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  It’s kind of nice that he still comes to visit. He keeps the shadows away. Which is good, because I know I’m not ready to meet them yet.

  11

  SARAH

  Four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie

  When the pie was open

  the birds began to sing

  Wasn’t that

  a dainty dish

  to set before

  the King?

  I DIDN’T KNOW Nico that well before he got together with Poppy. Our paths hadn’t crossed much at school; he stayed in his world of sport and I stayed in my world of study. The one good thing he had going for him was that he was Finn’s best friend.

  Considering the boys that Poppy had previously fallen for, Nico was a big surprise. Poppy’s exes (or PX’s as I tagged them) had a uniform broodiness about them. Poppy loved love. She was always reading those stupid romance stories where men are the strong and silent types and women are weak and need to be rescued. In an effort to broaden her literary horizons, I gave her Wuthering Heights. It was the worst thing I could have done. She then became obsessed with Wuthering Heights and was constantly on the lookout for her perfect passionate Heathcliff.

  I guess Nico could sometimes be a little bit brooding, but he didn’t seem particularly moody or particularly passionate, except about sport. Even when he was playing footy, it was like part of him held back a little — just in case. Yet there was something about him, a darkness I sometimes saw, that made me think he was living life on the edge.

  ‘Do you think, if I ever died, that I could come back and haunt Nico? Like Cathy did with Heathcliff?’ Poppy asked.

  It was their six-week anniversary and the three of us were celebrating at the extended outdoor eating area at Silver Valley Mall. The Grill was an upmarket burger place with long wooden benches and a chalkboard wall which patrons were invited to write on. I was uncomfortable being there, but Poppy had insisted I come and I couldn’t find an excuse to say no.

  ‘Why would you want to come back and haunt Nico?’ I asked.

  ‘Because I love him so much I don’t know how I could live without him,’ said Poppy.

  ‘Well, technically you’d already be dead,’ I said with a laugh.

  ‘You know what I mean,’ said Poppy crossly.

  She rearranged the salt and pepper shakers on the table.

  ‘Does Nico do drugs?’ I asked suddenly.

  ‘What are you talking about?’ she asked.

  I knew it was bad form. I knew this was supposed to be a night of celebration, which is why I was surprised when I was invited along. But Nico was as jumpy as a skinned cat, and he’d been to the mens’ room twice already.

  ‘Do you want me to go?’ I asked. ‘I think I should go.’

  ‘No.’ Poppy held my arm. ‘Just… why would you ask me that question? Nico is an athlete—’

  ‘Maybe he’s taking steroids—’

  ‘Sarah!’

  ‘I’m sorry.’ I sipped my mineral water. ‘He seems a little…agitated.’

  ‘Look, Dr Lum, Nico is not taking drugs. He does not use steroids. He does do protein drinks, but I think they’re legal—’

  ‘I’m sorry, Poppy…’

  She drummed the tabletop with her fingers then seemed to make up her mind about something. ‘I promised… you can’t tell anyone what I’m going to tell you now,’ she said finally.

  I crossed my heart, which was pumping a little harder than before, and we made a pinky promise pact.

  ‘Nico’s worried about… you know… that day. In The Woods. They had something about it on TV last night.’

  I sipped my drink slowly. ‘Well, the body was found, so…?’

  ‘And that’s the point,’ said Poppy. ‘Nico’s shirt. What if the police found it? What if they trace it back to Nico?’

  ‘Could you ask your Mum? If they’ve found the shirt, that is.’

  ‘You know she won’t discuss her work with me,’ said Poppy.

  ‘Well, if they do trace the shirt back to Nico, we’ll just tell them the truth,’ I said. ‘We found her. We called the police. End of story.’

  ‘I’m pretty sure we could be charged for obstructing justice or something,’ said Poppy.

  ‘It’s not as if we could help the police any further,’ I reasoned. ‘We found her. That was it. It’s not as if Nico’s done anything wrong.’

