This is Shyness (2 page)

‘I'll leave you alone. Enjoy your night.'

‘Sure.' She twists her hair into a rope. ‘You can buy me a drink.'

I swallow my surprise and walk her to my usual spot at the counter. I sense the old-timers watching us, regarding the girl appreciatively. I hold two fingers up to Robbie, the guy behind the bar. He bangs his hand against the stereo to restart it, and pours us two beers. He waves away my money. Pity beers. Or good luck beers. Either way, I'll need them.

‘I'm Wolfboy.'

She shakes my hand. ‘I guess that's something to do with the howling, right?'

‘Right.' I put my glass on the counter, but then I don't know what to do with my hands. She's making me jumpy. I don't think I've ever seen skin so smooth and tanned before. Her eyelids are smeared with green glitter.

‘So do you howl for all the ladies?'

I duck my head. What am I supposed to say to that?

‘Hey, I'm just kidding around.' She touches my arm. ‘I've never heard anything like it. How do you do it?'

‘I don't know.'

‘For a second I thought I'd hit my head
really
hard and was hearing things.'

‘You haven't told me your name yet.'

She looks down at her t-shirt and then up at me. ‘My name's Wildgirl; that's pretty obvious, isn't it?'

I don't trust myself to look where she's looking but I drop my eyes just long enough to see the word ‘WILD-GIRL' plastered across the front of her chest.

‘Yeah, but what's your real name?'

‘Well,
Wolfboy
, what's your real name?'

‘Everyone calls me Wolfboy. You can ask any of the Locals here.'

‘So, I'll call you that, and you call me Wildgirl. Simple.' I don't know if she means to, but her knees keep banging into mine every time she shifts on her barstool. She's wearing short shorts and white tights, and anyone who thinks brown eyes are boring needs to have their head read. Her skin is so peachy there's no way she's a Local.

I'm not sure if I'm looking at her too much or too little. My knuckles are white around my beer glass. I've never been much of a talker, but when I feel the space between us, her on her stool, me on mine, I want to fill it.

‘Where are you from, Wildgirl?' She beams when I call her that.

‘Plexus.'

I know it. Other side of the river.

I went to Plexus once while I was still at high school. I remember there was a closed-down amusement park on the beachfront. Thom and Paul and I threw rocks through the barred gate, trying to hit a clown statue, before we got bored and caught the train home again. That was a long time ago.

‘What about your friends?' I nod in their direction. Wildgirl turns and waves at them.

‘I work with them. Neil lives near here; that's why I'm on this side of town. I'm not sure about Rosie.'

Neil fires me a death stare over the top of his glass, while Rosie tries to distract him with chatter and cigarettes. I don't want to get into a fight, but there's no way I'm going to give up my seat next to Wildgirl to keep that guy happy. ‘Looks like Neil's a fan of yours.'

‘He's old enough—for it to be creepy.' Wildgirl drinks deeply. ‘He's my supervisor at work. I don't normally hang out with him.'

‘You're not a tourist to the dark side then?'

Her nose crinkles. It's so cute I want to think of as many ways as I can to give her that puzzled look.

‘What do you mean?'

‘You know that this pub's in Shyness, right?'

‘Yeah. Neil said it's the suburb next to where he lives.' ‘Did Neil also tell you that the sun doesn't rise here?'

She laughs loudly and unselfconsciously. She really has no idea. Sometimes I forget that most outsiders don't care about what happens here. Her laughter falls away. ‘You're serious, aren't you?'

I nod.

‘Never rises? As in, never ever?'

‘You can't tell now, not when it's night everywhere. But during the day when you cross Grey Street the Darkness closes over you.'

‘Like someone dimming the lights?'

‘All over Shyness. Total darkness.'

She rests her head on her hand. You can see her struggling to believe me. Trying to decide if I'm crazy or not. One of her fingers curls into a lock of hair, and a wristful of bangles slips down to her elbow. I'm not sure how much longer I can sit here without touching her.

‘What about the moon? You must get some light from the moon.'

‘The moon never lets me be.' I'm about to say more, but then I stop. I won't bore her with the details of my life.

