Six (15 page)

He looked so earnest, like he was regretting the car already. I gave him a quick peck on the cheek.

‘I hear you, Dad. I will be careful. Thank you so much. Come on, I’m starving!’

You can’t blame me for not wanting to listen. It was my birthday and I had just got the best present ever, (even if it wasn’t the type of car I would have chosen myself) and all I wanted to think about was what car seat covers I could buy for it and whether I could ask for a Sat Nav from my aunties for my birthday. I didn’t want to think about loaded weapons. I didn’t want to think about that roadside grave. The flowers had looked fresh, newly placed. I knew what was marked on the cross because I had seen it many times before. On one side, in painted capitals, was the name EVAN. On the other side, following the road out of town, was the word SON.

AT SCHOOL, POPPY was waiting for me at the gate, a big Poppy smile on her face. ‘Happy birthday!’ she chortled. ‘Happy, happy birthday. Hey, everyone, it’s Sarah’s birthday,’ she said to anyone near enough to hear her.

‘Shut up, idiot,’ I said, pleased for the fuss.

‘So, what did you get?’ she said. ‘Any presents yet? You’ll get mine on Saturday.’

I shrugged. ‘Not really,’ I said. ‘We had birthday breakfast. Where were you?’

Poppy waved her hands about, bracelets jangling. ‘Sorry, I was busy. So you didn’t get anything? Not even one present?’

‘Actually I got two,’ I said, as we headed to our lockers. ‘Jefri gave me a car freshener.’

‘That’s nice,’ said Poppy, though I could see she was just being polite.

‘And Mum and Dad gave me a car,’ I said.

‘What?’ Poppy screeched. She grabbed my shoulders and danced around me. ‘Really? Are you serious?’

We danced like that all the way to my locker. I was so caught up in the moment I didn’t notice the crowd that seemed to be just hanging around. When got to my locker, they turned to face me.

‘Happy birthday!’ they yelled.

There were loud bangs as some poppers went off and I was covered in streamers. A couple of people shoved cards my way. There was even a badly wrapped present from Nico, a silver necklace with the letter ‘S’.

‘You are sweet,’ I said, giving him a hug.

He trembled under my touch, a long sustained motion. His smile seemed nervous. Then the bell went and among the confusion of getting to class, someone bent over my shoulder and planted a kiss on my cheek.

‘Happy birthday, Sarah.’ It was Finn.

And I hugged that present to me for the rest of the day.

WHEN I WAS really little, it seemed like there was a celebration nearly every second day. And it’s true, our family was big on celebrations. Every birthday was celebrated, which was a given, and the special birthdays just meant extra big celebrations. Then there were births and anniversaries and various religious days whose significance I could only distinguish by the special food that was prepared. There were instant celebrations for new jobs or awards. There were long, drawn-out events, like marriages and funerals.

Mum and Dad had asked if I wanted a party for my 18th, but I knew the sort of party they meant. Friends and relatives and loud music and a slide show of my baby photos all mixed together with a curfew of 12 o’clock.

Instead, I agreed to a family party on the Saturday after my birthday (with Poppy as guest, of course, because after all these years she was an honorary family member) with the understanding that I would party with my friends later.

But first I had to endure the nightmare of the driver’s licence test. On the Saturday morning I was to take the test, I woke up to rain. I suddenly panicked. What if I didn’t get it? What if I turned on the wipers instead of the indicator? What if I missed a Stop sign? What if I forgot how to do a three-point turn?

I texted Poppy, but she was obviously still asleep. I got up and tried to have some cereal, but there was no milk in the fridge. Mum was already in cleaning-the-house mode, getting ready for lunch, and Dad had popped over to the cafe for an hour before coming back to take me to my test.

‘I’ll get some milk,’ I said to Mum, who was cleaning the skirting boards — the skirting boards for goodness’ sake — just in case there was an inspection by one of our shorter relatives due for lunch that day.

At the supermarket I grabbed the milk and some chewing gum — they couldn’t fail you for bad breath, could they? — before bumping into Cooper who was spraying the loose salad leaves in the fruit and veg section.

‘You’re up early,’ he said, pointedly looking down at my flannel PJ pants that I’d forgotten to change out of.

‘Yes.’

‘So, happy birthday for the other day,’ he said, shutting off the hose.

‘Thanks,’ I said. ‘Cooper, you have your licence?’

‘Yep.’

‘How was the test?’

He shrugged. ‘Okay. If they take you on Chandler Road, you need to slow down near Dog-leg Bend. If they take you into Mansion Acres, there’s a killer Give Way sign that’s easy to miss, just over near the Hedge Road exit. Make sure you really exaggerate checking your mirrors — don’t just shift your eyes.’

He turned back to his task.

