Read Online Yellow by Megan Jacobson - Free Book Online

have to drag and cut shapes into the sand with. I throw them into the spot where Mitzy drowned until my arm is sore, then I crumple down into the shoreline and I don’t even care when the tide reaches out to grab at my ankles.
    I know this feeling. The four a.m. feeling. Like loneliness is living in that space where my soul meets my bones.
    Walking back up the track I stop at the phone box and I sit down on a nearby tree stump, one that came from a tree much larger than the ones that stand spindly and bent-backed around it. I wonder who chopped it down, although I’m not surprised that it happened. This town has a habit of cutting things down that stand too proud and too tall. I feel stupid for feeling afraid. I feel stupid for believing that the phone box was haunted. I chew on the end of my hair and kick the dirt, and I’m about to leave when I hear it.
    The phone begins ringing to itself again.
    I sit watching it, terrified, and I think of the words he spoke to me last time: ‘There’s nothing more real than the things that can haunt you. And there’s nothing more powerful than deciding not to be afraid.’
    Slowly, I step towards it. Slowly, I reach out towards the receiver. It feels solid.
    â€˜You came back . . .’ the boy says. He’s the one crying now.
    I nod as the sound of the waves keeps up its steady rumble, even this far back from the brunt of things. My hands are shaking, like Mum’s do in the mornings sometimes. ‘So I’m not going mad . . .’
    â€˜You might still be going mad, I couldn’t say. But I know that I’m real.’
    â€˜I was going to bury Mitzy, and I threw sticks for him into the sea,’ I say, and I think of how ridiculous that sounds. He keeps crying. I don’t know what to do. ‘Are you okay?’
    The boy isn’t okay. It’s so strange to hear a guy cry. They punch and yell and rage, but they’re never allowed to cry if they’re male. Not in this town, anyway.
    â€˜The dog’s gone,’ the boys says, after a few runny sort of breaths. ‘They never stay long enough to keep me company, no matter how nice I am to them. God, I really wish he’d stayed, all I ever get is magpies and cane toads and skinks. I thought because he was bigger he’d stick around for longer. I just wish something would
stay
. I’m so
alone
.’
    â€˜You can feel alone when you have company, too,’ I whisper.
    â€˜I don’t feel alone when I’m talking to you,’ he replies softly, and I don’t know what to say to that. Thankfully, he fills the awkward silence. ‘My name’s Boogie.’
    â€˜Like the boogie monster?’
    â€˜No. Like how you dance to disco music. What’s your name?’
    I suck in a clump of air and try to find my nerves. They’ve scampered. They’ve always been slippery little suckers, never around when I need them. I twist the cord around my fingers. ‘Kirra. I’m Kirra Barley. You said the other day that I was a bad liar. I am.’
    He makes a sound that’s like the first breath of air you take after you thought you were going to drown. ‘You do need help?’
    I nod. I think of The Circle. I think of my mother at the social. I think of how my soul feels so trampled that I don’t know if it’ll last much longer. It feels threadbare.
    â€˜I’ll help you out if you do three things,’ I tell him.
    â€˜Okay . . .’ His voice is hesitant, like he’s suspicious.
    I fill my lungs and speak. ‘You make me popular, you get my parents back together and you don’t haunt me. You can’t climb into my skin again.’
    â€˜Whatever you want.’
    I cradle the phone between my ear and my shoulder, and bow my head to my hands in relief. ‘Thank you,’ I whisper. ‘Now what do you need from me? Do I need to tell your loved ones you’re okay, and that