Mae woke to the smell of burning, raced from her bed and down the stairs.
She caught it just in time, the flames licking the edge of a pan as she took it into the garden and dumped it on the stone path.
She doused it with the hose, watched it sizzle and die before she realised it was bacon, the pack still sealed, the plastic warped and blackened.
Then she searched for her grandmother, in her bedroom, the living room and even the crumbling garage beside their house.
Mae checked Stella, saw her sleeping so made the decision to head out to the end of the street.
It was early, West slept. Mae scanned the road; her grandmother had not left the house in months.
Down through town, shops still shuttered, fishing boats crept from the marina, men standing on the deck as they headed towards the horizon.
Mae cursed under her breath.
And then she heard laughter coming from the beach. She ran down the slope, crossed the sand and saw a cluster of kids seated around a dying fire, empty beer bottles, a radio playing as Mae followed their eyes to the old woman, waist deep in the water and staring at the sky.
The sea was cold as it filled Mae’s shoes and crept up her jeans.
‘Grandma.’
‘Is it true, Margaret?’
Mae heard more laughter, closed it off and gently placed an arm around her grandmother’s shoulder.
‘It’s cold, Grandma. You’re shivering.’
‘But is it true?… Is there something bad in the sky? I was watching the news this morning, and they said … Well, I won’t tell you what they said because I don’t want to upset you.’
Mae watched the last of the trawlers.
‘I can make us eggs for breakfast.’ Mae gently led her back towards the shore.
Her grandmother snatched her hand away, Mae caught a rock and fell heavily, for a moment the water covered her face before she climbed to her feet.
The laughter grew, but then Mae saw one of the group splinter and head towards her.
Hugo stood there, his skin golden in the first light.
Behind him Hunter lay on the beach and smirked.
‘Are you okay?’ he said.
She turned her back on him, the water dripping from her hair as she followed her grandmother up the beach.
Stella still slept, the smallest mercy as Mae helped dry her grandmother and get her back into bed.
Mae made eggs and when Stella came down they ate them in the garden beneath an apple tree their father had planted when Mae was six years old.
‘I need to take in a baby photo, for the memory capsule. We’re going to bury it and in a million years the new people will find it.’
‘New people?’
‘Miss Hart told us about evolution. It happened once, it can happen again.’
‘Is she the one that smells of wine?’
‘Mae,’ Stella said, quietly, ‘some of the other kids, their parents are going to dress up for the show. Like they’re going to the ball.’
‘Eat your toast.’
‘Miss Hart said it would be special.’
‘And your egg.’
Stella wore denim dungarees with a flower on the pocket and hockey socks pulled up high over them.
‘I know you wear black but –’
‘You want me to wear all pink and spend my last day looking like an actual arsehole?’
Stella turned back to her egg.
Mae didn’t notice the side gate was open till the dog walked in.
Skinny, with large patches of fur missing.
‘What’s that?’ Stella said, turning her head.
Mae swallowed. ‘Nothing.’ She stared at the dog, willing it to turn and leave.
‘I can hear something,’ Stella said.
‘Squirrel.’
‘Paint what you can see.’
‘No.’
‘You never say no. It’s not fair.’
Mae sighed heavily. ‘I see the apple tree and it’s too bright and the apples are blue today. And the house is purple and the sky is burnt.’
Stella set her fork down and listened. ‘And?’
Mae closed her eyes because she knew what would come. ‘And there’s a dog and it’s the ugliest dog I have ever seen and I think it has mange and possibly ticks and fleas and might well die in the next few minutes.’
Stella’s mouth dropped open as she whispered, ‘Jesus. Oh, sweet Jesus.’
Mae hissed at the dog, who ignored her and went on sniffing the ground.
Stella attempted a clicking sound, then a small bark. The dog ignored her too.
‘Is it pedigree?’
‘It’s barely breathing.’
‘Should we feed it?’
‘No.’
‘Stroke it?’
‘No.’
‘Bathe it?’
‘I’ll turn the hose on it if you want.’
Stella placed a hand on her chest. ‘How long have I wanted a dog, Mae?’
Mae ignored her, thinking of the times they’d applied, the rundown charities that no longer answered their phones.
Mae hissed, then clapped her hands loudly. ‘Eff off.’
‘You can’t say that to a dog.’
‘Eat your egg and stop talking.’
‘She sounds hungry.’
Raggedy tail in the air, it tracked the ground all the way to an old crab apple long since rotten. A single lick and then it went on.
Mae was so distracted she didn’t notice the egg sail past her head till it splattered on the ground.
She turned slowly.
Stella kept her eyes down on the empty plate.
‘Stella, what just happened?’
‘Sounds like an egg fell from a nest. Poor mother bird must be saddened.’
‘Stella …’
The dog began to eat the egg.
‘Can we keep her?’
‘What do you think?’
‘I think yes.’
‘It’s not even a bitch.’
