the hill.
I throw our front door open so hard it slams into the hallway wall and the whole house shudders. I walk in to my bedroom, ready to slam another door, but I don’t get the chance. Rafa is standing on the other side of my bed.
‘How…?’
He’s not even sweating.
‘Enough,’ he says.
The only way to our house from his is up the hill. He could easily outrun me, but he would have had to pass me.
‘You’ve got to get past this shit,’ he says, his hands resting lightly on his hips.
I open my mouth. Close it. Try again. ‘You just told me I’m descended from fallen angels. How did you think I’d take it?’
‘Now you understand why Daisy was too gutless to tell you.’
I glare at him.
‘Look, I can show you. But you have to come with me, now.’
I look longingly at my bed. The sun streaming on the striped quilt. Maybe everything will make sense after some more sleep.
‘The other two don’t know I’m gone yet. As soon as they figure it out, they’ll come straight here.’ He moves around the bed and stands in front me. Sandalwood, a hint of cinnamon. ‘You don’t need them for this.’
For once, his green eyes are completely serious.
‘I don’t trust you.’
‘I know.’ His hands come up to my arms. They’re cool, even though the morning is warm. A shiver runs through me. ‘Come on. It won’t take long.’
I can’t look away. ‘Where?’
‘You’ll see.’
‘And we’ll come straight back?’
He sighs. ‘I’d rather not, but for what it’s worth, I’ll bring you back here if that’s what you want.’
I’m so tired, I don’t know what to do. Nothing in my bedroom brings me comfort. None of it is mine. A bright shawl of Maggie’s hanging over an old armchair her mum gave me. A beat-up desk from the market, piled with secondhand books. Faded curtains from the op shop. Nothing of Jude’s either. What was left of our lives was destroyed in the accident. Nothing in my life is clear. That needs to change.
‘Okay.’
His shoulders relax. ‘Thank you.’
He gently pulls me to him. My body responds before my mind does, and I wrap my arms around him. He murmurs in surprise and draws me closer. I mould myself against him, not caring about anything except the promise he might kiss me again. I can’t help it when he’s this close. He breathes in, and the air around us turns wintry. The floor drops out beneath me. We’re moving. Fast. I try to lift my head but there’s a hurricane pressing down. I can’t move. I can’t even open my eyes. It’s terrifying… and exhilarating.
It lasts only a couple of seconds, and then the groundis solid under my feet again. I catch my breath and try to lift my head, but everything around me is still spinning. Wherever we are, it’s dark. And cold. Rafa is still holding me tight.
‘Don’t freak out.’
‘What did you do?’ I whisper. My pulse is still skittery.
He prises my arms from his waist. ‘Give me a second to light the fire.’
My eyes adjust to the light and I track his silhouette towards a wall. We’re in a house, I think. It smells stale. I shuffle towards the window, checking for hazards on the stone floor. I look out, and forget to breathe.
It’s night here. We’re on a hill, and there are town lights speckled below. It’s not Pan Beach.
A match strikes, and I jump. Rafa puts the flame to a stack of scrunched-up newspaper and kindling in the fireplace. It catches. He walks off into the darkness.
I am not going to panic. I am not going to panic.
Rafa comes back carrying blankets. He moves as if to wrap one around me, but I duck away from him.
‘Where the fuck are we?’ I’m surprised by how steady my voice is. Everything else is shaky.
He drops the blankets on the floor. ‘Your mood swings are starting to wear a little thin.’
‘You want me to apologise?’
‘I want you to stop acting like a teenager.’
I back away from him. ‘I am a teenager!’
‘No, you’re not. You’re a hundred and
I throw our front door open so hard it slams into the hallway wall and the whole house shudders. I walk in to my bedroom, ready to slam another door, but I don’t get the chance. Rafa is standing on the other side of my bed.
‘How…?’
He’s not even sweating.
‘Enough,’ he says.
The only way to our house from his is up the hill. He could easily outrun me, but he would have had to pass me.
‘You’ve got to get past this shit,’ he says, his hands resting lightly on his hips.
I open my mouth. Close it. Try again. ‘You just told me I’m descended from fallen angels. How did you think I’d take it?’
‘Now you understand why Daisy was too gutless to tell you.’
I glare at him.
‘Look, I can show you. But you have to come with me, now.’
I look longingly at my bed. The sun streaming on the striped quilt. Maybe everything will make sense after some more sleep.
‘The other two don’t know I’m gone yet. As soon as they figure it out, they’ll come straight here.’ He moves around the bed and stands in front me. Sandalwood, a hint of cinnamon. ‘You don’t need them for this.’
For once, his green eyes are completely serious.
‘I don’t trust you.’
‘I know.’ His hands come up to my arms. They’re cool, even though the morning is warm. A shiver runs through me. ‘Come on. It won’t take long.’
I can’t look away. ‘Where?’
‘You’ll see.’
‘And we’ll come straight back?’
He sighs. ‘I’d rather not, but for what it’s worth, I’ll bring you back here if that’s what you want.’
I’m so tired, I don’t know what to do. Nothing in my bedroom brings me comfort. None of it is mine. A bright shawl of Maggie’s hanging over an old armchair her mum gave me. A beat-up desk from the market, piled with secondhand books. Faded curtains from the op shop. Nothing of Jude’s either. What was left of our lives was destroyed in the accident. Nothing in my life is clear. That needs to change.
‘Okay.’
His shoulders relax. ‘Thank you.’
He gently pulls me to him. My body responds before my mind does, and I wrap my arms around him. He murmurs in surprise and draws me closer. I mould myself against him, not caring about anything except the promise he might kiss me again. I can’t help it when he’s this close. He breathes in, and the air around us turns wintry. The floor drops out beneath me. We’re moving. Fast. I try to lift my head but there’s a hurricane pressing down. I can’t move. I can’t even open my eyes. It’s terrifying… and exhilarating.
It lasts only a couple of seconds, and then the groundis solid under my feet again. I catch my breath and try to lift my head, but everything around me is still spinning. Wherever we are, it’s dark. And cold. Rafa is still holding me tight.
‘Don’t freak out.’
‘What did you do?’ I whisper. My pulse is still skittery.
He prises my arms from his waist. ‘Give me a second to light the fire.’
My eyes adjust to the light and I track his silhouette towards a wall. We’re in a house, I think. It smells stale. I shuffle towards the window, checking for hazards on the stone floor. I look out, and forget to breathe.
It’s night here. We’re on a hill, and there are town lights speckled below. It’s not Pan Beach.
A match strikes, and I jump. Rafa puts the flame to a stack of scrunched-up newspaper and kindling in the fireplace. It catches. He walks off into the darkness.
I am not going to panic. I am not going to panic.
Rafa comes back carrying blankets. He moves as if to wrap one around me, but I duck away from him.
‘Where the fuck are we?’ I’m surprised by how steady my voice is. Everything else is shaky.
He drops the blankets on the floor. ‘Your mood swings are starting to wear a little thin.’
‘You want me to apologise?’
‘I want you to stop acting like a teenager.’
I back away from him. ‘I am a teenager!’
‘No, you’re not. You’re a hundred and
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