I lie inside the claustrophobic white dome while the machine scans my head. My only thought as I lie here is they should have done this while I was asleep, to see if I’m still in my head. I’m not sure if I am.
When the machine is finished, I’m extricated from its clutches and the nurse assists me to sit up. My head spins and I struggle to breathe deep enough to stop it. I’m still feeling the effects of the pneumonia I developed after nearly drowning in the cold bath water.
The nurse directs me to the waiting room where Mum already sits. I take a seat next to her, pick up a magazine, rest it across my lap and flip through the pages. The repetitive action gives me something to focus on. Mum sighs and closes her magazine.
“Frank thinks you’re doing this for attention,” Mum blurts out.
My hands clench into fists. I’m none of Frank’s business. When I don’t reply, Mum huffs and continues to pretend she is reading her magazine.
My mind turns over too fast, like a tiny mouse is in there on his running wheel training for an Olympic sprint. When I was eleven, I was sure I’d been in Africa. The sights, sounds, and smells had all been so real. I even had the marks left on my body from the lioness attack, but now my mind doubts that belief.
This time something was off. It was dreamlike, even though when I was there, I was sure this reality was the dream. I never see Will except on the night of my birthday. So was I there, or is my mind playing tricks on me? A coping strategy to deal with my depressing existence. If I wasn’t there, have I ever actually been present in Will’s world? My stomach clenches.
“Are you hungry?” Mum asks.
“No.”
I’m starving, but don’t feel like I can keep any food down. Mum sighs and looks back at her magazine like she is the only parent in the world to have ever received a phone call regarding her daughter walking out of class.
It’s sitting in the neurosurgeon’s waiting room that I first begin to wonder about dying. I try to imagine who might miss me if I’m gone. The girls from school will find someone else to torment. Emma might think of me occasionally. She would have to find someone else to help with her homework. Mum will feel guilty, remembering all the times she wasn’t there for me. I let my hair fall across my face as I rub the moisture from my eyes.
The receptionist calls my name and Mum stands. She frowns at me until I rise. She doesn’t understand me. No one does. She ushers me ahead of her into the small consulting room. We sit down and the nurse rambles on about what happens next, but I’m not listening. Mum arranges for us to come back in a couple of days to discuss the test results.
Over the next few days, I slowly recover from my pneumonia. I become Lucy of the here and now once more. Nothing special. Just here. When Mum is out of the house, I curl up on the floor of my bedroom, clutching Wu the Lion and cry into the carpet until I can’t breathe.
Mum insists I come back to the neurosurgeon with her to hear the results. There is nothing wrong with me. Mum leans forward over the doctor’s desk and jabs a finger at the results printout insisting there is. No one sleeps for a week straight without there being a problem. She demands the test be repeated, but the doctor refuses. In their haste to discover the problem, they have overlooked the obvious. I don’t want to be here.
I go back to school because it is expected of me. I forget to set my alarm and wake up as I should be leaving the house. I throw on my uniform and run out the door without breakfast. Because I’m late, I miss passing the man who always smiles and says good morning to me.
The first thing I see when I get to school is the graffiti on my locker. By the scribbled ‘loser’ I have a clear idea who is responsible. I have nothing to remove it with, so it stays there for everyone to see.
I continue the routine of moving from class to class, but I’m drowning. I’ve had more time off school for being sick, causing me to slip further behind. In the afternoon, I’m called to the careers teacher’s office. The rest of my class had their appointments while I was away.
Our conversation is short. I don’t see a future for myself. I can’t image myself grown up. I’m struggling to see myself surviving the remainder of the year until I can see Will again. It’s a distant vision, so far from my current reach.
My hand trembles as it reaches out to take the assessment sheet from the careers teacher. I don’t say anything. My throat is tight. If I try to speak, my voice will come out high-pitched and I won’t be able to hold back the tears. I don’t want anyone to ask why I’m crying. I don’t know. I just am.
