Love and Muddy Puddles (18 page)

“Dad?” I sniffled, gulping like a fish. “Dad? Can you come get me? Please.” I burst into tears.

“Coco? Is that you? Are you okay?” he said. His voice was worried.

“I’m okay. Just come get me right now. Right now!” I said, snuffling and sobbing and gasping for breath.

It takes 13 minutes to get to Vaucluse from Bondi, and those 13 minutes were definitely the longest of my life. I didn’t want to wait on the street because I was worried about creepy people who might hurt me, but I’d just come from a party full of creepy people who had already hurt me so I couldn’t wait inside. In the end I sat next to the gate, trying to hide behind a bush, and cried and cried.

At one point Isabella came out with a towel and half heartedly handed it to me. “Here you go. Just to get the water off.” She stood awkwardly, waiting for me to finish.

“Thanks,” I said. I could hardly look at her.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I actually always liked you, but…” She shrugged and gestured with her head but I ignored her and there was nothing else to say so she went back in to the party.

When Dad finally arrived I fell into his arms. His hug was strong and a huge relief.

“What’s going on?” he said. “Are you okay?” He made a move to go inside. “Where’s everyone?”

“Let’s just go, just go.” I said, pulling him out onto the street and away from the front door. Away from the ugliest house in the world. “Where’s the car? We have to go.”

“You’re wet.” He looked down. “You’re soaking. Did someone hurt you?” I could hear the concern in his voice.

“No, not hurt.” I said. I was desperate to leave. “I’m okay. I just fell in the pool by mistake. It was just...” I shook my head. “I don’t know... embarrassing.” I saw a question in his face and I shook my head. “No. I can’t talk about it. Please. Let’s just go.”

He hesitated again. “Are you sure? Shouldn’t I speak to the parents? Do they know what’s going on?”

“No. I just want to get out of here,” I said. “Please Dad. Talk to someone later if you have to. Just not now.”

“Okay,” he said. He looked towards the door one last time and then his face made a decision. “Okay, let’s go.”

We got into the car and sat there for a minute. My dress made the seat wet. It was going to be a long uncomfortable drive. I put on my seatbelt.

“Do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “I just want to go back to the farm.”

Dad was nice. It was the first time I had thought that in a whole year but it was true. At first he wanted to take me back to Bondi but I insisted that we 
didn’t
 stay with his friends that night. In fact, I wouldn’t even get out of the car.

“No, I just want to go. Please Dad, just take me back to the farm,” I said. He must have listened to the urgency in my voice because he didn’t even try to make me stay. Instead he just went in, made an apology to his friends, picked up our stuff and came back to the car.

“We won’t be home until late,” he said. “Can you do that?”

I nodded mutely. I could do anything as long as it meant I was out of range of Saffron and Tiger and Samantha and Darcy. I could even listen to soft pop radio and tolerate Dad singing along to the ‘best of the 80s and 90s’. We drove and drove and I put up with the fact that my tongue was dry and my mouth was raw and I felt like someone had punched me in the lungs. It was hard to get a full breath. Plus my legs were wet and my dress was sticking, clammy, to me.

“You alright, Coco?” said Dad.

“I’m okay,” I said. But I wasn’t. I was a loser, I was ugly, I had no future and my dreams of being somebody, being special and being significant had been bashed on a rock and left to die in the cold.

“It’s not long now.” Dad spoke again. “Another 40 minutes or so. We’ll be home soon.”

I let out a silent, bitter laugh. Home? My home was back in Sydney, or so I’d thought. For a whole year I’d held on to the idea that home was somewhere else, that the farm was temporary. I didn’t belong there. I’d put up with it for a while but ultimately, I thought, I was headed back to the place I belonged.

It’s just that now I didn’t belong there. Or anywhere. I’d been dumped by my group, I’d been betrayed by my best friend and I’d been let down in my hopes for Darcy. It wasn’t as if I had any other friends in Sydney either. Ever since Year Seven, Samantha and I had completely pinned our hopes on Saffron’s clique and ignored everyone else at school.

In Budgong, all that was waiting for me were my extra-special-at-everything-she-does twin sister, my annoying brother who didn’t even like me, and Tessa and James who were nice enough, but ordinary. But I’d dumped them, and in a terrible way. And they were all mad at me. It would be too much to ask them to have me back.

Outside the car window the moon was big, gold and hanging low in the sky. All I noticed was how little I was in comparison. I leaned my head against the car window. I had no energy to sit up and I had no energy to keep my anger and my betrayal hidden inside me. I sat there with my head cool on the window glass and tears falling out of my eyes onto my damp dress, running down my legs to the floor.

If Dad noticed, he didn’t say anything.

“Do you mind if we stop by the stables, sweetheart?” he said when we were nearly there. “Mum doesn’t have her phone with her and I need to tell her that we’re back. Is that okay?”

I nodded, silent. When we pulled up I stayed in the car. “I don’t really want to come in,” I said. “I’m too tired.”

“That’s okay,” he said. “I’ll be about five minutes.” He shut the door behind him and I sat, alone in the car, with the radio off. The silence reached up and pawed at my face until I slapped it away and opened my window. But that was the wrong decision. From the old building behind the stables I could hear giggles, warm voices and happy music.

