Saving Jazz by Kate McCaffrey Page B

realised how Jane Austen my parents had been.
    â€˜Distance Ed,’ I mulled this idea over. It would mean I’d get to stay here, holed up in this sanctuary — away from the hate of the wider community. No idea had ever felt so appealing in my life.
    â€˜I’ll make some calls tomorrow,’ Aunty Jane said. ‘As for tomorrow, we’ve got a few things to do. You need to learn the public transport system — so you’re not a prisoner in this house.’
    â€˜I don’t mind being a prisoner,’ I said.
    â€˜Yes, well, I still want you to be a teenager — you still need to get out and about.’
    Later in bed I thought over the last twenty-four hours. So much had happened, and for the first time in ages it had been positive. I felt a glimmer of hope — I might actually get through this ordeal. But as for getting out and about, where would I go, and who with?
    In the morning I awoke disoriented. I sat up in bed and gazed around as I slowly remembered where I was. I stepped out and walked to the main house. The back door was open, but the house was emptyand the kitchen looked like every dish and piece of cutlery had been used. There were crumbs over the bench, on the floor, even on the dog. I was wiping the last plate up when Aunty Jane walked in the front door.
    â€˜Morning,’ she said offering me a takeaway coffee. She looked at the kitchen in astonishment. ‘Granite benchtops!’ she exclaimed loudly. ‘Who’d have thought under all that crap there was granite!’
    I laughed and hung the tea towel on the hook.
    â€˜Seriously, Jazz, you’re not here as the hired help. We have a roster in place. It’s community work.’
    â€˜I have to be allowed to help,’ I held my hands up at her protestations. ‘Otherwise I won’t feel like I really belong here.’ And already, so quickly, there was nowhere else in the world that I wanted to belong more than here, in this house, with these crazy and alive people. It was so much better than living in a mausoleum. ‘And besides,’ I said stealing her line, ‘you wouldn’t want to take away the thrill I get out of doing this for you. It would be rude.’
    Aunty Jane laughed, a really loud laugh. ‘Jazz, that isn’t going to be a problem. You already belong with us.’

Post 27: New beginnings
    The first week at Aunty Jane’s was full of new beginnings. Aunty Jane certainly didn’t waste any time in getting me settled into the city. Firstly, she got me a referral to a psychologist.
    â€˜You need this for so many reasons,’ she explained, driving me to the psych’s office. ‘Also, in order to be eligible for Distance Ed we need a psych to agree to the special circumstances.’
    â€˜But what about the cost?’ I asked. So far I’d been at Aunty Jane’s for a week and the cost of living had never been raised. I needed to know that I could contribute to the living expenses, and as far as I was concerned washing dishes and running a vacuum over the floor wasn’t enough. Aunty Jane watched me out of the corner of her eye.
    â€˜Your mum’s been in touch,’ she said softly.
    â€˜Mum?’ I was surprised. Since we’d broken the land speed record escaping Greenhead (and I always thought of that drive as an escape) neither one of my parents had been in touch with me. At first I’d expected a text, or a call, but as the days passed I realised they were just as relieved as me about our parting ways. It still hurt. ‘What did she say?’
    â€˜She wanted to know how you were,’ Aunty Jane eased the car into the psychologist’s car park and turned the engine off. ‘Believe me, I was going to tell you — I just wanted to make sure you were settled in first.’ I was feeling totally nauseous. Was I expected to take this as a token of my mother’s interest in me? It couldn’t be