  I’d been feeling more uneasy about the whole incident as time passed. I’d picked up the phone a couple of times to ring the police and tell them the whole story. I’d even walked to the police station once, intent on going in and purging the story from my conscience, but then I just kept walking right past it. ‘Oh, yes, hi, I’m Sarah Lum, Councillor Lum’s daughter, and I’d like to tell you how I didn’t report a crime.’ I just didn’t see how that would work without it rebounding on Dad. And Poppy.

  ‘But what if the police don’t believe us?’

  ‘Nico’s got four witnesses who will tell the police exactly how that shirt got to be there,’ I said. ‘He needs to stop worrying.’

  ‘Yes.’ Poppy didn’t seem convinced. ‘Here he is. We were just wondering where you’d got to,’ she lied. ‘And here’s Finn, hey, glad you could come.’

  And that was the second-last time we ever talked about the problem with Nico.

  12

  NICO

  Can you keep a secret?

  I don’t suppose you can

  You mustn’t laugh, you mustn’t smile

  but do the best you can

  THE SOUND OF laughter from the kitchen and a jarring burst of music from an ad on TV drove Nico into his room. He closed his bedroom door with a near-silent click and sat on the edge of his bed, waiting for his heart to stop racing. He dropped his head between his knees and waited for the dizziness to settle.

  ‘Hey Nico… whatya doing?’ Nico’s younger brother, Andrew, stood at the door, a packet of chips in one hand.

  Nico raised his head. ‘Get out!’

  ‘Hey, I just wanted to—’ Andrew ducked, just missing the shoe that had been thrown at his head. ‘You’re a psycho!’ he said, slamming the door behind him.

  Nico felt a tiny river of perspiration run down the back of his thigh.

  ‘Maybe I am,’ he said.

  His phone buzzed — a message received. He waited a beat, before pulling it from his pocket and checking the caller. Fish. He probably wonders why I’m not at training, thought Nico. The idea of training made him feel a little better. Football drills. He could do them in his sleep. There was a sameness to the kicking and the running and the ache in your muscles that was comforting. If he could get to training, everything would be all right. Nico pulled his school bag across from the corner of the room and sat down on the edge of the bed again. He emptied the contents of the bag onto the floor — a waterfall of paper, a lunchbox, footy boots and shorts.

  He was going to be okay.

  Jacob Nicolson was captain of the school football team, the Firsts. Everyone thought he would get a tertiary sports scholarship at the end of the year. There had been interest from football clubs already willing to pay him for his talent but Jacob — Nico to his friends — had promised his parents that he would finish school. And that meant uni.

  But first he had to pass high school.

  His phone buzzed again. Nico opened the text, expecting the worst, but it was a short message. Typical Fish.

  ‘Where U?’

  Nico’s hands shook as he shed his school uniform and dressed in his football gear. One of his socks had a hole in the heel but he ignored it. He slipped one foot into a shoe from under his bed and found its companion near the door. He threw his footy boots into a gym bag.

  His bedroom door opened a crack.

  ‘Nico.’ It was Andrew again.

  Nico grunted and the door cracked open a little wider.

  ‘I need your calculator.’

  ‘Use your own,’ said Nico, pulling on a pair of track pants over his shoes and shorts.
>
  ‘Can’t. Left it at school.’

  Nico grunted again and the door opened wider.

  ‘Stay there!’ Nico sat back down on the edge of the bed and sorted through the mess from his upturned schoolbag.

  His phone buzzed again.

  ‘Shutup!’ he yelled.

  ‘I didn’t say anything,’ complained Andrew from the doorway.

  ‘Not you. Here,’ Nico shoved a calculator at his brother. Then he slammed the door in the younger boy’s face.

  Andrew’s response behind the door was muffled.

  Nico sat back down on the bed and checked his phone. Fish again. This time the message was longer.

  ‘Suicide drills 4 any1 L8. No game 4 any1 not at training. You’re screwed either way. Sux 2B U!’

  He considered a reply then ditched the idea.

  Suicide drills. What a dumb name for exercise.

  He checked his sports bag — mouth guard, deodorant, drink bottle, towel. He smelled the towel and decided it could last one more session. Tape. Where was his ankle tape?

  His phone buzzed again.

  ‘Sonofabitch,’ he muttered.