My stomach ached, but it was with regret. I wanted to see what I had missed at Pony Camp, what I had thrown away as worthless. With my phone in my hand, I got out of the car and walked over to the window.

It was another wrong decision.

Inside were 25 teenagers, sitting around chatting, laughing and playing cards. The kerosene lanterns shone a warm glow on their faces. I could see Tessa and Charlie and Josh sitting together, with James a little apart. His eyes were on Charlie and he had a half-smile on his face. It looked like a party—but a real one. A good one.

I took a breath in and gulped back a sob. My neck hurt and my head felt like it had a million tiny pins pricking into it. 
It’s not fair
, I began to say to myself. 
Nobody cares about me. Why do I have to suffer so much?

At that exact moment I felt the familiar purr of the phone in my hand. Immediately I was on alert. Who could be calling? And at this time? The only person I’d given the number to was Samantha, before the party, just in case she needed to get in touch. I doubted any of Mum’s friends would be ringing at midnight. I took a sudden breath. If it was Sam, surely it could only be good. Maybe she was ringing to apologise or to say that there had been some terrible misunderstanding.

I hardly dared to hope. I glanced down at the phone in my hand. It was a text. And it was from Samantha.

And she was saying sorry.

Really?

I read it. And then I read it again.

Hey Coco. Sorry about before. Are you dry yet? BTW I had to drop you. Dead if I didn’t. You understand, right?

My last hope had gone. It had been blown out like a little kid blows out her birthday candles, with a heavy dose of accidental spit. 
Sorry?
 
Had to? Understand?
 Fire started in my heels and flowed in my veins all the way to my head. My rage was building. Was Sam for real? I had thought we were friends. Best friends. Real friends.

I could see her face when they had dropped me. It was smarmy, smiling, triumphant, like it was the easiest thing in the world to do. A sudden thought overtook my brain. I grabbed the phone and pressed reply.

Was it you who pushed me in the pool?
 I texted back. Her reply took less than four seconds. I was counting.

Oops. It just kinda happened.

And then in another second.

Darcy’s here. He still thinks u r cute.

It was then, right there, at that point that I could have screamed. But I didn’t. Because I was so angry I was beyond screaming. I was shaking. I was trembling. I was shivering, even though it was warm. My hands lost their control and I dropped my phone into the dark of the ground, but it didn’t matter. I was never going to text Samantha again. Or anyone else. Because I had no friends. And no hope of ever having any.

No. That wasn’t true. I had one friend. The best kind. The kind that was never going to betray me. And she was just here in the stables.

I ran across the grass in the dark and moved the heavy latch to open the stable door. The lock creaked but I hardly noticed. My thoughts were flying around and I was muttering and talking to myself, almost sobbing. 
I’ve just got to get Cupcake, I’m going to get Cupcake
, I said, over and over. Something inside me was insisting that if I just went for a ride, everything would be okay. The anger and rage and energy that were fizzing like a shaken soda can would fly away into the air if I galloped with strong, warm Cupcake who could hold me up and make me okay again.

Cupcake was at the back of the stable, eating some hay. When I found her I buried my head in her neck. She nickered in recognition and nudged me with her head. I grabbed her bridle and it felt solid and secure in my hand. “You can see in the dark, right girl?” I said, quietly. “Want to go out with me?” I grabbed a helmet from the hook, latched it on and led Cupcake out of the door. The warm breeze was starting to turn chilly but I didn’t care. I could hardly think straight. I just knew I needed to get away.

Inside everyone was still laughing and joking and sitting by lamplight. I looked over at the windows shining their golden, warm, happy light and bitterly hoisted myself up to Cupcake’s bare back.

I leaned down to her ear to speak. “Come on,” I said. “Let’s go.”

It would sound cute to say that Cupcake and I galloped into the sunset, but of course, it being the middle of the night, there was no sunset. And at first she was a little bit hesitant to gallop, but she got used to it quickly and I was urging her on, faster and faster. The anger in my body was being transferred to Cupcake’s hooves. I just wanted to move, fly away, escape. I want to be by myself. It was pointless to be with others. No one would understand what had happened. No one had understood anything at all about my life up to this point. Not Dad, not Mum, not Josh. Not even Charlie.

I hate you! I hate you all!
 I yelled to the darkness. 
Everything’s gone! I can’t do this anymore!

We rode and rode and I was crying and my nose was streaming and I was gasping and screaming and raging. Every muscle in my body was aching to go harder, and Cupcake, like the wonderful girl she was, was taking all the anger for me, going faster and faster down the hill until it felt like we had taken off and were above the world, flying and floating right up to the moon.

My tears cleared and my body slumped, exhausted. I leaned down and hugged Cupcake around the neck and brought her to a walk.

I looked up at the sky. The stars were out, like a cloud of fireflies buzzing. And the moon. I had never seen such a moon. It had been beautiful in the car, but to be outside in the air beneath it was like being part of a fireworks display. It was getting higher now and it had turned from pale gold to a deep silver. Occasionally it ducked behind a tree and I could see the branches and leaves as stark outlines against it.

