Read Online Alyzon Whitestarr by Isobelle Carmody - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Isobelle Carmody
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before, you’d know how things looked with the lights on, so you’d be forever longing to see clearly.
* * *
The third week back at school went pretty much the same as the first two except that between classes I spent a lot of time with Gilly Rountree. Harlen was still away, and I was beginning to wonder if he would ever come back. It was awful to imagine there might be something really wrong with him, but when I asked around, there was only the old rumor about him traveling with his parents.
I went to classes, listened and took notes, read and joined in, always being careful not to draw too much attention to myself. I walked home every night and slept a lot. Whenever I had a quiet hour, I created another piece in my number screen. At home I studied, cooked, and played with Luke. But by the end of the third week, everything was overshadowed by our excitement about Da’s looming gig with Urban Dingo.
There were actually going to be two gigs: one on Friday and another on Saturday. Both were already completely sold out. Da and the band were rehearsing in the shed every day, and then they would spend half the night arguing in incomprehensible musical shorthand about the set list. Excitement spread out from them like a whirlpool, and we were all caught up in it.
Mirandah, Jesse, Serenity, and I were going to go to the Friday show. I had got enough of my number screen built thatI felt confident I could cope with anyone talking to me. But the gig would still be a test, because it would be packed and I still hadn’t found a way to protect myself from physical contact.
It was not knowing how I would handle myself at the gig that stopped me mentioning it to Gilly. That and a secret fear that Losing the Rope would bomb. I was ashamed of having so little faith in them, especially since the gigs the band had done till now had always been great. But this was a whole different league, because Urban Dingo had just hit it big. Never in my wildest imaginings had I thought of Da’s band being mentioned in the same breath as a top-ten mainstream band.
I caught the bus after school on Friday, because I wanted to get home in time to wish Da luck before he left. The show wasn’t due to start till late, but bands always had to set up and do sound checks for about ten hours before they went onstage.
Da was in the kitchen when I got in, having tea and buttered bread—his standard pre-gig fare. “How do you feel?” he asked when he saw me come in with Mirandah.
“I caught the bus to save energy for tonight,” I told him. I could meet his gaze now, because of my number screen, but I was using a thinner bit of it because there was no point in having extended senses if I dared not make use of them.
Da finished his food, drained his teacup, and said, “Take it easy.”
“You take it easy,” I quipped, and he laughed, giving off coffee grounds and caramelized sugar and the new-rope smellthat always seemed to come up whenever the band was on Da’s mind. I was close enough to notice the air distorting intensely around him, as it often did. But tonight the effect seemed much stronger. The air bulged and billowed around him, as if he were sending out invisible rays.
Mum came in wearing a green silk wrap, her hair piled in this loose, casually perfect tumble secured by a giant red plastic chopstick. She was yawning, because she had got up after only a few hours’ sleep to say goodbye to Da. But her eyes sparkled with pride as she hugged him, and the drifting clouds that floated and hazed the air about her cleared for a moment when she put her arms around him.
I turned away from them because they were now staring into each other’s eyes in this romantic but terribly embarrassing way. I looked at Jesse, who was totally oblivious to Da and Mum. He was shredding lettuce, his concentration so deep that he might have been cutting the facets of a diamond. Da had to wave a hand in front of his face to get his attention a minute later. Jesse
* * *
The third week back at school went pretty much the same as the first two except that between classes I spent a lot of time with Gilly Rountree. Harlen was still away, and I was beginning to wonder if he would ever come back. It was awful to imagine there might be something really wrong with him, but when I asked around, there was only the old rumor about him traveling with his parents.
I went to classes, listened and took notes, read and joined in, always being careful not to draw too much attention to myself. I walked home every night and slept a lot. Whenever I had a quiet hour, I created another piece in my number screen. At home I studied, cooked, and played with Luke. But by the end of the third week, everything was overshadowed by our excitement about Da’s looming gig with Urban Dingo.
There were actually going to be two gigs: one on Friday and another on Saturday. Both were already completely sold out. Da and the band were rehearsing in the shed every day, and then they would spend half the night arguing in incomprehensible musical shorthand about the set list. Excitement spread out from them like a whirlpool, and we were all caught up in it.
Mirandah, Jesse, Serenity, and I were going to go to the Friday show. I had got enough of my number screen built thatI felt confident I could cope with anyone talking to me. But the gig would still be a test, because it would be packed and I still hadn’t found a way to protect myself from physical contact.
It was not knowing how I would handle myself at the gig that stopped me mentioning it to Gilly. That and a secret fear that Losing the Rope would bomb. I was ashamed of having so little faith in them, especially since the gigs the band had done till now had always been great. But this was a whole different league, because Urban Dingo had just hit it big. Never in my wildest imaginings had I thought of Da’s band being mentioned in the same breath as a top-ten mainstream band.
I caught the bus after school on Friday, because I wanted to get home in time to wish Da luck before he left. The show wasn’t due to start till late, but bands always had to set up and do sound checks for about ten hours before they went onstage.
Da was in the kitchen when I got in, having tea and buttered bread—his standard pre-gig fare. “How do you feel?” he asked when he saw me come in with Mirandah.
“I caught the bus to save energy for tonight,” I told him. I could meet his gaze now, because of my number screen, but I was using a thinner bit of it because there was no point in having extended senses if I dared not make use of them.
Da finished his food, drained his teacup, and said, “Take it easy.”
“You take it easy,” I quipped, and he laughed, giving off coffee grounds and caramelized sugar and the new-rope smellthat always seemed to come up whenever the band was on Da’s mind. I was close enough to notice the air distorting intensely around him, as it often did. But tonight the effect seemed much stronger. The air bulged and billowed around him, as if he were sending out invisible rays.
Mum came in wearing a green silk wrap, her hair piled in this loose, casually perfect tumble secured by a giant red plastic chopstick. She was yawning, because she had got up after only a few hours’ sleep to say goodbye to Da. But her eyes sparkled with pride as she hugged him, and the drifting clouds that floated and hazed the air about her cleared for a moment when she put her arms around him.
I turned away from them because they were now staring into each other’s eyes in this romantic but terribly embarrassing way. I looked at Jesse, who was totally oblivious to Da and Mum. He was shredding lettuce, his concentration so deep that he might have been cutting the facets of a diamond. Da had to wave a hand in front of his face to get his attention a minute later. Jesse
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