The Secrets We Keep Page 2

  ‘Buy the good chocolate for the pudding,’ I say, giving Dad a hug. ‘It’ll taste better.’

  I breathe in the scent of Dad’s jumper. I’ve always loved it because Mum made it for Dad when they first started going out. It smells like dirt from the gardens and fancy perfume, as if both my parents have been knitted together into the wool. Although Mum’s scent is fading a bit now.

  Dad clears his throat and starts drawing away from me. ‘Righto,’ he says. ‘I’ll see you later. Have you got your keys in case I’m not home after school?’

  I feel in the pocket of my bag and nod. ‘Check.’

  ‘Lunch?’ Dad asks.

  ‘Check.’

  ‘Brains?’

  ‘Oops. Think I left them at home.’

  ‘Good luck, Clem,’ Dad says, reaching down and hugging me again for a second longer than he needs to. Then he straightens up just as a girl as tall as I am short walks to the front desk.

  ‘Ah, Ellie, just in time,’ says Leanne. ‘This is Clem Timmins and she’s a new student. I’d like you to show her around.’

  I’m torn between watching Dad leave and looking at the girl in front of me. Finally I wrench my eyes away from Dad to find Ellie looking me up and down.

  ‘Are you in grade six?’ she asks rudely.

  ‘Yeah,’ I say, standing a bit straighter because I know she thinks I’m too short to be her age.

  But instead of pointing out that I’m the size of a grade two kid like other people I meet, Ellie shrugs like it doesn’t really matter.

  ‘Come on, I’ll show you around,’ she says, walking away down the hall.

  I hurry after her terrified she’ll leave me behind. She actually looks okay, in that tall, skinny kind of way. She’s wearing a denim skirt like the other girls, but instead of an animal print top, hers has a cool checked pattern. And her long blonde hair is in a ponytail that’s almost as messy as mine.

  ‘So what brings you here?’ she asks, without turning around.

  ‘Had to move.’ My heart beats faster as I say the words.

  Ellie opens a door and we walk outside as the school bell rings. Kids run to their classrooms.

  ‘Why?’ she asks, still walking ahead of me.

  When Bridge asked me why we were moving, I told her that we needed to live somewhere that was cheap. And how Dad wanted to be closer to work so he didn’t have to leave me alone for too long. And how that meant moving here to this suburb and this school. I also made her promise not to tell anyone because I was really embarrassed. This was almost the truth.

  ‘My mum died,’ I say, causing Ellie to stop in the middle of the basketball courts.

  I crash straight into her.

  ‘Sorry,’ I say loudly, and jump away.

  Ellie spins around and looks at me closely.

  ‘Really?’ she asks. Her eyes don’t leave my face.

  I have a yucky metallic taste in my mouth. Why did I have to start here? Why did Mum have to come into my story now?

  ‘Yeah. We moved because it was too painful, but I don’t want to talk about it,’ I say.

  Ellie nods quickly, her blonde hair flapping around her face. ‘Fair enough.’

  This time when she resumes our tour, she walks next to me and not way out in front like I’m some sort of weird newbie.

  Ellie waves towards the huge building I saw through the fence with Dad. ‘That’s the gym. They built it last year with all this money from the government. The principal loves it so much that when we’re in it we aren’t supposed to wear shoes that will mark the floor,’ she says, and then laughs like that’s stupid.

  I know I should say something, but now that I’ve told her that Mum died, I don’t really know where to start. I’ve never liked oversharers. You know those people you don’t really know who just spew out really personal things? Now I’m officially one of them and suddenly asking about the athletics program would seem a bit weird. So I say nothing as we walk past a smaller block of newer looking buildings.

  ‘That’s the library and the art room,’ Ellie continues. ‘Art’s pretty good here. We even have a darkroom so if you’re into that sort of stuff …’ she trails off.

  What am I into? Apart from running, I have no idea anymore.

  ‘Do you know which homegroup you’re in?’ Ellie asks, walking past a block of portables.

  ‘Um, no,’ I answer, relieved that Ellie’s question stops me thinking about my old life.

  ‘Great, I’ll tell my teacher you’re in mine.’

