Nona and Me (4 page)

4.

1996

We are following Rripipi up a small stream. Bony
fingers of mangrove reach towards us, grasping for the water's edge. We walk slowly, feeling the ooze of sticky mud envelop our feet as we walk.

Nona stops just in front of me, and calls out,
“Momo, dhän'pala!”

Rripipi looks back at us, holding out a thin piece of wood she's been carrying. “You want the stick?”

Nona says,
“Yaka.”

She's already twisting her feet deeper into the mud. She pokes her bum out and wiggles it from side to side. I giggle and she grins at me and sticks her bum out even further and twists, twists, twists. “Look! It's the
dhän'pala
dance!”

I laugh out loud. Rripipi and the other old ladies look over and smile. Nona's cousins point and grin. Some start to copy.

The dark brown sand at Nona's feet has cracked into small faultlines now, like a miniature earthquake has taken place. She kicks some to one side, then reaches down and pulls up a fist of mud. She rinses it in the stream, then holds her open palm out towards me. On it is a large golden shell, covered in ridges that darken as they orbit down and out, ending in closed lips.

Rripipi claps her hands, and beams at Nona.
“Manymak, gaminyarr!”

It is the biggest mud mussel I've ever seen.

Rripipi gestures me towards her. “Mätjala, one for you there.”

She uses her bottom lip to point to the side of the stream. “See that?”

She makes the shape of a curved mound with her hand, but I can't see anything except sand, pointy new mangrove shoots and scattered longbum shells.

I take a step. Ripples rush forward, as if fleeing from my legs. And then I see it. The smallest bend in the water. A tiny liquid wrinkle, shimmering in the sun.

I leap eagerly towards it and twist my feet in. I want to copy Nona. I do her
dhän'pala
dance. I wiggle my bum just like she did. Nona starts laughing. And then I'm laughing too and she's slapping her leg and hooting and I can't concentrate at all. She's doubled over now, almost rolling in the mud, and Rripipi is telling her to get up, don't be so silly, she's covered in mud, but she's not listening, she can hardly hear her, we're both in hysterics and we're laughing, laughing, laughing.

5.

2007

“Go!”

We bolt from our hiding place in the bushes and run towards the darkened house. My heart is pounding. There's a street light behind us. I see my faint shadow cross the perfectly cut grass. Selena is in front, Anya just behind her. I'm last. We race towards the carport, desperate to conceal ourselves, and bang. A sensor light flicks on.
Shit.
Why did I let Selena talk me into this? I'm panicking. “Selena.”

She waves me back. “Shhh.”

She puts a hand over the gate and feels for the latch.
Come on, come on, come on.
Click. She finds it and pushes the gate open. We hurry through, relieved to blend back into darkness.

Selena says, “It's cool. No-one saw us.”

I'm not so sure. I stand still, listening. A sprinkler shoots repetitive jets of spray next door. A dog barks somewhere in the distance. After ten long seconds, the sensor light clicks off.

I move back to the gate and look out at the street. The neighbours' houses are silent. I can see a TV flickering through a window across the road. They're watching
Home and Away
. There are no yells of “Stop!” or “Who's there?” No-one has seen us. Phew.

I hear Selena whisper – “Guys” – and realise Anya is beside me, looking out. She looks as terrified as I feel. I feel a pang of sympathy for her before I remember her smug smile this afternoon.

Anya seems to be recalling the same thing. “If Rosie's too scared, we can go just the two of us, Selena.” She straightens her back, shrugging off nerves, as she makes her way through the carport to the back of the house. I follow her. We round the corner and see Selena, illuminated in the glow of a fridge light.

She grins at us. “Hallelujah.”

In front of her are rows of beer, a few casks of wine and a doorful of Coke Zero. She pulls out one of the beers. It has a foreign label. Maybe German? Selena smiles. “Benny said this guy had good taste.”

Benny fridged this place a month ago. He's the one who gave Selena the idea. The man who lives here obviously hasn't learned because – lucky for us – he hasn't put a lock on the fridge.

Anya pulls her backpack off and hands it to Selena. She loads it with as many beers as she can fit, then zips it shut and gives it back to Anya. She tosses me a cask of wine to carry and grabs three cans of Coke Zero. Then we get the hell out of there.

*

The beer is warm and bitter. I have to stop myself from spitting it out. I think of that egg, scrambled in ethanol. Ms Bamkin's experiment worked.

Libby's house is packed, bursting with bodies and beats. I am standing with Selena, Anya, Nick and Benny. The boys have their own entourage. Two Year 11 girls hover next to them, trying to catch their attention. Benny hardly notices them. His eyes are on Selena. They've been flirting for months now. Tonight, she has dressed to impress. She's wearing a bright red strapless dress she ordered online. It clings to her curves, and ends elegantly mid-calf. Anya's is the same style, in aqua, probably a size or two smaller. She's petite; her hem touches the ground when she walks. She looks good, though. Confident in colour. I feel like the odd one out in a simple black dress borrowed from Selena before we went fridging. Still, at least I'm not wearing Mum's tea-towel creation.

