The Wilful Eye (12 page)

‘Wh-who's up there?' Gerda said, trying to sound braver than she felt.

‘Kai . . .' Grandma said.

Jesus, obviously
.

‘He's acting crazy,' she said, throwing up her arms.

‘Grandma, stay down here,' Gerda hissed. ‘Stay here, whatever happens.'

Grandma shook her head. ‘Bad, very bad,' she said tragically.

One way to put it.

‘Go to my mum,' Gerda said, shuddering at another thump. It galvanised her. She leapt up the stairs two at a time, thinking she needed something to defend herself with, but what? Too late . . . she burst into the room carrying a chair she'd snatched up in the hall. And almost fell over it.

Kai looked at her, astonished, nostrils flared, fist poised, knuckles white, the angry red bloom in the white of his eye. It made him look dangerous. He slammed into the wall with a bone-jarring
thunck!
and the plaster cracked. There was nobody else in the room.

‘Shit!' he yelled, cradling his fist.

‘Kai! What the hell—?' Gerda screeched. ‘What are you
doing
?' She stood in the doorway panting, arm and leg muscles twitching.

His desk was upturned, electronics gear and comics strewn all over the floor.

‘Kai, what's
wrong
?' Gerda said, voice cracking into falsetto. ‘Have they gone?'

‘Have
who
gone?' Kai yelled.

‘Those men. From the other night,' Gerda said, looking around nervously. They'd trashed the room: looking for cash?

‘What men? What the fuck are you
on
?' Kai spat. He could have hit her in the stomach. This wasn't Kai, her friend forever. Her Kai had gone off with the body snatchers.

She heard the tromp on the stairs, Grandma and her anger swelling to fill the little attic room.

‘Kai,
language
! Gerda is your oldest
friend
!' Grandma said, shrill.

But Gerda looked back at Kai – Kai, eyes blazing, who was belting holes in walls. He could knock Grandma aside like swatting a fly. Bad thought.

‘Kai, what is it?' Gerda said, voice shaking. ‘Why punch the wall?'

Kai swung to face her, eyes dancing with rage, as if there weren't enough words.

‘Why ask me dumb questions? It's ugly anyway!'

Well, it was covered in
his
posters – girl rockers, martial arts legends, hot rods and super cars. Why didn't he change them? But she daren't say a word. Beside her Gerda sensed Grandma was working herself up into a rant.

‘Kai, why don't we go to the park?' she said, to head it off. ‘It's beautiful there.'

‘Yes,' Grandma said. ‘Gerda should be the one.'

The one to what
? Gerda thought.

But Kai roared, ‘No it's not! The park's pathetic! I hate it! And I've got nothing to talk to
you
about!'

Gerda shrank from his distorted face, the ropy veins near his temples. He still wore the shirt from the other night with the blood spots on the chest, little red bullet holes. A tiny scab was forming under one eye. Feeling helpless, Gerda took Grandma's hand: it was brittle twigs, trembling. Gerda felt close to tears as well.

Kai grabbed the end of his quilt and jerked it off his bed, scattering clothes, discs and magazines. He rummaged in his wardrobe and pulled out his backpack, shoving in everything that had sprayed off his bed.

‘Fuck you,
losers
! I'm going. I hate it here and I hate
you
!' he said, slamming the door.

‘Kai!' his grandmother screeched, shaking, sinking onto his bed.

Gerda looked at Grandma, who'd suddenly shrivelled to toy-size, and swallowed tears.

For two days Gerda hardly left her room. In the mirror she looked much the same, one long wheat-blonde plait resting on her collarbone, her skin softly bronzed. But the whole world had changed. As she peered into her own brown eyes, she recalled that other ugly mirror. Somehow it was all her fault. She'd made the mirror fall, which spilt the powder, which freaked out Kai, who'd known something serious must follow. She'd ruined the deal as well as his chances with the snow girl. Worst, she'd driven off her closest friend.

She watched for Kai as they'd always done, checking the attic window next door. As children they'd discovered they shared a special power: to look out along the line of bricks and find the other almost always looking back. But somehow the spell had been broken. Each time Gerda peered out she called him in her mind, but each time she tried and failed, she knew she'd weakened the magic. So she willed herself to stop looking, but still she felt compelled. As kids they made a telephone from empty tin cans joined with string. Over the years they'd had all kinds of secret codes, but in all their years as friends, they'd never used their messages to fight. They'd always been linked by an invisible thread. Now suddenly it had snapped and the magic was spent.

