Authors: Justine Larbalestier

Magic or Madness (30 page)

Tom shook his head, but Jay-Tee and I believed her. My head was a jumble of questions, but I couldn’t work my mouth, keep my eyes open.

Esmeralda looked at me and smiled; I couldn’t read what was in her eyes.

The first thing I saw when I woke was Jay-Tee sitting cross-legged at the end of my bed. Tom was on the desk chair. They were both looking at me, grinning. For a groggy half second I thought Jay-Tee was Sarafina.

I almost started asking her the questions I was burning with. I was so angry with my mother, yet I missed her. Once I saw her again, told her I knew about magic now, would she regret the name she had given me?

“Forty-two hours,” Tom said, clapping. “You beat my record.”

“She beat anyone’s record. No one can sleep that long unless they’re in a coma. Better give her food.”

Tom picked up a plate full of pastries from the desk and brought it to me. “Cinnamon rolls. You ready to risk eating the wicked witch’s food this time?”

I grinned, not because I was convinced she wasn’t a wicked witch—I wasn’t sure I’d ever be convinced of
that
—but because I loved cinnamon rolls, and whether she was wicked or not, I was going to eat them. I sat up, took a huge bite, tasting sugar and cinnamon and butter. Heaven.

And then a metal taste, tobacco smell. The same as Esmeralda and Jason Blake, only it was Tom and Jay-Tee. I could see their patterns. I could see the magic in them. Just like Esmeralda, only Tom’s was fresher, cleaner. Jay-Tee tasted of rust.

“What?” Jay-Tee asked.

“Nothing.” I closed my eyes and Jay-Tee was just Jay-Tee, no strange smells or tastes. “What day is it?” I asked.

“Sunday morning,” Tom said. Jay-Tee and he laughed.

“But it was
Thursday
when we left. . . .” I trailed off, trying to figure it out. Sunday a week ago I’d arrived here from Dubbo. Just one week. My head felt fuzzy.

“Uh-huh,” Jay-Tee said, giggling. “We left New York on Thursday, but when we came through the door it was Friday morning in Sydney, but you slept all day Friday and all day Saturday and now it’s Sunday morning. Simple, Math-Girl.

“I’m in the room next door,” Jay-Tee continued. “It’s just as big as this one. Got my own bathroom too—it’s huge—and we share the balcony.”

I had never seen Jay-Tee like this. She was bubbling. “It’s summer,” she continued. “Look at me!” Jay-Tee was wearing a tank top and shorts. Her feet were bare. The balcony doors were open, the white curtains moved in the breeze. Light streamed in so bright it made me blink. Even when the sun had come out in New York City, it hadn’t been near as intense as it was here.

“Tom’s been showing me around the neighbourhood, that is, when he wasn’t busy. . . .” Tom shot her a look and Jay-Tee changed tack. “There are bats at night and these weird-coloured birds during the day. And everyone talks wrong like you do—”

“It’s a footpath,
not
a sidewalk,” Tom cut in. I felt a sudden twinge of jealousy—while I’d lain sleeping, they’d become friends. They didn’t need me so much anymore.

“And it’s warm and the sun’s out. Oh!” she said, suddenly remembering something. “You have to tell me Danny’s phone number. Mere says the door’s off-limits for now. I couldn’t remember it and he must be going crazy after what happened. Mere says I can call whenever I want.”

I reeled off the number of Fib (33) automatically. Danny! I had to call him too. I had to explain. I ate more of the roll, igniting my hunger further, finished it, grabbed another. “What are you going to tell him?”

“The truth,” Jay-Tee said. “He’s seen enough growing up with my parents for it to make sense. I don’t think he’ll be
that
shocked. Especially after we disappeared like that. Say the number again?” I did and she repeated it.

“So have you both started witch school?” I asked, growing even more jealous.

They shook their heads. “That doesn’t start until you’re awake and ready.”

Jay-Tee looked at me, smiling. “Mere’s not
anything
like him. I’m not saying I trust her a hundred percent or, you know, even fifty, but she’s been straight about everything so far. If she turns on us, well, there’s three of us. Combined, we can definitely take her.”

Tom looked uncomfortable but nodded. “It’ll be okay, Reason.”

I finished the last roll, licked my fingers, then got out of bed, managing not to stumble, though my legs were weak. “I’m going to shower. Will there be lots of breakfast waiting for me in the kitchen?”

“Heaps,” Tom said. “Tons,” Jay-Tee said at the same time.

“See you down there, then.”

They left and I looked around the room. Fresh flowers: wattle and waratahs with sprigs of eucalyptus in the vase where there’d been lavender a few days ago. No scary smells there.

Over the back of the chair where Tom had been sitting hung something green that I didn’t recognise. I picked it up. Pants with lots and lots of pockets. The fabric was amazing; it felt both delicate and strong. Tom had said he was going to make pants like these for me. While I’d slept, he’d done it. I hugged them, feeling warm and happy, then put them on. They fit perfectly, almost as if the fabric shaped itself around me.

Other than the pants and the flowers, the room was as I had left it. Light and airy. Beautiful. The blue-and-white robe was draped over the end of the bed, the matching slippers on the floor nearby.

Even my backpack was where I’d left it, sleeping bag still tied in place. I opened it, looked through my escape supplies:
Gregory’s,
water bottles, dried fruit and nuts, all of it still there. I unzipped the front pocket, reached in for Esmeralda’s letters. I was ready to read them now. I wondered if they would say the same things she had told us over the kitchen table. That she might try to steal our magic from us.

