Watery Graves (15 page)

“You learnt something?”

“I knew it all along but now it’s so clear to me after being here.”

“I’m in suspense.”

“I am at my best when I am with small groups of people. One on one. Like I’m good here with you. I’m comfortable. I can talk. I feel safe. But if Matti and Cassidy came in here and then Libby, there’s  too many voices. Too many people to think about. It gets too much.”

“So it must really be tough out there for you tonight.”

“It’s killing me. But everyone else is loving it.”

“I’m sure you’re not the only one who feels that way.”

“Sebastian is out there as though some kind of rock star. I can’t watch.”

Mrs Bexley laughed.

“I can’t. It’s not the way I know him.”

Mrs Bexley looked at her, appearing to try to swallow her smile, before burying herself in the fridge rummaging for more supplies.

“You’re going to tell me I have to keep trying aren’t you. You’re going to say it will get better.”

“I’m not saying anything like that.”

“But hating being around lots of people isn’t going to go away on its own is it?”

“Well, you will keep finding yourself in crowds. It’s not going to change.”

“I have to get over it all, don’t I?”

Mrs Bexley raised her eyebrows, turning her lips down as though considering the idea as a novelty.

Emmy dropped her head onto her arm, sprawling out on the table top. “I really do have to get over it.”

Mrs Bexley picked up a platter and handed it to Emmy. “Would you feel comfortable feeding the masses?”

Emmy shrugged, hesitating.

“Go on
, take a platter. It’s a good way to get to know people.”

How could she tell Mrs Bexley she was also in the kitchen hoping to avoid seeing Sebastian, groped and fawned over. Unless that was something she had to get over too.

“No one else is here to help you out is there.”

Resigned to her fate, she walked out with the platter of food. That platter was the only thing that stood between her and the crowd. With something to offer, everything about the party began to change. People who’d been ignoring her called her over and picked at the plate. When someone bumped into her, all they said was something like, “Hmm, what you got there?”

Food was the only topic. But it was conversation.

Every time, she spotted Sebastian
, she headed in a different direction. He looked happy, completely comfortable and at home, sitting in a group of girls, sharing the wine she’d stolen.

The sixth platter was full of mini quiches. Emmy circulated through the crowd with a smile. Behind her she caught words she’d rather not have heard.

“I think she’s wearing pyjamas.”

“No. No
,” Another girl laughed.  “I
know
she’s wearing pyjamas.”

Emmy faced the two girls with short dark hair, the wine-drinking-ice-cream-stealing girls, each holding a crystal wine flute, pretending to be sophisticated. Gertie, the only girl she knew the name of
, had a shirt open to her waist.

She walked up to them. “Hi,” she said, smiling as wide as she could.

“Hi, Emmy. Loving the wine. What have you got there?”

“Help yourself.” Then Emmy leant in
. “Sorry, I know you’re Gertie, but I don’t know your name.”

“It’s Jen,” the dark haired girl said.

“I’ll remember that.” Then Emmy leaned in to Gertie. “Ah. Um. Your shirt’s unbuttoned.”

Both of them looked down.

Gertie, the one whose navel was exposed, shook her hair back and lifted her chin. “That’s the way it’s supposed to be.”

Emmy lifted her eyebrows, smiled and handed Jen the platter. She walked away, her heart thumping.

“Sophisticated,” she said under her breath.

“What did she say?” Gertie said to Jen.

Emmy picked up speed.

*

It was quieter in the front yard. The water fountain gurgled. Emmy sat on a stone bench among the rose bushes with new buds in bloom. She pulled one prickly branch down and inhaled the perfume-scented petals. This was more her pace.

“Hey,” a deep voice broke through the peace.

Several thorns pierced her palm as she squeezed the stem in alarm. “Ark.”

The boy sat down beside her on the stone bench.

Unable to let go, she bit her lip and looked into his face.

“You need some help?” he asked, as he reached up to peel her hand away from the rose stem.

“Ahh.”

“Looks nasty.” The boy pulled a folded handkerchief out of his pocket, and pressed it into her palm. 

She recognised him. 

“You can thank my mother for this. She won’t let me leave the house without a handkerchief. I don’t let many people know. It can be our little secret.”

“Urch.”

“Hold it up,” he said, lifting her arm and propping it on his shoulder. “Do you speak English?”

Emmy felt the heat in her face and her jaw seemed to stick as she tried to respond. “I…I…”

“It’s all right
, I’m joking. I know you do. I know who you are.”

“It’s good for stuff like this,” Emmy managed to mumble.

“Hmm – what?” the boy said, looking at her, one eyebrow raised.

“The handkerchief.”

“Yeah,” he nodded, picking up a beer and taking a swig. “Yeah.”

The crickets grew louder. Their melody had become faster and stronger, in sync with Emmy’s heartbeat. The boy didn’t seem to notice. He tapped his foot to the distant thumping beat of the backyard music.

“Does Libby talk about me, Emmy?” he asked.

Emmy swallowed, amazed at how her name sounded as it rolled off a strange boy’s tongue.

He peered into her face. “Are you all right?”

She nodded and pulled her hand away, rubbing her face, feeling the redness burn up her neck and cheeks again.

“Well, does she mention me?”

“I don’t know.”

He shook his head and leant his forearms on his knees, rocking a little.

“Am I supposed to tell you that kind of thing?” Emmy asked.

“If I’m asking you, yeah.” He chuckled, as though he was stating the obvious.

Emmy shook her head. “I don’t think Libby would like it very much if I tell you what she says.”

“So she does talk about me.”

