On Monday afternoon, Adam picks Skye up at the gate as usual. Today they head into Brookfield, to the café in the supermarket entrance where he’s arranged to meet Corey and Kieran. The guys are already there. Before joining them, Adam orders a cappuccino for Skye and a Coke for himself. The blueberry muffins are enormous. Skye doesn’t think she can finish one on her own, so Adam agrees to split one with her.
‘Hi, Corey,’ Skye says, as she scoots in beside him with her mug.
‘Hi,’ Corey replies, turning as pink as the icing on his raspberry bun.
‘I didn’t get a chance to say thanks for the ride home last Friday.’
‘No problem.’ He smiles weakly.
‘Your parents are nice,’ Skye adds.
It’s an understatement. Corey’s parents are terrific. Corey had called them last Friday night when things got out of hand—when Adam was wasted. Corey’s dad didn’t have to be asked twice: he put his coat on over his pyjamas, drove over to Ants’ house, rounded up the four of them and brought them home to his place. Then, while Adam was upstairs chundering, Paul phoned Dad to tell him Adam would be staying overnight. Talk about a prince. He didn’t say a word about Adam being out of it. Instead, he’d explained that after drinking a few beers, the boys realised they weren’t in a fit state to drive. Even made noises about them being responsible young adults before offering to run Adam back to collect his car in the morning. The first Adam learned any of this was the following morning when Kieran and Corey explained it all to him. Adam remembers wishing they would explain things quietly because his brain was pounding out the Macarena inside his skull.
On Sunday, Adam had dropped in to Corey’s with an apology and a box of chocolates. They’d almost finished polishing off the chocolates when Mrs Shaw said she hoped Adam would be careful not to abuse alcohol again. They didn’t know about the drugs.
Sitting opposite Skye, Adam slides her her half of the muffin. The big half.
Then he says, ‘Your parents were really great on Friday, Corey. You all were. I really appreciate you guys not mentioning the joint.’
‘That’s joints plural, Adam,’ Kieran corrects.
‘It was pretty dumb,’ Skye says.
‘And you puked on my shirt,’ Corey grumbles.
‘Sorry!’ Batting his lashes, Adam gives his friends his best hang-dog look.
They laugh, Skye’s giggle playing the treble to Kieran and Corey’s bass. Adam laughs too. He’s noticed that lately his famous hang-dog look isn’t as effective as it used to be.
Corey picks up the conversation where they left off.
‘Anyway, my mum says your behaviour wasn’t all that surprising. Not when you consider the stress you’re under. On Sunday night after you left, she lit a joss stick and asked our ancestors to look out for you, and for your mother.’ He colours again. It could be the longest speech Corey’s ever made in front of a girl. Kieran takes the last bite of his sausage roll. Flakes of pastry drop on his sweater.
‘You’re kidding?’ he says, his mouth still partly full.
‘What’s so silly about that?’ Skye says. ‘Māori people often call on the spirits of their ancestors, their whakapapa, to help them.’
Corey nods. ‘Mum believes friendly spirits have the power to influence things that happen to us.’
‘Ever since I mentioned wanting to go to university, Aroha’s been calling on our ancestors to help with our Lotto numbers!’ Skye laughs.
‘Well, it can’t hurt, can it?’ Corey’s comment makes Adam pause. What if you really could call on spirits for help? Through a medium, for example. It’s something to think about. But Kieran is looking sceptical, so Adam changes the subject.
‘So, Kieran, how did it go with Felicity on Friday? You get her to come over to the dark side?’ he teases.
Kieran laughs. ‘Not yet. But I’m working on it.’
‘I thought you two called it a day?’ Skye asks.
‘It wasn’t consentaneous,’ Corey says.
‘I’m sorry?’ Skye says, looking baffled. Kieran and Adam grin. Skye doesn’t know about Corey’s thing for long words.
Corey explains. ‘Felicity called it a day. Kieran is having some trouble accepting it.’
‘Oh.’
‘She totally ignored me at Ants’ place,’ Kieran says. He sits upright, sending bits of pastry everywhere. ‘I don’t get it. One minute we’re getting on great, I mean really great. We were connecting, you know? Then she suddenly breaks up with me, and the next thing I know, she’s dating Mikey.’
‘Could you have said something to upset her?’ Kieran considers Skye’s question.
‘With this face? Nah.’ He shakes his head, grinning. Skye shrugs. ‘Why? Did Felicity say something?’ Kieran says, suddenly doubtful.
‘No,’ Skye replies evenly. ‘Why don’t you ask her?’
‘How can I if she’s ignoring me?’
‘You could apologise first.’
‘Apologise? What for?’
