Circling the bus station looking for somewhere to park, Calli spotted Simon’s squad car parked in the Emergency Vehicle bay.
“How do you know it’s his?” Declan asked in frustration, swerving as another car decided to exit a parking spot quickly backward.
“It’s his reggo,” Calli panicked. “Please, drive away now. Just drive away!”
Sighing, Declan found first gear and crawled around the car park. A coach drove in and people swirled all over the tarmac, heading off to wherever. Calli shrank down in the passenger seat so she was hidden, winding Declan up further as the impact of what he was getting into rode him in waves of nausea.
He found a space in the car park next door to the bus station and ordered Calli to stay with the car. “Here’s the keys. It’s pay and display so if someone comes over to the car, you’ll have to move it.”
“I’m on my learners!” she squeaked in alarm, but it was too late. Declan was off and running towards the ticketing office of the huge, concrete building next door.
In less than five minutes, Declan returned, puffing and sweating as he hurled himself into the driver’s seat. Calli stared at him as he caught his breath. “I was going to get you a ticket to Wellington on the next bus,” he stammered. Calli realised his problem wasn’t the speed of the run, but fear that stabbed at his lungs and hindered his breathing. Guilt flooded her body as Declan bit his lip and gripped the steering wheel with shaking hands. “I got almost to the front of the queue and then I saw your dad; he was in the ticketing office, talking with some of the staff. I knew he’d recognise me, so I daren’t risk it.”
“Did he see you run?” Calli asked, looking fearfully out of the side window, expecting to see Simon charging across the car park.
“I’m not totally stupid!” Declan bit, “I walked out casually and then legged it back to the car. He didn’t notice me; I don’t think...”
“You don’t think?” Calli sat up straight. “Just drive, please. Start the engine.”
Declan’s tanned fingers fumbled with the key in the ignition and the engine complained as he cranked it into first gear. He completed the manoeuvre with a complimentary bunny hop, as he pulled out the clutch too fast.
“Just put a sign on me Dec, why don’t you?” Calli whinged, beginning to panic. As Declan pulled out of the car park and back onto Bryce Street, she bobbed back down in the seat so only the top of her head showed.
“I can’t do this,” Declan said softly as fate turned against them and the lights changed to red at the end of the street, forcing them to remain stationary while the busy Tristram Street intersection cleared. The end of term traffic heated up as families headed out of the city to beach destinations. “I’ve never been in trouble with the cops my whole life. My mum is going to kill me.”
“Yeah, because it’s all about you, isn’t it?” Calli griped, saying the words under her breath, but deliberately loud enough for the boy to hear her. As soon as the words were airborne she felt spiteful and ungrateful. “Sorry,” she said with contrition, “please can you take me to the edge of town and just drop me off. I’ll be fine.”
The slamming of Declan’s palms on the steering wheel shocked Calli into sitting up sharply. “Geez woman!” he bit, his teeth gritted hard. “For the last time, I am not dropping you anywhere and letting you hitchhike. It’s not safe!”
Calli wisely decided to remain silent, biting her lip as Declan pulled away from the green traffic lights and went west. He drove through the suburb of Dinsdale and kept going on the Whatawhata Road until the houses became distant from their neighbours and then disappeared altogether. He tapped an irritating beat on the steering wheel with his fingers, as he negotiated the turns that took the car towards Mount Pirongia and Calli resisted the urge to slap his hand. She felt suddenly powerless; her destiny flung out to the four winds and this classmate, this boy, was fully in charge of everything. It made her feel sick and she gripped the cut on her forearm, inducing pain and using it to block the out-of-control feeling that threatened to overpower her.
Declan drove for just over half an hour, pulling off the main road and taking a single lane track which declared it was the Limeworks Loop Road. Calli looked around her surreptitiously, feeling fearful as the light dimmed. By the time Declan pulled into the gravel car park and turned off the engine, it was twilight. There were no streetlights and she felt overwhelmingly intimidated by her surroundings, the bush making its cacophony of sound from all around them. “Where are we?” she asked nervously, but Declan ignored her, spinning his tall body out of the driver’s seat and slamming the door behind him.
