worker fits in perfectly, unless
they’re smart enough to run DNA tests. Maybe she’ll get away with a slap on the wrist,
I’ve begun to hope.

Maybe I’m the one who’s most in danger after all.

I could get out of the city for a while, until we know whether Mason and Boc will
turn me in, but I’m not leaving Mum alone.

And anyway, I’m coming to realise that I might have a fighting chance if they find
me, even without all of the plans I’ve made with Mum. Because I can be here, and
then not.

Time skipping might help me escape.

M
UM’S HOME BEFORE
me, of course, and two potatoes are already peeled and bubbling
in a pot. We work in silence, naturally cutting back the portion sizes to only what’s
needed. Neither of us is hungry, anyway.

We watch a sitcom without taking any of it in, grateful that the movement and sound
on the screen make up for our silence. Even though it’s late, I doubt either of us
will sleep.

It’s a bit after eleven when Mum mutes the comscreen and I hear the front door engage.
No idea how she picked that up. In silence we wait, listening for clues. Alistair
normally comes home around now, but what if it’s not him?

A shadow passes our door; neither of us breathes as we watch.

It’s only when we hear Alistair’s door engage that we exhale. No-one has come for
us. Not yet.

Mum’s eyes travel back to the comscreen, drawn by the flickering lights. She doesn’t
seem to have noticed that we can’t hear what’s being said.

I can’t help imagining what would be happening now if that wasn’t Alistair who just
walked in. What if it
was
the police?

The program ends and Mum shifts in her seat, tired but nowhere near bed.

I shuffle forwards so that I’m perched on the edge of the armchair, and turn to face
her. ‘Listen, there’s something else that you need to know.’

She sighs, almost as if she was expecting this.

As I search for the right words, she tilts her head in a way that suggests she thinks
I’m going to talk about Mason; how I came to lose my shirt. Maybe that’s why I need
to tell her. But that’s not the only reason.

I’ve decided that she needs to know what’s going on. She needs to know what I can
do in case I need to do it in a hurry. Better for her to hear it from me now than
to see something she doesn’t understand later, in the heat of the moment.

‘So. This is going to be a lot to take in. Just listen, okay? Hear me out.’ A flick
to switch the comscreen over, then navigate to the grid. I’m not sure if there’s
any need for a smokescreen, but I make sure it’s been triggered. I’ve made a big
enough mistake already, the worst thing I could do is add to the list.

‘This is how they worked me out.’ I bring up Mason at his house and go quiet while
I check for any police contact. None.

I keep going. ‘So that’s Mason during the blackout last week.’ I point. ‘And that’s
… me. At least … the chip.’ Her head tilts enough for me to continue. ‘So then …
around seven …’

I don’t try to find words; just show her the moment when Mason disappeared.

All she does is drop her chin, still listening, because of course she could never
predict what she’s about to hear.

‘So my chip stayed behind because it’s not in my wrist.’ As I turn back to the grid
my eyes fix onto the dot left behind while I time skipped. I’m not ready for the
way it hits me: so many emotions, so raw, so close. I can almost smell the whiff
of honeysuckle. The trust that grew from skipping together courses through me, the
learning and growing …

My eyes close against the memory. Regret is a luxury I can’t afford.

It’s only when I turn to Mum that I’m able to focus again. ‘Maybe I should show you,’
I mumble.

‘All right.’ She’s growing impatient, I can tell.

I slip off the armchair and cross my legs on the floor. ‘So this is about the way
time works. It’s hard to explain, but … once you learn how we exist within time,
you can …’ I take a breath.
Just say it
. ‘Travel through it.’

Her mouth scrunches, sceptical, as if this information tastes strange. It’s hard
to swallow.

Maybe it’s cruel, what I’m about to do, but it’s the only way to prove it to her.

‘So, what you’re about to see, it will be hard to take in, okay? But I promise, no
matter what happens, I’m fine. I’m coming back. You just have to wait a few seconds.
I’ve done this heaps already. It’s perfectly safe.’

Barely a blink from Mum, as if I’m speaking a different language.

‘I’m fine, okay?’ I say it again to make sure that she can hold that truth while
I’m gone.

Mum responds with a circular kind of nod, no idea what I’m saying but willing to
go along with it if that helps bring this to an end.

I take a breath, close my eyes.

It’s not easy finding the tunnel; something is holding me back. Can’t watch out for
Mum while I’m gone.

My eyes have only been closed for a few seconds when I have to give up. Failed attempt.
It’s hard doing this knowing I’m leaving Mum behind.

‘Well?’ She lifts one arm, tired and impatient.
Don’t you think we’ve been through
enough
? her expression says.

I’m tired too, sick of myself perhaps. It’s the relief of nothingness that helps
me go back, the promise of the rush. I’ve decided to show her the truth, so I might
as well get on with it.

Mum shuffles forwards in the armchair. One final whisper, ‘Don’t be scared.’

I let myself sink.

Mum’s behind the armchair when I return, her hands gripping the backrest as if using
it to shield her against the unknown.

‘I’m okay. See? I’m back.’ I move onto my knees as I speak,
enjoying the buzz as
I collect my clothes. Only a couple of seconds but it was as good as ever. Man, did
I need that.

‘What … what was … what did you do?’ Mum’s voice is faint at first, rising with her
confusion.

‘I know. Amazing, right?’ My eyebrows go up. ‘It’s all about the way time works –’

But before I can keep going Mum rushes towards me, and pulls me to stand. ‘Let me
see you.’

