‘Should I leave these here?’
I stand in the kitchen doorway with the empty pizza boxes and point at the rubbish bin.
Amelia is in the process of crushing spidery roots under a large blade and tipping them into a saucepan. There are jars and packets littering the counter.
‘You can wedge them between the bin and the cupboard.’
‘I could take them downstairs. Find a dumpster or someone else’s bin.’
‘That won’t be necessary. I’ve got an incinerator on the roof.’ Amelia’s steel-capped boots clip the linoleum. She places the saucepan on the stove, next to two other bubbling pans. Condensation mists on the kitchen windows. The air is pungent and medicinal.
On the other bench Blake works in a cloud of flour. Her fingers are webbed with sticky dough. Blake and Amelia look at home in the small kitchen, as if they do this all the time.
‘So, you’ve met my niece?’ I ease my phone out of my pocket. No messages. I texted Ortie earlier but she still hasn’t replied.
‘Diana?’ Amelia glances up fleetingly. ‘What a sweetie she is.’
‘She helped us put those tin cans and cups all over the streets,’ Blake chimes in.
I pick up a brown paper packet. It looks similar to the ones that Lupe was carrying in her handbag that night we first saw the blue people.
‘Don’t touch that,’ says Amelia, and I drop it immediately. It’s clear there’s no place for me in this kitchen. ‘Wildgirl’s waiting for you in the guest room. The flowers gave her hay fever so we told her to lie down.’
‘I don’t mind taking first shift watching Paul,’ I say.
‘He’s stable,’ Amelia says. ‘Blake and I can manage it between us. Besides, you two can barely keep your hands off each other. You’re better off leaving it to those who aren’t distracted.’
Blake snorts, then when she catches me staring daggers at her becomes very interested in drying her hands on her apron. Amelia, however, stares at me calmly while my face heats up. I have a paranoid moment where I think she knows everything about me. I want to defend my professionalism, not to mention my serious concerns about Paul, but all I can think is: there are too many girls in this building. I’m outnumbered three to one.
Amelia uses a knife to gesture at the top of the refrigerator. ‘Take those with you. Wildgirl wanted something to sleep in.’
I gather the pile of clothes in my arms and hesitate at the threshold, still thinking of the brown packets.
‘Do you sell tea to Guadalupe?’
Amelia’s face brightens. ‘Yes. I make a special brew exclusively for her. I didn’t realise you knew her.’
I nod, and turn to go.
‘Wolfboy,’ says Amelia. ‘Don’t worry about Paul. We need you rested for tomorrow. It’s getting late. So relax, and sleep.’
The residential wing unfolds down a long corridor lined with faded red wallpaper. A door is ajar halfway down, spilling a shard of light across the carpet. The guest room.
Nia sits cross-legged in the middle of a four-poster bed, swamped by the hanging canopy and the brocade bedspread and dozens of cushions.
‘Crazy set-up, huh?’ She sneezes violently.
I place the pyjamas on the end of the bed and sit down. Nia grabs a handful of tissues from the box on the bedside table. A mammoth gilt-edged mirror runs parallel to the bed. All the furniture is antique.
‘It smells a bit musty in here, I know, but the bed linen is clean. I checked.’ Nia blows her nose loudly. ‘I wish I had my antihistamines with me. I wish I had a lot of things with me. My toothbrush. A change of clothes. Socks.’
‘I brought you pyjamas.’ I shift further up the bed. The mattress is so springy I could slide off at any second.
‘Thanks.’
I feel paralysed by shyness, even though Amelia was right. I haven’t been able to keep my hands far away from Nia all night. But now I’m in the same room with her, alone, with a bed and no one to bother us, I feel unable to talk, let alone touch her.
‘I’m not sleepy, though,’ she says belatedly.
I chance a look at her. She doesn’t look too relaxed either. I wonder if she’s been in this situation before. I don’t mean in an apartment building with a comatose teenager and a budding wildcrafter, but on a bed with a boy. I’ll kid myself she hasn’t.
‘Me either,’ I say. I move next to her and arrange a pillow against the headboard. I haven’t bothered to take my boots off. I unbuckle my watch and put it next to the bed. ‘It’s only ten-thirty in City time.’
‘I’d normally still be up, reading.’ Nia reaches out and takes my hand, laces her fingers through mine. Looks at me through those lashes. I remind myself to keep breathing. Everything about this situation seems brand new, as if I’ve never been with a girl before.
‘Let’s talk for a while, and then if we get bored we can go exploring. Amelia said we can go anywhere on this floor.’
‘She only meant you. I don’t think she likes me very much.’
‘That’s just her way. I don’t think she cares whether people like her or not.’
‘Maybe,’ I say, not wanting to disagree with her.
Nia strokes the back of my hand and it nearly drives me wild. I close my eyes for a second.
‘Do you think she knows what she’s doing?’ she asks.
‘Not sure.’ I’ve been trying not to think about it too much. If Lupe trusts Amelia, though, that’s got to count for something. ‘It’s worth a try.’
‘Why does it have to be you, though?’ Nia slides closer to me. She smells sweet, like pears. It must be her shampoo.
‘Who else would do it? Paul’s my oldest friend. I have to do this.’
I sound less conflicted than I feel.
‘So, do you have a game plan?’ she asks.
‘What do you mean?’