Calli got out more slowly, trepidation siphoning off any sense of optimism she previously clung to. Declan emptied the boot of the car, sliding his arms into his rucksack and levelling off the straps. Danny’s battered old bag leaned up against the bumper, sagging with embarrassment and proclaiming Calli’s stupidity in her naive packing skills. She bit her lip and stood with her feet crossed over one another, her left hand resting on the rim of the open boot.
Wordlessly, Declan leaned down and picked up the rucksack by its top handle and held it out to Calli. She took it gently, feeling its weight dangling from her fingers, taunting her with the darkness and her isolation. “Thanks for the ride.” She hoisted the bag onto her shoulder. The gravel made a grinding sound underneath her boots as she shuffled, settling the straps on her shoulders. With a pang, she recognised the bag’s owner had used it last, the straps far too loose for her but perfect for Danny. Calli drew comfort from the nearness of him through his possessions and lifted her chin defiantly. “See you around,” she said, her voice filled with false bravado as Calli Rhodes set off down the steep, deserted car park.
“No you don’t!” Declan’s voice was sharp and his grip firm, as he launched himself after Calli and spun her round by the arm.
“Ow!” Calli’s breath came out in a hiss as he seized her sore forearm and she struggled, trying to extract herself. Simon taught all his children simplified self-defence moves and before he knew what had happened, Declan was kicked in the shin and elbowed in the ribs. Calli aimed for his face as she turned, but he was far too tall for that to be a realistic goal. She was working up to stomping on his boot, when Declan pinned her arms by her sides and trapped her against his body, her face planted on his firm chest.
“Stop!” he ordered her, authority resounding against the thick shrubs surrounding the car park. Calli fought and wriggled some more, debating whether a nasty bite would force him to let go. “Cal stop! I told you I wasn’t going to let you hitchhike and I meant it!”
Relief and embarrassment washed over her. Declan wasn’t dumping her. Calli’s face relaxed against the roughness of his tee shirt and her body went slack. Declan stayed holding onto her, worried about the damage she could do him at such close range.
Finally, he asked, “If I let you go now, will you stop attacking me?”
“I thought you were attacking me!” she protested but nodded anyway. Declan released her arms and let them fall by her sides, moving swiftly back out of range of her dangerous limbs.
“Get walking,” he said firmly to her, turning to shut the car boot and activate the central locking and alarm.
Calli hesitated for a second before stepping towards a gap in the bushes, where a line of gravel disappeared into the darkness. By the time she crunched through the first few footsteps, Declan caught her up, shoving the car keys into a pocket on the outer edge of the rucksack. They drew alongside a small wooden structure, painted a dark green. It looked weird in the fading light.
“This is the last long drop for about half an hour. If you want to go, go now.” Declan’s voice sounded slightly harsh and Calli weighed up her options. The thought of it being the last toilet stop for a while didn’t fill her with pleasure and so she went into the small, dank space and used the primitive facilities. Wrestling her pack off, she tried not to touch any of the bathroom fittings. A wooden toilet seat rested over a pipe which plummeted metres down, dumping bodily waste products into an open pit underneath. Calli tried to ignore the family of crickets marching across the ground in front of her, bursting out of the space to wash her hands with far too much enthusiasm. Suddenly her lonely adventure didn’t seem like freedom anymore, but a self-imposed prison sentence in a hostile new world.
Declan led the way into the bush, following the river to the right of the path as it bubbled and played over rocks along its bed. Huge nikau palms towered above them, fronds rustling in the gentle evening breeze. The temperature began to drop, causing Calli to shiver in her tee shirt and bare arms. Declan said nothing more to Calli in the next thirty minutes, casting glances over his shoulder periodically to check she was following. Calli trudged along, the straps of her brother’s pack digging horribly into her shoulders and the main body of the bag hanging uncomfortably low over her spine and rubbing on the bones.
