“Yeah. It’s pretty much a requirement for me now. I carry spares with me too.”
“That’s good to hear, honey. I think you’re coping remarkably well, considering what you’re up against. It would be a tough time for anyone, even under ordinary circumstances.”
“I suppose,” I glanced at the clock and was surprised to see my hour was up.
“It goes by quickly, doesn’t it?” She stubbed out her cigarette. “Well, you take care, honey.”
I picked myself up from the chair. “I will.”
“Just take it one step at a time, okay? Don’t beat yourself up so much.”
I nodded.
“Good girl. I’ll see you next week.”
Seven
The bell sounded, signaling the end of sixth period. I breathed a sigh of relief and began packing up my desk. Duck, who was sitting next to me, stood up and slung his bag over his shoulders.
“Audrey,” my English teacher, Mr. Sadowski, called to me across the chatter in the classroom.
I looked up. “Yeah?”
“Can you come here a minute?”
“Sure,” I said, shoving the rest of my books into my bag.
“I’ll meet you at the front gate?” said Duck.
“Actually, I have to stay back today to do some work on the school mag. But I’ll drop by your place afterward.”
“Okay, want me to pick you up?”
I shook my head. “No, I’ll take the bus.”
I swung my school bag onto my shoulder and, doing my best to avoid my jostling classmates, made my way to the front where Mr. Sadowski was waiting.
“What’s up, Mr. Sadowski?”
“I’ve finished reading some of the recent pieces you’ve written for the school magazine. Great work, really great. You’ve always been a strong writer, but it’s gone up a notch in the past couple of months. Well done.”
I smiled, pleased with the compliment.
“But I thought I should just check in with you, make sure everything is okay.”
“Of course it is. Why would you think otherwise?”
“You’ve been a little quiet in class lately, and your writing, well . . .” He gave me a look I couldn’t quite interpret. “It’s taken something of a dark turn.”
“Oh.”
“Is there a reason for this?”
I shook my head and smiled. “No, not really.”
“No?” He looked unconvinced.
“Why do you ask?”
He sighed. “Since Ana’s death, the running theme in your work seems to focus mainly on suicide, and I’ve been a little worried.”
“It’s okay. I’m seeing someone about it. Ida has been great. I’m sure you’ve heard of her.”
“I have, and from what I know, you’re in good hands.”
“So was that all?”
He nodded. “Yes, that was all.”
“Okay. Thanks, Mr. Sadowski. See you tomorrow.”
I made my way over to the school library to meet up with Anton, who insisted we call him Angie. He was editor of the school magazine and the most popular kid in school, well liked by the teachers, the kids, the ladies at the school cafeteria, and even the grumpy caretaker whom everyone steered clear of.
“Hey, Angie,” I said when I walked into our headquarters—a small study room tucked away in the back corner of the library. “Sorry I’m late.”
“Hey, Audrey,” he said, his eyes pinned to the screen of his laptop.
I dropped my school bag down and pulled out a chair.
“What are you working on today?” I asked.
His fingers paused over the keys, and his eyes flickered up to meet mine.
“I’m working on a tribute to Ana.”
I drew in a deep breath. “Yeah?”
Angie rubbed at his chin. His fingernails were painted with bright pink polish and finished with a smattering of rainbow glitter. Today he had rolled up the sleeves of his white polo shirt to show off his perpetual golden tan. He wore a tartan skirt over the school-issued gray tights, which he had neatly tucked into a pair of Doc Martens.
“I thought we could interview some of her friends, share their stories. I know Candela has some wild ones to tell—the two of them were as thick as thieves.”
I sat down and pulled my laptop from my bag.
“You know her boyfriend, Rad, don’t you?” he continued.
“Yeah,” I said, instantly feeling guarded. “But we’re not in touch anymore.”
“Really?” said Angie, his perfectly shaped eyebrows shooting up in surprise. “Since when?”
“It’s been a couple weeks or so,” I said with a shrug.
“Oh,” Angie shut the lid of his laptop and rested his chin in his hands. “I know it’s none of my business, Audrey, but I heard through the grapevine that the two of you had something going on.”
“What? From whom?”
“Just a few of my sources—you know.”
I rolled my eyes. “Aren’t there more interesting things to talk about?”
“It happens to be the trending topic at the moment.”
“Well, it must be a slow news week.”
“Is it true that Rad looks like River Phoenix?”
I thought about it for a moment. “Kind of, yeah.”
“Is he more like Mike Waters in My Own Private Idaho or Eddie Birdlace in Dogfight? Both are equally hot by the way.”
“Mike Waters.”
“I am so jealous right now.”
“Don’t be. There’s nothing to be jealous about.”
“So nothing happened between you?” Angie’s voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. “Not even a pash?”
“Of course not,” I insisted. “I have a boyfriend —remember?”
Angie sighed. “I love Duck. Everyone loves Duck. He’s a great guy, but he’s wrong for you, honey.”
“No, he’s not.”
“Yes, he is. You sit with a different clique. You two don’t have anything in common. Don’t get me wrong: Duck is great husband material, and he’s cute as hell. But the two of you—” he drew his hand across his neck in a cutthroat motion “—are doomed. Sorry to be the bearer of bad news.”
My mother was at Duck’s place when I arrived there late that afternoon, sitting at the kitchen table with Zoe, a glass of wine in her hand.
“You look exhausted, Audrey. Have you been burning the midnight oil?” Zoe asked as I walked through the archway that separated her kitchen from the lounge room.
I nodded, putting my bag down by my mother’s chair.
“Poor kid. Duck has been the same.” She gave me a sympathetic smile. “The pressure they put on you is ridiculous, isn’t it? I still wake up in the middle of the night sometimes thinking I’m back at school and forgot to do my homework.”
“Seriously?”
“I’m afraid so.”
“Did you hear the latest news, Zoe?” said my mother. “Candela’s dropped out of school. You know, Amita’s girl?”
“Really? Right in the final term? What a shame.”
Mum shook her head. “I always knew that girl was bad news.”
“Don’t be nasty, Mum,” I said. “You don’t know the full story.”
“I’ve been hearing all sorts of things through the grapevine about the type of people she’s hanging out with now. Poor Amita—after the whole fiasco with Jeff walking out, it’s the last thing she needs.”
“Well, Lucy and I are going to meet up with her tomorrow,” I said.