‘Stop swearing in front of the dog.’ Stella was up on her feet and instinctively found her way to the dog and began to stroke its bony head.
‘You look nice,’ Stella said to the dog. ‘Do you have a name?’
Their grandmother appeared by the kitchen door, glanced at the sky then stepped away. ‘I need you to pick up bread and milk. Do you think you can manage that?’
Mae nodded.
‘We can’t keep that dog. We barely have enough food as it is. I suppose you two ate the bacon.’
Mae took a breath and nodded again.
‘I’ll share with her,’ Stella said, petting the dog so hard its eyes began to bulge. ‘Her name is Lady.’
‘More like the tramp,’ Mae said.
Stella covered the dog’s ears with her hands.
The dog followed them to school. Mae did all she could to dissuade it, shouted and threatened and made to kick the thing, but still it followed.
Eight thirty and her shirt clung to her, the heat so thick she could barely breathe.
‘Tracy Kent is a leaver,’ Stella said.
‘Where?’
‘Scotland. They have a house by a loch. She said she saw the monster once.’
Sometimes the dog forged ahead, sometimes stopped to sniff the air and raise a single paw.
‘Is she tracking?’ Stella said. ‘She might have bloodhound ancestry. Probably worked for the police at some stage. What is it, girl? A bomb?’
The dog pissed on a tree then moved on.
Down Ocean Drive.
Sail stood by the white-house gates.
‘Who is it?’ Stella said to Mae.
‘No one, Stella. Just a boy I hate.’
‘Boys make everything worse.’
Sail clutched his heart, then dropped to his knee and carefully took Stella’s hand. ‘Nice sunglasses.’
‘They hide my blind eyes.’
‘Well, you look very cool.’
Stella pulled Mae down ‘Paint him for me,’ she whispered.
Mae reluctantly whispered back.
Stella raised an eyebrow. ‘I can see why you hate this one.’
Mae watched the water.
‘This is my new dog,’ Stella said.
‘New?’ Sail regarded it. ‘He’s beautiful.’
Stella smiled. ‘She’s called Lady.’
Sail scratched his head, glanced at Mae and mouthed, ‘The balls on it.’
He walked with them.
‘So you live in the white house?’ Stella said, as she took his hand.
Stella did not take people’s hands. Not the dinner lady who chaperoned them across the street each morning, not their grandmother.
‘Yeah, you can come see it …’ Sail caught himself then, looked so distraught that Mae fought the urge to tell him it happened all the time.
‘You can paint it for me,’ Stella said.
‘Paint it?’
‘Mae paints the world for me, except sometimes I know she makes it more fun.’
‘I’d be honoured to paint it for you, Stella.’
‘So you’re not a vampire?’ Stella said, mildly disappointed.
‘Afraid not.’
‘So what are you, Jack Sail?’
Sail dropped to his knees again, this time in full view of the morning mothers sipping their coffees and frowning at him.
‘I’m just a boy, kneeling in front of a girl, asking her not to hate him.’
Stella grinned at Mae, who shepherded her sister through the gate.
‘What about Lady?’ Stella said.
Mae looked down at the dog, who sprawled out by the gate. ‘She’ll be fine.’
It took a lot to make Stella cry, but right then Mae saw the tears brim in her sister’s eyes.
‘I’ll watch her,’ Sail said.
Stella hugged him tightly.
‘That was stupid,’ Mae said, as they walked towards Sacred Heart, the dog trailing them, glancing back now and then like it was looking for Stella.
‘So … I’m stuck with your dog?’
‘Stella’s dog. And you better look after it, or you’ll break a blind girl’s heart.’
Sail looked back as the dog headed towards the beach.
‘Don’t be late,’ Mae called.
In science Liam stood at the front of the class. ‘Listen up. Someone damn near burned my girl’s house down last night.’ He pointed at Candice. ‘She says she thinks it was some boy wanting to ask her to the Final.’
Mae glanced at Felix, who slumped low in his seat.
Liam held up a muscled arm and pointed it around the room. ‘I will find out who did it. Her mum had drawings and shit in there.’
‘Paintings,’ Candice said. ‘The summer house was where she painted. Some of the paintings were of me as a child. They meant a lot to her.’
‘And your bush,’ Liam said. ‘He desecrated your bush.’
Mae raised an eyebrow.
Candice nodded sadly. ‘The rose bush in my garden.’
‘Ah, that bush,’ Sally said.
‘My grandmother’s ashes were scattered under that rose bush.’
Felix looked desperately at Mae, his eyes wide.
‘Whoever did this is dead. And I don’t mean that … like, I’ll beat on them.’
‘Gross,’ Sally said, wrinkling her nose in displeasure.
‘Shut up, fatso,’ Lexi said.
‘Fatso is so retro I kind of like it,’ Sally said.
‘I mean actually dead. Dead,’ Liam said.
‘Dead dead?’ Felix said.
‘Dead isn’t dead enough,’ Sally added.
