The bell sounded for the end of interval and Calli sped off to physics. She smirked as she ran out of the door, hearing the little girl with Darren ask how she could get Calli to deal with her problem too. By the time lunch came around, Calli’s head felt satisfyingly full to bursting with new facts and knowledge, making her feel satiated and happy.
“Hey gorgeous-girl-with-all-the-answers,” Declan ribbed her good-naturedly, locking his arms around her shoulders from behind as she put her heaviest textbooks into her locker.
“Whatever goody-two-shoes,” she replied lovingly, seizing his wrists and clasping his hands together in front of her heart.
“No, credit, where credit’s due. You did awesomely on that test today. Top of the class. More than three years you’ve been eating my dust and now, now you’ve beaten me.”
Calli turned in a small space, finding Declan’s chest just inches from her face. She put her hands up, feeling the taut muscles through his shirt. A glance at his face highlighted the livid purple bruise around his eyes and the spiteful looking cuts. “Maybe your clever genes are rubbing off on me,” Calli teased, “or maybe you’re turning into a stereotypical, brainless rugby jock.”
Declan acted as though he was insulted, before kissing her gently on the forehead. “Where’s your crowd today?” he asked, looking around and seeing Calli was alone.
“Art trip,” she replied, “and no, before you ask, I don’t want to go back to the Chiller and watch your friends talk poor, innocent children to death.”
“I heard about that,” Declan laughed. “I was surprised you went. I’m even sorrier I had that meeting now, I would have liked to have watched you pan some Year 10’s instead of getting a lecture from coach about paying more attention to what’s going on on the field more than what’s going on off it.”
“Poor baby,” Calli said sympathetically, running her palm lightly down his rough cheek.
She became absent suddenly, her mind elsewhere and she chewed recklessly at her long thumbnail as her face took on a worried look. Declan pulled her thumb out of her mouth. “Haven’t you heard anything?” he asked gently, feeling for Calli as she shook her head, no.
“Come on,” he said decisively, taking her hand firmly and leading her down the corridor. “Let’s go and sit on the field.
The ground had lost most of Saturday’s dampness and Calli used her bag as a buffer between her skirt and the grass. It was lumpy due to its angular, scholastic contents but better than a wet backside by miles. Calli opened her lunchbox and looked in. Despite her illness, Alison managed to make a beautiful sandwich. She went to great lengths to add ingredients which softened the bread, a slice or two of cucumber was just enough to moisten the layers and a generous amount of grated cheese. Calli prodded it with her finger and thought of Alison’s fingers, twisted out of shape by her disease, grating and chopping just for her. It made her feel unutterably sad, as though keeping the sandwich for as long as she could, would yield it more longevity than the woman who made it.
Calli put the lid carefully back on the box and touched at the spot on her breast where the soldier-angel brooch rested on her shirt, hidden under her blazer. Declan watched her intently and she looked up, feeling his eyes on her face. “What have you got?” he asked, sitting up from his lying position on the grass. He carefully took the box from her and unclipped the lid again. He looked in at the sandwich and the other items, carefully and thoughtfully selected by a lady he respected and he lifted the bread out with gentle fingers. He placed it in the lid and held it out to Calli. “Eat it,” he said with authority and she started slightly, reminded of the boy whom she spent a week relying on in the New Zealand bush. Calli took it and did her best, swallowing each mouthful with great effort as the brick in her stomach rose up to meet every bite.
As Declan’s group of friends arrived, hurling themselves down on the ground in the sunshine, Calli noticed someone over by the gym trying to get her attention. Leaving her bag, she gladly escaped, making her way over to the tall, dark haired girl beckoning to her. They spent a good few minutes with their backs to the field, sitting on one of the benches which emptied easily, at the sight of the fearsome Year 12 and the reputably psychotic Year 13 who approached it with determination.
When Calli returned to the group, she managed to sideline the rest of the uneaten sandwich without Declan seeing. He was listening to something Lorna was saying and seemed agitated, verging on angry. “I don’t get how you can do that,” Lorna launched her remark directly at Calli, surprising her into dropping her lunch box. Declan looked at his girlfriend suspiciously. “That Year 13 is an absolute psycho, yet you go and sit with her like she’s your best friend. She’s nothing but trouble. One minute I start to think there might be some good in you and then you go and ruin it.”
Lorna’s face crumpled and her agitation made her look even less like someone Declan would ever have dated in a million years. Calli knitted her brow and resisted the urge to knock her silly face into next week, replying only, “Sal’s fine.”
Lorna would not leave it alone, having found a ready tool to dig holes in Declan’s girlfriend, right in front of his eyes. It was clear she wanted to discredit Calli at all cost. “No, she’s not fine. She spat water and goodness knows what over the toilet door at me. I did nothing to provoke her. She got pregnant at fifteen and drags this scrawny little boy around town with her like she’s actually proud of him, with a ciggy in the other hand. The fact she’s friends with you makes me think you’re just like her. And what was that all about at interval? Since when has any member of the Chill room slapped the little kids around? You’re like some mafia queen leaving a trail of damage in your wake, you...”
