Escape from Year Eight Read online

  Wednesday 3 October

  10.30 a.m.

  I stumble down the stairs, my head hurting like anything. Mum let me stay home from school today because I didn’t get to sleep till 3 a.m. I was going over everything that happened yesterday. By lunch-time, somehow the whole school knew that Jazz and Leon had fought over me. And that I’d said Leon had talked to me. I felt like I was being bombarded by noisy journalists when we were in the cafeteria waiting in line for our nutritionally balanced meals. For example, this girl in year ten came up to me and asked, ‘What did he say? Is he really crazy?’

  ‘Totally bonkers!’ Jazz answered for me, which is another phrase I taught him.

  ‘Shut up,’ I told him. He was irritating me, standing really close to me to prove that he’d won. At the same time, I felt proud because the girls in our class kept looking at us, and I could tell that some of them were wishing they could get a boyfriend as cute as Jazz.

  But it wasn’t what went on in the lunch line that really got to me. It was what Old Wart Nose said later, in English class. We were doing silent reading, and she comes over to me and says, in this quiet voice that got everybody’s attention, ‘You should have told us.’

  ‘Huh?’ I just looked at her.

  ‘If what you say is true,’ she goes on, like she’s superior to every mortal on earth, ‘if Leon really did talk to you, you should have let someone know.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because it would have been the responsible thing to do.’ She shook her head, all sad and regretful. ‘Lord knows what’ll happen to that boy now.’

  I did my best to block that thought out during school yesterday, and even through the evening. Mum and I found a cable channel that was showing back-to-back episodes of Friends, which we watched for like three hours. Mum let her hair down and made us popcorn with this air popper she found in a cupboard. And then we had brownie sundaes with Weight Watchers ice-cream. It wasn’t till I was in bed, trying to sleep, that Mrs Johnson’s words started to carve grooves in my brain. Irresponsible, irresponsible. Should have, should have, should have.

  Now my mind is aching from the effort to shut out her voice. It needs to be soothed with something sugary, like a big bowl of Coco Pops, but of course Mum doesn’t buy those any more. Guess I’ll have to make do with grainy toast and some of that organic honey she got in a health-food shop near her college.

  On the way to the kitchen I look through the French doors to the mud room. All three kittens are out of their box, tumbling over each other in a furry little wrestling match. I tap on the glass and three tiny triangular faces pop up. Six blue eyes stare at me. Nadine says that in a couple of weeks, that perfect blue will turn to yellow or green or amber, whatever their eye colour will be for the rest of their lives. It makes me kind of sad to think of that. ‘I’ll see you guys later,’ I tell them.

  I can’t be bothered sitting at the table with my toast. I munch it standing by the kitchen sink, gazing out the window over the cornfield. Mum said that when her classes are finished today she’s having a drink with Alex. CEC is the nickname Amy thought up for him. It stands for College Eye Candy. They’ve already got plans for the weekend, too. They’ve invited me along and said I could bring Amy, but that still doesn’t make the offer all that appealing. They’re hiking for twenty miles along the trail where the railway line used to be, and that’s not my idea of fun. Besides, I don’t want to spend hours seeing Mum with Alex. He’s such a try-hard compared to Rick. And also, I’ve got a project due for science on Monday that I haven’t even started yet. Not that it would keep me from hiking down the railway line if I really wanted to…

  Wait. Something outside the window catches my eye. There’s a car coming up the road. I was thinking so hard I didn’t notice it till now, and it’s almost at our house. It’s black and white and it’s got POLICE written on the side in big yellow letters. My heart pounds as I hear the crunch of its tyres on our driveway. Was what I did yesterday bad enough to get me arrested? I want to run upstairs and hide under my bed, but then I remind myself that they don’t usually send cops to deal with problems kids have been having at school.

  So what are they here for? I go out to the mud room and look through the window beside the door. There’s two of them I notice, as they get out of the car. A tall woman with curls peeking out from under her cap, and a man with a big gut hanging over his belt. They walk up our front steps as if they’ve got important stuff on their minds. I open the door and the woman says, ‘Hello, you must be Kaitlin.’

  I nod in agreement. Her black uniform makes me nervous, even though I know I haven’t done anything they could send me to gaol for.