The letters weren’t there.

I felt a chill over my entire body. So what had she said
then
that she didn’t what me to know
now?

I could grab my pack, run out the front door this very minute. I knew exactly how to get out of this room, how to get to Central, to the interstate buses, how to escape, quick and easy. Except that I couldn’t. What about Jay-Tee and Tom?

I understood for the first time why Sarafina had been adamant about not making friends. I could feel Tom and Jay-Tee downstairs, imagine what they were thinking. Friends tied me down. I wasn’t just looking out for myself and Sarafina now; I had to look out for them as well. Would I ever be able to escape with so many people in tow?

Not that it would make much difference, given that I didn’t have long to live. How much magic had I expended? How many years did you lose for killing someone? For trying to kill someone else? Forty? Fifty? Sixty years? Was I rusted too?

I was afraid. Like Esmeralda, like Jason Blake, I didn’t want to die. Would I end up taking magic from someone else so that I could live longer? I’d used magic to kill. Surely that would eat up decades? Esmeralda had made it to forty-five and she’d killed a cat. But with a knife, I realised, not magic. I felt dizzy thinking about it and sat down on the bed, waiting for my head to clear.

What a ridiculous choice: magic and early death or madness. I refused to accept that that was how things were, that there was no third or fourth or fifth choice.

There
had
to be another way, something no one had thought of: a pattern invisible to most people’s eyes, but not to mine. Could the others see what I could? Jay-Tee didn’t know Blake was my grandfather. She couldn’t see it the way I could. I was good at patterns, at numbers, and they were intricately tied up with magic. With
my
magic.

There had to be a way to use the one to unlock the other. If I could do that, then we’d all be able to use magic and not die stupidly young. I’d save me and Jay-Tee and Tom from early deaths. Stop Jason Blake and Esmeralda from drinking anyone dry. I’d be able to bring Sarafina back from her slowed-down lonely world.

I lifted up the pillow and hugged it to my chest.

Underneath there were five black and purple feathers.

Glossary

ambo:
a paramedic (from
ambulance
)

arse:
ass

bickie:
short for
biscuit,
the Australian word for
cookie

biscuit:
cookie

bloke:
guy, man

boong:
racist term for an Australian Aboriginal person

bottlebrush:
a tree or shrub with spikes of brightly coloured flowers

Bronze Medallion:
system of lifesaving certificates. Almost every school in Australia teaches its students how to swim and how to rescue people if they get into trouble in the water.

bugger:
damn. The thing you say when you stub your toe and don’t want to be
too
rude.

bunyip:
creature of Aboriginal legend, haunts swamps and billabongs (waterholes that only exist during the rainy season)

cardie:
short for
cardigan

chips:
like french fries, only better

chop, not much:
not very good; to not be much chop at something means you’re crap at it

chunder:
vomit

croc:
short for
crocodile

dag:
a dag is someone lacking in social graces, someone who is eccentric and doesn’t fit in. The closest U.S. approximation is
nerd
, but a dag doesn’t necessarily know a thing about computers or mathematics or science.

dob in or dob on:
to tell on. For example: “I’ll dob you in if you eat all those cakes.”

dodgy:
sketchy

doona:
comforter

dunny:
toilet

echidna:
a spiny anteater

Emoh Ruo:
Our Home
spelled backward, a common Australian name for your house

esky:
cooler, the thing you keep things cold in if you’re going on a picnic

flat out like a lizard drinking:
busy, in a hurry

footie:
In New South Wales and Queensland means Rugby League (Rugby Union is known as Rugby); in the rest of the country usually means AFL (Australian Football League, popularly known as Aussie Rules).

get on:
be friendly with. For example, “Those two don’t get on” means that they aren’t friends.

Gregory’s:
a brand of street directory common in New South Wales (the most populous state in Australia, of which Sydney is the capital)

grouse:
Excellent, wonderful, although it can also be a verb meaning to complain, as in, “I wish you’d stop grousing about everything.”

gypsy cab:
an unlicensed cab

hessian:
burlap

H. S. C.:
Higher School Certificate, the final set of exams in high school in most parts of Australia

Iced VoVos:
a brand of sweet bickie

jumper:
sweater

’ken hell:
an expression of annoyance

knackered:
very tired, exhausted

lend, having a:
making fun of, mocking

lift:
elevator

loo:
toilet

lolly:
candy. The plural is
lollies.
Although “losing your lolly” means losing your temper.

mad:
In Australia it means
crazy;
in the United States,
angry.

mum:
mom

Pop Rocks:
a hard American candy (lolly) made with carbon dioxide bubbles. As it melts in your mouth, it feels like it’s exploding. Very strange stuff.

poxy:
unpleasant, crappy or annoying

pram:
stroller

recce:
from the military term
reconnaissance,
meaning to look around, check out thoroughly

ropeable:
angry, as in “fit to be tied”

rubber:
in Australia means
eraser;
in the United States,
condom

sambo:
sandwich

skink:
a small lizard with a long body

sloppy joe:
a cotton, fleece-lined sweater

sossi:
sausage

sticky beak:
a person who always sticks his or her nose into other people’s business

stinger:
poisonous jellyfish

stoush:
fight, brawl, rumble