Something More (Girlfriend Fiction 11) (15 page)

‘Oh-oh, someone's in big trouble,' I said.

‘No, it's done…it's just that…well…there's something I've been meaning to tell you…' He didn't say any more.

He didn't have to. We were inside now. All eyes were on me, or rather, the black-and-whites of me, to be precise. I took an involuntary step towards them.

Although I'd thought I knew each shot by heart, knowing now that Jack had taken them changed things. I studied them carefully.

He'd blown them up, mounted them on black cardboard and hung them on the display board. Beside each one there was a small white card with writing on it. I inched my way closer.

Some other students had obviously handed their work in earlier that morning too; there were other exhibits in the room. Miss Reid was busy helping those of us who were still going.

‘We won't do the speeches this lesson. We'll just set up the exhibition for tomorrow. Feel free to wander around. Anyone who needs my help get over here.'

From the corner of my eye, I spotted Sam with her.

‘Hey, how does it feel to be a model?' someone asked as I passed them.

‘Great work, Ferris,' Sam called to Jack, who was still behind me.

Mesmerised by my own face, I walked to the first photograph.

My left profile, searching the South Coast Railway Line for a coming train.

I read the card.

Searching
…

Puzzled, I moved to the second.

Wishing
…

I liked this shot. He'd got me peering up at the sky. It must have been taken in the schoolyard. My attention had been grabbed by a crow, and with all the boring detail edited out, it was very wistful.

‘
Needing
…' He whispered the third card's message in my ear.

‘When did you take this one?'

‘Before the maths exam. That's why you're biting your lip.'

I moved on.

Something more than this
.

I'd seen it before, but in this context the fourth picture had new meaning. He'd taken it last month, just after I'd been handed a folded Australian flag during assembly. As the nearest student, Mr Devlin had asked me to unfold it and pass it on to the kids who raised it during the anthem. I remembered how windy it had been that day. I'd gotten a bit tangled up in the cloth. The image captured me grappling with a swirling Australian flag, my face a grimace of annoyance.

The symbolism didn't escape me.

Jack was still beside me. I watched him desperately trying to read my face. The room grew hazy and the class seemed to float away, until there was only him and me.

‘You get it, don't you? You get how it feels to be me.'

We both studied the fifth photo. I read the card aloud:

‘
You can't see ahead
…

' I was shading my face from the sun with my hand. I knew it had been snapped at the athletics carnival; I had been trying to see if Sam had won the race.

I floated to the next one.

If you're always gazing behind
.

I took a sharp breath when I read this card. My throat was sore again; I wanted to cry. I concentrated hard on the photo. I hadn't seen it before.

Me, gazing back at something. I don't remember what. I don't know when he took it.

The final photograph hung apart from the others. It was much bigger. Another new one. He'd obviously shot more than one roll of film.

The last card read simply:

Isla
.

He'd taken it on the one day my curly hair had been loose. I was standing on the oval, curls blowing out wildly from my face. My head was thrown back and my eyes were crinkled. No wonder I'd missed the camera: I was laughing hard. I couldn't remember why now, but it must have been funny. It was an awesome photo…not because it was me…but because of the way it had been shot.

He was a brilliant photographer. He was taking my breath away.

My mind raced back through the cards:

Searching
…
wishing
…
needing
…
something more than this
.
You can
'
t see ahead
…
if you
'
re always gazing behind, Isla
.

Could my homesickness be so clear to him? I was amazed that he knew me so well. He had an eye for detail, I supposed – a photographer's eye. And he was a poet, too. Come to think of it, he did get As in English all the time.

‘Isla?'

But what about Molly?

I burst into tears.

He was behind me still, awkward now and embarrassed.

‘Jaaack?' Miss Reid dragged his name out into a question as she approached. ‘You did check these photos with Isla, didn't you? I was adamant you would need her permission.'

They both eyed me.

‘Er…' he began.

‘Yes, Miss, he did. It's just that it's all so weird,' I cut in, sniffing a bit.

‘It must be,' she agreed. ‘But if any man ever made me the subject of their artwork and it was as good as this…'

‘You'd marry him?' Jack quipped.

‘Heavens no, but I'd want at least half the profits.' She winked as she walked away.

I turned my face slowly towards his. Who was this guy who'd just made me feel so beautiful? Who was the real Jack Ferris?

‘Half the profits then?'

‘You're on.' He thumped my arm.

Phew, behaving like a dumb boy again. What a relief.

After school I was pacing up and down the platform, willing the train to get there on time for once when Jack appeared out of nowhere.

‘Hi. I'm staying at Dad's until Wednesday.'

‘Hi.' My voice sounded shrill.

‘Are you okay? Is your throat still hurting? You—'

‘It's fine,' I cut him off.

It felt like we'd run out of things to say.

‘Waiting on the train?' he asked.

No…I'm waiting on you to tell me what's going on in your
head.

‘Yeah.'

‘It's late.'

‘I know!' I practically screamed the words.

If he'd noticed, he wasn't commenting. ‘Anything good on telly tonight?'

I couldn't stand another second of this inane conversation.

‘I can't talk to Molly Phillips. It's too hard. She's still cracking swimming-pool jokes and…' I stopped. ‘Do you like me, Jack?'

Talk about a thought getting away from you. I'd just blurted it out.

‘Nah…' he said, lazily. ‘I didn't have a cute dog to photograph so I thought you'd be just as good.' He plonked down on his backpack.

I got that I was supposed to laugh, but a lump in my throat defied me. I turned away and struggled to swallow it, knowing I'd just broken the biggest unwritten rule of our relationship:

don't take offence. In truth they were more tears of frustration, but I knew it wouldn't appear that way to him.

