Wedding Belles (6 page)

“I guess we’ve got our stink answer.” Seth wrinkles up his nose. “Gross.”

I look around. The back wall of the room is covered in shelves, and on each shelf are large old-fashioned glass jars topped with glass stoppers with brown rubber seals. I peer into some of the jars and then jump back when I realize what the dark-brown and purplish lumps inside are — hearts of all different shapes and sizes. Some are as tiny as an apple seed, while others are as big as a soccer ball. Below every jar is a sign telling you which animal the heart is from: bird, ape, human, cow, horse, zebra, tiger. After a few seconds the smell starts to make me feel queasy, and I go back out into the corridor. There’s a bench against one of the walls, so I sit on it to wait for Seth, who’s still studying the hearts. They’re interesting, but also quite gruesome.

My mobile beeps as I’m waiting and I click into my text messages, glad for the distraction.
AMY ARE YOU AROUND ON SAT AFTERNOON? I CAN GET A BABYSITTER IN IF YOU HAVE PLANS. X MUM

I know she needs a bit of notice to find a babysitter, so I text back immediately:
SORRY, MUM, I’M BUSY ON SAT, AMY X

It’s not exactly true, but I hope it will be. Seth and I haven’t hung out on the weekend for ages. OK, it’s probably been only a few weeks, but it seems like forever. He’s just been so busy helping Polly with her photography business. I try not to be jealous — she’s his mum after all — but it’s hard sometimes. And it doesn’t help that Mills is always blathering on about Bailey and how much they do together on the weekends.

“You OK?” Seth asks when he comes out of the room. He sits down so close that our thighs are almost touching.

I nod. “Fine. It was just the smell.”

“It’s pretty bad, all right. But did you check out the gecko heart? It was minuscule.”

“Seth,” I say before I get a chance to chicken out. “What are you doing on Saturday? Maybe we could catch a movie or something?”

“Maybe. I might have to work with Polly, though. I’ll ask her later and get back to you.”

“I could help too. Carry her equipment and stuff.”

“There’s a bit more to it than that. It’s nice of you to offer, but I don’t think she’ll need two assistants.”

“I could just watch, then, or tag along anyway.” I’m starting to sound desperate. I know I should shut up, but of course I don’t. “I feel like I never see you on the weekends, Seth. You’re always so busy with Polly. And Mills is never around these days, what with Bailey and the cheerleading and everything.”

Seth gives a laugh. “Ah, yes, the cheerleading. Won’t you be busy cheering on Bailey and the other hunky rugby stars on Saturday?”

“Stop teasing me. And, no, there’s no match this weekend, smarty-pants. If you’re busy Saturday, what about Sunday?”

“I said I’ll get back to you, all right? Stop nagging me, Amy.” His voice is sharp.

I wasn’t nagging him. I just want to spend some time with him — what’s so bad about that? It’s not like Seth to be so mean. There’s definitely something up.

“Look, I’m sorry,” he says. “That came out wrong. I’ve just got a lot of stuff on at the moment, yeah? Things will be better in a few weeks.”

“A few weeks is a long time,” I say, knowing as soon as the words are out of my mouth that it’s the wrong thing to say.
It’s not all about you, Amy Green. Just stop talking!
“It’s fine, honestly,” I add quickly. “I just miss hanging out with you, that’s all.”

He brushes some strands of hair off my face, his fingers cool against my skin. “It won’t always be like this, I promise. Now’s just not a good time.”

I nod. “I know.”

We sit there for a few seconds, staring at each other. His sky-blue eyes are soft, but there’s something hidden behind them. Sadness? Worry? I’m not quite sure.

“Seth, I know there’s something up. Talk to me.”

He just shakes his head. “We should get on with this work sheet.” After studying the map, he starts walking down the corridor. All I can do is follow him.

We end up in the Song Room. It’s larger than the other rooms, at least triple the size, and you enter it through black curtains. Inside, the darkened space is circular like a drum, with a round seating area in the middle. According to the instructions on the wall outside, you’re supposed to sit down, close your eyes, and open them only when the “song” starts.

