A sharp intake
of breath. A map. A letter. An address. Jonah blinked twice, the morning light
constricted his burning pupils as it peaked through the blinds. He awoke to the
seventh day since his arrival, the tinny digital clock read 6:37AM.
Figures.
His shoulders
slumped, knowing what he had in front of him, he’d at least garnered that much
from the past week. And what an interesting week it had been. Each night he
crawled into bed, he felt that sleepless version of himself awaken, eager to
work into the night, while he descended into his concrete lair. He awoke at his
now cluttered desk, a new piece of the puzzle staring back at him. At first it
seemed like mindless action, but a pattern soon emerged. During his sleep he
was concocting a plan.
The catalyst
being the address, Seven Farrell Avenue. It was tagged at the top of a letter
signed by his father, a brief message that simply read.
Dear Jonah,
I hope you’ve
been well.
Come visit
me at Seven Farrell Avenue.
Love Dad.
He was used to
it by now, but it still hurt to read, the last time he had seen his father was
when he was seven. And a few weeks after his mother had passed, a supervisor
handed him this letter. He sighed, even his childhood couldn’t escape the
number seven, it was firmly entrenched in his life.
Jonah didn’t remember
much about his father. He was stout and loved beer as much as he loved the
Parramatta Eels. At least, that’s what he gathered from photos of the man. No,
what Jonah remembered most about his father wasn’t linked to any particularly
memorable events. It was much simpler than that. It was a gentle arm around
both shoulders on a warm Friday night. A father with his arm around his son
while they cheered on the spotlight lit grassy hill, wet with evening dew and
the shout of players and referees alike as the stench of churned up turf and
hard-earned sweat evaporated into the humid summer air.
It was the
stabbing cold he felt in his cheeks on an early frostbitten morning. Not quite
the sound of his voice, but a familiar murmur as they sat together wrapped by the
ocean-provided serenity, quiet whispers as waves lapped at the pylons below the
pier. He couldn’t remember if they ever caught a fish but he liked to imagine
they’d jump in excitement and cheer while he reeled it in. These memories of
his father were located on another realm separate to the concrete maze, one
where it was eternally empty yet peaceful all the same, but as time wore on
these images faded into foggier versions of themselves, as if someone were
spraying a mist over his memories, there were others there. He could see faces
he used to remember, but there were no names to be placed on them.
He longed for
more memories of his father, he longed to put a voice to the face, he longed to
feel that arm wrap around his shoulder and remind him that he was okay. For
that was something that he had seen and been drilled about, a father and his
son was a special connection – one he was constantly reminded that he lacked.
Perhaps that was what seven meant, it was a sign from some higher power guiding
him towards what he desired most. That’s why he wholly trusted the plan (though
he appreciated how ridiculous it would sound if he revealed this belief to
anyone but himself).
Next to the
letter was a map. During the week red marker had been used to decorate the torn-out
page. Red circles were numbered around three locations, one: a motel, two: a
train station and three: the address, far, far away from Silverleaf. They were
supposed to go on a school trip today, to an old mining town in a remote part
of the hinterlands. The town coincidentally sat only a few kilometres south of
the first circle, another coincidence that he welcomed, he had begun to feel
like he had some sort of luck-based superpower. His sleep-fuelled brain had
laid the plan out perfectly. Ditch the class and embark on his way to meet his
dad, it was the only thing that seemed to make sense in his patchwork life.
Gathering all
but the last item, a letter from himself, nothing but the words ‘Hey Dad’
scribbled across the top. He wanted to say something to him, tell him about his
life and what he had achieved, but had he accomplished a single thing a father
could find themselves proud of? The most impressive feat he could recall was
when he survived a week alone in the woods with nothing but a kitchen knife and
a box of matches, he never wrote it down though, in the fear that once he
finally told his dad what he considered to be his greatest achievement, he
would look him in the eye and say: “Is that it?” He crammed everything into his
bag as well as an additional change of clothes and some muesli bars he had
stolen from the school canteen. The clock was ticking and he had to be by the
school gate before seven.
The few kids in
his grade were already trickling from their dorms, it was a 15-minute walk to
school and if they left too late, they’d never make it. Jonah banged on the
door opposite his and creaked it open, he’d grown used to the stale wooden smell
that occupied every square inch of the building.
“Paige, get up.
We gotta go.” He said with an elevated tone to rouse her, though it would be
difficult to break her out of the duvet cocoon she had fashioned.
She responded
with an array of murmured curses and rolled back over, her hair messily flopped
down her face, the chirp of kookaburras singing into the sunrise sounded like
nails against a chalkboard, she thumped a pillow over her head. He had learnt
that she wasn’t a morning person.
Paige’s room
was laid out identical to his, but in place of his bland wooden walls were
numerous posters of bands (all with the same punk aesthetic) that he’d never
heard of, not that he knew many – any, to begin with. There were untouched textbooks
and rock ‘n’ roll magazines strewn over her desk and an electric guitar crammed
in the corner, though it seemed to be for show since he’d never heard her play.