  ‘I’m Officer Kirby and this is Sergeant De Vries. We’re from the Newton Police Department. Is your mother home?’

  ‘No.’ I make my voice sound brave, like in debating. ‘She’s at college.’

  Officer Kirby looks at me as if she’s surveying me for signs of lying. ‘Have you seen Leon Davies?’ she asks.

  ‘No, not since he ran out of class yesterday.’

  ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘Yes, I’d know if I’d seen him. He’s like… tall.’

  Sergeant De Vries smiles a little. But there’s no laughter in his eyes. ‘We thought he might have come here, seeing this is… well, was… his home. We’ll need to have a good look around.’

  ‘What? Isn’t he at his aunt’s place?’

  ‘No. His family haven’t seen him since he got on the school bus yesterday. But they know he stopped by there at least briefly.’

  ‘Has he run away?’ I ask the police.

  They look at each other as if they’re unsure of something. But finally Officer Kirby says to me, ‘Yes, Leon’s missing. And he’s taken his father’s gun.’

  12.00 p.m.

  ‘Are you sure you don’t mind?’ Sergeant De Vries asks Nadine. We’re standing on the little porch outside her front door.

  Nadine puts her hand on my back. ‘Guess I can put up with her for a couple hours,’ she says.

  ‘All right, then.’ The sergeant sounds relieved. ‘We’ll have a look in that timber over there. Thanks for the tip, Kaitlin.’

  ‘That’s okay.’

  They wouldn’t let me stay in the house on my own. They’re worried about what Leon might do if he shows up. I told the police I couldn’t contact Mum because she doesn’t believe in mobile phones. Which isn’t true, but I don’t want to involve her.

  As the black police car heads up the gravel road and around the corner towards our place, Nadine turns to me.

  ‘You really think he’s run off to the timber?’ she says sharply.

  ‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘I know he likes it there.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Nadine’s peering at me with steely eyes. So is Spot. Since the whole school has heard, I guess they’re entitled to know as well. ‘He told me.’

  ‘Leon talked to you?’ Her voice is steely now, too.

  ‘Yeah. And he took me there. To the timber.’

  ‘Hmm. Funny you never mentioned it before.’ She says it so coldly, like she hates me. I don’t want Nadine to hate me!

  ‘I didn’t mean it,’ I blubber. My words are mushed up with tears. ‘I didn’t mean to make him run away. I got mad at him and told the other kids at school he could talk, but I didn’t do it to be horrible. He said not to tell anybody he talked to me, but I never promised him I wouldn’t. I wanted to help him!’

  Spot licks my hand and whimpers. At least he believes me. Seeing that, Nadine’s face softens. Which makes me cry even harder.

  ‘Here.’ She takes a tissue out of her pocket and shoves it into my hand. ‘I guess it’ll be a hot day in January before kids tell old ladies everything they know.’

  ‘I’ll tell you everything now,’ I say, swiping at my eyes with the tissue. ‘What do you wanna know?’

  She says heavily, ‘We need to know where he’s got to. And I have a feeling it ain’t anywhere he’d expect you to guess easy.’
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  She’s right. He knows I’d look in the tree-house, or send the police there. I have a sudden image of his cartoons. The old rifle, the exploding baby… Where could he have gone?

  ‘Wait!’ I say.

  ‘What?’

  ‘I just remembered. Something he told me once. He said if he couldn’t get anybody to listen he’d go and sit amongst the… what was it? Some plant I’ve never heard of. I remember he said he’d do something weird there. He said he’d sit beside it and gather up sounds…’

  ‘Milkweed,’ Nadine says. Her face has gone pale.

  ‘Yeah, that was it!’

  12.20 p.m.

  Before I can ask what’s happening, Nadine has got me in her pick-up and we’re speeding up the road at eighty miles an hour. ‘Don’t distract me while we’re on the gravel,’ she orders. She stares out through the windscreen, concentrating like anything. Even then, we swerve a couple of times on loose rock.

  ‘Hang on!’ she says, but she doesn’t slow down. I cling to the armrest on the door, praying I won’t die in an Iowa ditch before I’ve even kissed a boy, or been part of a live audience at a TV show, or done my VCE.

