I duck out of the crowd and cut across the quad. Memory tells me there are some taps in between the art rooms and the library. I spot them, and as I bend down to drink the tinny liquid I feel a wave of nostalgia so strong I fight back the urge to retch.
I quickly stand, heaving as I thump a balled fist softly on my chest, breathing in and out, trying to push the feeling away. My thoughts are going haywire. I see Jacob everywhere. See myself. Small and mousy. A stubborn chin hiding so much pain. Hair always falling over one eye. Scuffed shoes. Nails bitten down to the quick. Eyes burning with sadness. It was near here that he told me. Near here that he pulled me into the clearing which is now the car park at the top of the lake. Dusk on the Friday three weeks before he jumped. We’d been spending so much time apart. After years of being so entwined, so together, he’d seemed distant and cold, but we were almost past the madness. I only had one exam to go. I was feeling calm, confident. We were almost there. Almost free.
‘Jacob!’ I laughed, laughed, thinking he’d wanted to kiss me. That he’d missed me. I tried to pull away but he was strong. Hot. A beat went by and then I felt worried. ‘What is it? Jacob, what’s wrong?’
‘Look … god. Look, I just don’t feel sure anymore, Gem.’ His teeth pulled at his lip. Fingers raking through his hair. Everything tilted then, just for a moment. A mild sepia lens clicked across my vision. His face suddenly didn’t seem familiar at all.
‘What do you mean?’ I said, even though I didn’t want him to explain it.
‘I just … fuck. I don’t know. It feels different or something. Between us.’
He grabbed my hands. Slick and wet, our fingers slid around. I wanted never to let go.
‘I mean, you’re my best friend, Gem. That will probably never change. But I—I just … oh, I don’t know.’
The words tumbled out of his mouth and piled around my feet. I couldn’t move. I could barely breathe. I looked at his shoes. I loved his faded Converse sneakers. I’d been there when he bought them. I’d been there for all of it. My heart roared in my ears. I could hear a football being kicked on the oval. Laughter.
‘Talk to me, Jacob. Please. Come on. I don’t understand. Is it the exams?’
He bit at his lip again. ‘I don’t think it is. I wish it was.’
I felt a wave come. It built up inside of me and broke into hot panic across my body.
‘Jacob, c’mon, this is crazy. It’s us. We’re special, you always say it. Everybody knows it.’ I stamped my foot in the dust. I felt dangerous. Insane. I wanted to scream, hit him. Run laps around the oval. Anything to make him stop talking, to stop ruining everything. I thought of Mum, her arms around me, smelling of grapefruit shampoo and Nivea face cream, kissing my cheek. My face started to crumple. My cheeks were wet and I wiped the tears away. I could taste sunscreen. Taste hell.
Jacob looked crushed, empty after the birth of his horrible truth.
‘Jacob, why? Why are you saying this?’
He stared at the ground. At his hands. Anywhere but me. ‘Gem, please don’t make this harder than it needs to be. I just don’t want to lie to you. We’re not like that, right? We always tell each other stuff.’
He wiped perspiration from his forehead into his hair, making it stick up high. He was so ridiculous. So beautiful. Little black dots trailed along his wrists; he sometimes drew on his hands in class.
‘I don’t know what’s going on,’ he said. ‘Maybe it is all the pressure of finishing school, but I just feel different. Like I want things to be different.’
A dragonfly buzzed past so close that I could see the shimmery green on its tiny body. Its crazy eyes.
‘You like someone else?’
He shifted and kicked at the ground. ‘No. No, not really. But I do wonder what it would be like to be with someone else sometimes. Don’t you?’
I shook my head, even though it wasn’t true. I didn’t tell him about the dreams I had. Will Cobbler. Jason Gordon. Fox. Her.
‘No,’ I whispered. ‘I just want you.’
‘Okay, look. Look. Maybe we just finish the exams and then have a bit of a break over summer. Then we’ll see. Maybe we just need a bit of a break.’ He nodded at me, willing me to agree. ‘Both of us.’
‘I don’t want that.’
He became impatient, looking beyond the clearing back towards the oval. It was done now and he wanted to go. It wasn’t intense anymore, just tedious. I was annoying him.
‘How long have you felt like this?’
‘Just, I don’t know. A little while. But it’s not specific or anything. You know? It’s just confusing, my head’s a mess. I think this is normal. We’re young. I just need some time, Gem. I don’t want to drag you into my shit. Okay?’
I pulled at my bracelet. The one he’d given to me. Pulled it around and around my wrist in a slow circle.
‘Okay.’
‘I’ll call you later, alright?’
I was dismissed. He hugged me and walked off. I stood there perfectly still, imagining that I was a tree. A really old tree. So old that my roots were buried deep in the ground, snaking down to the earth’s core. Burning their tips.
After a while, I made my way down to the lake. I sat on the biggest rock and threw sticks into the water, crying as each one broke the surface, the world it reflected turning into a big, blurry mess.
Chapter Twenty-eight
Friday, 18 December, 9.27 am
I slip back next to Felix and look straight ahead so he can’t see the wildness in my eyes. ‘All good?’ I ask.
‘Yep. Just watching—you know, seeing if anything seems off.’
The sun is strong and I hold my hands over my eyes. We’re to the left of the makeshift stage, about twenty metres from the front. I’m already thirsty again.
I imagine that the stage is normally used for award ceremonies and school sports days. One of the teachers we interviewed the other day—Troy Shooter, the PE teacher—is wrestling with a heavy-looking lectern. A bunch of red helium balloons has been tied to a power cord on the left side of the stage. A few chairs, the same kind as in the staffroom, are dotted unevenly across the other side.
‘Family’s here.’ Felix nods his head to the left.
I see Rose’s brothers and George Ryan standing in a small half-circle. Bryce’s girlfriend, Amelia Posen, stands with them. George’s chin is set high as if he has made a deal with God that he will get through this torturous day with dignity. The blonde PR woman ushers them into the front row and they sit awkwardly, like characters from a movie that have wandered onto the wrong set. Even from a distance I can see the blue-black sheen in their hair.
‘Nothing like her,’ I whisper.
‘Huh?’
‘She really didn’t look anything like them.’
Felix glances back at the Ryans. ‘No, she really didn’t. It’s that blonde hair. She really did have amazing hair.’
‘Like Rapunzel.’
‘Yep.’ He stifles a yawn. ‘Fuck, I’m tired. I wish I could hold your hand right now. And more.’
I smile at him and suddenly my mouth is twisting into a sob. ‘Later,’ I manage.