Steal My Sunshine (3 page)

Essie stubbed out a cigarette, lit another and smiled at me. It was amazing how old and young she looked at the same time. ‘Are you ready for my secret?' She said it as if she were talking to herself. ‘I'm not sure. Not sure.' Then she twitched as if she'd just remembered something, reached down one side of her armchair and handed me a newspaper. ‘Read that.'

I started to read a short article about a man in America who was attacked by a gang with machetes. ‘Wait, am I reading the wrong thing?'

‘Playing possum,' she said.

So I was reading the right one – the gang had struck this guy and he'd fallen to the ground – but I still didn't get it. He'd played dead – the article called it ‘playing possum' – by rolling his eyes to the back of his head, and the gang had taken off.

‘They're not like our possums,' Essie said. ‘They mean the opossum – it's famous for looking like it's dead when attacked. But it's just in shock, it goes limp and unconscious.'

‘Is that what happened today? But why? It was just me and Sam.'

‘I wasn't to know that. Things have been happening. I was only protecting myself.'

‘What's been happening? You're freaking me out, Essie.'

‘It's been going on for a while but I didn't want to worry anyone. There's a rundown house across the street. You must have noticed it.'

I hadn't. Dad was always saying I had the worst sense of direction in the world because I didn't notice landmarks.

‘It's full of degenerate old men,' she said. ‘They've been harassing me.'

‘You mean they've been inside?'

‘Not yet, no. But they're all riddled with booze, lost their minds, not even dressed properly. They started calling out to me when I went to get my paper. Disgusting things they say to me, Hannah.'

‘Oh, god. That's awful.'

‘I'm here all alone.'

‘We'll get them to stop, Essie. It's not right. And the key – you can't keep it in the letterbox.'

‘I only want your understanding, Hannah. That's all. You think old crones like me are safe from men but we're not. I read about it all the time. I got a fright when you knocked. It was instinct – I'm not evil like your mother thinks.' Her fingers lightly traced her lips.

‘She doesn't think that really.'

‘It's just that I remembered this article.' Essie took the paper back from me. ‘I sank back into my chair, like this. I tried to feel disconnected.' She half closed her eyes. ‘I thought maybe they'd kill me anyway and then I wouldn't be a burden to you and your mother.'

‘Essie! Don't. But I said your name. Didn't you hear me and Sam?'

She sat upright again. ‘I did, darling. But do you know the strange thing? I couldn't move. My brain wanted me to but the rest of me was locked in. I don't suppose you can understand that, being so young.'

But I could. That was how I felt all the time.

‘You were quite calm, weren't you?' she said. Again there was an edge to her voice that made me fidget.

‘It was the shock.'

‘You handled it beautifully. If only your mother had seen you. Does she know how wonderful you are?'

‘I'm not, Essie.' I fiddled with the ring again. It didn't go with what I was wearing but it was the rest of me that needed to change, not the ring.

‘You're the right one,' said Essie. The grey ash of her cigarette was long and precarious as she studied me.

‘The right one for what?'

She beckoned me towards her and I got there just in time to catch the weightless ash in the palm of my hand. ‘A secret,' she whispered.

‘Okay.' I waited. ‘Now?'

‘Not now but soon. You'll be able to sort out your mother for me, won't you?'

‘Sure I will, Essie,' I said. ‘I mean, I'll try.'

 

 

 

The glare was fierce when I left Essie's but I needed the fresh air, even if it was hot enough to burn the inside of my nose.

I remembered to check out the house across the road. Essie was right about how rundown it was. There were dirty plastic garden chairs on the porch, set up as if they'd been used recently – not like everyone else's, where the outdoor benches were just for show. I was about to take a closer look when their front door opened, but I chickened out and took off down the street.

I was pumped up for going home and explaining to everyone what had really happened to Essie that morning but I had to see Chloe first and it was kind of on the way. Mum would have gone straight back to work anyway. She wouldn't be home till five.

As I walked, I clenched my fists, reassuring myself that I wasn't going to let Mum and Sam talk over me this time.

Essie's street turned off into a wide avenue that stretched in a perfectly straight line all the way to Beaconsfield Parade and the bay. The massive plane trees gave shade but there was no getting away from forty degrees.

This was the route I always took. My non-existent sense of direction was a big joke in our house. Dad always used to tell our friends that the reason we still lived in a tiny worker's cottage with a mean extension was because I'd get lost in anything bigger. I never minded when he said it, though. You only had to look in his eyes to know there was nothing nasty there.