“Shut your face!” Calli was up on her feet in an instant, sensing Declan’s unease through their unspoken connection. It was the only thing that prevented her from hitting Lorna full in her stumpy, splodge of a nose. “You think you’re so awesome, don’t you?” Calli turned to address the whole group, her back slightly to her boyfriend who sat with his head in his hands, knowing the clash was inevitable and partly relieved it had finally come. The tense truce was on Calli’s side only, all along. “Sal is fine. None of you would have the guts to come back and finish school after giving birth at fifteen. I help her with her maths because I believe in her and I know she can get to uni and become an amazing teacher. And her little boy is awesome. He’s gorgeous. Where do you all get off thinking you can sit in your little Christian bubble and judge everyone else? I saw you this morning, you’re all hot air and enthusiasm. You don’t do anything or achieve anything, but you pat yourselves on the back like you did a good thing. What? What did you do? You make me sick!”
Calli bent down and retrieved her bag, shoving her lunchbox roughly into it. “You know what?” she offered as she turned to leave, her dark eyes flashing angrily. “I sat in church yesterday and listened to a real nice guy telling all his people to ‘be in the world but not of it.’ You guys can’t do that. You’re certainly not ‘of’ it, but you’re not even ‘in’ it either. You have no effect on your surroundings whatsoever. It’s pathetic!”
Calli whirled around and marched across the field in fury. How dare they judge her for helping someone out? Calli entered the courtyard at speed and caught the faint sound of Declan calling out after her. But she was intercepted even before she could turn and the principal was standing squarely in front of her. Calli’s heart sank, wondering if her exploits in the Chiller had come back to bite her. Or worse, perhaps they finally examined the security tape of the locker area and seen her fight with the fat man. Principal Stokes reached out and firmly took Calli’s elbow, turning her towards the main building and urging her to walk alongside. They entered through a door marked ‘Staff Only’ and it clanged heavily behind them. The principal’s heels made an echoing clack on the tiled floor as Calli tripped along next to her, the initial shock beginning to morph into irritation.
Calli opened her mouth to complain as the woman swung quickly into an administrative office and issued a sharp command at the fluffy haired woman at a desk, “Please mark Miss Rhodes as absent for the rest of the day and ring the home number in her notes to explain what has happened. I shall drive her down there.”
Calli’s mouth snapped shut, sensing the situation was much bigger than a simple telling-off, which she would surely have already had by now. “Quick, quick,” the principal urged her, still holding on to her elbow as they rushed out of the front of the school and into the staff car park. The woman only released Calli when they reached an expensive four wheel drive, which she unlocked with a key fob. Shell shocked, Calli climbed into the passenger seat, fixed on her seat belt and sat stiffly with her school bag on her knee. Principal Stokes backed out of her space and gunned the loud engine, reaching the main road in a very short space of time. Within minutes, they were on the bypass, heading south.
“Thank you for not making a fuss,” Principal Stokes said calmly as she overtook a meandering BMW at breakneck speed. “The school received a phone call from a nurse at the hospital, who expressly asked for you to be found and brought to the pediatric ward where your brother has been admitted. I don’t know any details, but she did ask that you be warned, your brother is fine and is there for tests, but your father is in great difficulty and not coping. She felt it was important you knew.”
Calli exhaled and put her face in her hands. A suffocating weight pressed down on her head and shoulders, bowing her low in the seat. Principal Stokes looked concerned. “Love,” she said gently, “I know nothing of your circumstances. I only know you’re one of my best students and you were removed from your family after an absence last holidays. But I remember your sweet little brother and want you to know that even though I’m breaking the rules telling you this, I’ve been praying for you and I will continue.”
Calli’s head shot up and she stared at the woman’s profile in amazement. Declan’s mother was praying against her, but this strong, authoritarian woman was actually praying for her. Was it possible the awful judgement that was coming for her, the poisoned arrow with her name on the shaft, could be held in a stalemate by the utterings of this woman, on Calli’s behalf? The girl felt overwhelmingly grateful and she smiled a look of hope in Principal Stokes’ direction. “Thank you,” Calli said, feeling irrationally grateful. “Thank you so much. You have no idea what that means to me.”
The rest of the journey was conducted in silence as Principal Stokes pushed her massive vehicle through the city streets. For Calli, it involved lots of door-handle-holding as she was flung around in the passenger seat. The ramps in the hospital multi-storey car park were terrifyingly slender in a normal car, but the principal’s truck raged around them like a bull, stampeding its way into a miniscule parking space ahead of a little old lady in a shiny little car.
“Fortune favours the brave, Calli,” the principal quoted cheerfully as the old lady pulled the finger at her retreating back and Calli skipped guiltily behind her. They followed the complicated signs to pediatrics, greeted by a locked door to the ward. While Calli panicked, the principal backtracked to a reception area which they had breezed past and within a short time, the doors opened outwards to admit a frantic Calli and her maniac driver.
A nurse left a side ward and greeted them in the main corridor. Calli screeched to a halt at the sight of her. “You!” she said simply, her body growing wooden and unyielding.