I skip the next class and hide in the toilets. I sit on the closed lid with my knees tucked under my chin and focus on breathing. It is difficult when my nose is blocked from crying. I use the toilet paper as a tissue. I stay there until lunchtime when other people come in to use the bathroom.
Emma finds me sitting outside the library picking at my peanut butter sandwich.
“You look like shit,” Emma tells me. I keep my head down so my hair falls over my face.
“Thanks,” I say sarcastically. I washed my face with cold water, but it hasn’t helped much.
“I heard you were in hospital?” Emma asks as we go inside and head towards our table at the back of the library.
“Yeah.” One word and I am nearly bawling again. I bite the inside of my cheek and focus on the pain it brings.
“So what’s wrong?”
“The doctors say nothing.” I plaster a smile on my face as I say this. My voice only squeaks slightly.
“Yeah, they all say that, don’t they?” Emma stares at the shelves behind me and drums her fingers on the table. I pull out my books and turn the pages occasionally.
Emma is away the next day. She often skips school. I wish I could predict when she was going to do it so I could stay home too. School is not fun when your only ally is not there.
The next few weeks of school are hell. My bag gets ripe banana squished into it and I find white powder around the edges of my locker vent. I open the door cautiously. As I stand in the crowded corridor, I can feel eyes on me, waiting for my reaction.
Someone has let a fire extinguisher off in my locker. Everything is covered in fine white powder. My sandwich is ruined so I have nothing to eat. I spend the lunch break trying not to cry as I clean out my locker. A teacher gives me detention for being in the corridor during break.
I leave school early and ride up to the lookout to spend the afternoon sitting on my overhanging rock. The warm stone and the wind in my hair are calming. No one can see me cry up here.
There is a thought in my head becoming more regular. It’s the only thing giving me a sense of hope. I could end my life. If I wanted to. I have no idea how I would do it, but the option is there. I don’t have to hang around forever. I can always check out. I’m not going to. But I could.
When I get home there is a message on the answering machine from school regarding my attendance. I delete it. I go to school on Monday because I have history. For a brief moment during the day, I can pretend I’m normal and my world is not falling apart around me.
At lunch time, Emma suggests I hang out at her place after school. I’ve never seen her house and although she knows where I live, she hasn’t been inside. I try to act cool as I agree as though people ask me over all the time and it’s no big deal.
Emma doesn’t live far from school, so I push my bike as I walk beside her. She lives with her mum and younger brother in a small two-story townhouse. Her brother is away on a camp and her mum is out so we have the place to ourselves. I’m glad. I don’t know how to act around other people’s families.
A car toots its horn as it passes and the driver waves. The car belongs to Hannah, the girl who gave me a lift when my bike wheels where stolen. I’m about to return the action when I see the young man in the front seat. I’m sure I’ve seen his face before on a photo taped to La-a’s locker. My suspicions are confirmed by La-a in the backseat with both fingers up in our direction.
“Can you believe anyone would date that idiot’s brother?” Emma comments.
I make a mental note not to accept any favours from Hannah in the future. Who knows how much trouble I could get into if she is dating La-a’s brother.
We talk about nothing in particular as we walk. Emma loves music and promises to play me some of her favourite songs. Mum has a handful of CDs, but they’re all old so I never know the latest songs everyone at school talks about.
Emma is cool but animated until we reach the house and we are confronted by a shiny red classic car parked in the driveway. She stops in the middle of the footpath and I trip over her heels.
“No fucking way!” she says.
“What’s wrong?”
“That’s my dad’s car. He’s been in gaol for assaulting Mum. It looks like the idiot is going to take him back again.” Emma shoves her fringe out of her face as she glares at the offending vehicle. Some of her hair remains standing up making her look young and vulnerable. I pretend not to notice.
“Stupid car. He goes nuts if the thing even gets dirty,” she mutters.