So that’s exactly what we do. For ages nothing happens — there’s no noise at all and certainly no singing — and I begin to feel a bit silly. Finally, I hear a squeaking noise. I open my eyes.

“Sorry,” Seth whispers, “just my shoes.”

I shut my eyes again. And at last the audio track kicks in. But it’s not like any music I’ve ever heard before. A high-pitched wail fills the room, followed by another. It’s spooky, like something out of a horror film, and yet at the same time strangely familiar.

“Please open your eyes now,” a voice says over the sound system.

When I do, boy, do I get a surprise. The room is filled with flickering blue light and two huge black shapes are moving toward us. It’s just a video projected onto the wall in front of us, but it looks so real. The shapes are almost 3-D. I’m about to squeeze my eyes shut again in fright (I’m a real chicken when it comes to anything scary), when I realize what they are. Two whales. One is smaller than the other, so perhaps it’s a mum with her baby. They’re humpback whales, judging from their long fins and knobbly heads.

No wonder I recognized the noise. I used to have a thing about whales when I was about eight. I made Mum take whale books out of the library for me and watched endless nature programs about them. Whales are really smart animals. There was this humpback whale caught in a fishing net in San Francisco a few years ago. Divers went down to help him. It took hours because they had to cut away all the fibers caught around his fins. When he was free, the whale swam up to each diver in turn, like he was saying thank you.

I watch the screen, transfixed, as the whales swim toward me, making their loud cries. They stop, and each one seems to be looking right at us (well, at the camera, I guess). Their gaze is surprisingly soft and gentle. Then they turn and swim slowly away again. The camera follows them as they power through the water. They don’t breach — flip their bodies out of the water — and nothing dramatic happens, but it’s still spellbinding to watch. I’m disappointed when the film stops playing and all is quiet again. The lights come up and Seth grins at me.

“Whoa, what was all that about? Freaky.”

“I loved it.” I put on my best posh art-critic voice. “The art
spoke
to me, darling.”

Seth laughs. “Really? What did it say exactly? No, hang on, how did it make you
feel
?” He takes a pen out of his pocket and holds it over the work sheet. “That’s what Olen wants to know.”

I think for a second. “At first it felt like the whales were watching us, then it was like they were inviting us to join in — to follow them . . . play with them. I suppose I felt like I
was
a whale. Swimming along with my mum, shooting the breeze. I guess ‘content’ would sum it up, ‘happy,’ even. Why aren’t you writing any of this top-class art analysis down, Stone? Get with the program.” I tap the work sheet.

“You seriously think that horrible noise was happy wailing?”

“Yes,” I say. “Why? What did it sound like to you?”

“Doesn’t matter. Your answer’s better. Care to add anything else, Miss Art Critic?”

“It makes the viewer feel connected to the natural world?”

“Excellent. You’re really good at this stuff.”

“Thanks,” I say, feeling rather pleased.

“Even if it is complete rubbish. Whales can’t be happy. They’re stupid sea creatures, not humans.”

“Whales are not stupid, Seth. They have enormous brains. In fact, scientists think that whales and dolphins feel all kinds of emotions, like love and empathy.” I tell him about the whale in San Francisco. “And I didn’t say the whales in the video
were
happy,” I add finally. “I said watching them and listening to them made
me
feel happy.”

“Well, bully for you.”

“Seth! What on earth is wrong with you today?”

“Nothing’s wrong.” He rubs the toe of his shoe over the floor, making that irritating noise again.

“Seth, I’m not stupid. I know there’s something up. And I’m not leaving this weird room until you tell me.”

Then I remember. He’s been like this with me before.

“Polly,” I say in a low voice. “She’s sick again, isn’t she?”

Polly had breast cancer last year. She had an operation and lots of treatment, and recently she’s been on a new drugs trial at Dave’s hospital. I thought the cancer had gone away; I thought she was better. But if she isn’t, it’s so unfair. She’s really cool and smart, and she and Seth are mega-close. I mean, I love Mum and everything, but we’re not friends like Seth and Polly are. I guess she’s all the family he’s got, so no wonder they’re close.