‘Hey thanks, Cooper.’

I turned away, armed with my inside knowledge. I was feeling a little glow of appreciation for Cooper, my see-saw feelings for him on the way up, when he yelled out, ‘And wear a short dress. A see-through top would even be better.’

My see-saw seat landed on the ground with a thump as I ignored him and headed for the checkout.

The test wasn’t as bad as I imagined. I left my mobile in Dad’s car, just in case it rang and I automatically answered it. Of course, I could have turned it off, but what if I forgot? I lost a couple of points for my three-point turn which turned out to be more of a five-point turn. My test route included a trip through Mansion Acres and I didn’t miss the tricky Give Way sign, which I silently thanked Cooper for. I didn’t wear a see-through top, though I did wear the shortest skirt in my wardrobe. I’m just not sure that my licence tester, Geraldine, really appreciated the effort I had gone to.

I grabbed my mobile after I finished, and texted Poppy.

‘Got it.’

I drove home carefully to find Poppy waiting on my doorstep.

‘Look at you! I knew you’d get it. All the signs pointed to good news,’ she squealed. ‘Come on, take me for a drive.’

I took a quick spin past Finn’s house and Poppy’s place so she could pick up a change of clothes for lunch. All the while I kept waiting for the police — anyone — to stop me and say, ‘Stop playing, get out of the car, you’re just a kid.’

As Poppy got back into the car with all her gear I said, ‘I’m officially an adult,’ as if I’d just worked it out.

She patted me gently on the cheek, bangles jingling.

‘Sarah Lum, you were born an adult,’ she said.

AS ALWAYS, MY mother and aunts over-catered for the lunch, each trying to outdo the other. Mum had organised Jefri to create a slideshow of my first eighteen years. It seemed the only time my parents took a photo of me was during my most embarrassing moments. There I was, baby me, naked on a pink rug. Another me, dressed up for my first day at school, my school backpack reaching down to the back of my knees. There I was dressed up as Pocahontas for my cousin’s fancy dress 21st. And in most of them, my standard issue haircut — short fringe, hair never below my shoulders. Dad put some music on but it was hard to hear over the cackle of my aunts as they laughed at their own jokes, scolded their husbands for some minor shortcoming or loudly greeted newcomers at the door.

Once I blew out the candles on my birthday cake and made a wish, Poppy and I slipped away to my bedroom so that she could give me her present.

‘Sorry it wasn’t ready for your birthday.’

The present was so beautifully wrapped it was a work of art.

‘I don’t want to spoil the wrapping,’ I said.

‘Come on,’ she urged.

I carefully picked at the sticky tape and finally unwrapped the present to reveal a photo album.

‘Did you do this?’ I asked.

Poppy nodded.

The album had a purple felt cover, and sewn onto it were little charms and my name in yellow felt letters. She explained the charms.

‘A dolphin because you’re a greenie,’ she said.

‘Cute.’

‘S for Sarah.’

‘Obviously.’

‘A money bag for future wealth. A star, because you are one. A car, because you’re eighteen. A fish, oh, just because I thought it looked sweet—’

I slapped her arm. ‘Very funny,’ I said.

The limo ride to the Formal had been booked and Finn was going to be in that limo. Oh, and Poppy and Nico and a couple of other people, but just the thought that Finn would be in the limo with me, sitting at my table at the Formal, made anything seem possible. We’d become something of a foursome, Nico, Poppy, Finn and I. Nothing had happened yet, but it felt like I just had to reach out and open the door and I could have what I wanted.

‘And, finally, an angel to watch over you.’ Then she opened up the album and there we were on the first page; her and I, on our Year 7 Camp, arm in arm.

‘This is the best present ever,’ I said, giving her a hug.

It felt right again. The months of growing apart seemed to have vanished and it was just Poppy and me like we’d always been. I felt mean. Mean about trying to make Poppy something that she wasn’t. In the future I was going to accept her for what she was — special Powers and all.

Hickety pickety

my black hen

She lays eggs for

gentlemen

NICO PUSHED THE regulation deli hat off his forehead as he leaned into the chicken roaster to clean it out. In one corner of the oven a lone chicken wing waved up at him, just eluding his grasp as he reached in one more time.

‘Get some long tongs,’ advised Sheryl, his supervisor. ‘I saw some out the back before.’

Nico pulled back from the oven, hating the smell of the chicken fat that clung to his clothes and hair. Wiping his hands on his deli apron, he pushed through the ‘Staff Only’ doors into the back room and grabbed a long pair of tongs from the kitchen drawer.

On his way back he narrowly missed the cool room door on his right as it swung back against the wall. Claire Zimmerman scuttled out, her uniform bunched up at the back. Cooper tucked his shirt into his jeans before pulling the door shut.