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.