“Seth?” I say again, this time in a whisper. I put my hand over his, half expecting him to pull away, but he doesn’t. So I hold it, tight.

“I’m so sorry,” I say. “Does she need another operation?”

“I don’t know. She got the test results back only last week. They’ve found more bad cells in the glands under her right arm.”

“What does that mean? What are the doctors planning to do?”

“I’m not sure. That’s all she’s said about it.” He gives an unhappy shrug. “Maybe she knows more about what’s going on and isn’t telling me because she’s trying to protect me or something. I just feel so stupid and clueless. I want to help her, but there’s nothing I can do. Polly says Dr. Shine is working on a new treatment plan — she’s got an appointment with her on Friday. But what if . . . ?” He stops, his voice catching.

I squeeze his hand tighter. “Seth, you can’t think that way. Your mum’s really strong, but she’s probably finding all of this just as difficult as you are. I’m sure she’s not keeping things from you. Polly wouldn’t do that. And I think you’d know if she was lying to you.”

“I guess. I just . . . I want to do something. Fix things for her. All this waiting around is killing me.” His hand tenses in mine. “I feel like punching something.”

“I’m not surprised,” I say. “It must be awful, but maybe she’ll get more information on Friday.”

“Maybe.”

No wonder Seth has been so distracted. And I’m ashamed to say that I feel a tiny wave of relief. I thought he was losing interest in me. Then I remind myself
why
he’s been so distracted, and that makes me feel terrible. How can I be worrying about whether he likes me or not when his mum is so sick?

“Seth,” I say, still feeling disgusted with myself. “I really am sorry about Polly. Don’t worry about doing something together this weekend if it won’t work. I understand. And if there’s anything I can do, tell me.”

He gives a tiny laugh and bumps me with his shoulder. “Always trying to fix things, aren’t you? I think you’re out of luck with this one, kiddo. But thanks for the offer. And let’s take a rain check on Saturday and Sunday, yeah? I’d love to hang out, but it depends on how it goes with Dr. Shine.”

The whale song kicks in again, and the disembodied voice tells us to open our eyes. And we stay there, holding hands, to watch the whales again. But this time, the giant creatures’ eyes don’t look soft and gentle; they look sad, and I have to gulp and blink back my tears. Sometimes life is so unfair.

When I walk through the door of the kitchen after school that night, Alex is sitting in his high chair, chewing on a cookie, his mouth a sticky mess. He’s even got pieces of mushy cookie in his bangs. Dave’s standing in front of the stove, stirring something in a frying pan. His headphones are clamped over his ears, and he’s swaying his shoulders and singing along to an old Beatles song. I sit down at the kitchen table and wait for him to notice me. His singing gets louder and louder as the chorus kicks in.

He belts the lyrics of “Let It Be” out in his strong, mellow voice. He used to be in a band — the Colts — and he loves music. He wrote all the band’s songs, before he met Mum and had the babies. Now the only songs he composes are for toddlers. He’s spent the last few months perfecting a show for tiny tots featuring Dinoduck — a character he’s created that is half dinosaur, half duck. Dave’s convinced that he’s going to be the next big thing in toddler rock. Mum thinks he’s delusional, but I’m not so sure. Alex and Evie adore the Dinoduck songs — “Red, Yellow, Green, Let’s All Scream” and “One, Two, Tie My Shoe”— which all have an educational theme. He’s had a big fluffy yellow Dinoduck costume made and everything. All he needs now is a manager, he says.

Some of his songs remind me of the All Saints cheers, in fact. Maybe working with Miss Mallard to improve our cheering repertoire could be a sideline career for him. I’m lost in these thoughts when there’s an almighty roar. I jump right out of my chair before I realize that it’s only Dave yelling. He pulls his headphones off.

“Jeepers, Amy! How long have you been sitting there? You nearly gave me a heart attack.”

I grin. “Not long. Nice daddy-dancing, by the way.”

“You weren’t supposed to see that. Was it really that bad?”