She kicks the front wheel as she stalks by. I hover in the yard as Emma opens the front door and calls out. No one answers. She waves me in and I follow cautiously.
“I can go if you want,” I say.
“Nah, let’s put that music on.”
She leads me up the stairs to her room. I move a pile of clothes out of the way and sit on the edge of her unmade bed. A poster of Miranda Kerr dominates one wall. I glance up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to the ceiling. When she sees me looking, she pulls the blinds down, shuts the door and turns out the light. I lay back on the bed to take it in. Emma lies down next to me.
“It’s beautiful,” I whisper. Emma’s put a lot of effort into her ceiling. The stars aren’t randomly placed, but reflect the constellations in the night sky. It reminds me of Wu. Life was simple back then. A stray tear slides down my cheek.
“When I was little, I wanted to be an astronaut,” Emma says.
“That’s really cool.”
“What about you?”
“When I was little, I wanted to have friends,” I say.
“How’s that working out for you?’’ Emma pokes me playfully in the ribs.
“Well, I’ve got you and Will.” I don’t realise I’m going to say his name until it slips out.
“Who’s Will?”
“He’s my imaginary friend.” I brush the question off. Emma laughs.
“That’s a relief. For a moment I thought he might be the same poor guy that dickhead Bianca is chasing. His name is Willie or Billie or maybe that’s some cutesy nickname she’s given him.”
“He doesn’t live here. He was in England last time we met,” I say.
“You’ve been to England?”
“No.”
“You’re an odd one, Lucy.”
Emma jumps off the bed and cranks the volume up until the music can be heard throughout the house and probably down the street. The sound vibrates through my body like a living creature.
“Come on, let’s show my dad he can’t just move back in,” Emma yells over the sound.
“What are you going to do?” I yell back. She grins at me and disappears out the door.
I haul myself off Emma’s bed and follow her into her mum’s room. The music is less intense in here. Emma sings the lyrics as she hauls an old sports bag out from under the bed and then flings open the wardrobe doors. She rips her dad’s clothes from their hangers and drops them on top of the bag. She grabs my hand, spinning me around to the music before diving back into the wardrobe shaking her arse along with the beat.
“Give me a hand will you, Lucy?”
I clap my hands and she turns around to give me the finger. Emma grabs a hairbrush from the bedside table and holds it to our mouths as the chorus repeats. I manage to get some of the words right as we belt out the song.
Emma flings clothes at my feet in between singing the rest of the song. I drop to my knees and shove the items into the bag. When we are done there, she grabs his things from the ensuite and we shove them on top.
We have to sit on the bag to zip it up which sends us into fits of laughter. After several attempts and the sound of something snapping, a toothbrush perhaps, we get it zipped up. Emma pushes the bag out of the room and to the top of the stairs with her feet in time to a new song. She gives it a kung-fu kick and we watch it thump its way to the bottom.
She jumps onto the rail and slides down on her behind. I try to copy and nearly fall off. The second go gets it, but Emma is doubled over laughing at my first attempt. Her laughter sets me off and we both sit on the floor giggling so hard I can’t breathe. I wipe the tears from my eyes. I’m not sad.
“Any suggestions on where we should leave his shit?” she asks in between gasps. A set of keys lie on the table. Emma’s mum is out and there is only one car in the drive.
“In his car?”
“Loser carries the bag,” Emma squeals and we both dive for the keys. Emma trips on the rug and grabs my ankle to slow me down. I fall to my knees. I stretch my arm out, but the keys are just out of reach. Emma gives me a shove and a picture frame falls to the floor. She leaps over me and holds the keys triumphantly above her head.
“I win!”
“You cheated!”
“I don’t recall there being any rules.”
Emma dances out the door with her prize while I haul the bag outside. She unlocks the car and I shove the bag in the back seat. Emma slams the door shut and looks at me with a wicked grin on her face.
“We should take it for a spin.” She jiggles the keys in front of me.