  At last we get to the highway and Nadine turns north, where I haven’t been before. Once we’re safely on the bitumen I figure I can ask, ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘To where that milkweed is,’ Nadine says. She’s still speeding, still staring out through the windscreen for all she’s worth. ‘Too bad that boy remembers every fool thing I ever said to him.’

  ‘Huh?’

  ‘I told him that when my time comes, I’ll know it. I said I wanna go nice and peaceful. Told him I’d sit amongst the milkweed, just lean back and relax and listen to everything around me. Leon’s been a great one for listenin’, ever since he was little. Gatherin’ up sounds, that’s what him and me used to call it.’

  Nadine slows down a teeny bit for the intersection of another gravel road, then floors her old pick-up harder than ever.

  ‘Where exactly is this milkweed?’ I ask loudly, so she can hear me over the roar of the motor.

  ‘In that piece of timber I told you about. Up near Marshalltown. It grows alongside the huntin’ cabin.’

  2.00 p.m.

  Nadine slows down for another gravel road, turns into it too fast and skids. We’re almost in the ditch before she manages to correct. My heart is racing, but I know better than to interrupt her concentration. We’ve gone about a kilometre when we pull off into a driveway. I see a ramshackle little house in a grove of trees.

  ‘There he is,’ I say. I hear the elation in my voice. He’s not dead! Leon is sitting with his back against the cabin wall, amongst some tall plants with big brown seed pods full of white fluffy stuff. He’s got the gun all right. It’s resting across his knees. He’s staring out at the trees, acting like he hasn’t noticed we’ve arrived.

  Nadine gets out of the truck. ‘You stay here!’ she tells me.

  I watch Nadine’s skinny back as she walks towards the cabin. Suddenly Leon stands up. He’s holding the rifle loosely in his left hand. I can hardly breathe. I’ve heard in America they keep their guns loaded. Nadine is walking slowly, her hand out as if she’s asking Leon to give her the gun. He takes it in both hands, raises the barrel and points it at her.

  He can’t do this! I think of Nadine’s kind old face as she told me those stories about Leon when he was younger. I think about her sour cream chocolate cake that she made me from her mother’s recipe. And I think about how scared I’ve gotten before every confrontation with someone, how my heart beats a million miles an hour. Careful, careful, goes through my head. I can’t always be careful. I open the door and stumble out.

  ‘Leon!’ I scream. ‘Leon, don’t be stupid!’

  They both turn to me. ‘Kaitlin,’ Nadine orders, ‘you get back in that pick-up.’

  ‘No,’ I say and walk up to them. And as I do, Leon turns the gun and holds it close, so it points up under his chin. He has his finger on the trigger. I’ve never been so scared, but I won’t run away.

  ‘What are you doing this for?’ I yell at him.

  He looks at Nadine, then me. ‘No one listens,’ he says. ‘No one listens.’

  ‘No one listens!’ I screech back at him. ‘That’s all you ever say. But it’s you who doesn’t listen!’

  ‘Kaitlin…’ Nadine cautions. Her voice is shaking.

  ‘Nadine loves you!’ I tell him. ‘Can’t you see that? Can’t you hear that? She’s loved you ever since you were born. And she’s loved your mother ever since she was born.’

  He doesn’t move, doesn’t say anything. But he’s hearing me. I know he is.

  ‘It’s great you care so much about the Indians,’ I say. I’m debating hard, trying to think of important points to persuade my audience. ‘You can’t change what happened to them. Nobody can. But you can draw their stories. You’re the best drawer ever!’

  He’s really listening now. I can see it in his eyes as they stare at me over the gun. ‘Everyone cares about you,’ I go on. ‘Even Old Wart Nose, although she’s mean about it. And I care. I’m sorry I gave away your secret if it means that much to you, but just because I wanted you to talk doesn’t mean I don’t like you. I do like you. Not like I like Jazz, but as… I want to be your friend. And so does Nadine.’

  Leon looks at Nadine. She nods. ‘Katie’s right. She’s a mighty smart gal.’

  He looks confused, then very slowly he begins to lower the gun. I exhale. So does Nadine. ‘Come on, Leon,’ she says. ‘Let’s get you home.’ She takes a step towards him.