She finishes her beer in one hit and slams the glass down.

‘Let's go.' Wildgirl slips off her stool and hoicks her enormous red bag onto one shoulder.

‘What?'

‘You heard me. I'm sick of the pub, so let's go.'

‘Where?'

‘Take me to where the night starts. Take me to Grey Street.'

‘You won't be able to see anything at the moment though. It's night-time all over the city.'

She shrugs. She may barely reach my shoulders but you can tell she'd dish it out in an argument. I glance around the room. Still no sign of Paul or Thom.

‘Were you waiting for someone?'

‘Just the guys in my band.' I can see Paul and Thom any night of the week. ‘They weren't gonna be here for sure.' I stand and finish my beer. Robbie gives me a nod. Wildgirl and I walk across the room and towards the doors. I don't glance back but I know her friends are watching us every step of the way.

three

Wildgirl stands in the middle of Grey Street with her arms stretched out as if she's a religious leader. She pushes her fingers against the air, trying to prise it open. A siren rises and falls in the distance like a long, drawn-out whistle of appreciation.

I call out to her, ‘You won't find anything. There's nothing there.' I hold her fire-engine handbag low by my side.

Behind Wildgirl the west side of the street operates normally. Late-night pizza shops spruik their wares with flashing lights. People lug shopping bags along the footpath without watching their backs. An ordinary shopping strip, crammed with hopeful immigrant businesses: Asian grocers, kebab shops, old-fashioned barbers, a shop selling belly-dancing costumes.

Grey Street is really two half-streets stitched together, with tram tracks running down the centre like a scar. The border between two worlds. It's been a while since I've been up this way. I've been bouncing between my house and the Diabetic for what feels like forever. Thom and Paul come over to rehearse and then we all go for a beer. When I need to eat, I find something. That's about as complicated as it gets.

The east side of Grey Street is a mess. The shops that aren't boarded up have broken windows and their insides are littered with drink cans, cigarette butts and broken glass. Graffiti splatters over every available surface. The smell of piss, fires and uncollected garbage hangs in the air. When you look up at night, the sky looks the same as in the west, but every streetlight is broken.

Wildgirl calls out, ‘When did this happen?'

Locals pass by, eyeing the girl yelling in the middle of the road. People in Shyness don't normally stand around on the street having high-volume conversations. I sigh, and walk to the middle of the road so we don't have to yell at each other.

‘It's been three years now. Something like that. It might have been a while before anyone noticed. First thing was the sun stopped rising all the way. At noon it sank back down in the east. It rose less and less each day until eventually it didn't show up at all.'

‘And the other side is okay?'

‘Grey Street's the border. This side: Shyness. The other side: Panwood.'

‘What caused it?'

‘I don't know. No one does.'

Wildgirl chews on this a while before speaking again. I shift her handbag from one arm to the other. It's heavier than it looks.

‘Do you know anything about Greek gods?' she asks.

‘Not much.'

‘The Greek gods are just like mortals, always drunk and angry and getting it on with each other. The sun's supposed to be Apollo, the sun god, driving his fiery chariot across the sky every day.'

Wildgirl keeps talking as she crosses back to the footpath without checking the road. She's lucky cars don't drive down here anymore. If I don't answer, maybe she'll stop chatting and we can get moving.

‘So maybe Apollo got sick of driving his chariot?' she says. ‘Maybe he's striking for better pay?'

I hand her bag back. She tucks it under her arm, still chasing her train of thought.

‘Maybe he's gone on the dole and smokes bucket bongs all day?'

I'd smile but out of the corner of my eye I can see balls of shadow flitting up power poles, clustering on the powerlines like grapes. They're out tonight, lots of them. I walk faster, hoping Wildgirl will match my pace. Her bracelets jangle with each step.

‘Everyone's got their theories,' I say. It drives me crazy listening to people crap on about the Darkness. I don't bother thinking about reasons; I just deal with it. If you don't like the night, leave.