“No way! You’ll get in so much shit!” I exclaim.
“Come on. Live a little, Lucy. Imagine it’s La-a’s new BMW Daddy bought for her birthday. We won’t hurt it, I promise.” She laughs wildly and swings into the front seat. I hesitate for a fraction of a second, considering riding my bike home and spending the evening on my own. I run around to the passenger side, jump in and do up the seatbelt. I take a deep breath and stare out the windscreen.
“Ready?” Emma asks.
“Shouldn’t you lock the front door?” We’ve left the house open and the music on.
“Who cares.”
She stomps on the accelerator, the wheels squeal and we swerve out of the driveway. The car zig-zags twice before Emma regains control. I squeal and grab the dash. Emma lets out a loud whoop. She reaches for the radio.
“We need some rocking tunes,” she tells me. I need a sick bag.
She finds a station with loud songs we can sing along to. I swallow my nerves and join in when I can catch on to the chorus. She drums on the steering wheel as we drive down the streets.
“Who taught you to drive?” I yell over the music.
“No one,” Emma shouts joyfully. I should be scared, but I don’t care. I’m having fun and I don’t remember the last time that happened. I wind down the window so I can feel the wind blowing my hair around my face. I lean back into the seat.
Emma slows as we drive through the main street. A row of cars are parked either side of the street, but the shiny black BMW parked outside the cinema stands out from them all. Four girls stand next to it preening, waiting for the world to envy them.
“Speaking of La-a’s new car,” I say.
“Dare me,” Emma says. She slows for a speed bump as we creep closer to the vehicle. She turns to look at me, daring me to dare her to do something to the offensive black car belonging to the girl I despise.
“You wouldn’t?” I exclaim, but I don’t discourage her from her thoughts. We draw level to the shiny car as I speak. The moment has nearly passed. The car will go untouched because nothing bad ever happens to girls like La-a.
Emma swerves left and I scream as the parked cars rush towards me. We scrape the side of La-a’s car, rip off her side mirror and dent my side door. I don’t know if I’ll be able to open the door when we park. I’ll have to climb over Emma’s seat. My heart is pounding, but I feel strangely elated. We drive off to the sound of four girls screaming after us.
“Oh my God, that felt good,” Emma whoops. I look at Emma with fresh eyes. There is an incredible amount of satisfaction in seeing La-a’s expensive car damaged.
“You know she’s going to call the cops.” Emma ignores my comment.
“I think we should wreck this car, too,” she suggests recklessly.
“Not while we’re in it,” I say. She turns to look at me.
“Have you ever wondered what it would be like to end it all?” She sounds serious.
I stare at her wondering if she can see inside my head. Have I somehow given myself away? I have no idea how to respond. If I tell her what I’m thinking, I don’t know where that will put our friendship. I don’t want to ruin this afternoon. I don’t know if I can let the words out of my mouth. They’re stuck in my throat.
“I…”
A car honks loudly and we both jump. Emma swings her eyes back to the road to find we’ve crossed the white centreline. She pulls on the wheel to bring us back into our lane. My hand flies out to grab hold of my seat as the car bears down on us. For a moment we’re out of control then Emma straightens up as the other vehicle slides past and disappears around the corner.
“That was close,” Emma says.
I release the breath I’ve been holding and force my fingers to unclamp from the seat. I glance at Emma. She stares at the road looking as white as I feel.
“I need a change of underwear,” she states and suddenly we’re both laughing hysterically. The tears streaming down my face blur my vision and my sides ache.
“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you laugh before today,” Emma says. She looks at me again. It makes me pause to recall the last time I really laughed. I don’t know when it was.
Gravel pings against the underneath of the car as the wheels hit the uneven edge of the road. Emma jerks the wheel, but she over corrects and we zig-zag across the road for several terrifying moments before the world rotates.