Nick raises his voice above the music, leaning in towards Selena. “Where'd you get the beers from?”

“Magic. Found them outside our house.”

“Yeah, right. Did you fridge them?”

He looks annoyed.

Selena meets Benny's eyes and grins. They say it at the same time, “4 Cassia Close.” Then they burst out laughing.

Nick isn't impressed. “What if you'd been caught?”

“No-one was home. Don't pretend you've never done it,” says Selena.

“That's not the point.”

“Oh, come on, Nick. You can't seriously be mad about me taking a few beers. You did heaps worse than that in Sydney.”

The Year 11s giggle flirtatiously. “Really? Like what?”

I'm curious, waiting to hear his answer, but he ignores them and turns to his mate. “Benny, don't corrupt my sister.”

Benny can't stop smiling at Selena. “I haven't been able to – until now.”

Selena smiles back at him. “Maybe tonight's your lucky night.”

Benny takes a swig of his beer, probably trying to swallow his drool before it drips down his chin. Nick looks at me. “Did you all go?”

Before I can answer, Anya jumps in, laughing. “Rosie was shitting herself. You should've seen her.”

Nick frowns. “I didn't take you for the break-and-enter type, Flipper.”

“Trust me. She's not.”

Anya's interjections are annoying me. I manage to find my voice. “Maybe you don't know me that well.”

It has just the right dose of challenge. I've surprised myself. I've surprised Nick. I can't tell if that's good or bad.

Beyoncé's “Single Ladies (Put a Ring on It)” comes on, and Selena squeals. “I love this song! Let's dance!”

She drags Anya and me away from the boys, out onto the dance floor. Well, she drags me. Anya goes willingly. She and Selena are incredible dancers. They both do classes at the Arafura Dance Association after school. Another thing I can't do because I don't live in town. The training shows in the way their bodies move. They absorb the rhythms and translate them into sexy movement. Sometimes they even do short semi-choreographed routines. I silently curse Mum for making us live in Yirrkala, as I tap my feet from side to side. I am careful to keep a smile plastered on my face, as if I'm having fun.

I sneak a glance back at Nick and Benny. The Year 11s have drifted away, and the boys are now having a heated discussion about something – probably Selena. After a minute, Nick turns and storms off. Benny joins us on the dance floor. He looks willing to put a ring on it. He looks like, right now, he'd do anything for Selena.

*

Selena and Benny are pashing on a couch inside. His hands keep rubbing her ass like he's expecting a genie to emerge and grant him three wishes. I'm in the kitchen with Anya. She's found some orange juice in Libby's fridge and is sloshing it into a cup along with some of our stolen cask wine.

She slurs a little as she says, “This'll make it taste better.”

She slams the bottle down, spilling juice onto the bench. She picks up the plastic cup and takes a sip. “Yeah, better. Way better. Try it.”

It looks like piss. I reluctantly take a sip. It's sickly sweet.

She's looking at me expectantly. “Better, yeah?”

“A little bit.”

We lean against the bench together. Anya takes another swig and nods out towards the party. “This is cool, huh?”

“I feel a bit sick.”

She ignores me, off on her own drunk tangent. “Two years ago, did you ever think that we'd be here?”

I know she's talking about BS. I try to joke it off. “You mean, like, right here? Drinking piss in Libby Davidson's kitchen?”

Anya hardly hears me. “This is a cool party.”

Her voice has a tone of wonder. It makes me suddenly sad.

I lean over the kitchen bench to check if Selena and Benny have come up for air. They haven't. I see tongues.

I nod towards them, a bit embarrassed. “What are we going to do with them?”

Anya giggles. “Find them a room.”

She's swaying slightly … or is that me?

Nick enters the kitchen, discards an empty bottle and grabs another beer from the fridge. I attempt conversation. “You having a good night?”

“Not really. Thinking of heading off soon.”

I'm about to ask him why, when Selena drags Benny over by the hand. “So Benny and I were talking –”

This strikes Anya as hilarious. “Really? When?”

She cacks herself. Selena continues, unperturbed. “Should we all go back to our house?”

Selena's parents are away for the weekend, fishing on their boat. We all got ready at her house earlier. The plan was always for us girls to stay there overnight. But now it looks like Benny's coming. And Nick will be home too. My heart starts beating faster, harder, louder. I try to sound relaxed. “You want to go now?”

Nick sculls most of his beer, then says, “May as well.”

Selena and Benny start to stagger towards the front door. Anya follows them out. I'm frozen to the spot. Nick looks at me. “You coming?”

I manage to nod.

