22

TRY NOT TO VOMIT

Standing at the bus stop, I tighten my fingers around my backpack straps. Mum’s mopping bucket rests against my knees, just in case I need to puke. My stomach turns over when I think about the trip ahead. I’ve no idea how I’ll last on a bus without throwing up every five minutes. And then, behind me, someone coughs.

Turning around, I find myself face to face with Alex and Harriet. My mouth pops open. They’re followed by Serena and Matty from school, pushing their way through the bushes behind the bus stop. I manage to croak, ‘What’re you all doing here?’

Harriet shrugs. ‘I haven’t been to the city for ages. Should be fun.’

Across the road I spot more kids cutting across Baty’s Field. I look at Alex who’s reading a printed-out map. ‘Okay, seriously, what’re you all doing here?’

Harriet sighs. ‘Look, your sister texted me last night and explained your plan. She couldn’t let you go by yourself, so we’re all coming, too. You should’ve invited us anyway, it’s not just your petition, remember?’

Our bus stop sits at the top of a sloping lane and I look down at the town, brown and faded, our houses square and plain like cardboard boxes littering the hillside. ‘Yeah, but you don’t have to come. It was my idea, so it’s also my fault. You’re all in enough trouble.’

Alex clears his throat. ‘Well, we all helped. Trust me, my parents keep acting like I tried to blow up parliament. I wish they were blaming someone else.’

Harriet nods. ‘Mine, too. But they’ll get over it.’

Alex glances back at the town and says, ‘I’m not sure Dad will.’

No one answers for a second, because we can’t think of anything to say. Alex’s sister nearly drowned and his family’s flock could’ve been destroyed or lost. He’s lucky they don’t put him up for adoption.

My fingers curl deep into my palms. ‘I could talk to him, explain it was mostly my idea.’

Alex glances up at the sky, squinting in the grey, morning light. ‘Yeah, well, that might help. He thinks you’re great for rescuing Ana. Not me, though. He doesn’t like me much at the moment. But maybe, if we took the petition to parliament, well … who knows?’

I know what he’s thinking. His dad will either forgive Alex or blow him up for leaving town without permission. But Alex figures it’s a risk worth taking.

‘Okay.’ I take a deep breath. ‘You guys can come. But no one else.’

Serena frowns. ‘Hang on, what about—’

Just then, leaves rustle behind us. Several more kids pour between the hedges and … is that Rebecca and Big James sprinting up the road with backpacks? I groan. In the space of five minutes, most of our school seems to be joining us. ‘Do all your parents know you’re here?’

Rebecca snorts. ‘Of course not.’

Serena Wai pushes through the growing crowd. ‘It’s pretty cool what you’re doing. I mean, we want to save the school, too.’ She glances at the rest of us. ‘Do you mind if we join your topic group? We could help, you know I’m great with fancy headings and organising ring binders.’

I open my mouth to say no, but I’m not sure anyone would listen to me. They all look super determined. I throw up my hands and say, ‘Okay, fine. Let’s all go. Harriet’s right, it’s the school’s petition anyway, not just mine.’

‘Good,’ says Harriet, ‘and anyway, you need us. We know how you feel about cars.’

Everyone nods and I realise they’re staring at me. Glancing around, I feel my ears grow hot and I shift my bag onto my other shoulder. ‘I get car sick. It’s no big deal.’

‘You’ve never been in a car or a bus or … anything that moves, really.’ She looks down at her feet and says, ‘Not since the car accident.’

I press my fingers deeper into my palms; they’re starting to sting worse than my grazes from last night. ‘It’s not about Dad’s car accident, okay? Look, cars are dangerous. I mean, once you put the seatbelt on, that’s it. You can’t protect yourself, there’s no eject button or parachute. Your safety depends on the driver.’

Harriet shrugs. ‘Okay, whatever. The point is, getting on the bus freaks you out and what kind of friends would let you do something scary on your own? We’re coming, so don’t make a big deal out of it, okay? I’ve brought cash from my tinfoil hat business which covers our tickets. Here take it.’ Before I can argue, she shoves money into my jacket pocket.

Everyone looks excited, so I figure there’s no point arguing.

When the bus stops, my mouth goes dry.

Screech.

Doors open, pulling apart like black jaws. I’m supposed to walk into that gaping mouth. But I can’t move.

The bus driver leans across his seat, one hand on the gears. ‘I’ve got a schedule to keep. Are you kids getting on or not?’

The whole school waits, watching me. I’m holding everyone’s money, so they can’t get on without me. Looking back at them, I realise I’m first in line. With a deep breath, I pick up my puke bucket and face the open door, trying to find the courage to walk, but my feet won’t budge. Talk about embarrassing.

And then, Alex’s hand presses against my back. Serena grabs my arm. Harriet pushes ahead and leads us on, snapping, ‘Everyone give him some room!’