  ‘Okay,’ I say, wondering why Ellie would want me to be in her homegroup.

  By now everyone is in their classrooms and I wonder when Ellie is going to take us to ours. Not that I’m in that much of a hurry.

  ‘So do you like it here?’ I ask, finally thinking of something to say.

  ‘Yeah. It’s fine. Grade six is cool. We get this big graduation night.’ She stops walking and turns to look at me. ‘I’m sorry about your mum.’ Her stare is intense.

  ‘Oh. Thanks.’ My legs feel all wobbly like I’ve just run a cross-country.

  ‘It must really suck.’

  ‘Yeah. It does.’

  Chapter 3

  Ellie holds open the door to her locker. ‘Here, shove your bag in with mine until we find you an empty one.’

  There’s not much room in the locker so I really do have to shove it in. Ellie helps me slam the door shut.

  ‘El,’ I hear a voice call behind me.

  I turn around to see a girl bounding up with even longer, even blonder hair than Ellie’s. At least she’s not quite as tall.

  Ellie and the girl hug like they haven’t seen each other in forever. I think about how Bridge and I would start talking the moment we found each other in the mornings and how she’d loop her arm through mine as we walked off to class. It makes me wonder who is sitting next to her now and I feel weird. Like I’m half there and half here. I can’t concentrate on what’s happening around me.

  ‘Tam, this is Clem,’ says Ellie. ‘Clem’s new.’

  Tam stops hugging Ellie and looks at me. She has bright blue eyes and almost as many freckles as I do. I realise she’s the girl who pushed past Dad and me at the gate earlier, and I decide that, even though she’s done nothing wrong, I’m not sure I like her.

  ‘Hi. Welcome to crazy,’ she says with a forced smile.

  ‘It’s not that crazy,’ adds Ellie.

  ‘It’s pretty loud,’ I say as we walk into a large classroom full of kids standing around, talking and laughing, with no desks in sight.

  ‘This is nothing. You wait until we start learning.’ Ellie laughs. ‘We don’t have traditional classrooms.’

  ‘But where do you sit?’ I ask, looking around.

  They both laugh like I’ve just told the funniest joke. ‘We don’t have desks. Just learning spaces in one big learning neighbourhood. There might be 100 kids in one space and then we go off into different areas.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ I say, my voice a bit shaky.

  ‘Come on, I’ll introduce you to Rebecca,’ says Ellie. ‘She’s our teacher.’

  ‘Wait for me,’ says Tam, pushing in between Ellie and me.

  We walk around and weave through what seems like twenty groups of kids. Some are sitting on the floor talking, others are leaning against the walls with computers balanced on their knees and others are standing or wandering around. I wonder if my dad has any idea how unlike school this school is. He was obviously lying when he said he researched it. I can’t imagine he’d approve of this sort of thing, although maybe he just doesn’t care right now.

  We walk up to a woman who’s talking to a bunch of girls. They seem to be arguing, but she’s smiling at them. She has short bleached hair and she’s wearing jeans with a top covered in butterflies. She’s younger than my old teacher, who’d been at our sc
hool for something like a million years.

  Finally the girls leave and the teacher turns to us. I notice that her nose is pierced. I’ve never seen a nose piercing up close before, let alone had a teacher with one!

  ‘Rebecca,’ says Ellie. ‘This is Clem Timmins. She’s new and she’s in our homegroup.’

  Rebecca smiles warmly. ‘Welcome, Clem. Can you hang with Ellie and Tam this morning? Then you and I can have a chat about where you’re up to at lunch. And we can find you a locker.’ I nod, not able to find the words I want to say.

  ‘She’s sharing mine for the moment,’ explains Ellie.

  ‘Great. Well, we’re in the middle of a writing project so Ellie can talk you through it. We work collaboratively here, so just slot into Ellie and Tam’s group and you’ll be fine.’

  I nod again, wishing I could swallow the lump in my throat so I could speak. Everyone was being super-friendly, but maybe that was the problem.

  We leave Rebecca and I let Ellie and Tam walk in front. They’re whispering about something and I figure it’s probably me. Tam turns back to glance at me and gives me this sad look like she knows I’m a figure of tragedy now. I think I was hoping to hide out in this school. Now I feel like by lunchtime everyone will know my name because of my mum.