The bush was dusky and foreboding in the scant light from the meagre moon. It was a brisk walk from the car park and Calli frequently regretted her hasty decision to accompany Declan, as she tripped over tree roots and felt the sharp nip of the night flies that buzzed around her bare legs. She groaned as her hand batted yet another fly away from her inviting flesh, noticing the glint of blood on her calf as they passed through a clearing.
“Ok?” Declan asked her, stopping and turning so he could watch her slap at her legs. Calli nodded, but the boy could see how she masked her discomfort. “We can stay here tonight if you want,” he ventured, compromising purely for her sake.
“But you wanted to be further on,” Calli said guiltily. “I’m holding you back. I’m sorry.”
“It makes no difference to me.” He swung his backpack forwards and reached into a pocket on the front, withdrawing a small bottle of what looked like baby oil. Calli reached out for it, seeing the slightly green hue of the mixture and pulled a face. “It’s baby oil and green Dettol hand wash,” he said smiling. “The bugs hate it. Just rub it on.”
Calli wasn’t convinced, but had decided to trust him at the same moment he hefted her luggage into his car. It was more of an instinct for survival than a deep rooted knowledge that Declan could, or would take care of her. She bent double, spreading the greasy mixture over her calves and the area at the back of her lower thighs, which seemed the most delectable to the irritating bugs. It smelled clean, reminding Calli of the familiar scent of home. Jase had a fascination with taps and soap. He flooded the bathroom twice so far, unfortunately, both times when Calli looked after him. The consequences were borne by the teenager whose disgrace seemed harsh and seemingly never ending, compared to Jase, who skipped off happily after a few tears.
At the thought of Jase, Calli’s eyes welled with unwelcome drops, which grew and swelled at the edges of her eyelids. She kept her face down and used the excuse of plastering her legs with the mixture, to cover for the fat tears which dripped heavily onto the leaf strewn surface. He would be missing her, especially as the night closed in on him. Jase would pad softly into her room and shake her awake, insisting Calli follow him silently through the house to his bedroom. Then he would climb into bed and snuggle down nearest to the window with its open curtains, pulling her in behind him, wanting her body crammed against his in his single bed and her arms wrapped tightly around him. Then he would sleep deeply until morning. Calli spent the last three years sleeping on her right shoulder; her face pressed into the back of the little boy’s hair.
Marcia always boasted that her youngest son was the best of the lot, completely unaware that since the age of two, Calli dealt with him entirely independently through the small hours. Wet night nappies, bad dreams, coughs, colds, too hot, too cold; it was the teenager who parented and comforted the little boy, while their mother slept unaware down the hall. It started with Jase’s first night in a full sized bed. Their parents’ door was fully closed and unable to turn the handle; the little boy sought support from his older sister. He refused to settle in Calli’s bed and so she relented and allowed herself to be pulled back to his room by delicate but strong arms. The pattern began and continued hence, with Calli living in fear of her mother ever finding out. It would have been yet another perceived usurpation of Marcia’s self-image of the perfect mother and she would have subjected the young girl to yet more weeks of disapproving silence.
Calli squatted down on the ground to put the lid back on the oil. She couldn’t rid her mind of the image of Jase, padding quietly into her room and finding her gone. What would he do? Who would he go to? Perhaps Sadie would sleep with him, but somehow Calli thought not. She was more likely to call for her mother and then Jase would have to admit that every night for the last three years, he fetched Calli.
“I may as well not go home ever again,” Calli said out loud, feeling embarrassed when she saw Declan standing close by, waiting for her.
“That bad?” he asked softly and she simply nodded, standing up even as she fumbled with the bottle cap some more. He took it gently from her with long, masculine fingers and did it up properly, but held it in his hand instead of slipping it into his backpack. That was when Calli noticed his pack with the tent strapped tightly to the bottom, had gone.
