‘Come on,’ said Roxy. ‘I’ll show you my favourite tree.’
I parked the Vespa and followed her across a big grassy area that was dotted with trees. A set of swings was off to one side. She stopped underneath this tree which had large glossy leaves and big limbs sticking out over the grass. Hidden among the tough leaves were bowl-like white flowers.
‘What kind of tree is this?’ I asked, patting one of the smooth branches.
Roxy was already climbing, stepping from one broad limb to another as if she was climbing a set of stairs. ‘Magnolia,’ she called. Her pale face, framed by leaves, peered back down at me, like an elf. ‘You can climb trees, can’t you?’
‘Course I can climb trees.’
Though in fact I had no idea how my heart would respond. I had enough trouble climbing stairs, let alone trees. Doctor Brad wouldn’t be very impressed.
‘James, come on!’ she shouted, nearly out of sight.
Hell, you only live once, right?
It was a number of years since I’d climbed a tree. Ryan and I had had a tree hut once, in our gnarly old plum tree. We built it ourselves, God knows how. Of course, with our building skills, it only lasted about a week. One night there was a storm and we came out the next morning to find the wreck of our tree hut scattered all over the lawn.
I stepped up onto the first branch. It was easy, because the lower branches were like benches, flat and strong. One step at a time. Up higher the branches got a little flimsier. But Roxy hadn’t gone too high. Just as well: my breath was coming in ragged spurts. She was nestled into the fork of the tree, her knees tucked up to her chin, and a distant gaze in her eyes. She pushed her hood back off her head.
‘Look,’ she said, pointing, ‘you can see those people’s swimming pool from here.’ There was a kidney-shaped pool (they’d hardly build a pool in the shape of a real heart, considering how ugly it is), sparkling turquoise blue in somebody’s backyard. I made myself as comfortable as I could on a nearby branch, and kept my eyes on the glittering pool, so as not to look at the drop. This was the most physical thing I’d done since getting sick. ‘They’re always in there through summer,’ said Roxy, ‘fooling round and acting dumb.’
That seemed kind of sad to me, Roxy watching from her tree as other people had fun. ‘D’you go swimming?’ I gently wheezed, trying to get my breath back. ‘There’s the Municipals just down the road.’
‘Nah,’ she said, ‘too many other kids. I’d rather be up here, in my climbing tree.’ She pulled out a packet of cigarettes and offered me one. I shook my head. She lit the cigarette with a pink lighter. ‘I come up here at night sometimes, too, if I want to get away.’
‘Yeah? You climb up here in the dark?’
Smoke seeped out from between her lips. ‘Yup. It’s easy. Me and my friends used to play up here when we were little. We’d pretend to be princesses hiding from a fire-breathing dragon.’ Roxy gave a sardonic laugh, like that kind of innocence was far behind her now. She looked at me then. ‘So, James Griffen’ (and I couldn’t help thinking it sounded just the way her father had said it), ‘where do you go when you want to chill out?’
I shrugged. ‘I dunno, I’m not really into tree-climbing.’ But that sounded like I was dissing her, so I quickly added, ‘The beach is good. You know, for hanging out sometimes. But I can’t do too much … so I’ve got this place, this zone I can go to.’
She looked interested. ‘How d’you mean?’
But I couldn’t tell her; it was too dorkish.
‘Go on, what is it, this “zone”?’
I shifted my butt on the branch, holding onto a thin branch above my head for balance. The branch felt cool and smooth under my hand. It was real sweet up here, among the leaves, like being in a tent. We were hidden away from the world, all alone, just me and Roxy.
Roxy’s eyes were on my face, listening. ‘You know, if I’m waiting for a test at the hospital or something, I shut my eyes and it doesn’t matter where I am, whether it’s the smelly old hospital or school or whatever – ’cause I’m there …’ I petered out, feeling stupid. I’d said too much.
But Roxy still had a serious look on her face, like she was thinking about what I’d just said. The dappled light moved over her face like water. ‘What kind of place is it?’ she asked.
My cheeks went a bit hot. I’d never told anyone about this before. ‘It’s … a clearing, away in the bush. And there’s this lake in the clearing …’
Roxy’s eyes gleamed in the dim light. ‘What kind of lake?’
‘Well, it’s extremely clear,’ I said, seeing it in my mind, ‘so you can see right to the bottom.’
‘Which is sandy and white, like pumice sand,’ said Roxy, in a sing-song voice.
‘How d’you know that?’
‘’Cause it’s hardly going to have a yucky, muddy bottom, silly!’
‘You’re laughing at me now.’
And actually, she was laughing. ‘Go on, tell me what else.’
‘No, I’m not going to,’ I said, pretending to sulk. Truth was, I was having a great time up there in the tree with Roxy.
‘Go on, or I’ll tickle you.’
I saw myself laughing so hard I fell out of the tree – donk, donk, donk – all the way to the ground, then splat. Maybe I’d gone a bit pale, because Roxy quickly said she was just joking. She took a drag on her cigarette and looked off into the leaves. We sat in silence for a few minutes. It was starting to get a bit uncomfortable, and I was racking my brains for something interesting to say, when Roxy said: ‘I went to a real nice lake once.’
‘Yeah?’
‘A couple of years ago, when Mum was still around, we had a holiday up in the North Island. She’s into the Great Outdoors. So she dragged us off into the mountains. And there was this lake. Way up in the bush. We had to walk for ages to get to it.’
‘Was it in a little clearing?’