Before I can say anything, dozens of hands help me onto the bus. I’m half pushed onto the front seat while Harriet drags money out of my pockets, negotiating with the driver. Someone keeps telling me to ‘breathe’, which is ridiculous; of course I’m breathing, I’d pass out if I stopped. Alex sticks something onto the window with blue tack. One look tells me it’s pictures of the view from our bus, the only vehicle I like because it never moves. He must’ve taken them from the inside on his phone.

Alex shrugs at the pictures. ‘See, this way you can pretend the bus isn’t moving at all, because the picture never changes.’

‘That was my idea,’ Harriet calls from the front, before saying to the driver, ‘Of course the photo needs to stay up, would you rather he vomited?’

Turns out, the bus driver would rather I did not, so he stops fussing and focuses on counting coins.

Alex claps my shoulder. ‘You know what would take your mind off stuff?’

I shake my head, unable to answer.

‘Blogging! We can write updates on my phone. You say the words and I’ll type. We can tell everyone about our petition.’ He glances at me. ‘Sorry, I just don’t want you puking over the keys.’

‘Fair enough,’ I say, as the engine roars under my feet. Doors close. I’m trapped and Alex says, ‘Right, what will I type?’

‘Tell them we’re on our way, I guess.’ Shaking my head, I glance around the bus full of kids. ‘Thanks for coming, Alex.’

‘Well, we all want to keep the school, and if we all moved away it wouldn’t be easy … especially not for you. Um, you know what I mean.’

I shake my head because his words aren’t making sense. ‘Not really. You mean because of leaving Dad’s grave?’

Alex glances around the bus. ‘Well, in a bigger town not everyone would know each other. They won’t understand why you get freaked out by cars, germs, sunburn, sharing drink bottles … well, everything. You need to stay at Ash Hill Primary with kids you know. We all figured you’d be better off with us, instead of strangers.’

My stomach twists, and not just because the bus keeps moving up and down. I’m not sure how I feel, it’s like they’re suggesting something’s wrong with me. But I’m also stunned so many kids were worried about me. We’ve all known each other since we were born, but I never thought anyone would go to this much trouble for me. ‘Thanks, that’s, um, really cool of you.’

He shrugs. ‘No problem.’

I glance away, back at the bus full of kids leaning over the seats. They’re all chattering and sharing lollies like they’re on an adventure, instead of stuck on a moving vehicle without seatbelts. And people think I’m strange?

‘Everyone’s here … to help me?’

‘It’s no big deal. We’re friends, right?’

‘I guess so.’ He gives me a funny look and I say quickly, ‘It’s just, sometimes we’re friends but other times you act like you’d rather play computer games than talk to me. I was wondering if I’d done something to upset you because—’

‘Me? Ignoring you?’ he interrupts, mouth open. ‘After the accident you were obsessed with safety and didn’t want to talk about anything else. You didn’t even want to kick goals anymore. You spent entire lunch times checking the field for safety risks and disinfecting taps.’

‘No …’ I stop, trying to think back. I don’t remember wanting to be alone. But I don’t remember wanting anything except to feel safe.

‘Look, don’t worry about it.’ Alex looks out the far window, staring at passing fields and powerlines. ‘It doesn’t matter. I mean, I get it.’

‘But it must matter, or you wouldn’t get upset.’

He glances at his phone, running his thumb over the blank screen. ‘Well, I could handle you freaking out over hand-washing and nicking erasers off the juniors because they’re choking hazards … that’s weird, by the way.’ He holds up a hand before I can argue. ‘But you weren’t interested in doing anything else. I didn’t have anyone to hang out with after school, so I got lonely. I’m not complaining, I mean your dad died, you had bigger problems. So instead of messing around with you I started playing games on my phone. Now I’m getting quite good at Auto-crash Two.’

Come to think of it, I don’t remember Alex obsessing over screens before Dad died. Maybe I’ve been so focused on safety and keeping the school open, I didn’t notice he was unhappy. Am I a bad friend?

Alex shrugs. ‘Anyway, lately you’ve been more like your old self. Doing fun stuff without thinking too much.’ He rubs his nose. ‘Do you think … I mean, maybe you’re starting to feel better?’

Better? For a second I’m confused. He makes it sound like I’ve been sick. Staring out the window I look up at the grey sky, just visible above the taped photo and running past the window like a dirty river. Was I very different before?

Next to me, Alex watches my face like he’s expecting an answer. ‘I don’t know. I feel okay now, with you guys. I guess that’s good, right?’

He nods. We sit in silence and then Alex says, ‘Hey, Lucas?’

‘Yeah?’

‘Do you think our parents will kill us?’

At least I know the answer to that one.

‘Definitely.’

He nods. ‘I think so, too. At least, this time, it’s for a good reason.’

Feeling the road bump underneath us, I swallow hard. My elbows sting, whenever we hit a pothole or bounce over roadkill, every bruise on my body shouts — hello, remember me? Worse, my stomach twists into knots and I’m glad I didn’t eat breakfast this morning.

We can’t make any more mistakes. I hope Alex’s right. Remembering Mum’s quiet voice and Mr Chan’s face, I’m not sure they’ll forgive us.