Emmy bit her lip again
. “I didn’t say that.”

He snorted
. “Yeah you did.”

“I don’t want to talk about this anymore.”

“I thought tonight would be the night,” he said, throwing his head back and sculling the rest of his beer, before hurling the bottle into the rose garden. “But she’s a big tease, isn’t she.”

“No
.” Emmy peered under the handkerchief, and got a whiff of salty blood. “I think it’s stopped bleeding.”

The boy grabbed her wrist and pulled it into him.

Other than Sebastian, she had never been so close to a boy. It was hard not to stare.

“I think I may have been working on getting to know the wrong girl,” he whispered.

She swallowed.

“I’ve seen you around. I’ve seen you with Libby. You’re a hard girl to get to know.”

“I’m better on my own, talking to people.”

“I can see that now
.” He smiled.

“I can’t seem to get past Libby’s radar. But you. I think I could sit with you here in the quiet and kiss you no worries at all."

His face was very close. She couldn’t pull back. Emmy’s heart clapped against her ribs and the crickets stopped.

With his free hand, the boy scooped her onto his lap. “You’ll do.”

“I’ve got to go,” she said.

The boy cupped her chin and pressed his thumb and fingers into each of her cheeks. His breath stank from the yeast of the beer. With wet lips, he pressed down on hers and sucked at her face, forcing her back onto the gravelly path.

Pinning her wrists above her head, his rough cheek pressed to hers, he squirmed above her, his free hand wrestling with the tie on her green velvet pants. Only then could her brain kick into gear.

She snapped rigid before her lower body jerked and kicked.

He dropped flat on her.

She was winded, squashed. Grunting and unable to find the power to scream, she wrestled and bucked against him.

Arms reached down from above. Sebastian’s face replaced the boy’s, and the weight lifted off her. Rolling onto her hands and knees, coughing, desperate for breath, she crawled for the darkness at the edge of the garden. 

A girl dressed in black pulled her to her feet. Emmy recognised her from the markets and then the day they were at the river. She’d been hiding in the scrub.

“Are you okay?”

Emmy nodded.

Bodies thudded, giving off helpless grunts and groans, caught in a wrestle. The boy slammed his head against the arm of the garden bench. A spray of blood spattered across the stones.

“Sebastian?” Emmy screamed. When she looked back to the girl for help, she’d disappeared.

Sebastian had a fist full of the boy’s shirt, swinging him in a wide arc. The boy lost his footing in the gravel.

Sebastian’s fist remained clenched, nostrils flared. The boy rolled on the grass cowering, his backside high in the air. Sebastian glanced at her before reaching down and reefing the boy up by his collar
. “Don’t tell anyone about who hit you. Or I will tell them what you did to her,” he snarled, jabbing the air in Emmy’s direction.

“You didn’t hit me. You fight like a girl.”

Sebastian shook him. “Don’t talk about this to anyone.”

Emmy managed to stand on legs that felt loaded with lead. She walked over to the boy and dropped the handkerchief covered in her blood onto his heaving chest. “I won’t say anything either, if you leave Libby alone…Jed.”

The boy snatched at the handkerchief and pressed it to his nose. “Fuck off.”

*

Not daring to let go of each other’s hand, Emmy and Sebastian stumbled through the wire fence back onto their land. Guided only by moonlight, they ran through the pine trees, tripping over pine cones and rocks, out into the clearing of the lookout. Out of breath, they fell to the ground.

Sebastian skidded down the embankment first. Emmy followed. At the river’s edge Sebastian scooped water in his hand and drenched his face and shirt, scrubbing at his skin.

Water dripped from his chin when he stood to face her. The moon was high, a crescent of faint blue, casting shadows across Sebastian’s face. His lips were trembling. The river gurgled around his ankles.

Emmy nursed her injured hand. Sickness swelled in her stomach. “Sebastian?”

He ran at her, grabbed her arm and tipped her chin so her lips met his in a rough kiss.

She stumbled back, stumbling over a rock, but recovering.

In shock she took him in from head to toe, hands on her hips. Her lips began to quiver.

“A wine kiss,” he murmured.

She strode forward and seized his face, pressing her lips to his.

He pulled back, gasping, but her mouth was still close. Sebastian guided Emmy’s face towards his. The wine smelt sweet on his breath, and brought a tiny smile to her lips before she let him kiss them.

Sebastian pulled back first. “Do you know what that guy was trying to do to you?”

“Yes.”

“Let’s not tell anyone about tonight? People gossip and get it wrong.”

“The whole town has a way of making up stuff.” Emmy paused and thought some more. “The town knows that boy more than they know me. He could tell them anything and they’d believe him.”

“Well, don’t tell anyone. I don’t want them to think I go around beating people up.” Sebastian flexed his fist and then extended his fingers wide. Bruising was already coming out on his knuckles.

“Did you actually hit him?”

Sebastian laughed, then winced, shaking his head. “I tried. I hit the bench.”

“So did his head, luckily.”

“He’s right. I fight like a girl.”

“What about Libby? She should know about what he’s like.”

“Let’s just forget it.”

With a half shrug and a nod Emmy settled down on a rock, her legs shaky. “I don’t think she’s that into him anyway.”

Sebastian crouched before her.

She felt him squeeze her hand before she could look into his eyes.

He smiled, showing a row of wine-blackened teeth.

“You’re drunk,” she said.

“Yep, I’m drunk.”

Sebastian kissed her again. A gentle kiss. A kiss that felt
as though it was meant to be only between them.

“You’re drunk and fifteen,” she said again.