  He closed his eyes and just for a moment he was looking down at a mound on the ground covered in pine needles, a pink hand, the face of a girl.

  He checked the bag again, then his bedside table, then his desk. Finally he rifled through the rubbish on the floor. The tape was half-hidden under a practice exam paper for Further Maths. The number ‘36’ was written in red pen on the front page and a message, ‘Will need to do better for real exam pass. Make a time to see me.’

  Nico felt his heart start up its gallop. Mr Waterson. What an idiot. He might know maths, but the guy knew nothing about teaching. Everyone knew it. He was at least sixty years old. Should have been retired years ago.

  It was Mr Waterson’s fault that he was failing Maths. You just had to look at Nico’s grades until now to know that. Great timing. Fate had dealt him the worst teacher in the world in Year 12.

  ‘Jacob?’ His mother rapped on the door before entering the room.

  Nico’s stomach felt uneasy.

  ‘Aren’t you going to training?’ she asked.

  He nodded briefly, then shoved the practice exam into his schoolbag.

  ‘You should be there on time. Set an example. The boys look up to you, you know.’

  Nico snorted. ‘Cooper’s nearly twice my size,’ he said.

  ‘You know what I mean. And do you think you could clean up some time soon? I’d like to vacuum the floor. Your father thinks we have mice. Do you have food in here?’

  ‘I’m late,’ said Nico, grabbing his bag and swinging it over one shoulder.

  ‘Well… when you come back, then?’ His mother opened the blind to let in the dying afternoon light. ‘It’s like a morgue in here!’

  Nico grunted. His phone buzzed. He checked and saw it was a message from Poppy.

  ‘2 spots left in limo. $50 ea. Ask Fish.’

  The school Formal. Poppy was obsessed. She’d already dragged him around The Mall to watch her try on a thousand dresses that all looked the same to him. Sarah had organised a limo to take them to the reception dinner and now Poppy was organising his friends. He wasn’t even sure Finn was going to the Formal. He hadn’t mentioned it.

  ‘I need fifty bucks,’ said Nico.

  ‘You know what the rules are about—’

  ‘It’s for the Formal,’ he said. ‘For the limo.’

  ‘Well, of course your father and I would pay for that.’ YourfatherandI. The words were always run together as if she were talking about one person. His mother straightened a trophy on his chest of drawers. ‘Are you going with that Poppy girl?’

  Nico twisted the trophy back to its original position. ‘There’s a group of us going.’

  ‘Do parents get to go?’

  ‘No. You get to go to the Graduation Dinner.’

  ‘So do you need a lift now?’ she repeated.

  ‘I was going to bike it—’

  ‘You’re already late,’ his mother said, checking her watch.

  ‘Sure. Whatever. Yes. Thanks.’ There was not enough oxygen in the room. Nico felt his breath shallow out and quicken.

  ‘Jacob…’ His mother stepped towards him then stopped. ‘What’s that on your arm?’

  Poppy had drawn a row of hearts in black marker pen around his wrist at lunchtime.

  Poppy, his crazy girlfriend.

  ‘Can we just go?’ said Nico, pushing past his mother.

  She gave a little laugh. ‘Aren’t you a bit old to be writing on yourself?’

  ‘I’m thinking of getting a tattoo,’ he said.

  That shut her up.

  EVERYONE HAD BEEN surprised when Nico and Poppy had hooked up at the start of the year. Everyone, except Poppy of course. Nico knew his parents didn’t like Poppy much. They thought she was a distraction. If he failed Year 12, he knew they would blame it on Poppy. All they saw was a wild girl who didn’t dress like everybody else and who talked about things they didn’t believe in.

  ‘Maybe you could cut out the oogie boogie stuff when you’re around my folks,’ Nico had said after Poppy’s first visit to his home.

  ‘All I said was, I was sorry that your cat was missing, and that he’d probably turn up in a couple of days.’

  ‘But our cat didn’t go missing until two days later.’

  ‘They don’t think I took her, do they?’ asked Poppy. ‘And please don’t call it the oogie boogie stuff. You make it sound so… so fake.’

  Nico shrugged. He wasn’t sure what to think of Poppy’s Power. Sometimes it annoyed him when she told him what he was thinking. She was usually right, which was even more annoying.