Calli cast her eyes around her hurriedly, and Declan smiled, his teeth showing brightly in the darkness. “I’m setting us up over there,” he said, pointing forwards into the clearing. “We’ll camp here for the night and then move on tomorrow.” He bent down and retrieved Calli’s pack from the dusty ground and walked away. She scurried to catch up with him, her eyes widening in the darkness that surrounded them.
Declan set up the surprisingly large tent within a very short amount of time, shaking his head at Calli’s offer of help. “Why don’t you put it up out in the open, in the middle of the clearing?” she asked innocently and Declan shook his head again, looking up from underneath his eyelashes as he hammered the last tent peg into the baked earth amidst the trees and undergrowth.
“Safer here in the bush,” was all he said.
“Can’t things fall on you?” Calli asked, looking up at the flimsy canopy which filtered the stars and the dense night sky.
“Nope. I checked. You’re talking about epyphites or widow makers. There aren’t any. I can see through to the sky, right around us.”
Sensing Declan grew sick of her questions, Calli wandered away a little, but not so far she couldn’t find her way back. There was another long drop toilet at the end of the clearing and the sound of running water, but she was too nervous to explore. By the time she had circled the clearing once, Declan had set up a small LED torch inside the tent, issuing an eerie glow and the rucksacks were not visible, evidently sequestered inside.
Calli’s stomach gave a feeble growl as it tried to remind her she hadn’t eaten all day. Used to very little in the way of sustenance recently, its protests were usually pathetic as it expected to be ignored. Declan worked to set up the tiny cooking element, balancing a pan of water over it with real skill. Calli watched as his deft fingers moved expertly. “Watch this,” he told her, looking up and seeing the girl staring at him. Calli moved quickly to his side and sat down, unsure. “Tell me when it boils,” Declan said more kindly and Calli nodded, studying the water and desperately not wanting to get it wrong and embarrass herself in front of him.
Producing another small stainless steel pan from inside the tent, Declan used the last of a bottle of drinking water to fill it half full. Then into it, he tipped a plastic bag full of dark brown objects which clinked as they contacted the bottom of the pan. In the half light, it resembled a bag of bran flakes. “Stay here,” he commanded, “I’m going to get more water.”
With that, he picked up the empty bottle and bending down, added to it another one lying in the grass by the tent. Calli relaxed while Declan was gone, wondering how far the water source was from the tent. She concentrated dutifully on the saucepan, distracting herself from the cacophony of night noises that seemed as though they were crowding in on her. After five minutes or so, the water bubbled, not yet furiously but getting there and Calli bit her lip in fear. She had no idea what to do when the water started boiling over, or even what it might be for and worry blossomed in her heart. She stood up, her index finger nervously in her mouth. Declan asked her to tell him when it boiled, but he wasn’t here.
To her relief, just as the water began to bounce around furiously in the saucepan, Calli heard the sound of footsteps cutting through the long grass in the clearing. She jumped back nervously as Declan’s shape approached, crunching through the leaves and twigs which had fallen from the canopy over time. “It’s just started to boil,” she said, her eyes wide and frightened as she continued to move backwards away from him. Declan’s brow furrowed and he forced his face from a look of concern to an awkward smile.
“Well done, that’s perfect,” he said, apparently making an effort and fear ebbed from the girl’s beautiful face.
Calli hovered in the background as Declan stirred the pan containing the brown concoction, which seem to have steeped somewhat in the water and doubled in size. He took the boiling water off the cooker and laid it on a flat stone which he placed next to the heating element and replaced it with the other pan. He glanced up at Calli a few times sideways, but seemed not to know what to say to her. She resembled a frightened deer, getting ready to run at the slightest hint of aggression.
Taking a packet of white powder from next to the stone, Declan waved it at Calli, “Here, please can you stir this into the hot water until it gets thick?”