Jonah wondered to his first night in Silverleaf where he knelt by her bed, the
pressure of her palm against the back of his head as his face was shoved into her
pussy, the heat that clung to his lips and nostrils still remained ever present.
That was another thing he had learnt about Paige, she was a nymphomaniac who
had no reservations introducing him to everything she was into. When she had
initially forced him on his back with her fingers tight around his neck and
mounted him with a devilish grin, something deep inside him awoke and suddenly
there was an overwhelming pressure building between his legs.
He’d thought
about it many times before, what his sexuality was. Was he straight or gay, or perhaps
neither, asexual was it? Was he into brunettes, blondes, redheads? What about
height or weight? Face or arms or legs, or, as confusing as it sounded, feet?
(He’d overheard a hushed group of boys talking about one of their teachers feet
before, and not in the innocent way he might have initially suspected). These
preferences never made any sense to him, no matter who or what he looked at, he
never felt what he assumed arousal would feel like, what he saw displayed in
books and the naughty magazines, which he would have to hurriedly put down when
the clerk spotted him as a young teen lurking in the X-rated aisle, none of
which ever elicited much of a response. He didn’t know what he liked and he
always assumed someone like him would never have a proper chance to find out
and act on these basic human inhibitions until he was much older, so like so
many things in his life, he forgot about it and tried not to think about it
until the time was right, which now that he thought about it, was probably the
first time he had begun to employ such a strategy.
That had been
before he had met Paige at least. As someone with practically zero sexual
experience, he was met with a veteran who had figured out exactly what made her
tick and it clearly rubbed off on him and as good as it was to have someone
coaching him through his first embarrassing experiences, he soon found out what
was missing, it was touch, her touch in particular. He also grew to like being
told what to do, and he especially grew to appreciate her attitude and body in
bed, how she’d shake her chest just out of reach or let her ass glide slowly
from his face down to his dick. She had a talent for knowing exactly what he
liked without even him knowing, seeing how he reacted to her words and touch
and acting accordingly, he would try to emulate it to varying levels of
success. She taught him to admire her body but not touch until instructed and to
bite back when her hand went exploring, it felt better to tame a tiger than a
cat she had said. It was teasing and role-reversing and he knew enough to know
it wasn’t exactly normal (not that he really cared about being normal).
Yet, whenever she gave him the beck and call – which was often – he was
entirely under her spell.
“Seriously get up.
I’m not waiting.”
He shut the
door to finalise his warning, though his cheeks were flush. There he was having
wet daydreams about a half-asleep Paige, he had never had thoughts like these
before, where her body and cocky grin would implant themselves in the forefront
of his mind. He had also come to understand that he had no self-control of his
nether regions, contributing that to having spent most of his time alone before
Silverleaf, leaving his libido to lay dormant. Aside from their sexual
escapades (which he had impressively kept up with), their bond had blossomed
into a symbiotic relationship, one where Paige relied on Jonah’s inquisitive
nature to fuel her incessant need to spout words but could just as easily coast
into a warm silence enjoyed by both. They sat together at school, they ate
alone on the bench outside and they mostly ignored everyone else – well, he
did, Paige certainly had somewhat of a reputation. When he was around her, the
frequency of his blackouts lessened, only to reappear at night when she could
no longer distract him, she was like a nightlight that refused to let him sleep.
As he left the
supposed warmth of the boarding house, he blew hot air into his clammy hands,
it was a chilly Wednesday and the lone path towards the school was dotted with
similarly meandering students. As much as he had enjoyed the hours spent with her,
he didn’t have time to wait for Paige this morning, if he missed the bus, his
sleep-induced efforts would be for naught, though he desperately hoped she
would make it, less the trip become a muted, lonely march. But he knew she
would, as much as he was becoming obsessed with Paige, he could sense her
becoming equally obsessed with him (at least, that’s what he thought it meant
when she crashed into his room last night after they had had sex to cuddle).
Silverleaf
State High had plenty of land to spread its campus around, it was a
conglomerate of old-fashioned brick buildings with intertwining concrete paths
between. Jonah snaked his way through the brick maze, passing by troves of
vandalised lockers, messy classrooms and empty sporting fields before ending up
by the front gate where the bus puttered to a standstill. He signed his name
off and clambered aboard.
Jonah adjusted
himself on the stiff seat. The teacher – Mr Pertyl – stood at the front of the
bus doing a final runover of names, he felt a pang of guilt as Paige’s name was
read aloud. He was beginning to worry that he hadn’t urged her hard enough,
maybe she wasn’t as enamoured as he thought. He leaned his head against the
window and closed his eyes as the last few names were called.
“Walk of shame
‘ay Fowler?” A rugged voice chimed above the mild murmur in the bus.
“Fuck up cunt.”
The friendly response couldn’t have been spat by anyone else but Paige.
“Looking for
your sex slave?” He made an ass-slapping gesture.