  But he couldn’t stay annoyed at her for long.

  Poppy was always there for him and most times she could keep the darkness away. She’d even watch him train. Match day was different — everyone turned out to watch — but training was boring and usually only the players and the coach were there, twice a week, whatever the weather. And then suddenly Poppy was there, their unofficial mascot.

  Nico knew Poppy from around school, but he first really noticed her during summer training at the sports grounds, when a ball had gone out of play and she’d picked it up. She’d stood, holding onto the ball, the sun low in the sky casting a warm light behind her so that it was hard for him to see her features. For a moment she’d held his hand and it was like being punched in the stomach. And then there was that time in The Woods… His mind skittered over that.

  A week after the start of school she was suddenly there, sitting on the ground behind the school goals, watching, her knees drawn up to her chest, a flowery kind of skirt shifting in the breeze, a large floppy hat on her head. Somehow, he knew she was watching him. There were other players on the ground, but he felt her eyes on him. At the end of the session she stood and brushed the grass from her skirt.

  ‘You were awesome,’ she said.

  The silence was awkward. ‘Thanks for going back for my shirt,’ he said finally.

  ‘I’m sorry I couldn’t find it,’ said Poppy.

  Nico shrugged. Poppy had passed the message on to Virginia who had passed it on to Nico.

  ‘Don’t you go out with—’ Nico knew Poppy by reputation. Half the kids he played footy with said they’d been with her. The other half said they wouldn’t mind trying.

  ‘Kiel Montgomery,’ she said. ‘We broke up during the holidays.’ He didn’t know what to say, but Poppy just shrugged as if it didn’t matter. ‘But anyway, why I’m actually here is that Sarah Lum’s organising a maths’ study group. I thought you’d be interested.’

  ‘I dropped Maths Methods this year,’ he said. ‘Didn’t see the point. I’m just doing Further Maths.’

  Poppy shrugged. ‘That doesn’t matter,’ she said. ‘You could still come.’

  Poppy went on to talk about what the study group was, the meeting time, the location, and all the while Nico only half listened be
cause he remembered how it felt to hold her hand, how wild and beautiful she’d looked in The Woods that day. He couldn’t take his eyes off her hands that danced in the air as she talked. He wanted to reach out and take hold of them, feel their warmth once again. He wondered what it would be like to be with her. He wondered how many boys she’d been with before.

  ‘So, would you?’ she asked finally.

  For a moment he thought she’d read his mind, then realised she was asking about the study group. ‘Ummm, I’ll think about it.’

  Then she leaned into him so that he caught the scent of her shampoo, like peaches or a sweet fruit he couldn’t name.

  ‘I’ve dreamed about you,’ she said. ‘I saw us… together.’

  She said it casually, as if she’d just said that his footy team, the Falcons, were going to have a good season.

  ‘Ummm, okay,’ he said. Nico wondered if he was being punked. It was just the sort of thing Fish would organise.

  She studied him for a moment. ‘Orange,’ she murmured.

  ‘Orange?’

  ‘I’ve never had a boyfriend with an orange aura before. They’re not usually my type.’

  ‘Boyfriend?’ Nico echoed.

  ‘Hey, Nico,’ Fish yelled out from nearby. ‘Are you coming?’

  ‘I think this is going to be interesting,’ Poppy said. Then she kissed him, the soft imprint of her lips on his. As she skipped away, she turned back to yell out, ‘By the way, in case you were wondering, I’m a virgin.’

  A couple of nearby players hooted and jeered. But for some reason Nico believed her.

  That night Nico confirmed Poppy as a friend on Facebook and they talked for hours. Surprisingly, they liked the same music. And the same movies. She talked about her Power and asked if it might scare him off. He said that he didn’t believe or disbelieve in things he couldn’t see. He was neutral, if that was okay with her.

  He’d never quite made it to the maths’ study group though. It always seemed to clash with training or work at the supermarket, but the second time he’d slipped his hand into hers it was a perfect fit. Being with Poppy was like looking in a mirror and seeing someone he wanted to be. She saw such good in him.