  They reach an area with three red armchairs and beckon me over. I find myself sitting in the middle with Ellie and Tam on either side. I’m flanked by friendliness. I know it was what I wanted, but it was not what I’d expected at all.

  ‘So,’ says Tam, ‘we’re writing this story and it’s about this girl who’s stuck inside a book.’

  Tam has an overly dramatic way of speaking, like she wants everyone to be really interested in what she has to say straightaway. I wish Bridge were here because Tam would probably make her giggle.

  ‘Not stuck literally,’ adds Ellie. ‘More like she started reading this ancient book and she finds herself inside the characters’ world.’

  ‘Oh,’ I say, wishing now that I could work alone and not in a group. I’m not sure how you go about writing creatively with other people. Especially people you don’t even know.

  ‘So,’ continues Tam, ‘we’re up to the bit where she realises she’s on a quest and has to find her way back through the world she’s in. Only then will she be able to get out of the book.’

  ‘Like The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe?’ I ask.

  Tam frowns at me. ‘No. Nothing like that. This is much more real world.’

  Now I feel bad. I wasn’t trying to suggest she’d ripped anyone off.

  Luckily Ellie doesn’t seem bothered by my comment. ‘It is a bit like that, Tam,’ she says.

  I wish I wasn’t sitting between them.

  ‘Whatever,’ says Tam, rolling her eyes. ‘I’m going to grab a computer so we can keep working.’ She stands up and walks off.

  As soon as she’s out of earshot, Ellie leans close. ‘So how did your mum die? Cancer?’

  Her question makes my muscles tense and my left foot starts jiggling. I look around, hoping someone will interrupt, even if it is Tam.

  Ellie misreads my gaze. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone. Tam’s great but she’s got a big mouth.’

  I groan on the inside. I thought Ellie’d already told Tam, so the sad look Tam gave me must have been for something else. Maybe my tired-looking leggings?

  ‘So was it cancer?’ Ellie asks again.

  ‘There was a fire,’ I say really quickly and my throat feels like it’s going to close over, just like it did that night when the smoke swirled over me and made it hard to breathe.

  The look on Ellie’s face is like she’s just witnessed a car accident. She’s gasping and shocked and sympathetic all at the same time. Why didn’t I just say it was cancer? Why did I have to say anything at all?

  ‘But how?’ she finally manages to whisper.

  ‘Mum was sleeping,’ I mumble, my heart racing.

  ‘Oh, God. I’m so sorry … That’s horrible.’

  ‘Yeah. It is.’ So horrible that you should stop asking me questions, I want to yell.

  Ellie leans forward and touches my arm. It’s a sympathy pat. I’m used to these. I had a lot of them after the fire. After Mum …

  But then I look into Ellie’s intense green eyes.

  ‘My mum has cancer,’ she whispers as a tear rolls down her face.

  Oh no.

  ‘Breast cancer.’ Ellie wipes her tear away. ‘But it’s spread. She’s doing okay, though. She’ll fight it.’ Her voice is shaky. I know she’s trying hard to convince herself that this is the truth.

  ‘I’m sure she will,’ I say, wondering if I can make Dad understand that this school is not the right place for me.

  ‘You’re right. She will,’ Ellie echoes, and tries to smile. ‘But my dad isn’t coping at all. How’s your dad? He must be devastated.’

  ‘Yeah,’ I manage, looking around the room to find something to distract us.

  Ellie leans close. ‘Hey, do you want to come over tonight?’

  I’m caught. I race through excuse after excuse but none manage to come out. I must look like a fish, my mouth flapping open with no sound. My body is still tense like it’s ready to leap up and sprint out of there.

  At that exact moment Tam returns brandishing a laptop. She plonks down in her seat, oblivious to the weird vibes coming from Ellie and me.

  ‘Well,’ prompts Ellie, ‘do you want to come over? My house is really close.’

  Tam jerks her head sharply around and stares at Ellie as if she can’t believe she’s invited me over. Her reaction is almost enough to make me say yes, but I really don’t want Ellie and I to spend the next couple of hours talking about our mums.