‘Amelia said that Paul needed to be coaxed out of the dream. If someone, I mean if you need to talk him into doing something he might not want to do…You should think about the best way to get through to him. And you should tell me. We could practise what to say.’
I get a sudden urge to tell her what Doctor Gregory said about Paul. But I don’t feel like telling her what happened after, at the velo. Too much. I’ll scare her away, right when she’s never been closer.
Nia smiles for no reason.
‘What is it?’ I ask.
‘Turn around and look in the mirror.’
I twist my head slowly, reluctant to look away when her face is this close to mine. I see me in the foreground, with Nia’s face over my shoulder. Red wallpaper for a backdrop. Marble and velvet and gold. We’re from another place and time.
‘This mirror sucks,’ I say. ‘I’m going to wake up and think there’s someone else in the room with us. It’s gonna give me nightmares.’
‘We look good together,’ she says. ‘I’ve been thinking…’
‘Yeah?’ I turn to face her once more.
She opens her mouth to speak but then her whole face scrunches. She covers her face with her hands and sneezes. When it has passed she takes her hands away.
‘Take two. I don’t want to jinx it by talking about it, Wolfie, but I’ve decided that we’re going out. You and me.’
This is such a surprise I don’t say anything at all, but I do reach up and brush a strand of hair off her face.
‘If that’s okay with you,’ she adds. There’s a touch of uncertainty in her voice. I lean forward and kiss the tip of her nose in lieu of telling her how amazed I am that she always finds the courage to say these things.
‘Yes,’ I say. I’ve pulled off the impossible.
‘Good.’ The smallest of smiles curves her lips. And then she breathes out, relieved. ‘Good. Hand me those pyjamas. I’m cold. I want to get under the covers.’
She begins to do that clever thing girls do when they change shirts and yank their bras out of an armhole without you seeing any flesh. When she’s done she flips back the doona and climbs inside.
‘You getting in?’
I don’t wait to be asked twice. I unlace my boots and join her. Put Delilah’s book next to the bed. It’s getting dog-eared from being carried in my pocket. Nia wriggles out of her tights under the sheets, flinging them around her head theatrically and across the room. They land in a black puddle on the rose-patterned carpet.
We lie apart, her on her side of the bed, and me on mine. She doesn’t bother with the pyjama pants. Her arms are caramel-brown against the white sheets. The sight of her hair spilling over the pillow must be a dream, a dream I think I’ve had before. She presses on my bruised cheek.
‘Did you really go to boxing training or were you in a fight?’
‘Boxing training is fighting.’
Nia makes a face. ‘No, it’s not. I’ve seen Rocky. Boxing training is skipping and punching that bag-thing. Even when you do get biffed, you’re wearing an entire mattress strapped to your head, so you don’t get hurt.’
‘I’m not making it up.’ Not really. I roll over and sigh. ‘I haven’t told you about my day yet. I was going to.’
‘Okay.’
Her voice is anxious enough for me to turn my head to look at her.
‘I saw Doctor Gregory.’
‘On your own?’
I nod. ‘He put a letter through my door this morning and I arranged to meet him. I knew he was baiting me, but I thought it was the quickest way to find out more.’
‘What happened?’
‘Do you remember Sanjay from the club saying Paul was the teacher’s pet?’
‘He said Paul paid for his dreams differently.’
‘According to Doctor Gregory, Paul got the pills in exchange for giving him information about me.’
‘No…What sort of information?’ Nia’s eyes are wide.
‘Beats me. He didn’t say. But he got to enjoy telling me my best friend has been stabbing me in the back for god knows how long, and I knew nothing about it.’
Nia puts her arm over my shoulder. She thinks for a minute. ‘I want to say that Doctor Gregory must be lying, but when I talked to Paul that night, when I deleted the photo, he was guilty about something. Something was eating him up inside, and it wasn’t all about Ingrid.’
I move closer to her and bury my face into her neck. Only once I’m close do I worry about how I smell after the amount I’ve sweated today. It’s too late, so I try to put it out of mind.
Nia’s bare leg bumps against mine. ‘Are you okay?’ she asks.
‘I don’t know.’ I lean half-out of the bed to retrieve the book. ‘I’ve been reading more of this book. I didn’t find anything more about Night Sickness, but I did find something even more interesting.’
Nia snuggles in to look at the book with me. When I turn the cover over and see the W&S stamp again, I realise for the first time that Blake gets her books from Amelia. WOOKEY & SALAMON. Man, I’m slow.
‘Look at this photograph.’
‘Where’s the cathedral?’ asks Nia. ‘I’ve never seen it.’
‘There isn’t one, that’s the thing. But read this bit.’ I point to the paragraph about the cathedral and the last period of Eternal Night.
‘“Daylight returned in March the following year, ending what had been the Third Night,”’ Nia reads. ‘That is so cool. This has all happened before. Why don’t you look happy?
‘It’s—I don’t know. It’s weird to think about the Darkness happening here before.’
‘But it’s going to end—isn’t that good news?’
‘I’m used to it, though. I’ll have to get used to another change.’
‘Everything is always changing.’ Nia runs her toes up and down my calf. ‘Why are you frowning again, Wolfie? You know what you need?’
‘What?’
She doesn’t tell me but she moves closer.
‘What?’ I say again.
Nia puts her hand up to my mouth. ‘Shut up and come here. There’s nothing more to say.’