Declan’s mother walked slowly towards Calli, her face far softer than it was at the rugby match and she stopped in front of the girl, who fought pent up aggression. “I rang the school,” Carol Harris said gently, “I’m glad you got my message.”
Calli gulped and forced herself to swallow. Her face showed a mixture of dislike, confusion and gratitude. She wisely kept silent. Declan’s mother turned and walked down the corridor towards a board bearing a list of names. A light touch on her upper arm caused Calli to turn in surprise, finding Principal Stokes smiling kindly at her. “This is where I must leave you to your business, my dear,” she said in a gentle undertone. Calli was aware of Declan’s mother waiting patiently behind her. The principal leaned in close to Calli’s face and whispered, “I will continue to stand with you, in prayer.”
Calli nodded and her face started to crumble even as she fought to control herself. The principal squeezed her shoulder in a firm, confident grip and then clacked her heels down the corridor, exiting the ward as a bed carrying a little girl was wheeled through by a cheerful looking male orderly. Calli took a deep breath and steeled herself for the next few moments before turning to Declan’s mother with her teeth gritted and a suitably wooden look fixed on her face.
Jase slept in a huge hospital bed, his white face blending to invisibility on the starched hospital sheets. He looked so thin and tiny Calli felt her heart constrict in her chest. She approached him on silent feet which hardly seemed as though they connected the floor, drawn to his helpless, motherless form by a force greater than both of them. It was hard not to touch his soft face, Calli’s fingers twitching as she yearned to feel the silkiness of his skin and the wispiness of his blonde hair. She resisted, frightened of waking him up when he clearly needed his rest.
“Have a seat,” Declan’s mother said, pulling an armchair up next to the bed. It looked old and worn, its wooden handles having seen better days. Calli looked at her with mistrust and the woman blanched under her gaze, channelling an emotion that felt like guilt. “He’s had a small procedure, to look inside his system with a camera. We anaesthetised him so he might sleep for a little while.”
Calli stared at her blankly for a moment and getting the message, Carol left. Calli placed her bag rebelliously on the chair, not yet ready to do anything Declan’s mother suggested. She stood next to the bed, silently looking down on the attractive little boy enfolded in its sheets when a sound in the doorway disturbed her. Calli paid no attention at first, aware there were three other empty beds in the small bay and people were passing through the corridor at regular intervals, wheeling trollies or just making noise.
“Cal?” Simon’s voice sounded broken and a pain stabbed through Calli, beginning under her ribs and exiting through her stomach. She turned slowly, unable to keep the dismay out of her face at the sight of him; the tall, brown skinned policeman, whose pride in his heritage and his achievements in life were gone. He looked bent and twisted as though his own skin was suddenly too tight for him, bowing him into unknown shapes. Stubble protruded from the pores on his face, longer than Calli had ever seen it and he looked almost as wasted as Jase. His tee shirt was stained and the track pants which clung reluctantly to his non-existent waist were baggy and ripped along the bottom.
“Dad,” she said bereft, all feelings about this man laid aside as compassion overran them, defeating them by majority and discarding them to the hollows of Calli’s heart. Simon ran his hand through his overly long hair, looking as though he had forgotten why he was there at all.
“It’s all a big mess,” he said, his voice catching in a sob. “I can’t do this anymore.”
The strong policeman looked as though he was about to collapse and Calli pushed her bag unceremoniously onto the floor, taking him gently by the arm and leading him over to the seat where she struggled to settle his rangy frame awkwardly into it. He banged his elbow on the wooden arm but didn’t seem to notice. Calli squatted down next to him and looked up into his dark eyes, not sure how she could take his pain away. “Jase is going to be fine,” she said, convincing herself as she said the words. Principal Stokes is praying for me, she thought, drawing the proxy courage deep into herself.
Simon rested his elbows on his knees and rubbed at his eyes, showing signs of exhaustion and all the traits of the sinking depression which Calli watched Marcia battle, throughout her whole life. Calli put her arm around his shoulders and leaned her head against his powerful arm, fighting the urge to cry. She could see out of the corner of her eye, the black tattoo which denoted his cultural lineage, his proud Samoan heritage. It seemed faded and dull, as lost and meaningless as its bearer.
Suddenly Calli saw that none of it mattered anymore, not his deception, not his selfishness, nothing. She wanted her dad back. Not the man he had become of late, the demanding, dictating father figure that made her want to scream, but the father he was once - the carefree, laughing daddy who threw his daughter high into the air and always caught her. Calli wished for a time long ago, before Danny’s death, when life seemed bearable and broken things usually got fixed. Hearing her own sniffs, Calli realised she was crying softly into Simon’s hairy arm and it matched his own agonised sobs. “Sorry,” he wept, “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t Dad, don’t be sorry,” Calli replied, “be strong, Dad, be strong.”
Carole Harris leaned back against the wall of the corridor, fighting the uncharacteristic tears that threatened to fall from her dark eyes onto her pristine uniform. She shook her head at herself, ruing the awful spirit of judgement which caused her to justify an unpremeditated attack on the person who deserved it least.