Paige flipped
off the rough-faced boy responsible and screwed her face in disgust, the walls
in the boarding house were thin and her tastes had been publicised many years
ago. At first, she had been slightly worried it would turn Jonah away, but
similar to how he reacted to most things not involving herself, he was
indifferent to their outlandish remarks. Putting his posse’s round of giggling
behind her, she stomped towards him. His relaxed forehead came away from the
window with a sigh.
“Hey mate.”
The bus swayed
to a halt after bearing the brunt of her angered footsteps. She was clad in her
signature oversized jacket with a fitted white band tee that led into a
rolled-up pair of jeans and socks that bunched around her shins before they disappeared
into her black boots, the red laces were messily tied to match bed hair that
had yet to settle. Judging by the scornful look peering past her nose ring, she
wasn’t impressed. Still, he was relieved, the trip would have been
substantially less exciting without her.
“Why didn’t you
wait for me this morning?”
“I told you I
wasn’t gonna wait.”
“Yeah? Well
fuck me for wanting to get a few extra.” She huffed and fell into the seat next
to Jonah, dumping her bag on the ground. A short, sharp exhale was used to blow
her bangs from her eyes.
“Sorry,” he
said finally.
“You’re
forgiven.” She slumped further in the seat, early mornings were the bane of her
existence. “Can I have the window seat?”
“Nah.”
“Fuck you.”
Jonah smirked,
she really loved that word (if you hadn’t already gathered). Her temperament was
volatile, one high octane moment seamlessly meddled into something more lowkey.
It was like dealing with a cat who went from curling up next to you to bouncing
around the walls of your home meowing bloody murder. His forehead pressed
against the cool glass and he watched as the outside world scrolled past. The
dark of the morning bloomed into a cloudy yet sunny day. Occasionally Paige
would drift off and her head found itself against Jonah’s shoulder. Stoic he
remained, eyes glued to the window, he welcomed the gentle warmth she provided
on a morning like this.
The trees
outside merged from a green blur to something more recognisable as the bus
emerged into somewhat of a clearing on the outskirts of the old mining town.
There was a noticeable lack of life in the decrepit looking place. Jonah nudged
Paige awake, she rose to attention a little too suddenly once realising where her
head lay. They silently watched as majority of the chatting students stepped
off the bus before making their move.
Crisp winter air
hit Jonah’s face, these were the few weeks in Australia where it was actually
cold, he took a moment to soak in the fresh fragrance of nature, it had been a
while since he’d been this deep in the hinterlands. Their class was in a mining
town encircled by looming pine trees, who flashed a variety of greens depending
on how the sun struck the swooshing leaves. The empty street was lined with
aged wooden buildings whose supports would wage a losing war with the
gluttonous winter provided breeze. The itinerary involved exploring and
learning about these historical sites, though no one had paid much attention
when they were told.
The class began
to move ahead of Jonah and Paige as they slunk to the back. Adjusting the
shoulder straps on his backpack, Jonah let his hands find his pockets and tuned
the teacher’s babbling out. He had little interest in history and instead opted
to observe the old Victorian era style buildings on the lonely street.
“Can’t wait to
learn all about Mottlebong and its gold rich history.” Paige
snickered after reading the by-line on an outdated sign next to the info booth.
“Real unfortunate
name,” Jonah tutted.
“Nah, it could
be worse.”
“Yeah, it could
be Paige.”
“Or Jonah’s
arsehole.” She laughed and joined him in examining the worn-down buildings
lining the street. He had only opened up since the first day they met and while
there were moments of odd behaviour, it was nice to speak with someone who
actually had half a brain for once, after going for so long without having a
chance to banter with someone whom she didn’t despise, she took great pleasure
in plucking the low hanging fruit once again. For what had initially begun as a
short fling, it was a welcome surprise with how their relationship had turned
out.
Her eye caught
a particular store that passed by, contrary to the abandoned buildings in the
area, this one was not. “Wanna go check out that antique place?”
Jonah looked
past the crowd of bored students who would rather chatter amongst themselves
than listen to their teachers drivel and considered his options. “Yeah, let’s
go.” It looked like some kind of vintage store maybe.
The pair
discreetly broke off from the class and hurried over to the dilapidated
one-storey structure. Bold faded letters that read ‘Sable’s Emporium’ hung
above the entrance, it was the seventh building along the street. Paige swung
the door open and entered the cramped store with Jonah, a quiet ding rang out
as it closed behind them. Shelves and tables were crammed together like
sardines in a can and cluttered with unimaginable trinkets that threatened to
spill onto the floor.
“Welcome to
Sable’s!” A busty gothic woman exclaimed from behind a tiny counter in the back
corner of the store, Paige’s eyes were instantly drawn to the stretched black
corset that bobbed with her expressive gesture. “How can I help?”
“Just looking
thanks,” Jonah raised a polite hand. There was an odd feeling to the place, no
matter where he set his eyes he couldn’t quite grasp what he was looking at as
if the visible dust drifting through the sun’s rays was a blurred mask.