He was wearing a kind of helpless expression now, and it took him ages to say something. Just when I thought we were doomed never to communicate effectively again, he spoke.

‘Isla…I do like you…I was wondering if you want to…' ‘When?' I demanded.

‘How about you meet me tonight, at the beach?'

‘Okay.'

‘Right. Good. I'll see you then, then.' He sounded like he was leaving.

‘Jack?'

‘Yeah?'

‘Aren't you catching this train, too?'

‘Oh, yeah.'

The world faded and it was just him and me, laughing.

The train snuck in, head bowed, hoping no one would notice it was late again. For once, I couldn't care less. We boarded and found a seat…together.

As I sat across from him, I was filled with a sense of contentment. It lasted for a whole two stops, because that's when I remembered his dad.

Custard pie!

‘Are you okay?' Jack was concerned. ‘You're pale.'

‘Oh, I'm fine. I'm just worried about Terry.'

He nodded. ‘Okay, this might sound harsh, but in the end it's their problem.'

‘But it affects us all. Both families. It's not like they've been a couple of naughty kids and bought a puppy without asking their parents. A baby means their lives will never be the same.'

We debated the situation until the train arrived at Coledale station. As we hopped off, he took my hand. It felt great.

‘Come on, try not to worry too much.' He laced his fingers through mine. We walked along the platform like that…and became aware of singing behind us.

‘Ooohhh…Isla and Ja-ack, sitting in a tree…'

Terry!

‘Hey Jack, that really is my sister you're with. She's not going to rip her face off to reveal a gorgeous, hot chick underneath.' She thumped him on the back and winked at me as she overtook us. Clearly she was having one of her better days.

Jack was smirking. I shook my head.

‘What? Oh come on, you've got to admit she's pretty funny.'

‘I suppose; but I'm amazed she's not curled up somewhere hiding from the world.'

‘Should she be?'

‘I would be if I were her. How's she going to cope, Jack?' I thought of her night terrors and her mood swings, and all the tears of the last week.

‘She seems tough enough to me,' he said.

‘I suppose so.'

‘You're not that different.'

I was shocked. ‘Of course we are.'

He shook his head. ‘You're really not.'

‘She's much stronger than me.'

‘You'll be right once you get going.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘You're standing still, Isla. It's what I was trying to say with my Major Work. I've watched you at school, and I've listened to you in class discussions. I think that in your head, you're still living on the other side of the world.'

I didn't reply.

‘Are you scared that if you move on, you'll forget who you are?'

I nodded.

‘You won't. Anyway, have you ever considered that being Australian is so similar to who you already are that you can be both?'

Tears formed again as we climbed the steps from the station to the street. How come it had taken him seconds to work out something that I was only just beginning to understand myself?

‘Stop resisting. Just take it easy.'

I knew that he was making sense.

‘You're right,' I told him.

‘I'm always right.' He dropped my hand gently and began to walk away.
A cool exit, Jack Ferris.

Would he glance back?

No…no…no…YES!

‘Molly and I will meet you at seven,' he called over his shoulder, and he left me standing there – totally gobsmacked.

‘I don't know much about this
foreign karma thing, Isla, but
here in Scotland we all know that
what's for you won't go by you.'

(Gran McGonnigle)

They were six minutes late, giving me extra time to fume. How dare Jack bring Molly on our
date
? If that was what this was supposed to be.

I watched them cross the grass, their heads close together the way they'd been over a week ago, and jealousy jabbed me with chopsticks.

‘Hi,' Jack said.

I gave him a quick nod, going for nonchalant, and turned to Molly. We glared at each other, poised like a couple of angry Alsatians waiting to attack. Jack plopped down on the dry grass.

‘We may as well take a load off.' He tugged at the hem of my jacket, and I almost fell on top of him.

‘Sorry,' he said, not sounding the least bit sorry.

I sat down too, struggling to regain my composure. Molly squatted close by.

‘This is a mess,' she accused.

‘It's not my fault, Molly.'

‘No, it's your dumb sister's.'

‘Molly!' Jack's voice was a warning.

I was seething. ‘Yeah. Right. Like she got pregnant all by herself,' I shouted over the roar of the surf.

That shut her up. The air pulsated. Even the ocean was angry. ‘So…what will you two lovely aunties be wearing to the christening? Any ideas yet?'

Molly protested. ‘Jack!'

I thumped him on the thigh.

‘Well, someone has to consider the future around here, because you two seem determined to avoid it completely. You're both in the same shit, and it's nobody's fault, so stop searching for someone to blame and start figuring out what to do.'

After a long silence, Molly spoke. ‘What can we do?'

I studied her face. The usual sneer and the cool confidence were gone. ‘I guess your advice to break the news at the same time was okay,' I heard myself saying.

Jack stretched out on the grass and peered into the night sky. I fell down beside him, feeling the strain leave my back. The silence was more comfortable this time.

Molly sighed. She was lying down, too. ‘I wonder why they didn't use something,' she said.

I thought about Mitsy and the pills but said nothing. She could ask her brother to explain if she was looking for an answer.

She bounced up. ‘I wish they'd really thought about it first.'

‘Stop talking about them as if they're stupid,' Jack said.

We stared at him.

‘Well, you are.' The breeze ruffled his hair. I had the biggest urge to help it. I made up my mind that this was a first date whether he liked it or not. Molly and I had mended some fences, which was good considering we'd both turned up with the wrong tools, but it was definitely
time to go, Molly Phillips
.

‘What do you think we should do now?' I tried to hurry things along.

No suggestions from Molly.

‘Can't you come up with something?' Jack asked me.

‘Right, how's this for a plan: we get them to tell our parents tomorrow night, let's say at nine p.m. If either one chickens out, the adults will take over anyway.'