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There was only one exception to that, where i was playing in a hall without a real stage, wood floor, and a low ceiling.
I think I liked those bottles better when they were still mysterious, before I knew how they worked. I think about her going to uni and making glass and me staying where I am spraying walls and scraping rent.
I imagine him here alone, painting in the blush of light from the next street, and I want to find him even more. I tell Ed the things I want to tell Shadow. I tell him about my folio, The Fleet of Memory. The bottles are full of things I remember about Mum and Dad before the weirdness of the shed. In bottle two is a clay fish. Dad pretended so good I was never really sure if he knew the truth. I helped Al make those flowers. I turned the pipe while he blew on the end and we watched melting glass become petals.
I want to stay with those flowers because the light shining through them makes the studio a pastel sky and the shed where Dad lives is falling down. He tapes plastic bags on the windows to keep out the insects and rain. I feel like that when I see my dad walking out of the shed in the morning in his dressing gown and slippers, carrying his little toilet bag. Nothing about art is a waste of time. Shadow would have known that. I imagine him, in his silver suit, leaning over his ship, gently bringing up the sails.
He looks at me long enough for it to feel kind of awkward. Dad says a boy needs a good sense of humour to get through his love life. Which could, to some people, Jazz says, look a little pathetic. I said yes but I backed out after I heard him say in Art that anyone could paint the shit he saw at the Picasso exhibition.
Anyone who thinks that is stupid. Woman with a Crow. Not everyone could paint that. I am surprised. How come he quit school in the middle of our Jeffrey Smart assignment and left me to finish the work by myself?
Bert liked how it looks as if the woman in the painting is in love with a bad bird. He died two months ago. Heart attack in aisle three. Bert hated that aisle but it was the money-spinner. He died looking at the deep reds. He taught me stuff. And he drew the coolest things. Stop for a second. Two guys drinking beer.
A dog rolling over and playing dead. A guy at a counter serving a woman. A man on his knees proposing. I like the way he holds the book. Like all those drawings add up to something more than money. The last one is of a guy in a car waving and driving away. Ed hesitates over it. There is quite a likeness. Something about the eyebrows. He stops at the one of Bert drinking beer in the sun and flicks the pages to make him raise his glass a few times.
Jazz says we come back and get a second chance at things. I like the bridge, all those car lights moving in the dark. Mum and Dad and I used to drive over it because Dad likes the view. I nod. Dad and I still go sometimes. He took me over to get an ice-cream in South Melbourne after I found him nailing a number on the shed.
Would I be living on the property and spending time with your mother every day if we were getting a divorce? I built it out of toothpicks and matches. I crushed glass into black putty to make it look like lights in the night. I bought a toy car and made three tiny people to put inside. That bottle took me the longest time. Mum said they had the biggest fight before he left.
She was sixteen and telling him about me and he left a dad-shaped hole in the wall. She says she expected it. If it happened that way. If people stayed together. Nothing nice about them staying together. I might think my parents are weird but I get to see Dad every day. I want to see him every day. Sure, I had to read him the health regulations so he stopped using the lawn as his early morning bathroom, but it was a fairly minor fault. I was just thinking.
Beth studied the book in Lit this year. She made me watch the film with her over and over. She knew it back to front, that and all her other texts. I mean, not unless you hang out at late-night clubs where they have open-mike nights. I have to open the shop at seven-thirty in time for the trade guys and to get deliveries. We lean on the fence and watch the street. There are a few people waiting for the last tram, some taxis moving past. Ed and me.
Or early, I guess. I get in over the back fence and meet her behind it. Some guy. Lucky things happen to anyone wearing this band. You know, you can leave. If you want. Am I asking too much to meet someone who can talk and who paints and who has a brain?
And for your information, a lot of guys have brains. We take off along the side streets and Ed puts his hands on my shoulders and I get a zing and a tingle and the small circle of bike light pearls the road ahead. I think of those Bill Henson photographs Mrs J showed us, of teenagers in the night. When I looked at them I felt like someone got it, like someone saw what it was like to be bare skin shining in darkness. The road rolls by and my brain rolls with it.
Thoughts spill from my head to my hands. Thought number two is about my plan to jump the fence and leave Beth if we ever got caught in her backyard. Thought number three is about Lucy and her flicking band and shuffling feet. I want her to stand where she is for a while.
What we have here is a catch Valerie says all she wants from me is some goodness and the truth. The ghost in a jar. Lucy does a quick search for painting shadows before she looks at the wall. I stand behind her, watching her watching my work. She looks at me and then back at the wall. All I wanted to do was paint. I feel a high kick in and then sort of a floating ocean inside and then relief. I look across at the line of the city. The nights are mean in this place, full of smog that eats the stars.
And he makes stuff better, just by painting. I was sitting at a bus stop one time, getting annoyed that I was running late and then I noticed this small piece by him across the road. This bug looked at me with eyes that said, Can you believe this? The eyes were enough.
A guy who paints like this is doing something. I had this urge to throw cans at the windows so I could hear a noise that sounded like escape. Dark hair. Very big muscles. Twisted ones that lead to the centre and make me think of paths curving into the sky and stopping. For all I know we could be on a path that ends and we fall into who knows what.
Leo and me have fallen down a few hills around here before. Go somewhere with lights and other people. Somewhere far away from the things I paint. We both stop worrying. LucyI might be jinxed. My arms and legs and face cramp up. Uneasy rider, coming through. I go over a bump and keep moving. I take off my helmet and lie there, catching my breath.