“Let me know if
you need anything,” she said.
They began to
palm over bizarre statues from unknown origins and books that seemed like they
were written thousands of years ago. “Bro. You see those fuckin’ titties?”
Paige whispered out of ear shot of the gothic woman.
Jonah was
examining a traditional Japanese demon mask with feigned interest. Unsure if
this was some kind of test, wasn’t it a bit rude to perv on strangers? He
hesitantly answered, “I didn’t look.”
“You’re missing
out.” She made a rounding gesture around her chest.
Jonah snickered
and decided to take an encouraged glance to see what she was talking about, and
damn, her enthusiasm was not for naught. Moving on, he found a table lined with
eccentric jewellery. Among the bedazzled necklaces, bracelets and rings was a
row of amulets, each with peculiar inscriptions scrawled over their face.
“It smells like
shit in here,” Paige ducked under a chime hanging from the ceiling and followed
him to the cluttered table. One of the amulets was under his close examination,
the face was bronze and had seven tiny green stones spaced evenly around the
edges with root-like bevel details that when observed from a distance resembled
a seven.
“Bit on the
nose, don’t you think?” Paige leaned in to inspect the amulet between his fingers.
“Yeah, but it’s
also kind of funny.” He lied, there was a certain irony to the amulet
considering the odd circumstances, but strangely enough, he also felt some kind
of connection to it. And knowing the coincidences that they both faced daily,
it was a stupid belief, but it felt foolish to leave it behind.
“Well, are you
gonna buy it?”
“I’m not sure.”
“Steal it
then.”
“What?”
She turned to
him with a taunting grin. “C’mon. Don’t be a pussy.”
In the name of
tomfoolery, he maintained her eye contact and pocketed the amulet. With a quick
glance over his shoulder, he strode out the store with a smile and a thanks to
the lady behind the counter. Paige’s grin grew tenfold and she hurriedly followed.
“Cheers! Love
your tits by the way.” She shouted back, a sweet smile pulled at her cheeks as
she shut the door behind them. The goth woman was left with a puzzled look, but
a smoulder of pride.
The two
eventually joined back with the main class group after Paige showered Jonah
with her approval of his methods. Their absence totally unbeknownst to the
others as they carried on, it was easy to go unnoticed considering the
rowdiness of their class. At one point, she left to go take a shit and in the
meantime, one of the boys – a tall tubby lad with a greasy rats tail – he
hadn’t come to recognise came up to him.
“Sup cunt.” He
extended his palm flat, but loose.
“Hey.” Jonah
embraced his hand in an awkward shake (unaware that this wasn’t the formal handshake
he thought it was).
“So, you’re
fucking Paige?” He asked.
He nodded,
unsure if he was impressed or jealous.
“Trust me bro,
don’t bother. Bitch is nuts.”
“She’s
alright.”
They stared at
each other, the boy perplexed while Jonah remained silent. He scoffed, taken
aback by his reaction. He gave Jonah an almost disgusted look and walked away
muttering “weird cunt,” an insult he had heard a countless amount of times over
the years.
Paige soon
returned and immediately launched into a tirade against public toilets, Jonah
kept the interaction to himself for reasons unknown except that he’d rather
listen to her talk about Australia’s public toilet crisis and why hadn’t the
government stepped in yet? As planned, the day clocked by. Every 15 minutes Mr
Pertyl ground the class to a halt and spouted his passion to a disinterested
ensemble of teenage angst. And once the last landmark had been cleared and the
sun’s path had reached the end of its descent, the class trekked toward the bus.
“Want a dart?”
She always offered during a dip in their conversation.
“I’m good.” And
he denied it, like he always did.
Jonah and Paige
lingered around the back of the pack, deliberately pacing their steps to be as
far away as possible. Paige had noticed that he became quieter as the day
passed, often staring into nothing while she blabbered on (which wasn’t particularly
unusual, he was still usually listening). She knew he had an issue with sleep
and even though he had stopped blanking out mid conversation, she heard him enter
and exit his room numerous times throughout the night and early morning, she
tried to combat it last night by cuddling him until they dozed off, but she
still awoke in her own bed, alone. He had explained he was a sleepwalker, but
after sneaking after him one night, she witnessed him rummage through maps of
the local area in the rec room, circling and noting whenever he saw fit. Some
kind of fuckin’ advanced sleepwalking that was. But when she approached him
about it, he had seemed just as confused as she. It was strange, but then
again, so was Jonah.
“Paige, can I
ask you something?” He piped up after an extended silence.
“Shoot.”
Jonah took a
deep breath. His anxiety had been dramatically building all day, the lingering
thought of what he was meant to do hung over him. In the weeks following his
mother’s death, was when he first became lost in the concrete labyrinth. There
was no grief but mindless stumbling through moody hallways, his breath choking
on the unfriendly stale air, he was thankful he had no one he should be
grieving in front of considering his lack of tears may have seemed sociopathic.