And then it happens. Nick Bell takes my hand. He holds it firmly, warm in his, and starts to lead me out of the party. I see the two Year 11 girls watching us go. I know there'll be gossip, but I don't care. I'm holding hands with Nick Bell. The guy every girl at school wants. I'm invincible. Superhuman.

*

The air outside the house is warm and still. The night sky glows deep blue-black. Nick drops my hand and fishes keys out of his back pocket. His ute is parked straight in front of the house.

Benny sees this and yells, “Rockstar park!”

Nick's expression remains stony. I haven't seen him like this before and it makes me uneasy. I try to joke him out of it. “Since when do rockstars have green P's?”

If Nick hears me he doesn't respond. He presses the button on his key and the Hilux doors click open. I'm suddenly nervous. “You sure you're okay to drive?”

“It's not far.”

I can hear Mum's voice saying,
Do not get in that car!

I ignore it.

Selena and Benny are arm in arm, propping each other up as they walk. I check in with Selena.

“You okay?”

“I'm good. Great. Fan-fucking-tastic.” She dissolves into giggles. We ease her and Benny into the back seat and they start pashing again. Anya reluctantly climbs in after them, giving me a look that says,
You owe me
.

I get into the front seat. Nick slams the driver's door shut behind him and crunches the gears into first. He sees me watching, and mutters an irritated “I'm fine!”

The Hilux lurches forward. Nick and Selena's house is only a few blocks away. I watch the neighbourhood slide by my window. The identical low concrete houses and carefully watered lawns. Boats parked in driveways. Trampolines, their netting faded, destroyed by the intense sun.

My head is throbbing now. I'm relieved when we pull up outside Nick's house. The front wheel grates on the curb as he comes to a stop.

Selena slurs, “Home sweet home.”

I let Anya deal with her and Benny, and follow Nick to the front door. He's fumbling with the keys in the lock. I'm starting to think he's drunker than he's letting on.

I say, “Want me to try?”

He hands me the keys and I aim them for the lock. But the slot keeps moving, swaying from side to side. It ripples, as if underwater. The key hits metal again and I realise Nick is watching me, amused. “Lucky you're here to help.”

“Shut up.” But I'm smiling.

And so is Nick. He takes the key from me and after two more tries he gets it. The key slots into the hole and he turns it, pushing the door open. I enter behind him, leaving the door open for the others.

I have been here heaps of times with Selena, but every time I enter I feel a strange kind of awe. It is like visiting a city department store; the house is filled with expensive, oversized items. A massive leather sofa fills most of the lounge room. A flatscreen TV takes up a whole wall. There's a fridge with three doors and a built-in icemaker.

It makes our place look like a half-empty shack.

Nick starts to walk down the corridor. I ask, “Where are you going?”

“My room.”

I hesitate, unsure what that means. Does he want to be alone? It doesn't sound like an invitation.

Benny and Selena stagger into the lounge room and collapse onto the massive couch, their bodies coiled together like a twist of rope. Anya closes the front door behind her.

Nick is about to disappear into his room, when he looks back at me. “You coming?”

I know Anya will kill me for leaving her with the lovebirds but I can't say no. I've waited years for this. Nick Bell. Inviting me into his bedroom. I have to see what's going to happen.

I start down the hallway. Out of habit, I almost veer into Selena's room, but I stop myself and keep walking, telling myself this is real. It's really happening. It is.

Nick's is the next room along. I find him sitting on the bed, his back against the wall, knees angled up in front of him. I've only been in here once before. About a year ago, I snuck in one night when I was staying at Selena's. I wasn't taking any risks – I knew Nick was out – but it felt daring, like I was breaking in. I remember just standing there, looking around me. The room was illuminated by a street light outside. I felt like I was getting a glimpse into Nick's soul. The music he liked: The White Stripes, The Killers, Red Hot Chili Peppers. His interests: street art, skating, snowboarding, surfing. I already knew he liked some of these things, but seeing them plastered on a wall in front of you is different. It's like a declaration. A manifesto:
These are the things I care about.

Looking around me now, I notice he's added a few more posters. The crashing waves are still there, but next to them is a corner dedicated to busty blonde girls in bikinis. I hope they're not his type because I don't look like any of them. I have dark hair, pale freckly skin and green eyes. Dad's parents were Dutch missionaries and Mum's family came from Ireland. I think they came to Australia during the potato famine. I'm lean, but my boobs would barely be a quarter of the size of those of any of the girls on the posters. And I don't wear bikinis: they're not good for swimming laps and I'm always paranoid the top will fall off.

Nick is looking at me. I realise I'm hovering in the doorway. I take a step into the room. Should I sit on his bed? Would that make me seem more relaxed? Or would he just think I'm being easy? I stay standing and make awkward conversation. “You didn't mind leaving the party early?”