The sound of crushing metal hurts my ears until we are upright again for a second. Loose objects fly everywhere as we continue to roll. I have the odd sensation of being in a washing machine without the water. The bag I tossed in the back of the car hits my arm, a CD flies by and I smash my head hard against the window.
Everything stops moving. The music is no longer playing making the vehicle suddenly quiet. I’m partially upside down with my head at an angle due to the crushed roof below me. My seatbelt digs into me. I think we’re in a ditch. My head hurts and I’m struggling to keep my eyes open.
“Emma?” I whisper.
“I’m in so much shit,” Emma groans. “Are you okay?”
I’m not sure how to answer her question. It takes a few moments for my mind to process her words. Something damp trickles across my forehead and there is a metallic taste in my mouth. I can’t tell if Emma is above or below me. I close my eyes for a moment.
* * *
“Are you injured?” William’s voice is concerned. I think about his question. Didn’t someone else ask me that question a moment ago? I don’t remember what I answered. I can’t move. Something is holding me where I am. I have a question I need to ask him.
“Where am I?”
* * *
“Lucy, you’re in the car.” Emma sounds stressed, but I can’t remember why. My head is foggy. I feel her hands on me as she tugs on the strap across my chest. I’m going to have bruises.
“It hurts,” I say.
“I’m sorry. I can’t get the seatbelt undone.”
“The car?” I ask. I’m trying to work out why Will is in the car with us.
My mind wanders as I try to think of a way to explain what a car is to someone who has never seen one before. Just as I think I’ve come up with an explanation it slips away, but he has gone quiet anyway.
“Where’s Will?” My voice sounds strange to my ears, distant. Emma’s hands pause for a moment.
“Your imaginary friend? How would I know? Please don’t go weird on me now,” Emma begs.
She must free the belt buckle because I suddenly fall sideways and hit my shoulder. By the yelp, I’ve also kicked Emma.
“Why can I smell smoke?” I ask.
* * *
“There’s no smoke.”
I wish my head would clear so I could recall the origin of Will’s accent. He’s right though. The smoky smell has disappeared. Maybe I imagined it. Maybe I’ve imagined my entire life and the only real thing is Will.
I try to crack one eye open, but the sky is too bright and I close it again. All I saw was a glimpse of Will leaning over me wearing a kilt.
“Did you fall off a horse, lass?” Will asks.
“A horse?” I repeat. I was going to tell him about the horses in the car engine. I wonder if the horses escaped in the crash and are wandering around Scotland. I frown. That doesn’t make sense even to me.
“How did you get here?”
He’s right. It’s not my birthday. I shouldn’t be here.
“The car crashed.”
“What is a car?”
“It’s a…” My mind is blank. What was the question?
“I think you should see a healing woman.”
* * *
“Lucy! Wake up! I can’t find my phone.”
I can definitely smell smoke. Emma’s hand connecting hard with my cheek makes me snap my eyes open. Now I can see the smoky haze forming inside the crushed car. Wasn’t I lying in a field a few moments ago?
“Where are the horses?” I ask.
“What? I can’t call for help. We have to get out of the car ourselves. Can you move?” she asks, tugging on my hand.
The doors are buckled beyond use so Emma kicks out what is left of the smashed windscreen. I watch her through partially closed eyes, but I’m drifting away. I’m sure I was somewhere better a few moments ago. A coughing spasm holds me in the present.
Emma tugs me towards the missing windscreen. I struggle to lift myself as Emma pulls my arms. The jagged edges cut into my skin, but she stumbles free and I collapse on top of her. She pushes me off and grabs my arms again, dragging me further away from the wreck. She pants with the effort.
When she lets go, I flop down on the ground. It’s not as comfortable as Will’s field, but I can’t lift my body. Even the sound of the car erupting into flames a few metres away doesn’t make me move. The heat is intense. My eyes are closed again. I’m drifting away.
“I can’t find my phone,” Emma repeats. “Don’t leave me, Lucy.”