Instead he relegated control over to his other self, and he – the original – sat
in the corner of a particularly vast concrete room, with his knees tucked into
his chest, forced to watch a stranger’s life play out like a movie as they
mindlessly nodded along to procedures and government protocols surrounding
suddenly orphaned kids that had nowhere else to go. It didn’t feel real, so he
pretended he wasn’t.
He thought that
he’d truly lost all meaning, like some switch had been flicked and he was
incapable of thinking thoughts about the mundane, thoughts about if he’d need a
jacket today because it was just hot enough that a jumper may be too much or if
he should have a smaller portion at lunch to maximise his satisfaction at
dinner because there was something especially appealing on the menu. His brain
replaced by an ethereal void, housing a space with no ounce of warmth to be
found, the never-ending sound of silence his only companion. That was until he
met Paige, who at first glance was moody and graphic but soon revealed herself
to him as someone caring and sweet, which when coupled with her excitable
energy made her a joy to be around. She gave him a break from the endless
monotony and as much as he understood it had only been a week, he found himself
dependent on her, she didn’t judge and prod him about his past or feel
alienated by his severe lack of pop-culture knowledge like everyone else his
age. She kept him awake and tethered to this realm through whimsical
conversation, something he had lacked throughout his childhood. He couldn’t
leave her in the chance that somewhere along the way to see his father, he
would become lost amongst the labyrinth forever.
“You ever think
about leaving Silverleaf?” Jonah asked.
“Like when I
finish school?”
“Nah. I mean
like, just leave. Run away.”
Paige pursed
her lips, their already sluggish trawl suddenly felt too fast. Plenty of kids
had disappeared over the years, egged on by their peers until they were never
mentioned again. But the reason Paige – the queen of going against the grain –
hadn’t joined the rebellious souls amongst her cohort was the exact reason why
she was 19 years old and still in school. She felt ashamed and couldn’t find
her words, which even she could recognise was totally unlike her.
“Here.” Jonah
handed her two pieces of paper from his bag, omitting his own blank note. The
first was a letter from his… dad? Her eyes scanned over the brief message, she
had assumed he wasn’t around if Jonah was in Silverleaf. She slipped it behind
the next page, a torn-out map of sorts, crazed annotations riddled over it. Why
did she feel like she held evidence linked to the Zodiac Killer?
“The fuck is
all this?” She asked.
He shrugged. “Remember
how you asked me what I was up to every night.”
“Yeah?”
“Well, I made
that plan in my sleep. I’m gonna go see my dad.”
“Good for you.”
She still didn’t quite get it and also didn’t understand why he had lied to
her.
A few moments
went by, their conversation replaced with gravel crunching beneath their feet. “Do
you want to come with me?” He asked quietly. Please say yes.
Paige paused in
her tracks to stare at him, to fixate on his face following that whispered
request. The way the corner of his mouth fell and the glimmer in his golden
green eyes made her seriously consider. The way she saw it, Jonah had offered
her an opportunity she had been waiting for, a decision that she could never
have made on her own. Something she and Bonnie had discussed an innumerable
amount of times. And to do it with him – the dopey skinhead obsessed with the
number seven. That was slightly unfair, she had begun to subscribe to the
belief it meant something too, after all it was too frequent an occurrence to
not mean something, right? She had no prospects in Silverleaf, no one
she truly cared for, not anymore at least. And so far, the entire year had been
nothing but loneliness and vapid sex only to become interrupted by her saviour,
the boy with the golden eyes. Though still, there was an invisible force
chaining her to that boarding house, a snarling banshee that wouldn’t let her
leave without answering for what she had done. But Bonnie had left, so why
couldn’t she free herself too? Despite the coolness in her voice, with every
word that she said next, it felt like ripping a knife from her thigh.
“Fuck it. I’m
in.” Her words betrayed her introspection, but for once, she thanked her
impulsivity.
Jonah’s eyes
lit up – she said yes! “Seriously?”
“Well, as long
as we’re not gonna like, fuckin’ starve to death or something.”
“I brought some
muesli bars.”
“Oh, thank god.”
She rolled her eyes, she forgot he ate like a fucking mouse.
“Okay so, how
should we do it?” He swivelled back and forth, eyeing the surroundings like he
was looking for an escape route.
“Are you
fucked? Right now!?”
“Yes! Look,
they’re already getting on the bus.”
And indeed the
class was. There was no time to discuss the logistics, if they were gonna do
this, they had to do it now. She grabbed his wrist and yanked him off the road
out of sight.
“Hey – wait!”
Her hand
covered his mouth. “I had to make sure they didn’t see us fuckwit.” She
squatted next to him, panting with her hand against the wall for support – a
mixture of sudden exertion and adrenaline. He leaned against the backside of
one of the many broken buildings, allowing a breath of relief that Paige had
taken the situation into her own hands.
“Do you think
they’ll realise?” He asked.
“Doubt it – not
until they get back to Silverleaf at least.” She wasn’t sure why the words came
so easily to her, less than a minute ago she had been having an inner crisis. Fuck,
I need a dart.