Dad made maps for a living. That was his thing and it made the joke about me even funnier. He'd been drawing maps for me on napkins or scraps of paper since I was old enough to get around by myself. I had five years' worth now. They'd got bigger and more detailed when Mum insisted we had to move away from the bay to the eastern suburbs two years ago. It was a long tram ride to school or to Essie's or Chloe's, which were all within walking distance of each other and together made St Kilda still feel like home.

Today the road to Chloe's seemed longer than usual. The shade was finished now I'd turned east, and palm trees marked the distance along the bay. The sky looked innocent enough – bright blue faded to almost white on the horizon – but there was a sinister hot wind. The roads were quiet, shutters across bay-facing windows.

This walk was so familiar. I thought about Essie's promise of a secret and how exciting that felt compared to the rest of my life.

Maybe for once I wouldn't be on the outside looking in. Home was clogged with whispering, thick with Mum's bad moods, or Sam sprawled out all over the place as if his rapid growth was a major achievement we all had to make room for. I expected to come home one day and find his leg sticking out of the window and his arm shoved out the chimney like in
Alice in Wonderland
. Even Chloe didn't tell me everything.

Still, getting the secret from Essie wasn't going to be easy. Maybe she was playing me, but I felt wiser now and I had a hunch the secret had something to do with the James in the letter.

It didn't matter how late I was because Chloe was even later. Her dad's bar was opening up for the day and there was no sign of her. I walked over to the boardwalk and squinted in the full sun to look out at the water. It was only nice here when it was quiet like this. Chloe said the sea was full of condoms, needles and human crap and I guess she was right, but I liked the way I felt when I looked at the wide expanse to the horizon. It opened me up.

As I read a text from Sam –
come home asap
– I felt myself shrinking back inside. Maybe Mum hadn't gone back to work. They could all be at home now arguing about Essie and my part in it. Sam would be stabbing me in the back. Dad would only pipe up if things got really nasty. Maybe Sam wanted me there just so I could see how clever he was at winning Mum.

Turning away from the water, I felt beaten by the heat and unsure of what to do.

‘Hey, Hannah.'

I spun round again and the sun hit my face. ‘Hey.'

It was Chloe's older brother, Evan, which meant that everything I'd just been thinking about had vanished. Mythical Evan. I knew him backwards. Evan of the ruffled brown hair and cinnamon-coloured sleepy eyes that always looked mysterious but never sad. Evan of the loose t-shirts and faded sneakers with laces that were so short they looked like they'd been chewed in half. Evan of the one-sided smile that always made him look like he was thinking about two things at once. In three years I'd never managed to have a conversation with him that didn't make me want to smack my hand against my forehead.

‘I'm just waiting for Chlo . . . e,' I said. I couldn't even speak straight.

‘She's working today, yeah?'

‘No idea. We were just meant to meet. Here. Like, ten minutes ago.'

‘Sounds like Chloe.'

‘Yeah.' I laughed goofily. I was a road accident when it came to talking to boys. I swear passers-by were giving me sympathetic looks and my head filled up with white noise so that what Evan said next sounded muffled.

‘Sorry, what?'

‘We should go for a drink . . . a coffee or whatever you like. Or a gig? Next weekend?'

‘Um. Oh, right.' A hot gust of wind blew my hair across my face. This was some kind of apocalypse and the best feeling of my life.

‘Is that a . . . yes?' He had his hands in his pockets, and tilted to one side like he was trying to read my face.

‘It's a yes. Yes.' I shielded my eyes so I could see his expression properly but Chloe's came into view.

‘What's a yes?' Her face was open and bright, beaming at the two of us.

‘Just a yes that I'm heading home,' I said.

‘Aww, not yet – I just got here!' She laughed so the gap in her front teeth showed, and came forward to kiss me on the cheek, pressing her damp hair into my skin. She smelled of chamomile. She was in her tight black singlet and low-cut black shorts that showed off her tan and belly-button ring and made her look like my big sister instead of my best friend.

‘What kind of mood is Dad in, Chlo?'

‘Usual stress. The band for this arvo is stuck on the freeway so he's looking for someone else.'

‘Great, like it would ever occur to him to ask me.'

‘Ev, your band sucks.'

‘Ha, really? Well, if you're very nice to me I might let you play triangle for us one day.'

Their fights were a joke, literally. I'd never seen them properly mad at each other, not like Sam and me. They started shoving each other playfully on the boardwalk, oblivious to a couple of joggers who were forced to navigate round them. I felt awkward, spying on their little world.

When they stopped and Evan looked at me I knew something had shifted, there was a new feeling between us. I'd wanted it for ages but now I had no idea how to handle it.