  ‘Sorry, I can’t tonight.’ But Ellie looks so disappointed that I immediately add, ‘Next time, though.’

  Tam turns to Ellie and says, ‘I don’t have gym tonight. I could come over.’

  Ellie shrugs like she doesn’t care, which just makes Tam frown at her.

  I realise I’m frozen to my seat. I try to relax, but I feel like I’ve wandered into one of the fights my parents used to have, with no way out.

  Tam turns back to me and dumps the computer on my knees.

  ‘Here’s the story,’ she snaps. ‘You should read it first. See how not like The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe it is.’

  Relieved I have something else to concentrate on, I look to the screen and I start to read.

  Chapter 4

  It feels strange to be running home from a new school to a new flat, but at least I’m escaping all of the weirdness of Ellie and Tam and being the new girl.

  As I run, I think about how I’d normally be hanging out with Bridge at netball training or Little Athletics. Here it’s just school. Home. And Dad. An unequal triangle version of my once perfectly shaped life.

  I can’t even text Bridge because I don’t have a mobile phone anymore. It got burnt in the fire because I wasn’t allowed to take my phone to school. There’s a battle over the insurance so we’re just waiting on money to replace things. Until then, Dad and I have to make do with what we do have: a few bits and pieces we found after the fire brigade got the fire under control, like my diary and some clothes that were on the line. Then there are the things our friends and family donated to us, like Bridge’s favourite pink icy-pole-patterned pyjamas that I now wear most nights.

  I will never forget walking through the blackened bones of our house and seeing the random things that had survived. Half the couch, like it was preparing itself for only one parent to sit on it each night. A purple candle squatting in a crystal glass holder that was on a table near the front door. Mum had a collection of candles to help her relax. But how can a candle not burn in a fire? Crazy. And my diary. I remember picking it up and feeling how hot the key was in the lock, but the pages were still intact. I neve
r knew fires were so picky about what they took.

  The smell struck me, too. It wasn’t like the woody smell of a campfire. It was really strong and distinctive and everything we salvaged still has that odour. No amount of washing can get it out.

  I run around a corner and stop. I’m breathing fast and my top is all sweaty. Six weeks away from Little Athletics and I’m struggling to run as far as I used to.

  I start walking and pass the tattooed couple from this morning again and, this time, I see the other side of the woman’s face. There’s no ink. It’s just skin: plain, ordinary, human. I’m disappointed that she’s left a patch uncovered.

  I wonder if Dad will be at the flat. I hope he is. Already cooking in his frilly white apron that he always wears now. A stranger gave it to him after the fire. Random people were forever dropping in with bags of things they thought we could use. So much of it was rubbish. I mean, I know I’m small, but I am eleven and size four clothes do not fit me. A couple of things were okay, though. Like the apron. For some reason Dad loves it and has continued to wear it every night when he’s cooking dinner. Sometimes he even leaves it on when we eat. I think it reminds him that people can be kind.

  When I open the front door, the flat’s cold. I turn on all the lights even though I know we’re supposed to be saving money. And then I try to start the heater, but it’s one of those old gas ones in the wall that’s tricky to ignite, and I have no idea what the trick might be.

  I find Dad’s hand-knitted jumper on the couch and pull it on instead, liking the way the sleeves hang down over my hands, like I’m being hugged.

  There’s not much food in the cupboard except cereal and rice. But then I see that Dad’s already made the pudding. It’s sitting on the stovetop ready to be placed in the oven. I stick my finger into the gooey batter and taste the sweet chocolate. If I didn’t know just how delicious this pudding would taste after it was baked, I’d be pretty happy to eat it raw.

  I’m a bit of a sweet tooth. Mum was too. We could easily disappear into a block of chocolate and not resurface until it was gone. Dad doesn’t buy sweets much, so I’m pleased he bought the good chocolate for the pudding. He’s normally super healthy. I think that comes from being a horticulturalist and all those years he’s spent with his hands in the dirt growing plants. He grew this luscious vegie garden in the backyard of our old house that ran along three sides of our fence. When I was younger, I used to love picking beans and peas for dinner. But I’d always eat them before they made it inside.