They had a
moment of downtime while they waited for the guttural roar of the old coach as
it trundled back towards Silverleaf. Paige had gone through two cigarettes
already and was lighting her third, the breeze did its best to prolong the
process. There was an unspoken agreement between the two, to sit in silence and
ruminate on their life until this point, had they made an immature and foolish
decision based on childish aspiration? Jonah couldn’t help but think that he’d
selfishly dragged Paige along with him (even though she had been the one to
physically drag him behind this building), they were just two kids with barely
any food or money and still he somehow expected them to get all the way to some
faraway township, he knew that somewhere along the way she would stop and yell
at him for having such an idiotic idea, to which he would recede into silence
and ask himself how could a plan made in his sleep make any logical sense.
Paige
repeatedly asked herself while staring into the dark forest beyond – what am
I doing here? But no matter how many times she repeated it, she knew
exactly why. In the hours after school, she and Bonnie visited Silverleaf
station to smoke while waiting for a train to clack along the tracks, they came
every hour and a half with little to no passengers on board and finally, when
the doors creaked open, their conversation would silence as they fixated on the
banged up inside until the doors closed and the locomotive disappeared into the
rural countryside.
“If you could teleport
anywhere in the world, where would you go?” Paige asked, their cigarettes
whittled down with each break in speech.
Bonnie would
sit there, cutely chewing her inner cheek, deep in thought. “I really, really
want to try that bakery in Hennilworth,” she said, giggling at Paige’s rolling
eyes, smoke shooting out her nostrils, her giggle bright and airy like her
voice.
Stop Paige,
she’s gone. Stupid, stupid Bonnie.
So, why now had
she decided to go ahead with it? Partly because of all this seven shit (every
branch in the forest was starting to resemble the digit, though if it was a
figment of her imagination, she did not know) but mostly, it was Jonah. His
sharp jawline, buzzed head and her biggest weakness – his eyes, a brow packed
with concentration as he fingered the dirt between his legs. She had learnt
rather quickly that he was a mysterious person, his memory seemed to go no
farther than the week that preceded his mother’s death – he didn’t know what
his favourite band was or which celebrity he wanted to fuck the most (in fact,
he barely knew any bands or celebrities) and as much as she hated to admit it,
he reminded her a lot of Bonnie, with his curious but cheeky nature. She had
assumed his father was dead like his mother, though the belief didn’t stem from
jealously (well maybe a little bit), more curiosity around where he had come
from and why he was in Silverleaf instead of wherever they were headed. Honestly,
she was glad she had said yes, who else can claim they’ve run away from all
their responsibilities with some smokeshow they’ve known for a week? Nah, she
glanced at him again and hid a tiny smirk, she liked spending time with Jonah,
he was pretty good company.
In sync, the
two shuddered under the nightly winter breeze, both cocooning themselves in the
jackets they wore. While enveloped by their thoughts, they had only just come
to realise that the bus left minutes ago.
“We should get to
that motel before we freeze to death.” Paige broke their chattering silence and
stood, extending a hand to help Jonah up.
That simple
gesture was like a sigh of relief for him, she was still on his side. For now
at least. They both rose and brushed off the dirt that clung to their clothes.
The empty street: lit only by the moonlight and nature’s ambience, now occupied
two runaways meandering their way down the gravelled road. The old mining town
slowly but surely disappeared behind them as the looming pine trees closed in
on either side of the lonely path.
“Jonah, when
was the last time you saw your dad?” The question had been fresh on her mind
since they started walking.
“I don’t
remember exactly, but it was sometime around my seventh birthday.”
Paige snorted,
then laughed, because of course it was around then. She quickly apologised but was
dismissed by Jonah who said with a reassuring laugh that he had been thinking
the same thing.
“What about your
parents?”
“I’ll save you
the sob story. They died when I was twelve.”
Jonah frowned. “I’m
sorry Paige.”
She scoffed. “C’mon
dude. Don’t fuckin’ apologise for that.”
Jonah held his
tongue from apologising again, he considered a joke consisting of another seven
related punchline but came up empty. Instead, he asked about her time at
Silverleaf to which Paige gladly took the imaginary microphone and filled the
vacant space with tales of her adolescence. When she was 14, only two years
after she first arrived to Silverleaf, she and Bonnie had been feuding with a
supervisor for months, Kevin they called him (his name was definitely not
Kevin). It started with the regular scolding or removal of dinner privileges
but soon evolved into deliberate targeting. After a particularly long week, one
where they had both received several detentions at school for a new trend they
dubbed ‘watermelon week’, Kevin had told them they would have to miss the
beloved year 8 camping trip because they still refused to remove the ugly
piercings covering their pretty, young faces. “Fuckin’ Kevin,” she added. So,
in their free time while the rest of their peers were excitedly roaming the
great Australian outdoors and the other grades filled the dining hall, they
waited by the staff showers for Kevin and once he was inside, they snuck in (eyes
squeezed shut of course) and took his clothes and towel and threw them outside.
