Devin plunged into the stream and swam over to the narrow beach on the other side.
She hesitated for a moment before touching Eva’s shoulder.
‘Eva?’
Eva’s eyes opened and she whimpered. Devin untied her jeans from her waist and dropped them onto the backpack, then helped Eva to her feet. She led her into the water and, struggling to remember those compulsory lifesaving lessons at school, swam her over to the other side. They negotiated the driftwood pile, and Devin guided her over to the fire. Eva slumped in front of it, apathetically lifting her arms as Devin stripped off her wet shirt.
The flames were barely discernible in the sunlight. Devin had built the fire against the rocky cliff face, which was dotted with scraggly flax plants. The rocks radiated an intense, shimmering heat that was helping to dry the remains of Rocky’s skinny joint and their assortment of clothes slung over a makeshift driftwood clothesline.
Devin sat with her back against a smooth grey log, pale and ill at ease in her baggy, ladybird-patterned undies and grimy beige bra, her arms covering as much of her body as possible. Rocky sprawled unselfconsciously in tight boxer shorts, the ragged blue bandage wrapped around his lower leg. Eva’s arms were wrapped around her knees, a blank-eyed fashion model in a black-and-white
polka-dot bikini.
‘We should complain to the bus company,’ Devin finally blurted. She immediately whipped a hand up to cover her mouth. Her voice had sounded much louder than she’d intended. And what a dumb thing to say, with people hurt and dead and everything! ‘Sorry. I just … I didn’t mean it like that. Sorry.’
Eva didn’t even look up, but Rocky had a tiny smile on his lips.
‘It’s all good,’ he said. ‘Got to deal with it any way you can. Jokes are a coping mechanism, you know? You’re in shock. We’re all in shock. Look at Eva. She’s in la-la land.’ He raised his voice, clicked his fingers. ‘Yo. Evs. Come in, Evs.’
Eva didn’t answer.
‘She had a backpack,’ Devin said. ‘I’ll go get it. Could you …?’
She indicated Eva morosely staring at the flames.
‘I’ll watch her,’ Rocky said. ‘Make sure she doesn’t commit suttee.’ At Devin’s blank expression he added, ‘You know, widows throwing themselves on their husband’s funeral pyre.’
Devin felt stupid. It was a feeling that came and went quite frequently, especially in the classroom. Suttee? Was that French? Awkwardly, she got to her feet and backed off behind the pile of driftwood, not wanting Rocky to see the saggy wet bum of her undies drooping down.
Rocky eyed Eva. A sparkling drop of water fell from her spiky black hair and traced its way down her thin back, green and blue veins clearly visible under translucent pale skin.
‘Everything will be fine, Evs, you’ll see,’ he said, trying to inject a light, hearty tone into his voice. He sounded a bit like his Uncle Timoti, who was something high up in the Anglican Church and did all the family weddings and funerals in the same fake jovial manner. Rocky lapsed into silence. Who was he trying to convince? Her or himself? He glanced down at his leg again, looked away. He didn’t want to think about it.
A few minutes later Devin returned, self-consciously holding the backpack in front of her near-naked body. In lieu of a towel, she used her hands to wipe the wet off her body, scattering silver drops. She squinted at the nametag swinging off the shoulder strap and read out the name: ‘Mandy Woods’.
Eva stiffened. A harsh cry broke from her and then she was scrambling, crablike, over the loose gravel. She snatched at the backpack, leaving deep scratches across Devin’s wrist. Devin was so startled she fell backwards, landing hard on her bum. Rocky reflexively jerked to move out of the way and roared with pain.
Eva scuttled away, clutching the backpack to her chest. ‘Don’t touch it! It’s not yours!’
‘Evs.’ Rocky’s voice was firm and steady, although his teeth were gritted and a red bloom now darkened his bandage. ‘We have to open it. There might be a phone or food or something.’
‘No! It’s Mandy’s. She might come back for it.’
Eva bit her lip hard, and let out a guttural moan. She slammed her fist against her forehead, again and again.
Rocky threw Devin a panicked look. Devin blinked, realising that Rocky wanted her, needed her, to intervene. Forcing herself not to rub her bruised bum in front of two of the most popular kids in school, she went over to Eva and placed her hands gently but firmly on her arms, keeping her still.
‘She can have it when she gets here, but we need it now. Okay?’
Eva resisted for a moment and then all at once released the backpack and buried her face in her hands. ‘She won’t come back. She won’t. She’s gone.’ Her shoulders heaved.
Devin hesitated, then reached out and patted her shoulder.
‘Oi!’ Rocky hissed. ‘Get a move on!’
Devin jerked her hand back as if she’d been burned. She backed away, holding the backpack tightly in case Eva changed her mind, unzipped it and tipped the contents onto the gravel. It was a proper waterproof camping daypack, and apart from Eva’s wet jeans, which Devin had stuffed inside, everything was dry.
‘Muesli bar! Yay. Notebook, pen ... and … phone.’ It was a girly phone, pink with glittery diamantes stuck all over it, and the screen was blank.
‘Chuck it over.’ Rocky held out his hand.
Not trusting her aim, Devin handed it to him instead.
Rocky inspected it closely. He shook it, pressed buttons, and finally began pulling it apart.
‘Wallet, cosmetic bag with …’ Devin unzipped a colourful plastic-coated bag and peered inside, ‘... painkillers, plasters, antiseptic cream, nail scissors, nail file, sewing kit …’ She saw a box of tampons and cleared her throat, ‘... girl things.’
Rocky clicked the phone back together. He vigorously slapped it on his palm, checked it again. ‘Still dead. Needs a charger. Damn,’ he muttered.
Devin continued her inspection. ‘Plastic bag with … a cardy.’
She shook out the crimson wool cardigan and smiled. Underneath was a shiny red apple. She held it up triumphantly.
Rocky snorted. ‘Is that it? No pie or anything?’
‘Sorry.’ She unzipped a tiny pocket. ‘A bracelet. Pretty.’
Eva’s head shot up. ‘Give it!’
Devin, mindful of her scratched wrist, handed it over at once.
Eva loved Mandy’s charm bracelet. It wasn’t one of those tacky ones strung with charms that were found in the front windows of every cheap jewellery store in the country; it was a gorgeous, old-fashioned bracelet made of heavy silver links, with a heart-shaped clasp and little charms swinging cheerily.
She’d never seen Mandy without her bracelet. Wearing jewellery was against school rules, so she carried it with her, in her bag, her pocket, her pencil case. It was like a diary, Mandy had said, and the charms were like bookmarks, reminding her of special chapters
in her life.
Eva had saved for ages to get Mandy the four-leaf clover with a little diamond winking like a tiny dewdrop, for her sixteenth birthday. And next to it was a charm she’d never seen before. A silver pair of angel’s wings, each feather arranged like a fan.
Eva held it tight, brushed it against her lips. It was a sign. She knew it. Mandy was watching over her.
