Preloved (15 page)

Me.

Me and Rebecca.

Me and Logan.

Mum has a really nice singing voice. I wanted to tell her this, but I was too choked up. I didn’t want to accidentally get snot on her. So I nuzzled my head into her arm instead.

“Are you sad that you think that I belong to someone else?” I asked her instead. “That I am only really your half-daughter because another mum didn’t want to let me go?”

Mum turned to me with a mournful smile on her face.

“If you believe in reincarnation and that we are destined to relive our lives because we all want second chances, and that in each lifetime we might belong to the same people, new people or people we knew a long time ago – then nobody really belongs to anyone. Who we belong to depends on our own choice each time.”

Mum just made me want to cry even more. But I was determined to dry up, believing that if I swallowed the lump in my throat, I could drop my sadness to the pit of my stomach and burn it up.

“Now go and clean yourself up and we’ll have an early dinner,” said Mum. “Do you want to sleep in my bed tonight?”

I remember the happiness of sleeping in Mum’s big queen-sized bed, my entire body cool and streaked white from being covered in Mum’s homemade rice paste: her solution for my chickenpox.

“I’d like that,” I said, and I got up.

“We’ll clean up tomorrow,” said Mum, looking at the dresses strewn on the floor. “This stuff doesn’t really matter.”

As we headed for the stairs, Mum put her hand on the small of my back, and I was glad for it.

“Hey there, sleepyhead.”

I was having a dream and in it there was this fantasy boy called Logan. I was thinking how awesome my imagination was because this boy was just perfect.

“Oh, Logan,” I mumbled and I turned towards the sound of his voice. “I love how you dress so preppy; it’s so cute.”

“Oi, Miss Matey – wakey-wakey.”

My eyes peeled themselves open and I bolted upright in my bed. Except it wasn’t my bed. It was Mum’s. And Logan was back and sitting on the edge of it, staring at me.

“You talk in your sleep, did you know that?” said Logan.

“How much did you hear?” I demanded. I could feel my cheeks flushing. “What time did you crawl back last night? And how long have you been staring at me for?”

“Not that long.”

“Well, don’t do it again. If you were a normal boy, it would be creepy and I’d report you for being a sex pest. They take these things seriously these days, you know.”

“But I’m not a normal boy,” replied Logan, and he moved closer to me. He picked up the locket with his fingers, being careful not to touch my skin.

I looked him in the face. I felt so drained and grey and Logan looked so colourful and bright.

“I remember giving this to Stacey on Valentine’s Day, after we’d been going steady for a year. Yeah, real el cheeso, but you know how much chicks dig that day. Along with a bear holding a heart that said ‘I love you
beary
much’ and a red rose.”

“Oh please, don’t make me vomit,” I replied. Logan let go of the locket and I found I really didn’t have much more to say. I concentrated on the sound of the TV I could hear coming through the crack of the bedroom door.

“What are you watching?”

I followed Logan out of the room. I had to open the door myself, since he didn’t bother with it, choosing to walk through the wall.

“Re-runs of
Big Brother
?”

“Yeah, totally spewin, I can’t really believe it either,” said Logan, plonking himself down on the couch in front of the TV. “Fair dinkum, last year at school they made us read this ancient-arsed novel called
Nineteen Eighty-Four
, which was supposed to be about what the Eighties would be like – boy, was it wrong! But maybe the author was just twenty years off. He was – what’s the word?”

“Prophetic?” I suggested and I went to sit down next to him. I looked at the space between us and moved up a little closer.

Logan smiled at me. “Yeah, that’s the one. So Big Brother from the novel didn’t happen until your time. Spun out.”

I looked at the screen showing the “housemates” doing some stupid challenge to win fame and money on a stupid reality TV game show and tried not to smile. Logan wasn’t stupid. He was just displaced. Like me. Unaware and refreshing. I loved having him in my life.

“I want to apologise for yesterday,” said Logan. “I want to be a proper gentleman and say sorry.”

Awww. So cute.

“It’s okay,” I said quietly. “Friends tell each other the truth.”

“So we’re still friends?”

“Yeah.”

I shrugged. But I couldn’t help wondering if he was doing this so I would still help him.

“Little dudette, you couldn’t make me happier.” Logan winked at me.

I stared at him a little longer than I needed to.

“Um, Logan … what is that on your forehead?”

“What?”

“Right there.”

His hat had slipped to the side and along his hairline I could see something that looked like … blood. I put my hand out and then pulled it back. Maybe it was just my imagination. And as it stood, my imagination of late had been really … imaginative.

Logan straightened his hat.

“Did you know that your mum slept on this couch last night?”

“What? I thought she’d sleep in my bed.”

Oh gosh. I was never going to complain about no one loving me ever again. I was going to try and be good to Mum from now on, and not sarcastic and unappreciative.

“Well, you could …” said Logan.

“Could what?” I exclaimed. Logan looked like he was trying to prompt me, but I didn’t get it.

“How about doing something nice?”

“Yes, nice would be awesome. So?”

“Like …”

“Just tell me, Logan!”

“Making her breakfast this morning.”

“You’re a genius! Logan, I would totally hug you if I could.”

Maybe it was just my imagination, but I thought that Logan looked a bit bashful as he scratched the back of his neck.