‘Selena dead,’ Liam said for clarification, then took his seat as Mr Starling walked into class. Before he could begin, the speaker above told Mae to head to Counsellor Jane.
As she walked down the school hallway she ignored the posters on the walls: the Final, an art project depicting a new civilisation, a couple of papers looking at the best of mankind’s creations.
Mae stopped at the door, pressed her head against the cool wood and closed her eyes.
How are you feeling?
Is there anything you’re worried about?
What do you think happens when you die?
She sat, ignored the flicker of the candles and tried not to gag on the incense. It was then she looked up, and saw the mess that was Counsellor Jane. She was pale, her eyes shot with blood, heavy bags beneath them. Instead of the beige suit, she wore an old T-shirt and faded jeans.
Mae could smell cheap wine.
They sat in silence for ten minutes.
Counsellor Jane broke first. ‘You should know that these sessions are no longer being recorded.’
Mae looked over at the empty space where the tape recorder once sat.
Counsellor Jane coughed. ‘Being scared is natural. After Abi Manton, and the two other children who sadly left –’
‘James and Melissa. To hang like that though, it takes a level of forethought that makes me feel something. Sad, despairing, I don’t know. Whatever.’
‘You can talk here, Mae. That’s what these meetings are for.’
‘I thought they were to keep us from freaking out. So the teachers can maintain some semblance of control.’
‘You think the teachers have lost control?’
‘I don’t think we should be here.’
‘So where should you all be? On the streets? Causing more trouble? If they do what they say, if they stop Selena –’
‘Then we’ll just carry on. If I wake up on July twenty-first, will I be happy? Does anyone really want to die? I mean, people want to stop living, like when they’re depressed or sick or old. But there’s a fundamental difference between wanting to die and not wanting to live.’
‘And what is that difference?’
Mae looked at the clock and imagined the constant second hand, the ticking so loud it shattered the glass windows and let the sea air in.
‘Passivity,’ Mae said. ‘We could all choose to die, any of us, there’s a hundred ways we could end it. But … no one chooses life. It’s thrust upon us like some godawful responsibility. Make your life count. How about I make my death count?’
Counsellor Jane had taken to making notes on index cards, shorthand, like their feelings could be summarised so succinctly.
Depressed.
Anxious.
Rebellious.
‘How do you make death count? You tattoo a word on your wrist and hope that others do the same? And then you won’t die alone?’
‘You don’t get it.’
‘I spoke to Sergeant Walters. He’s worried about the Forevers.’
‘There is no Forever. Haven’t you heard?’
‘Everyone in town has read it. Someone posted it online. It’s noble but … Mr Silver wants you to calm things down. I have students in here talking about getting tattoos. Young girls.’
‘I don’t know how we got where we are. Looks, gender, sexual preference. Race. We want total blindness. Total acceptance.’
‘It’s not that simple.’
‘It is. On this it is. Enlightenment is empowerment. I simply choose not to live in your world. I’m as blind to you as you are to us.’
They sat in uneasy silence.
‘A lot of the students that come in here, they want to talk about Abi Manton,’ Counsellor Jane said. ‘They’re scared.’
‘Last I heard, suicide isn’t contagious.’
‘And yet three children are dead’
Mae looked up at the clock. ‘Self-absorption. Self-pity. Self-flagellation. I talk and you listen. There’s an imbalance.’
Jane opened her eyes again, like she’d forgotten where she was. She sniffed. ‘I don’t know what I’m doing here. We should stop.’
‘Are you okay?’
She shook her head. ‘I thought I could help … I don’t know … the responsibility. I don’t sleep. It was supposed to be a favour to Mr Silver, but Abi … now … I think I’m done here.’
Mae glanced at the clock again, tried not to roll her eyes as she spoke. ‘There’s a boy.’
Jane breathed, finally on familiar ground. ‘You like him?’
‘No.’
‘But?’
‘He doesn’t look at the sky. He just looks at me.’
‘And how does that make you feel?’
‘Like I’m seen.’
‘And that’s a good thing?’
‘No.’
‘Do you think that’s why Abi did it? And James and Melissa? Because they wanted to be seen.’
‘No, I think they wanted to be forgotten.’
Counsellor Jane looked like she was searching for something to say when they heard the shouting.
She was up and over to the door. In the corridor Mae saw two boys about to go at it.
‘You’re dead,’ Felix said, and then he pushed Sail.
Sail pushed him back.
Felix looked like he was about to swing a punch when Jane stepped between them.
Mae crossed the office quickly, flipped open Counsellor Jane’s notepad and fired off a dozen shots with her phone. She didn’t know what exactly she was looking for but guessed Abi Manton would be the trending topic over the past few days.
When it was done Mae met them outside, by the old chapel. ‘You took your time. I had to bare my soul in there.’
‘Did you get it?’ Sail said.
‘I’ll look over it tonight and then report back tomorrow,’ she said.
‘What’s tomorrow?’ Sail said.
Felix deflated. ‘My birthday party.’