and moving into Seth’s room can dampen my mood. Besides, let’s face it, I deserve Gran’s wrath.
Stacked on one side of my desk are my pile of notebooks and a jar of sharpened pencils, beside it, my laptop and, dangling from my desk lamp, my running shoes. I have only ever worn them once. Dad bought them for me a few days before he died, as an early birthday present and reward for the effort I had put into training. Now they have been relegated to the world of mementos.
I fiddle with the laces, my mind slushy with memories, when suddenly the lid to the chest slams down. I jump back and knock the pencil jar, scattering pencils across my desk and onto the floor.
As I reach down to pick them up, my skin prickles. The silvery notebook I had stashed under my mattress is also on the floor – lying open at the page about Celina and Robbie.
“Honestly, Bayley, do you have to slam everything all the time?” Amelia pokes her head through the doorway and pulls her iPod earbuds from her ears. “I spilled my coffee, thanks to you.”
I don’t respond. I grab the book and slip it onto my desk behind me.
“You still writing that creepy story?” Amelia’s lips curl into a sneer and she cups both hands around her coffee mug.
“Where’d you go the other night?” I say, my voice as shaky as my insides.
“What does it matter? I got home before Mum, like I said.”
“And my bangles, where are they?”
“What do you care? You never wear them.”
“Doesn’t matter. I want them back. Now.”
“You’ll get them back, don’t worry your pathetic self about it.”
What did I do to deserve Amelia for a sister?
“And what about Oliver?” I hear myself saying. “Where’d you meet him?”
Amelia gives a sly smile. I can hear Seth running down the hall, calling out to Gran. Amelia slides into the room and closes the door behind her. “Ah, you have the hots for our athletic neighbour?”
“No – I only want to know when you met him.”
“Yeah right. You’re jealous! This is hilarious.”
Amelia’s words set a fiery heat rushing up my neck. “I’m not jealous, you idiot,” I snarl. “It’s just … just that this is a small town and Mum will catch you out if you’re sneaking into town with one of the locals.”
Amelia bends over laughing. “Green eyes don’t suit you one bit, Bayley. But you can put them away. He’s too Serious Sports Star for me. Gawd, give me a break! Have you heard his laugh? Could it be any more ridiculous? But it doesn’t matter anyway; he’s way out of your league, little sister. I reckon he’s a bit of a god with the girls around town – from what I’ve heard.”
“From what you’ve heard? Where? When?” My cheeks are well alight now and I feel like a big baby.
“Forget him, is all I’m saying. God, it’s freaking freezing in here.” Amelia pops her earbuds back in, takes a sip of her coffee and slips out.
I sink down onto my desk chair. Amelia is so infuriating!
He’s out of your league
. I picture Oliver this morning on the lake. Remember the bewilderment on his face when I yelled at him on the rocks the other day. Remember how I threw my little wobbly and ran off. She is so right.
My guts lurching, I flip open the silver notebook. Was it just a spooky coincidence that the book was on the floor opened to the page about Celina and Robbie? I look at the scrawling handwriting and shiver. My attention shifts from the notebook to Celina’s portrait, with those cold, cold eyes that pierce deep into me and chill the blood in my veins. Swarms of words and sentences and images cram into my head until it is fit to burst.
I am compelled to write. I have no choice in the matter.
It got serious with Robbie and me almost immediately. One minute we were barely talking to each other, bearing that childhood grudge with a vengeance; the next minute we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. It was intense to the max. Marvellously, giddily, amazingly amazing. Quite
Stacked on one side of my desk are my pile of notebooks and a jar of sharpened pencils, beside it, my laptop and, dangling from my desk lamp, my running shoes. I have only ever worn them once. Dad bought them for me a few days before he died, as an early birthday present and reward for the effort I had put into training. Now they have been relegated to the world of mementos.
I fiddle with the laces, my mind slushy with memories, when suddenly the lid to the chest slams down. I jump back and knock the pencil jar, scattering pencils across my desk and onto the floor.
As I reach down to pick them up, my skin prickles. The silvery notebook I had stashed under my mattress is also on the floor – lying open at the page about Celina and Robbie.
“Honestly, Bayley, do you have to slam everything all the time?” Amelia pokes her head through the doorway and pulls her iPod earbuds from her ears. “I spilled my coffee, thanks to you.”
I don’t respond. I grab the book and slip it onto my desk behind me.
“You still writing that creepy story?” Amelia’s lips curl into a sneer and she cups both hands around her coffee mug.
“Where’d you go the other night?” I say, my voice as shaky as my insides.
“What does it matter? I got home before Mum, like I said.”
“And my bangles, where are they?”
“What do you care? You never wear them.”
“Doesn’t matter. I want them back. Now.”
“You’ll get them back, don’t worry your pathetic self about it.”
What did I do to deserve Amelia for a sister?
“And what about Oliver?” I hear myself saying. “Where’d you meet him?”
Amelia gives a sly smile. I can hear Seth running down the hall, calling out to Gran. Amelia slides into the room and closes the door behind her. “Ah, you have the hots for our athletic neighbour?”
“No – I only want to know when you met him.”
“Yeah right. You’re jealous! This is hilarious.”
Amelia’s words set a fiery heat rushing up my neck. “I’m not jealous, you idiot,” I snarl. “It’s just … just that this is a small town and Mum will catch you out if you’re sneaking into town with one of the locals.”
Amelia bends over laughing. “Green eyes don’t suit you one bit, Bayley. But you can put them away. He’s too Serious Sports Star for me. Gawd, give me a break! Have you heard his laugh? Could it be any more ridiculous? But it doesn’t matter anyway; he’s way out of your league, little sister. I reckon he’s a bit of a god with the girls around town – from what I’ve heard.”
“From what you’ve heard? Where? When?” My cheeks are well alight now and I feel like a big baby.
“Forget him, is all I’m saying. God, it’s freaking freezing in here.” Amelia pops her earbuds back in, takes a sip of her coffee and slips out.
I sink down onto my desk chair. Amelia is so infuriating!
He’s out of your league
. I picture Oliver this morning on the lake. Remember the bewilderment on his face when I yelled at him on the rocks the other day. Remember how I threw my little wobbly and ran off. She is so right.
My guts lurching, I flip open the silver notebook. Was it just a spooky coincidence that the book was on the floor opened to the page about Celina and Robbie? I look at the scrawling handwriting and shiver. My attention shifts from the notebook to Celina’s portrait, with those cold, cold eyes that pierce deep into me and chill the blood in my veins. Swarms of words and sentences and images cram into my head until it is fit to burst.
I am compelled to write. I have no choice in the matter.
It got serious with Robbie and me almost immediately. One minute we were barely talking to each other, bearing that childhood grudge with a vengeance; the next minute we couldn’t keep our hands off each other. It was intense to the max. Marvellously, giddily, amazingly amazing. Quite
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