I was still doing sniffy, gulping breaths but the rage had gone down. My whole body was spent. I felt like I had been tired for a long time.

Cupcake stopped to nibble the grass. I let her. It wouldn’t hurt this once not to be strict. And maybe she was like me and needed to be given a break once in a while. While she munched, I had a little chat to the moon. It’s funny to talk out loud to the sky but I figured someone or something would be listening.

“I just feel like nothing’s fair,” I said. “You probably saw it all happen. My friends dropped me, but really, it was only because I had to come and live out here. And that’s not my fault. It’s Dad’s fault. If he hadn’t wanted his stupid life change, we wouldn’t be here and I would still be popular and everything would be okay.” And I gave a short, sharp sigh.

The moon in all its shimmering glory looked back at me. And it didn’t say anything.

I mean, I know that’s what’s meant to happen, right? The moon is not supposed to talk to you in the middle of the night when you’re angry. It would be super-weird if it did, but I just wanted a little bit of understanding. Somehow I wanted a magic-moon-fairy-godmother type person to pop down from the sky and say, “Yes, Coco, this is all completely unfair and I will miraculously go back in time for you and fix it so that none of this ever happened. Oh and by the way, would you like a new dress? I see that yours is both wet and out of fashion. Ka-zing!”

With nothing but silence coming back to me, I got angry again. “Fine,” I said. “If you won’t help me, I’ll fix it myself. Come on Cupcake, let’s go.”

I dug my heels into Cupcake. The entrance to the track up the cliff and over onto the dam was nearby. It was my favourite ride and I was going to take it. I pondered briefly about the fact that Dad might be looking for me and maybe I should go back, but I quickly got rid of the thought.

“Too bad,” I said aloud. I was beginning to like this talking-to-the-sky thing. “It’s his fault I’m in this state anyway. He can just wait. He’s wrecked my life—what more does he want from me?”

I pushed Cupcake hard. She cantered up the mountain, panting and sweating, but now I didn’t even care about her. I just wanted one thing—to get revenge on everyone. I wanted to make them look for me, to worry. I wanted them to pay some attention to me for once.

“Nobody ever thinks about me!” I yelled out loud. “Nobody cares! They just think they can ignore me and get away with it. Well, I’ll show them.”

We came off the top of the mountain onto a flat area that had a few different little streams and boggy patches. I could tell that Cupcake wanted to slow down whenever we went near the water. She seemed nervous. But I just kept going and going, digging in my heels. When we got to one bigger place where she actually had to cross the stream, she shied at it and wouldn’t go through. I got angry with her.

“Come on Cupcake. This is silly. Just do it.” I yelled at her and slapped my reins across her shoulders. “Keep going! Go through the water.”

And then I asked those fateful words, words which, I know now, will never cross my lips again. I said these words: “What could be worse than this?”

Yep.

Seriously.

You would think I would have learned.

But I hadn’t.

The thing that could be worse than this was about to happen. Cupcake didn’t want to step into the water. And then, a wombat, scared by all the noise of a crazy, yelling girl and a wild, galloping horse in the middle of the night, disturbing his quiet grass-eating, came running out of the bushes, straight into Cupcake’s eye line. Cupcake saw the wombat.

Cupcake has never liked wombats.

When she saw it she shied, reared and bolted. As she jumped the stream, I fell backwards, and as I fell, my ankle twisted underneath me. All I could hear, as I landed on prickly, muddy scrub, was an enormous crack.

And that was when it all went black.

If they were making a movie of my life, this would be the point where the soft focus and the wobbly camerawork would come into play. I would flutter my eyelids a few times, say some nonsensical, but vaguely meaningful words and then open my eyes to focus right into the face of the person I love the most, whereupon I would smile and they would smile and wink back a few tears and whatever conflicts we had had up till that point would suddenly all be meaningless and completely over because just seeing each other again would be enough to solve every problem that had ever taken place.

It wasn’t quite like that.

As I opened my eyes, all I could see was the moon laughing at me. All I could feel was shooting, sharp pain, moving upwards from my left foot but then quickly taking over my entire body. After about a minute the pain was so bad I threw up. All over my dress and on the ground. Then, because I couldn’t hold up my head as it was both exhausting and painful, I put my head back on the ground and so of course my hair was covered with vomit.

I shut my eyes again. Perhaps it was all a bad dream. Perhaps when I next opened them I would magically be in a hospital, lying on clean white sheets, my hair washed and blow dried, with Wi-Fi available for my iPod and a TV playing comfortingly in the background.

I opened my eyes. It was still dark, scratchy and vomit-smelling. I winced. The pain from my foot was now becoming a serious throb, I was beginning to feel something decidedly uncomfortable in my ribs as well, and, even worse, I realised I was completely alone.

“Cupcake! Cupcake! Where are you?” I yelled. But my voice sounded pale and small, like one of those chipmunks on a YouTube clip. “Cupcake...” I pleaded. But there was no Cupcake. She was gone.

And I was left by myself in the dark and the cold.