‘If you apologise, maybe she’ll tell you.’ Adam looks at Skye in awe. She’s so smart! She goes on, smiling now. ‘Take Adam here. All he had to do was say sorry, look a bit despondent, and what happened? Corey forgave him for puking all over his t-shirt.’
Even Kieran laughs at that.
‘Yeah, you could have a point. I’ll think about it. Anyway, I’d better get off,’ Kieran says. The chair legs scrape as he pushes back from the table. He brushes himself down, removing the last pastry flakes. ‘Contractors dumped a load of firewood on the lawn yesterday. I told Gary that I’d stack it under the eaves. Might use it to tick off one of Reece’s workout boxes. Catch you guys tomorrow.’ He throws them a parting wave. Corey gets up, too. He mumbles something about a music exam coming up and needing to practise, then skedaddles after Kieran. Adam and Skye look across the table at each other. Suddenly, Adam feels ten years old.
‘We should probably be going too,’ Skye says, her green eyes smiling merrily.
‘Probably,’ Adam says, but he doesn’t make a move. He’s enjoying the sensation of sitting with Skye. Just the two of them. People coming in and out of the supermarket might think they were a couple. Adam has a brainwave. ‘Skye, do you want to go somewhere?’
‘Well, we should probably go and finish your English assignment. It’s due on Friday, remember?’
‘Or we could go to the beach? Maybe take a walk?’ Adam attempts to look nonchalant, as if it doesn’t matter in the slightest whether or not Skye Wētere would like to take a walk with him on the beach. He checks out his casual manner in the window behind Skye. The face staring back is pale and anxious. Not exactly nonchalant. At last, Skye giggles.
‘Okay, you talked me into it,’ she concedes. Adam’s pulse skyrockets.
‘You won’t get into trouble with Aroha?’
‘That’s okay. She’s working tonight. It’s late night for Farmers’ cardholders.’ Adam’s heart does a little flip of joy.
At the start of the base-track, Adam holds the gate open for Skye, who’s stopped to zip up her polar fleece. The afternoon is overcast and there’s a stiff breeze. Skye does a little skip to catch him up, and Adam lets the gate swing back behind them.
‘Aren’t you cold?’ she asks.
‘A bit.’ He’s freezing. He turns up his collar. He left his jersey at home again this morning. These days, without Mum to remind him, he usually manages to forget something.
‘Here, this should help.’ Taking his hand in hers, Skye slips them both into the pocket of her polar fleece.
‘There, that’s better,’ she announces.
She gives his hand a squeeze. Adam smiles and squeezes back. It’s true, he does feel warmer. They set out along the trail, their hands clasped in Skye’s pocket and their feet crunching out a regular cadence in the grit. To their left, they glimpse the bronze statue of the sea god Tangaroa rising from the water, his taiaha at the ready as he guards the entrance to the harbour. Opposite, on the slopes of the mountain, the scars of January’s cyclone are beginning to heal, the gouges softened by new vegetation. Both Adam and Skye have walked this track before. Everyone has. It’s a favourite venue for school trips, family outings and Waitangi day celebrations. Mauao is such a landmark, Adam wouldn’t be surprised if one day a stroll around the little mountain becomes a condition of New Zealand citizenship. Not that it’s a hardship. Not today, anyway. Walking the track with Skye, Adam savours every moment.
‘Let’s stop here out of the wind,’ Skye says, letting go of his hand and pointing to a wooden bench a few steps above the track. They climb up and take a seat. It’s a good spot: through the twisted boughs of an ancient pōhutukawa they look north over the water to Matakana Island. Feeling brave, Adam puts his arm around Skye’s shoulders. She doesn’t push him away, shifting closer instead.
‘You know the story of Mauao, don’t you?’ Skye says when they’re settled. ‘Why he’s sitting alone out here in the sea?’
‘Yeah, I think so. It’s a tale of lost love, isn’t it? Poor old Mauao was spurned by his girlfriend. I’ve forgotten her name.’
‘Pūwhenua.’
‘Yeah, Pūwhenua. A beautiful mountain. She dumped him for some other mountain, and he couldn’t bear it. Hey, it sounds like Kieran and Felicity, doesn’t it?’ Adam says, recalling their earlier conversation.
‘It’s a bit like your story, too,’ Skye says.
‘How do you mean?’
‘Well, Mauao figured he’d drown his misery. Tried to kill himself.’
‘I didn’t try to kill myself!’ Adam protests.
‘Maybe not, but you could have. You really scared me the other night, Adam,’ Skye whispers, her voice barely audible over the wind. ‘Don’t do it again, okay?’
‘I won’t.’
‘Promise?’ Skye turns to face him, her eyes imploring. Adam’s heart jolts.
‘I promise.’
‘Good.’
She smiles and, turning back to the view, she captures his left hand in her right, slipping it into her fleece pocket where it belongs.