Her breath is hot in my face, the strength of her fear already stripping the rush
away. ‘Mum. I promise, I’m fine. It’s all about the way we exist in time, it’s perfectly
–’

The next thing I know, she’s holding me to her chest, patting up and down my back
as if checking I’m whole again. She finishes with a hug, a real one, squeezing so
tight. ‘I thought I’d lost you.’

‘Mum, I’m okay,’ I say softly. She feels so small, so scared in my arms.

She was speaking over my shoulder but now she pulls away to focus on me properly.
‘My goodness, Scout …’

‘It’s okay, I promise.’ Once she hears about the way it works she won’t be so scared.
‘So everyone thinks that time is steady, right? But it’s not. We’re the ones who
control time.’

‘Control
time
?’ Her eyebrows pinch, as her chin pushes forwards in disbelief. ‘Coutlyn,
you can’t possibly think … This is … like nothing –’

‘But you just saw for yourself. It’s totally safe.’

‘Safe?’

‘Mum, I know what I’m doing.’

‘No.’ It’s just a whisper at first, but then she says it louder: ‘No.

You can’t know that, Scout. Not for sure. My goodness, what were you thinking? I
don’t want you doing that again, okay?’ She peers close, searching my face for agreement.
‘Do you hear me? I want you to promise.’

‘I …’ I shake my head. She doesn’t need to be scared. Why can’t she understand that?
‘You could learn how –’

‘Coutlyn!’ As if I’m a naughty child.

‘Fine! Okay! I promise!’ I spit it out like the sulky child she’s treating me as.

‘Where did you learn that?’

‘Mason.’ I spin away angrily. I never should have showed her. She doesn’t understand,
can’t see what an advantage this could be.

She’s quiet as I lie on my side of the bed, curl away from her. Alistair would have
heard our raised voices. Maybe even the Richardsons.

I’m not sure what she does next, but I lie here and try to block out her sounds,
toying with the idea of skipping again. My heart is so tired. I feel the mattress
rock as she slips between the covers on her side. I’m on top, trapping them tight,
but I don’t move to make it easier for her. There’s an invisible line stretching
between us. I roll the other way.

She clicks off the lamp, but there’s no way I’m about to sleep. I know she made me
promise, but it’s a promise that I won’t be able to keep.

Mum heads out before I’m up the next morning.

I’m still lying in bed when she comes home a few hours later, saying something about
a doctor’s certificate. No reason to move. If the police are coming, it won’t matter
if I’m dressed or not.

She glances at the kitchenette as she comes in, but says nothing about the delivery
bag still sitting there. From where I’m lying I can see that she ate nothing for
breakfast.

Of course, I’ll do the same. We both know how this game works. She’s had the same
idea once before: that she can cope with almost nothing so that I have enough. My
response last time was to match her food intake exactly, so that’s what I’ll do now.
If she eats nothing, I’ll do that too.

Mum sits on the end of the bed. She’s managed to get a doctor’s certificate so she
can take three whole days off work. I’m not sure what she had to say to have it approved;
you have to be the walking dead to get one of those things. She’s not even expected
to work via distance monitor.

‘How are you feeling?’ she asks once she’s finished dodging my questions about how
she got the doctor’s certificate.

‘Fine.’ Although now I wish I wasn’t lolling round in bed. Maybe she thinks that
time skipping is bad for your health.

Her eyebrows flicker. ‘I thought I’d lost you.’ She glances away and her face tightens.

‘I’m okay, Mum.’ My plans to stay angry melt in an instant. I sit up to hug her, my arms trapping her shoulders and my head resting on the back
of her neck.

She squeezes my arms in response and we stay that way for a while. Soon she loosens
them slightly. ‘Mason taught you how to do that?’

I nod with my head against her back. ‘Sort of.’

‘And he can do it too?’

‘Yep. It’s safe, Mum.’

She doesn’t say anything, but I feel a shift in weight as she changes her grip on
my arms. ‘And you could … do it again?’

More nodding.

‘If the police come?’ She’s thought of it too.

‘Think so. I’ll have to practise.’

Again she says nothing so I’m not sure whether that means she agrees it’s a good
idea. I decide not to push it. I’m thinking about asking if she wants to learn to
do it herself when she speaks again.

‘Have you eaten?’

I pull out from the hug. ‘Not yet.’

Even though we don’t say it, breakfast becomes a truce of sorts. We still have spare
food around, anyway, the legacy of two whole rations. Our issue is how it’s going
to be a week from now. The ration points are still saved on the chip, of course.
But without the chip to swipe for them, they’re as good as useless.

After breakfast Mum starts packing in case we have to leave in a hurry: two backpacks
holding a weird combination of survival tools and precious mementos.

Boc and Mason are at school when I check, exactly where they’re meant to be. I should
be glad, I guess, but I’m not. Seeing them there, living their lives, gives me a
weird mix of anger and envy. I hate the power they have over me now.

Don’t want to spend my life watching them on the grid. So I spend the rest of the
afternoon writing a bot that will sound an alert if they go anywhere near the police.
It can do the watching, so I won’t have to.

On the morning that Mum’s due back at work, I’m sitting up in bed, watching her get
ready.

‘Just one day, and then the weekend,’ she says as she’s collecting her bag. She comes
to sit on the bed. ‘So far, so good, eh?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Call me at lunchtime, okay?’ Mum kisses me on the forehead and heads out the door.

I can tell that she’s glad to be going back. Who wouldn’t be? We’ve spent the last
three days waiting, watching, preparing, but we can’t keep living like that forever.
Time to get living again.

As soon as the door engages, I’m hit with the emptiness of this room, the blankness
of the future stretching before me.

Don’t want to think about it. I go back to sleep.

It’s late morning by the time I realise there’s no chance I’ll sleep any longer.