‘Better scoot. See ya.' He touched my arm as he left and I looked at Chloe to see if she'd noticed but she was busy texting someone. I wanted to tell her about Evan so badly but that was impossible. Before I realised it was a dumb idea, I was telling her about Essie instead.

‘Whoa. Your nanna is mad,' she said.

‘She's not
mad
exactly.'

‘She faked her own death!' Chloe laughed. ‘She sounds like a riot.' She put her arm around me. ‘Come on, chick, it's not your fault your nan's a bit nuts. Lighten up. Hey,' she said, looking more serious, ‘at least you've got a nan, right?'

Of course. Chloe and I had a rule – my problems were nothing compared to hers. And fair enough, that was true. Their mum had walked out on the family before Chloe had started school and they'd never heard from her again. Chloe told me they'd even questioned her dad but, in the end, the police decided that her mum had just left.

Every time I thought about it, even the way things were with Mum, I knew I'd never be able to cope if she decided she didn't want us any more. Chloe was strong – harsh too, but she'd had to be. Even so, I didn't feel like my life was a fairytale, as she called it.

‘Right, some of us have work to do,' she said. ‘You're coming out tonight though, yeah?'

‘Can't. Seeing a movie.'

‘Not this again. Hannah, you're fifteen and we're back to the hellhole tomorrow. You're exempt from parental outings.'

But Wednesday nights had always been movie night for Dad and me. At first it was because Mum had to take Sam to basketball, but even after Sam dropped that, Dad and I had carried on.

‘I like seeing movies. Anyway, no one in the group will miss me, I don't fit in.'

‘Rubbish. I'll miss you.' Chloe pouted and scrunched the ends of my hair, then glided her hand down my arm, making me shiver. ‘Movies are lame, c'mon.'

‘Don't do that face. I'll come another time, I promise. I just don't want to hurt Dad's feelings. He makes a fuss about Wednesdays – he buys all the crap food we're not allowed to eat at home and he doesn't care what movie I pick.'

‘Stop it, I might cry,' she said, deadpan. ‘Don't tell me you eat those hot dogs.'

‘Sometimes.'

‘Oh Jesus, I'm gonna vomit.'

I didn't mention the Fantales, especially the way Dad and I would gross each other out by picking caramel out of our teeth.

‘Have it your way then.' Chloe kissed me goodbye. Her wet hair left a cold patch on my cheek and the sensation of it rapidly dried in the sun.

Our place was a long tram ride and a ten-minute walk away. I didn't need Dad's map any more but I still kept it in my wallet.

The combination of school holidays and forty degrees meant the streets were deserted. It was creepy on the empty tram, like a curfew had been imposed without anyone telling me. At least it hurtled along faster than usual. I played over in my mind how I'd handle things when I walked in the door.

Our street had almost identical houses from one end to the other and ours was no exception. From the front, the houses still looked like cute workers' cottages but they all had huge extensions at the back. Some of them had fake grass and a few weeks ago most had a version of a Christmas wreath from the gift shop on the corner that sold things made out of distressed wood, shabby chic jars and felt garlands. I didn't get why Mum thought we'd fit in better here.

Anyway, we weren't really friendly with people on this street. Mum had two friends she'd known since uni who lived nearby. There was Margot, who had oversized wind chimes on her porch, and Angie, whose house looked like a rundown prison for millions of toys, all squashed against the front windows as if they were trying to escape. She'd let some of her foster kids paint flowers all over the brickwork out the front. It was a nice thought even if it looked a mess. Dad had once painted our front door red as a surprise for Mum while she'd been on a business trip. She'd gone ballistic and he'd had to change it back to dark blue.

He'd just about got away with the real mistletoe for our door this year. Mum called it a weed but she let it stay, though she'd said if he tried to get a real Christmas tree as well, he'd be in trouble.

The tree – damn it. I stopped at our gate and wished I'd taken down the decorations this morning like Mum had asked, even if she was being a psycho. That would just be more ammunition for her.

Taking deep breaths as I walked up the garden path was hopeless in this heat. My spine was a marble run for droplets of sweat tickling their way down. It was impossible to think straight. The further away I'd got from Essie's house, the more confused I felt about what had happened there. For the second time that day I knew there was nothing else I could do but put the key in the lock and let the rest happen.

When I pushed the door open, it didn't feel right. First I thought it was a body I was driving out of the way like when Sam and I were younger and he'd shut me out of our bedroom by lying in front of the door. But as the gap widened I saw Mum, Sam and Dad looking at me from the other end of the hallway. And when I finally got inside, I saw what the heavy thing was – a suitcase.