  ‘No!’ he says. He still seems wary of her, but at least he’s looking at her now. And suddenly he’s crying. He drops the gun at his feet and puts his hands over his face to hide. Nadine goes towards him, and he lets her put an arm around his waist.

  ‘Not this year,’ he sobs. He kind of leans against her, even though he’s at least half-a-head taller than her. ‘Don’t kill the deer. Not this year, Dene.’

  That’s asking a lot. One of the first things Nadine ever told me was how proud she was that she could still shoot a buck.

  ‘All right, then,’ Nadine tells him, and I can’t believe she’s saying that. She puts both arms around him and pats him on the back. ‘I guess I can go one season without killin’ my own venison.’

  Nadine peeps around Leon’s shoulder and gives me the thumbs up sign. She says to both of us, ‘There’s other stuff I can spend my time doin’. I been waitin’ nigh on a year to have a chat with my old friend here.’

  Saturday 15 December

  12.30 p.m.

  ‘Hey!’ I screech into the frigid air. ‘That’s not fair! You’ve had years of practice at this.’

  Amy and Jazz show no mercy. While I’m trying to shape the snow I scooped up into some kind of form, they’ve already produced perfect balls which they hurl at me with freezing accuracy. Plop! They hit the front of the puffy turquoise jacket I got when Amy’s mum took us to Minneapolis on a long weekend and we went to the Mall of America, the second-biggest shopping centre in the world. It made Highpoint look like a convenience store.

  I mush my wad of snow together and toss it towards Amy, but it breaks up before it reaches her. ‘Hardy-ha!’ she teases, putting on a stupid southern accent. ‘Them Aussie gals sure are awkward when it comes to makin’ snowballs.’

  Jazz walks over to me. We’re in our huge front yard, which has turned into a bright white world overnight. Even the tiniest tree branches are topped with their own thin line of snow.

  When Jazz reaches me he says in a sexy voice, ‘Aussie girls are good at some things. I could name one or two.’ Then, before I can figure out what he’s doing, he grabs a handful of snow, shoves it down my back and runs away as the arctic substance begins to melt against my skin.

  ‘You bi-atch!’ I plough through the snow after him, glad for the knee-high boots I got at Colorado. I tackle him before he can climb the fence into the cornfield, which is now just a few yellow stalks sticking up
from the snow. He turns and puts his arms around me. ‘Sorry!’ he laughs. ‘I couldn’t resist.’

  ‘Oh, sure,’ I say. ‘I bet you’re real sorry.’

  He holds me closer, rubbing the wet spot on my back. He says in a serious voice, ‘I am sorry about one thing.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘That you’re going.’

  Tears sting my eyes as I hug Jazz tight. I don’t want to leave. It’s so beautiful here: the sky above the snow is incredibly blue, as blue as the eyes of the kittens when they were three weeks old. And I’m afraid I’ll never find another guy like Jazz, even though he gives me the irrits sometimes. Well, a lot of times. But in between he can be gorgeous. We first kissed at Amy’s Halloween party, when she made us go into this pitch-dark room and put our hands into creepy stuff she’d prepared on a table. Just after we’d felt the bowl full of eyeballs, Jazz led me over to a corner where we could be on our own, while behind us a girl cried, ‘Yuck! It’s a bunch of guts.’

  I was nervous as anything, in a corner with Jazz, knowing what he wanted to do, but I calmed down a bit when he whispered in my ear, ‘They’re grapes.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘The eyeballs. They’re just peeled grapes.’

  He looked so hot in his vampire cape. And he said that I made an irresistible Lara Croft. He had to take out his fake fangs so we could kiss, but I think I did okay.

  We haven’t had the chance to be alone much, because after the officer and the sergeant told Mum what happened that day with Leon, she stopped going for drinks after classes. And she made me come hiking with her and Alex on weekends, which I must admit has been good for my fitness.

  Still, Jazz and I have managed to get together a few times. I used to look into my future and see a girl that no cute guy could like. Now that girl’s not me!

  ‘Whatcha doin’, lovebirds?’ Amy has appeared beside us. Her words come out in little clouds of breath. I hold out one arm and so does Jazz, inviting her in for a group hug. Amy cuddles up to me and says, ‘It’s gonna be boring at school without you.’