Calli nodded, her body feeling jerky as she moved forward to take the packet from his outstretched hand, trembling slightly in her effort not to touch his fingers. Declan gave her a strange looking metal spoon, which had a fork at the other end and instructed her to pour the powder into the water gradually, at the same time as stirring. “It’s a spork,” he said, by way of explanation. He smiled, the nicety wasted on the girl so frightened of disappointing him and being cast out.
Calli squatted down and did as he instructed, studiously mixing and pouring as the mixture grew thicker and formed into a whippy lump. “That looks good,” Declan complimented her, peering over her shoulder. He reached for a metal lid and as Calli removed the stirrer, he put it firmly on top. The brown stuff thickened bubbled on the heat. “Can you stir this one now?” he asked politely and Calli nodded.
Declan produced two lightweight tin plates, white with a blue rim. The light hanging from the centre of the tent cast a reasonable glow over their working area but attracted a cloud of excitable moths, which were fluttering and slapping against the cloth. “It’s ready,” Declan said softly, taking the spoon away from Calli. He moved the pan off the heat and fiddled with a wheel at the side of the gas canister and the flame was extinguished. He separated the mixture between the two plates and then dished up the white stuff. Calli watched as he gave one of the plates to her, telling her to use the other spoon, which was still in her right hand, to eat.
“Erm...” Calli panicked, “I’m celiac; I can’t eat anything with gluten in it.”
Declan paused with his spoon halfway to his mouth. “There’s no gluten in it. Mum always uses rice flour to thicken things. Levi has a problem with food like that too. The potato powder is fine too. Honestly. Trust me.”
Declan pushed a large spoonful into his mouth, as if to make a point. Calli stared down at her plate, scared of the belly ache which would ensue if Declan were mistaken. Her stomach growled hopefully and reluctantly she scooped some of the food onto her spoon and lifted it to her mouth. It was surprisingly good and wholesome. Shepherd’s Pie slipped down her throat and into her gullet, the best sustenance she had tasted for months. Before many more minutes elapsed, the whole plate was clean and Calli felt as though she needed to go for a welcome lie down. Her stomach complained heavily.
Declan poured water and fruit juice powder into two mugs and handed one to Calli. She took it with a small smile and a thank you, putting her plate and spoon down on the ground next to her. The sugary drink washed down the last of the food and cleansed her mouth and throat. “Thank you for looking after me.” Calli’s voice was quiet.
Declan shrugged and looked awkward, shovelling the last of the food into his mouth. He rubbed the back of his hand across his face and smiled. “I hope you don’t get sick of Shepherd’s Pie and every variety of dehydrated mince you can imagine. I usually live on it most of the time I’m camping.”
“I won’t get sick of it,” Calli promised, looking around her at the deepening darkness.
“Look, we need to go wash these things up and get ready for the night,” Declan said. “I’m going to sleep outside the tent so you should be fine. I’ll walk you down to the stream so you can see where it is and then you can use the toilet on the way back if you need to.”
Calli nodded, feeling embarrassed that a classmate was discussing personal things like going to the toilet, with her. The sudden realisation he might be intending to wait outside filled her with horror, quickly followed by the other possibility which was that he might not wait at all, but expect her to find her way back to the tent in the dark alone. What was worse? Calli couldn’t decide.
All too soon, they collected the dirty crockery and pans together and Declan set off towards the sound of running water. Calli followed closely on his heels, afraid of the darkness that closed around them as soon as the light from the tent was out of sight. Declan got her to retrieve her toothpaste and brush. “You’ll sleep better if you feel refreshed,” he promised. Calli stumbled along behind him, not coping with the changes her new life threw at her so far.