Gerda knew she was to blame, but she still didn't understand. Kai was different at the party, keen to take anything offered. Was there something she didn't know? Had he somehow developed a habit?

Gerda thought of the two men in the bathroom: their wary faces and calculating eyes. She remembered the pipe they'd shared earlier that night. A man with the same hard edges had offered it for free. But the truth was, he wanted something back. Sex or money or pain, she sensed it didn't matter which. It wasn't a gift . . . just a lure to trap you in their web. Did Kai leave home because he knew the men would hunt them?

Then Gerda remembered the girl from Norway, who'd watched everything unfold at the party, watched with her ice-cool stare. Was she somehow significant in this? Gerda thought of the remote, empty glitter in the tall girl's eyes. But they flared with heat and hunger when she turned to look at Kai. Maybe that explained it all – the resentment and the tantrum and the fact he'd disappeared. Maybe Kai was off with the ice girl now . . . wrapped in her nest at the North Pole, working on getting warm! Doing mouth-to-mouth on those cold blue lips . . . bringing her back to life!

Gerda began to feel angry, playing it over in her mind. She wasn't jealous, she was seething. Kai's yelling had buffeted his grandma like a wind-battered tree. Grandma refused to worry out loud, to wonder where he'd gone, or why. She used the voice she used for dead friends. Kai had gone out into the world, and would come back when he was ready. Even Gerda's own parents weren't overly concerned. In that maddening way of adults, they seemed intent on ignoring the big questions, worrying instead that the unseasonal cold would send up the heating bills, and what they might eat for tea.

Gerda sat shivering in her room, a chilly premonition shaping inside her. As her thoughts whirled, the air itself froze, and the city turned into a snow dome. Even the swan's wings of the Opera House were dusted white. There were power cuts and car crashes and snow had to be shovelled so you could open your front door. There'd been ice on the lake before, but never thick enough to walk on.

Beanie, scarf, gloves, two hoodies, coat, and three pairs of socks later, Gerda blundered along the path to the park, being the abominable snow girl. She went slipping and skating and purposely
not
thinking of Kai and whether he'd be cold. She even smiled at the makeshift sleds, and the swarms of kids learning to skate. She lumbered around the edge, throwing snowballs with littlies, the mirror-ball sun sinking and ice crystals dancing in the light. Soon the lake was lit with fireflies, kids carrying torches and glowsticks, racing and dodging and crashing. Then the fireflies parted, and Gerda rubbed her eyes. The light was indistinct, but out in the centre – surely it wasn't real – she made out a
skidoo
. To think the ice was holding its weight! She knew from movie chases that they ran on snow or ice. As it glided closer Gerda saw its opalescent paint and the running surf of the rider's hair.

Then the breath froze in her throat. It couldn't be . . . but incredibly it was . . . the snow girl from the party. There was no mistaking her: the same aristocratic nose, the white-blonde hair, and the haughty stare. Sitting rigid as an ice queen. Gerda's heart leapt. Maybe, maybe she'd see Kai. But the ice queen rode alone, in the stunning fur-lined coat Gerda remembered from the party, with rabbit-tail pom-poms dancing.

Out near the centre, a sledder flagged down the skidoo. A kid in bulky clothing looped a rope through a tow-ring and attached an old surfboard. Gerda strained to see the boy who'd cheekily asked the ice queen for a tow. Then the skidoo roared off, spinning its load in a dizzying rush, skaters scrambling to safety. Gerda's heart clutched – surely the kid had to crash! But he held on gamely and they blurred through another lap. Were her eyes playing tricks? It was Kai! She stumbling along the edge of the lake towards the sledder, calling Kai's name till her lungs hurt. The boy looked behind him once, as though in slow motion or a dream, and there was no hint of recognition. Then the skidoo slid up out of the lake, the surfboard-turned-sled bumping behind. As they sped down the icy street, the sledder turned and she saw his demented grin.

Gerda ached to howl her hurt and confusion. The magic thread in her chest was stretched taut and ready to rip her heart out through her ribs. It had to be Kai! She ran for the gates, desperate to keep them in sight. She climbed one massive stone gatepost and balanced on top, scanning the road that snaked down the valley below. The light was nearly gone, and she'd lost them. She stood there forever, teetering, freezing: frightened she'd fall if she gave in and cried. The last rays of sun caught a sudden sharp glint. She made out the white bullet and dark shape behind. It came smoothly to a large V in the road and veered south-east. They'd skirted the city and taken the highway south.