The only hall connecting the bathrooms to the rest of the boarding house ran
directly through the dining hall. Suffice to say, Kevin was not seen again
after that day.
“Dart?” She
asked between stories, as if she hadn’t just described how she’d ruined some
creep’s career.
“You’re wearing
me down,” he said, wiping a tear from his eye.
She had an
expression he hadn’t seen before, one of genuine hope. “Dead set?”
“No, but I admire
the effort.” Jonah was eager to hear more. “What else did you get up to?”
Paige held a
finger up to stop him. “We are gonna smoke a fuckin’ cig together one day,” she
lectured, “but alas,” she stopped herself from ranting. When she was 17 she
found out after hooking up with a guy named Max Collin (or Colon as she
referred to him), that he had a girlfriend – a sweet brunette with little
reciprocated love. After profusely apologising and calming her tears Paige
assured her he’d regret it. And so, the day of their school’s highly
anticipated rival rugby match, she snuck over the counter laxatives into his
water bottle and then watched with pleasure as Colon shit himself after a
particularly brutal tackle in front of a hillside of supporters. Unsurprisingly,
the nickname stuck.
Jonah was
shaking his head with a large grin over his face, she never failed to impress
him. “You’re evil Paige.”
“I try,” she shrugged,
she mightn’t show it but she was eating his admiration up.
He told her
about the interaction he’d had earlier and she didn’t know whether to feel a
sense of trust or to laugh because he genuinely described her as just ‘alright’
(but the fact he had defended her was nice).
“What’d he look
like?”
Jonah tried to
picture him again. “He was kind of tall. I think he had brown hair.”
“Hm – was he
fat?”
“If you want to
put it like that.”
She did. “No
way – did he have a shit rats tail?”
“Yeah he did actually.”
He nodded along, the picture became clear in his head.
“Holy shit
Jonah. That’s fuckin’ Colon!”
Their hike
paused to allow them to double over in laughter, their tears frozen against
their rosy cheeks. The seclusion offered by the looming pines set an intimate
stage for their amusement. Paige in particular was cackling while holding onto
Jonah’s shoulder for support. It was moments like these where Jonah was wholly grateful
to have met her and he found himself wondering what miraculous feat had he
achieved in a previous life to allow someone like her to enter his. She so
effortlessly brought back that airy feeling in his stomach, that tightness
around his cheeks as his smile felt like it became a permanent feature on his
face.
He didn’t know
if he deserved to have stumbled upon such a person, somewhere in the back of
his mind, he wondered if this was just another one of his mind’s tricks, a mere
façade conjured inside the labyrinth. She was almost too good to be true. He
pushed the voice away, for it had dictated his life for too long, he would
enjoy their time together since there was no telling when she would decide his
presence was more a burden than anything else. And until that moment, he would
treasure these moments.
***
With their gait
recovered, they agreed that it was starting to feel like they might actually
freeze to death out here. And so, they continued on, and on, until their legs
pleaded for them to stop. Paige assumed they had to be close, though her
increasing complaints were their only source of reference. And when she ran out
of cigarettes her complaining went from sporadic to constant (the only reason
Jonah knew she ran out was because she had begun to mope in melodramatic
fashion).
Mercifully
after a few hundred more draining steps, the trees on one side of the road
thinned out to reveal a cheap looking motel, the M and T had fallen off the
sign outside and the outer walls had a multitude of cracks and graffiti. They tiptoed
through the unoccupied carpark, it felt like they shouldn’t be there, if only
because it was a public place and after hours. the silence grew heavy as their
caution swelled.
“Reckon anyone
even works here?” Paige wondered aloud, her breathing a little heavier after
the long hike.
“A serial
killer maybe.” Jonah peered through the door, he would have entered even if there
were a killer, it looked toasty in there. He pushed the door open, their
entrance signalled a bell and thankfully, a buffet of warmth. The foyer had a
stale aroma and the once bright lights had faded to a dull yellow, their
constant buzzing accompanied by a swarm of moths.
“Hellooo?”
Paige called out to the empty reception. She cautiously stepped forward,
peering to her left down the door filled hallway, expecting an axe-wielding
psycho to start charging at her. The sound of quiet snoring caught her attention
as she reached the front desk. Looking over, she saw an old, bearded man laying
his head in front of a sleeping computer screen. A hushed sigh of relief
escaped her.
“Excuse me.”
Jonah reached over to nudge the man’s shoulder.
“Wh- wha-“ He
jolted awake, blinking manically and swivelling his head back and forth. Soon,
he realised the customers presence and rubbed his bald head. “Heh, sorry ‘bout
that. Gets a bit dull round ‘ere. How can I ‘elp?”
“Don’t mention
it,” Jonah said. “Do you think we could get-“
“A double room thanks
mate.” Paige leaned forward on the counter, a sweet smile across her face.
