Frankie and Joely by Nova Weetman

pouch trying to keep warm and slowly the mother just cools, and it dies too.’
    Joely shudders. ‘How do you know it’s not a mother?’
    â€˜I don’t.’
    She wants to rush to it then, push her hands into the coarse fur and feel for a baby in its pouch. But her hands are shaking and she knows she can’t touch something dead.
    He steps closer, close enough that she can see his eyes. She wants to stare, touch his face with both her hands and fall against him. Instead, she turns away towards the house, as if placing herself in its orbit somehow gives her protection from all that she’s feeling.
    â€˜Does Frankie know you’re out here?’
    â€˜Not here, no.’
    â€˜What about Mack?’
    â€˜No.’
    â€˜You just walked off? Like a little girl lost?’
    Joely takes a deep breath to try to settle the strangeness in her body. She isn’t sure if he’s trying to be threatening, but somehow it doesn’t bother her.
    â€˜Aren’t you scared of the dark?’
    â€˜No.’ She looks at the farmhouse. The lights seem to be dimming. She wonders what the time is and whether her aunt has gone to bed. Then she feels Rory’s fingers curl around her wrist and turn her, slowly, like a dancer leading his partner into the light. He takes her other wrist too, but it’s awkward. They are too close, so his shoulders hunch to make room for their joined arms. He looks at her, and she seeks the darkness so he can’t see the expression on her face.
    â€˜Scared now?’
    â€˜No.’
    He leans down close. ‘Now?’
    She can smell the cigarette smoke and summer heat on his skin.
    He whispers into her ear, ‘What about now?’
    Joely doesn’t answer. She knows what’s coming next. She knows but she can’t do anything about it. And then his mouth touches hers and she doesn’t know what to do. Does she press back? Push against him? His tongue is forcing its way into her mouth and it’s strange and nice and yucky all at the same time. She wonders what her mouth tastes like. His is a cigarette bath, but she doesn’t mind. Then his teeth nibble her lip and it hurts and she almost steps away, but he is still gripping her wrists and she just wants to see what will happen. How it will end. Then he pulls away and the kiss is over.
    â€˜Sweet dreams, Joely. Might see you here again sometime, watching over the dead.’ He leaves, disappearing into the dark.
    Joely looks for him, but he’s gone, like a strange night spirit. She licks her lip. It tastes funny. She doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t want to go back to her room and see Frankie in case her friend notices something has changed. But she doesn’t want to stay on the road with the dead kangaroo lying nearby either, wondering if Rory’s watching, wondering where he is.
    She kicks at the ground, forgetting she is shoeless. Her toes get skinned on the gravel, but she enjoys the hurt. It drags her back into the place where she is. Already the kiss has gone from her mouth, vanished into the air like the smell of his cigarette.
    She drops her thongs onto the road and feels around for them with her grazed toes. Then she turns, like the arrow on a compass, and heads for home.
    Frankie wishes she were asleep, so she couldn’t hear Joely sneaking along the floorboards. But every time she closes her eyes, she feels the boy’s hands on her skin, his lips on her neck, his smoky breath near her mouth. She doesn’t want to share it with her friend. It’s all hers. If she tells, she might not see him again. And she wants to. He’s going to be her week. She thought he’d text her tonight. Make a plan, start a secret. But he hasn’t. Her mum didn’t answer when she rang and Rory didn’t text. Nobody ever does what Frankie hopes they will.
    She hears the tap go on and imagines Joely brushing her teeth, spitting foamy white into the