Are you alive? I might be dead if we were. Are you hurt? The rocks cushioned my fall. Are you? I wonder if my dad could drive his taxi down here. If he knew I was with a boy, he probably could. Wait a sec. Ed and I rolled down it on my bike. Talking to Leo.
Hang on. She comes back. I have to go. I was chewing gum. And she does love gum. He keeps looking at his watch. I can come back to the party and get you after that. He twirls it round his finger and I get twirls in the place. Should I ask Daisy to kick Dylan in the balls so I can find out? Beth says she and Ed broke up about three months ago. I think about that some more. Your whispers have gone kind of high-pitched. Maybe I like him a little like that. I ran over him with my bike on the way down.
I should stick to the plan. Loosen up for once. Leo wants to talk to Ed. I walk over to Ed and hand him the phone. He walks to where I was and I sit on his rock. I try as hard as I can to hear him. Jazz says the universe tells us answers. I always thought that was stupid but no one else is giving me anything to go on so it might be time for last resorts. I take out a coin and flip it.
Best out of three. Best out of four. Okay, best out of five. I stare at the coin in my hand for a while and do some tricks like Dad taught me. I fold it around my fingers, making it appear and disappear. People want to see you magically pull a coin from your ear. I take a breath and flip the coin. EdI watch Lucy talking to Jazz, watch the mark on her neck, watch her shuffling, watch her, watch her, watch her. Or take her to the one I did of Bert.
Introduce them, sort of. Or I could show her the scales I drew near the docks. Mrs J told me once that those scales in his painting weighed something important, something like actions or a soul. I try to think of ways to explain why I lied. After a while she walks over and hands me the phone. Easy breathing, I think as I walk away from her and turn my back. I hear Leo laughing before I put it to my ear. Listen, Dylan and me are leaving to pick up the van soon. People might get suspicious.
Someone might see them in it. There was something going on. She has these little plaits. I like those little plaits. She points her finger a lot. She knows some good poetry. I recited a few of mine and she really liked them. Not that. Other stuff. So how about we pick you up near the skate park, go get some food, have a laugh, drop the girls home and then, you know. Says she tried your mobile. She wants to get back with you. Should I bring her in the van?
I walk over to Lucy. You really want to ask it questions? I follow my instinct and cover my nose. She grabs it from me and puts it in her pocket without looking. My dad is a good man. We can throw it in the back. Like I was a bag of nothing about to grab you. When exactly did we get friendly? She told me to read this book she was studying in Literature class.
I got him to read it for me and fill me in. I knew all the paintings he was talking about, knew Girl with a Pearl Earring, knew the way Vermeer used that box of his to see things differently. Mrs J told me about his camera obscura when I was still at school. How Vermeer looked through it and everything was mixed around so he could paint how no one else saw.
I liked that idea so I watched a documentary on him. Everything she saw was true but mixed round the wrong way. He can eat a sausage roll in under thirty seconds. Leo was asking what I thought about her. I said she seemed nice. She once chased a guy down the street for his phone number. At least carrying it gives me an excuse for breathing heavy, other than walking next to her great muscles.
I really wanted to talk. About Rothko. Or maybe books. Or the weather. There was a hurricane in the north that day. The one you had in your head? So what did I say back? That Rothko we saw at the gallery was cool. I thought about that painting, while Valerie was at the shop, reading out cards from the funeral.
But that painting gets close. Apart from Mrs J, he was the only person who believed I was more than some loser writing on the side of his shop. And he never went on about it either, the way some people did. He pointed it out and we moved on. Bert offered me the job and Mum needed the money. I wanted to finish the assignment. Lucy turns. I fill her in quickly. Shuffling and waiting, shuffling and waiting. Leo owes me money. How do I miss that about someone?
You want us to pass on a message? So I let him get closer and as he does the world inside me moves fast and the world outside stays deadly still. Sometimes Malcolm likes to do strange stuff.
They shake even more when he pulls out a compass and twirls it round his fingers like a naughty circus performer. He puts the compass to my skin. I close my eyes and feel the point. Malcolm stops. Lucy cracks him in the face.
I look away for a second and then I look back. But we can escape. We do. How is your ear? I stop at the skate park and we topple onto the grass, close, circled by heat from the air and heat from our breath.
He might be chasing us. And she looks over my shoulder, touching my ear, taking in my wall. A huge storm, a monster. Waves bigger than buildings. It took me all night to get the blues and the greens moving in and out of each other.
To get the yellow sky swirling above the dark waves, swirling above these two figures on the shore. A guy with a surfboard and a little fish, next to him. Me and Beth at the beginning. Me and Bert, too. Me and Leo. How could she not see me in it? I think you could let it heal or go all the way. I lean in, my mouth so close, so close. Swaying around each other without our feet on the ground. I press that tissue to his ear and my fingers tingle. Johnson and Chelsea Bruland Best Seller.
Dec 26, ISBN Add to Cart. Buy from Other Retailers:. Feb 14, ISBN Audiobook Download. Paperback —. Also by Cath Crowley. Product Details. Inspired by Your Browsing History. David Levithan and Rachel Cohn. You Against Me. Jenny Downham. Cristina Moracho. Freak Show. James St. Rage: A Love Story. Julie Anne Peters. Almost Perfect. Loved each and every part of this book. I will definitely recommend this book to young adult, contemporary lovers. Your Rating:. Your Comment:.
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