The man
regarded them for a moment, his gaze flicking between the blank buzzcut boy and
the spunky blonde-haired girl. What were two kids doing here in the dead of the
night anyway? “So, what brings you two round ‘ere?” He matched the girls smile
and turned to grab a key off the wall.
“We wanted to
fuck where no one can hear us.” Paige held her smile and plucked the key from
his grip.
He looked at her
with a perplexed look and only received a shrug in return as she walked off,
leaving the boy to stutter an apology while he tossed up whether he should be
following her or not. The man excused him and fell back into his chair, this
was the Greater Silverleaf area, there were plenty of eccentric individuals
around, what harm were a couple of kids? If anything he was doing them a
service by offering shelter. Exhaustion forced the interaction from his mind
and he welcomed the onset of sleepiness.
Once Jonah
caught up to Paige, they were almost at their room. “He was just an old guy
Paige, don’t you think that was a bit much?” Jonah had said while chasing her through
the corridor.
“Shut the fuck
up Jonah.” Paige placed her hand against his chest, the other on the doorknob.
“Count to 30 then come in.”
Jonah
immediately ceased, sensing in her tone exactly what was about to transpire.
“Okay,” he said and she let her fingers linger on him before disappearing
behind the door. It was perhaps the longest thirty seconds he had ever
experienced in his life. He pronounced each number in full with his eyes
closed, not wanting to rush the moment and ruin her surprise.
…27…28…29…30!
He eagerly
turned the doorknob and barged through the door. The room itself was of little
note, a dingy kitchenette and off-yellow walls with a few tacky paintings, but
that was not what caught his eye. A trail of discarded clothes led him to Paige
sitting on the edge of the bed, with her legs folded and her chest topless –
her wry smile lured him closer.
Paige wagged
her finger. “Clothes off first you little bitch.”
He complied –
without hesitation, for if he prolonged the act any further he might explode.
“I’m gonna fuck
your brains out baby.” She pounced from the bed and imprinted her figure
against his side. Her hand wrapped around his crotch and the other raked a
fingernail across his ass cheek.
“Good,” he said
with false confidence, her perky breasts against his skin disallowed him from
saying otherwise, he was still getting his sea legs.
Paige spun and
threw him onto the bed before clambering over and sitting on his hard dick. She
smirked and leaned in close to his face, his probing gaze caught under hers.
“Whatcha lookin’ at?”
Before he had a
chance to lie, she increased her bounding rhythm and elicited nothing more than
a groan from him as he grabbed her hips for support. They fucked into the night
and despite the numerous complaints Paige made during their walk, her legs held
up enough to finish them both off multiple times.
Together they
panted, their faces inches from each other as they looked into each other’s
eyes, the stench of sweat and sex heavy in the air. Jonah was about to speak
when Paige slapped him across the face, his mouth gaped which she found amusing.
Why does that feel so good? He found himself asking this every time
something like that occurred while they had sex and he would wonder what it was
exactly that he liked about having sex with Paige, there was something else
beyond what he already knew. Certainly, her body was a part of the equation,
she was trim and fit but curved where he had discovered his tastes aligned. But,
it wasn’t that. The answer was right there, he just had to accept it. He liked
– no, loved the fleeting singe her nails would leave in his flesh, the way his
skin would come alive with a burning fever after a hard slap and the confusing
tingle he felt at the base of his neck when she insulted him. It was like he
had been depraved from intimate touch for so long that his body now yearned for
it to be dialled up to eleven to make up for all the lost time. The fact he
liked it would never explain why he did, and though Paige had assured him she
thought it was totally chill, he couldn’t help but wonder if there was
something else to be added to the long list of things wrong with him.
“Paige, why do
I like it when you slap me?”
“Because you’re
a kinky little fuck,” she teased.
Maybe it was
that simple and none of this deserved as much thought as he was currently
putting into it. But the question would always remain, was he forgetting some
transformative moment in his childhood (a definite possibility), had some
neurons in his brain been fried and consequently forged a series of unusual
pathways (similarly, a likely scenario) or perhaps Paige was an ancient
succubus disguised as a bratty Australian girl (this one was admittedly a
little far-fetched).
Paige had
fallen asleep with her arm across his chest, her face pressed against his
shoulder, he traced his finger along each stick and poke tattoo on her arm
admiring the scratchy design and rustic feel. Before he joined her, he
carefully reached over the side of the bed to grab the amulet from his pants.
His thumb ran over the bronze surface, over the little emeralds circling the
face, over the lookalike seven formed from roots. There was something
incredibly peculiar about this amulet. He couldn’t quite place it, he just knew
that by holding it, he was holding up something greater. Like, everything he
had ever known and unknown hinged on this moment right here. The left-most
emerald had awoken, its gaze bore into Jonah’s. An electric shock clamped his
fingers shut around the amulet.
Then he saw it,
a seven, and another seven and another. They flew past him speeding into a
static vortex all around him. He knew then to surrender, to plummet into a deep
unconsciousness for if he chose to brave the maelstrom any further he may turn
to insanity. So surrender he did.