Mum stuck her head in as I was pouring the last lot of batter in.

“What’s cookin’, chicken?”

“Mum! Come in!”

I pulled the chair out from our tiny side table and sat her down. I placed the plate with the pile of pancakes in front of her.

“Well, this is a treat, Amy,” said Mum as she popped a piece in her mouth. “Mmm, this is good. Simple and good.”

Mum smiled up at me. I smiled at Logan and he smiled back at me.

Hey, maybe I could be a domestic goddess. If I was looking for the whole husband and two kids thing.

“Who did you just look at, Amy?”

“I didn’t look at anyone,” I replied.

“Yes, you did. I saw you move your eyes and then you smiled. And if I wasn’t mistaken, that was a very smitten smile.”

“You know what, Mum, I actually have to go now.”

“You do, really?”

“Yes, really. I forgot I had to meet Nancy at the State Library at 10 am.”

I guess Mum was free to fall off her chair if she wished to. Things were changing. I was changing, okay?

“I’ll see you later. Leave the dishes for me.”

“Thanks for the breakfast,” said Mum. She shifted around in her chair.

Usually, I would run out as fast as I could, but today I found myself pausing in the kitchen doorframe, waiting for Mum to leave me with one of her ghost warnings.

“Amy, remember that if you get lost in a forest and the ghosts trick you into thinking every direction looks the same – take your undies off, put them over your head and spin around in a circle. Then your path will be clear.”

“Thanks not so much,” I said. Yes. I could scare away the ghosts. Along with every bushwalker and picnicker in sight. I wasn’t sure what the penalty for public indecency was these days, but I’m sure it involved incarceration.

“Your mum is cool,” said Logan as he followed me out to the front.

“My mum is weird,” I said.

I opened the door. Standing outside, as blue as her freshly coloured cobalt hair, was Rebecca. When she saw me, she burst into a new round of tears, ran forwards and threw her arms around me.

“Amy!” sobbed Rebecca. “Benji has broken up with me!”

“Oh no,” I said.

“Oh yeah!” said Logan.

Oh damn dammity damn.

Chapter 10

“Why do I find myself drawn to hopeless relationships, Amy? Like a moth to the flame? Like a candle in the wind?”

I thought Rebecca would be quoting something more profound and emo at a time like this, like Edgar Allan Poe, but she was quoting Janet Jackson and … Elton John?

“Uh,” I said, as Rebecca hugged me tighter. “Um … why don’t we sit down?”

I deposited Rebecca on the bench in front of the shop, next to the vintage bicycle, which today was filled with multicoloured wildflowers.

“So,” I said. “Spill the beans.”

I sat down and Logan sat on the other side of me. At that moment, the sun came out and a ray of sunlight hit Logan in the face. I loved his eyes. They were the blue in blue-and -white porcelain. Like the pair of blue lovebirds on a Willow plate. He squinted and reached into his blazer for his sunglasses.

It was weird being stuck in the middle of two people when all every passer-by could see was Rebecca and me.

“Well,” said Rebecca, rubbing her finger under her nose, “last night we were lying underneath a tree and staring up at the stars … and one thing led to another and before you know it, we were having an existential discussion.”

Okay, brain, no cynical remarks, please. I’m pretty sure if it was me lying beneath the stars with Michael Limawan getting hot and heavy with a bit of Dostoevski, I wouldn’t mind.

NO.

How did
Michael Limawan
come into this?

“Then Benji told me how he had been thinking that in order to be his true self – y’know, angsty and against the world – he couldn’t be with me.”

Rebecca paused to sniff loudly.

I hated seeing her like this. I couldn’t help but get all flustered and motherly inside. There was just something about Rebecca. The way she wiped the end of her nose and the way her eyes looked magnified by all the tears.

If I was Logan, I too would love her in a heartbeat.

“So I said, why can’t we be angsty and against the world together? And he said that it wouldn’t work ’cos being together would essentially mean we would be happy. He said the break-up would be good in reinforcing his disenfranchisement with life and it would be good for me as well.”

“Oh,” I replied. “That … er – creep.”

Logan just looked confused.

“Amy, he’s right, you know. I feel even more disenchanted with the world than ever. I mean, I wrote two of the most awesome poems last night, plus it’s giving me this really dark edge to my personality. I know this is hard for you to understand, because you’ve got a stone heart, but I love him!”

Rebecca produced a new batch of tears.

“Awww Bex, please don’t cry. Look, I’m going to go and meet Nancy at the library. I think you should come too. It involves you. Sort of. I think.”

Rebecca made a face at the mention of Nancy’s name and I was scared she’d say no. I took her by the hand.

“You feel cold,” said Rebecca, as if she had noticed me for the first time. “And you look really pale. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said. Rebecca wiped the last of her tears and stood up.

I gripped her hand firmly in mine and we walked towards the bus stop. I’ve had many summer memories with Rebecca, walking to catch the same old 879 bus with our giant beach bags and melting rainbow Paddle Pops.

When she wasn’t looking, I held my free arm against the sun, looking at the patches of pink and the little veins under my skin to make sure that I was still a solid girl. When we eventually stopped holding hands, Logan walked in the empty space between us.