I steer Wildgirl towards the Avenue. Maybe we can stop at Lupe's for a kebab before I stick her in a cab and send her home. I think Wildgirl would like Lupe. They've both got a crazy goddess vibe.

‘There's only one way I'll believe you.' Wildgirl turns to face me. Her cheeks are flushed. ‘We'll stay out all night. You show me around and I'll see for myself if the sun comes up in the morning.'

‘It's not a good idea.' Even as I say the words part of me is thinking it's a great idea. It's been a long time since anyone has thought my life was interesting. I could make it seem that way, for a few hours.

‘Why not?' She reaches into her handbag without breaking her stride and pulls out her phone. ‘There. My phone's off. Mum can't call me. Not that she'll care what time I come home tonight.'

‘You live with your mum?'

A pained look flashes across Wildgirl's face before she juts her chin out. ‘Yeah, so what?'

I wonder where someone would learn so much about Greek mythology. I take a stab in the dark. ‘What school do you go to?'

‘What makes you think I'm still at school?'

‘I can tell. You've got that jailbait thing going on.'

I can be mouthy too, when I want. I've had plenty of practice at the Diabetic, trying to get some respect from the regulars. It's difficult when some of the old guys remember me drinking raspberry lemonade in there with my dad.

‘That's bullshit. I was at the pub with
work
friends, get it?'

‘Didn't we already discuss that Neil wants to be more than just friends?'

I can tell she likes that, despite her irritation.

‘Southside,' she admits eventually. ‘Southside Girls' College.'

I don't know it. High school is a distant nightmare. I dropped out straight after my parents ran away to the country.

‘So that makes you, what? Seventeen?'

‘Yeah…and how old are you?'

‘Eighteen. Almost nineteen.'

In nine months.

‘Ooooh,' she cooes. ‘So ancient, aren't you? So mature.'

‘Look, I don't want to be responsible for an…outsider, not around here.' We come to a halt. Wildgirl faces me, her hands on her hips. Her hair almost crackles with electricity.

It's frustrating. Any guy would leap at the chance to spend time with a girl like this. But Shyness isn't a normal place and I'm not the most normal guy. I stare at Wildgirl's right shoulder instead of her face, to make this easier. It would be better for both of us if I walked her over to the far side of Panwood and put her in a cab. It would be better if I didn't think about holding her hand, showing her my favourite spots in Shyness, and talking until we can barely keep our eyes open.

‘I can take care of myself. Mum and I live in a government flat, for godsake; I'm used to taking care of myself. I don't need you to protect me.'

I'd believe her too, if she knew what she was protecting herself from. I have that prickly feeling tonight that comes before trouble. It's been too quiet recently. No fights, no raids, no kidnappings. I risk a look at Wildgirl. Her eyes are huge and brimming with crocodile tears and hope. Like a Kidd. She's not that far past it.

I open my mouth to say something else in protest, anything, but Wildgirl beats me to it. She folds over as if someone has punched her.

‘I have to go,' she says.

4

I need to pee. One second I'm sparring with Wolfboy, and quite enjoying it to be honest, the next I feel as if my kidneys are going to explode. I don't even bother trying to hide my pain. I shouldn't have had the extra beer, but I wanted an excuse to talk to Wolfboy. Poor bladder control—there's a way to impress a man.

‘I need to find somewhere to go.'

Wolfboy finally figures out what I mean. The crossed legs might have given it away.

‘What are you, six years old? You should have gone at the pub.'

I attempt to hobble along the footpath and justify my bodily functions at the same time. ‘I didn't need to go when I was at the pub; otherwise, I would have, wouldn't I?'

Wolfboy sighs and throws his hands up. ‘Let's cross the street and find somewhere.' He scours the nice side of Grey Street for options.

I calculate I have about thirty seconds left before I disgrace myself. There's no time to go begging in every shop. Squatting in an alley is beginning to look good when I spot a small functional building on the next corner. I stumble towards it. ‘Look, there's a loo right here.'

The toilet is one of those automated ones, next to a nuclear-power-plant-bright convenience store. For some reason the store is covered in a large metal cage, as if it has a big-time orthodontic problem.