Gerda lay in bed, wide awake.
South. They'd taken the highway south.
Her legs were heavy as logs from blundering through the snow, but her mind shied away from counting sheep. They were heading down the coast. Finally she gave up trying to sleep, and dressed layer by layer, with the sensation of a reluctant sleepwalker. She loaded her backpack with toothpaste, hairbrush, knickers, socks, jeans, jumper, and only one personal thing: her diary. Guilt gnawing her, Gerda searched the cupboards for the two mohair rugs, whose staid patterns and colours she hated: she was taking them from her mother, who loved them. They were light and very warm. And she took a roll of garbage bags – somehow she'd have to keep everything dry. Gerda took her secret stash, saved from school lunches and excursions, hidden in her bottom drawer. She even gathered the coins from under the couch cushions. Then, stomach growling, she raided the cupboard and the fridge. Now poor Mum would have to stump down to the shops again, trying to stretch her housekeeping money until pension day.

Gerda crept out the front door, slapped at once by the icy air and the enormity of what she was doing. Sighing, she pulled the door shut. When her parents found she'd run away, they'd think she hated them. But that wasn't true! Should she leave them a note? She hesitated but knew she must go at once or her determination might melt, a snowman shrinking in the sun. She'd find Kai and be home before her food ran out. It would only take a few days. Grandma would be overjoyed, and Kai wouldn't hate her anymore.

Gerda walked briskly, shutting out the cold, refusing to think backwards, only forwards. To the next street corner, to the next row of shops. She counted the steps and marched. The rooftops were dusted with icing sugar, and she walked on hard, bruising ice, but her hiking boots cushioned her feet and braced her ankles when she slipped. The city at 4.00 am was foreign to Gerda, and captivating. No cars or people barging. She walked down the middle of the street, for fun. She studied the windows and shop-fronts. Some shops had ancient ornate plastering, while the newer ones had strong lines and daring colours. Gerda mused. The windows held the glamour she'd read about in fairytales. It was
glamour
that seduced you to go inside the fairy hill, or do the bidding of the little folk. Some shops were neglected, with cracked windows and drunken verandahs. Gerda stared into the stylised faces of shop-window dummies, thinking of the ice queen, looking for a sign . . . but all she saw were her own anxious eyes. When a face reared up at her inside a window, she shuddered. A man in a duffle coat glared at her, waving something:
Piss off
. It was a TV remote – he was trying to switch her off! The shop was one of the sad ones, with ‘Bargans' scrawled on the glass. Gerda hurried away, scanning nervously. Was he a psycho shopkeeper? Or did he just live there after dark?

The streetlights were getting scarce. What would she do if . . .? Gerda was slight but fairly tall, and she knew her heavy coat bulked her up. She looked big in the windows. Her hair was pulled up under her beanie, and she thought she might pass for a man, especially in the dark. She'd heard you carried your keys between your fingers, so you could poke someone in the eyes. She wedged her keys between her knuckles, fumbling in her gloves. She imagined the news bulletin: Girl Found Frozen – Murdered? They'd say she ran away from everything, yet she was running towards it, trying to find Kai and make things right. She'd never imagined a life where Kai didn't live next door. But was this just a wild-goose chase? She didn't really know if she'd seen Kai, or where they might be heading, just that they'd taken the highway south. But she'd definitely seen the ice girl, so surely the sledder was Kai? A girl like that wouldn't give just
anyone
a tow, Gerda guessed. She probably had some . . .
igloo
. . . down south, somewhere in the hills. She and Kai were probably toasting marshmallows in her snow castle right now. Gerda imagined bursting in on them, and her smirk died as she pictured Kai's cold stare. Gerda remembered the girl's face, and her predatory eyes. She hadn't seen the girl smile, even when they were introduced. She tried to visualise it, but all she could see was a canine snout, a baring of the teeth.
Snow wolf
. The words popped into her mind again. Even if Kai ended up despising her, Gerda knew she must continue. She didn't want to turn off the main road – something told her to head due south. Gerda yearned to believe it was a remnant of her connection with Kai – now just a frayed thread, stretched tight. She didn't even see the body she bumped into.