There was a steep drop down to the rushing water, which Calli could now see in the moonlight and Declan offered his hand to help her down. By the obliging lunar lamp, Calli plopped toothpaste on her brush and cleaned her teeth, using her hand to cup the crystal clear water and wash out her mouth. Declan was right. It did make her feel better. He stayed a little upstream of her, also cleaning his teeth but unlike Calli, he wasn’t spitting back into the stream but onto the stones at the edge. She felt guilty suddenly, knowing she was probably polluting someone’s water supply. She needn’t have worried. Declan’s next action amazed her as he stripped down to his boxer shorts and waded into the stream. Calli stood up in alarm as he sat down in the middle and allowed the cold water to run over his legs and waist. At one point, he lay down so only his face showed and then sat up again, running his hands over his soaking hair and shaking his head from side to side.
Brow furrowed and toothbrush in her hand, Calli was fearful that at any point, her companion may get washed away, but he seemed fairly confident and in control. In truth, the recent drought reduced the usually forceful stream to little more than a foaming, bubbling trickle, which bounced over Declan’s prone body barely covering it. When he stood up, the boy looked happier and more refreshed, clambering out over the rocks and reaching for a towel, which Calli hadn’t noticed him bring. “Get in,” he said trying to convince her, “it makes you feel heaps better.”
Calli shook her head unenthusiastically, knowing she felt dusty and dirty, but determined not to take all her clothes off in front of Declan and go sit in the middle of a stream late at night, in the epicentre of nowhere. He didn’t push it, drying his hair and body roughly before gathering his shorts and tee shirt up in his arms and beginning to walk back towards her. Embarrassed, Calli bent down to the water and rinsed the pans and crockery off, trying to make herself useful and rid her mind of the need to keep apologising for being a burden. Declan grabbed his boots in one hand, balancing his clothes over his forearm and piled the crockery together still wet so he could carry it in the other. “Use the long drop,” he told Calli. “I’ll wait for you.”
The lack of electricity supply to the clearing meant the long drop was almost completely dark inside. White painted walls gave some reflection from the moonlight outside and Calli could both hear the crickets inside and feel them crunching and jumping underneath the sole of her boots as she tried to relieve herself without sitting down. The toilet paper dangled from a roll on the left, feeling damp to the touch. Calli was as fast as she could be, gratefully using the bottle of hand sanitizer Declan gave her and fleeing the confined space with its eager night creatures. He nodded to her as she emerged in a violent rush, setting off back towards the lighted tent. “Ok?”
Calli nodded, her eyes wide in the torchlight.
The tent seemed massive inside as Calli moved around, changing into a tee shirt and shorts for the night. She left her boots and socks outside in a carrier bag Declan offered her to keep the bugs from making a home in them by morning. Danny’s old sleeping bag was already laid out for her so her feet were nearest the tent flap to get out. As Calli rolled up a towel to use as a pillow, she heard Declan shifting around outside in the entrance porch, formed by the front of the tent extending beyond the doorway for an extra metre or so. He had cleverly fixed a rope through the loop in the centre of the tent roof and tied it to a tree either side, hanging his towel over the washing line it created. It was obvious the boy was comfortable in the bush and found it easy to adapt to conditions that were already stretching Calli beyond her natural boundaries. As she shuffled around getting comfortable, letting the scent of her brother waft over her from the sleeping bag, she wondered how she ever contemplated doing this by herself, throwing her future at the mercy of passing truck drivers and motorists. The reality of her rushed decision mocked her from the silence of the bush, but for the muted animal sounds and the song of the myriad crickets.
Thoughts of Jase back at home, returning with his treats for Calli she could never eat but always pretended to, caused a wave of despair to rise to the surface and she cried into the folded towel under her face.
“You ok?” Declan’s voice sounded close, separated from her by the thin layer of nylon between them.
“Yes thanks,” she replied, as cheerfully as she could muster, cursing the sniffs that escaped without her realising. Calli wiped her eyes and nose on the towel and disgusted, turned it over to avoid the sickening wet patch she had caused. She drifted off to sleep, pushing away all memories of a little boy who would pad hopefully through to her bedroom back in Hamilton, looking for comfort and finding none.