Roxy gave a small laugh. ‘No, silly. It was way big. It was so cool. There was bush all around, no houses or people or anything …’ Her eyes had gone a darker, silvery grey. ‘We rowed a boat way across the lake, and there was a little island, and we climbed up a ladder onto the island … and you know what?’
I realised I was holding my breath. It was like listening to a fairy tale. Roxy’s eyes met mine. She smiled faintly.
‘What?’ I breathed.
She grinned again. It was nice when she grinned, maybe because she didn’t do it very often. ‘There was this little tiny lake on the island,’ she hooted. ‘It was a lake on an island in a lake!’
‘Cool.’
She looked so happy, like another person. That must’ve been a really good time for her, visiting that lake.
Roxy glanced over at me, and there was a different kind of light in her eyes now. An inquisitive, considering light. ‘So d’you have to go to the hospital much?’
I shrugged, and shifted on my branch. My butt had gone numb. ‘Check-ups, that’s all.’
‘It’s no big deal.’ I hunched into myself. ‘I need an operation, that’s all.’
Roxy screwed up her face. ‘I’d be scared of somebody cutting open my heart. Yuck. Aren’t you scared?’
All the time, I felt like saying. But I really didn’t want to talk about my heart. To change the subject, I said:
‘That guy, at the bus stop … is he a friend of yours?’
‘Not any more,’ she said, looking through the branches at the pool.
I wasn’t too sure what to say next, and my mouth blundered on. ‘Your dad seems an okay guy.’
Her face closed like a slamming door. I instantly regretted it. The atmosphere had undergone a radical change.
‘What would you know?’ she muttered, her eyes narrowed like she was going to cry. ‘You only met him for what – two seconds? You don’t know what he’s like.’
‘Try me,’ I said.
Her glance flickered over my face, checking me out. I could sense her hesitation. As if she was figuring out whether she could trust me or not. There was something else there, too. Something I didn’t understand.
‘Go on,’ I said. ‘I’m pretty good at listening.’
She lifted her shoulder slightly and leaned forward to stub out the cigarette on a branch. When she spoke, her voice was so low I could hardly make out the words.
‘Ever since Mum left, he’s been weird. One minute he wants me to act like a grown-up, and do everything round the house, like Mum used to. Next minute he’s treating me like a little kid. That’s the worst part. He won’t let me go out, he tells me what friends I can see and which ones I can’t. The other day he even took my mobile off me.’
Roxy looked up then, and I got a fright: her eyes were burning with hate.
‘I don’t blame her, for going away,’ Roxy said in a fierce voice, ‘I’d go too if only I …’
‘What?’
She lowered her chin, closing up. ‘Nothing,’ she muttered.
‘Could you go stay with your mum?’ I asked, trying to be helpful.
Roxy made a funny noise, and started to move. She was pushing past me, all legs and arms. I had to slide back to let her past. I clutched onto my little branch, hoping I wouldn’t lose my balance.
‘I’ve got other plans,’ she said over her shoulder.
As quickly as I could – if you could call a sloth quick – I clumsily followed her back down the tree, panting from the exertion. She’d reached the ground before I was even halfway down.
Thankfully I managed to get out of the tree without busting a valve, and plopped down onto the grass, relieved to be back on terra firma. Roxy was standing a short distance away, talking into her cell. I was worried about her: she’d been so intense in the tree, so angry. But when she glanced over at me, she looked fine again. Well, okay, at any rate. Her eyes were blank, as if I was a complete stranger.
‘Can you drop me at the mall?’ she said. Any closeness we’d had up in the tree had vanished.
‘I guess so,’ I said.
I instantly regretted it: no spare helmet. If we got caught, I’d be in trouble. But it was too late. Roxy had already made her arrangements with whoever it was on the phone. I couldn’t back down now. At least it was Sunday so there shouldn’t be too many cops around, and I could take the back streets.
We walked in silence back over the grass to my Vespa.
I was still thinking about Leo, and why she hated him so much. I really couldn’t see what there was to hate about Leo, unless he … No, that was even more unbelievable. I wanted to tell Roxy about my own dad, but this was obviously not the right time.
Still, I was puzzled by the whole thing. ‘For what it’s worth,’ I said, hearing the words issue from my mouth like there was no tomorrow, ‘actually, I thought he was an all right kind of guy, your father.’
Roxy’s eyes flashed with disgust. ‘Jesus, Griffen,’ she spat, ‘then why don’t you go form a club with him! It could be the new Nazi party.’
‘Uh-ha,’ said Clint Eastwood, chewing on a wad of tobacco.
She stopped, hands on hips. ‘Don’t uh-ha me! What do you know about it?’
‘Hey, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean anything by it.’
‘Who’s side are you on, anyway? If I say my father is a bastard, then he’s a bastard, all right?’ Her eyes were steely-hard. She was like another kind of girl altogether.
‘Sure,’ I mumbled, ducking her glare. We set off again towards the bike.
Roxy’s face, even her shiny lips, had gone really pale. ‘You don’t know what’s he like,’ she said in a hard, low voice. ‘You wanna know something? I hate him.’
Her vehemence stopped me in my tracks.
Then she was walking past my bike, her body rigid, down the middle of the hushed street. The houses could have been cardboard, the day make-believe.
‘Hey,’ I called, ‘don’t you want a ride to the mall?’
All I got was her raised finger as she stormed off down the street. Shite. I spat out my wad of tobacco, shaking my head at the strange complexity of women, and swung myself into the saddle.