Out Of This World

The night was warmer than usual, with a chilly Melbourne breeze reminding us that it was still Spring. I sat down on the gravel of some random’s drive way, squeezing the little grey stones in my hand and staring out at the main road.

She doesn’t like you…

It was something I always did to hold myself together; I’d sit and watch the cars drive past and make up stories of scandal for the people they carried. I blew hot air into my hands and leaned back to watch the little blue flames jump from finger to finger. Leaning sideways to the little stretch of grass bordering the two drives, I lit a eucalyptus leaf on fire and watched it curl into ashes. Inhaling the smoky scent of burning, I placed my palm on the flame and smothered it into the grass.

She doesn’t want you…

I wasn’t far from home, but far enough to ensure the scarcity of nosy neighbours. I leaned forward as a car sped past, spraying me with cool rain water from the drain. Sighing, I leaned back against the high tin fence and cringed as a dog began scratching and barking at my back.

She rejected you…

Groaning, I stood up and scanned the opposite street for a comfortable looking fence. There was one made of wood, damp from the afternoon rain but the small white paws peeking out from beneath them convinced me to look further.

Is this the end?

And then, as my gaze fell upon it, a dark lump of something stirred. I squinted at it through the drizzle that was beginning to fall and took a few curious steps closer. A loud honk sounded and I jumped out of the way of an on coming vehicle, waiting for it to pass before darting across the road. As I walked closer to the lump, it stirred again and attempted to get up. I quickened my pace and came down to kneel beside a frail looking girl of about sixteen. I brushed the hair from her face and she muttered something. Her voice sounded weak and strained.

“Um, are you ok?” I said. Stupid question. “What…What did you say?”

Her lips trembled, “I need to see them…” I leaned in closer, tilting my head so that my ear was just above her mouth.

“See who?” I said gently.

“James…”

My breathe caught in my mouth.

“James Burleigh and…” She coughed violently, “Mark…Leone.” And then she passed out. I sat, gaping at her, trying to register what she’d just said through the million thoughts coursing through my brain. I tried to read her mind. Nothing. Just blank.

The headlights of a public bus shone momentarily on our faces and I jumped in horror at the state of her. Her face was thin, but swollen in some places where big purple patches bruised the skin. Her olive skin looked dry and sickly and her body shook continuously. Without another moment’s hesitation, I gently scooped her up and began to walk home.

I pounded my fist against the door, balancing the girl awkwardly in my arms. Footsteps padded up the hall and the veranda light turned on. The door swung open, followed by the fly screen.

“Ben? What are you doing home so early?” My dad’s eyes dropped to the body in my arms, “What the…?”

“Just let me in, I’ll explain later,” I said hurriedly, pushing past and walking into the living room.

“Ben, this better not be your date.”

I ignored him and placed the girl gently on the couch, grabbing a blanket and laying it over her. Then I stood back and examined the situation properly. I bit my lip and sighed. I gave up.

“Dad. What do we do?”

“Now hang on a minute…” Dad said, coming over and turning me to face him. “Explain.”

“I found her, on the path. She was shivering and she looked hurt and…” I hesitated.

“And what?” Dad probed.

“She said you’re name, and Mark’s. She said she needed to see you.”

Dad’s face contorted into a thoughtful frown. Slowly, he turned and walked closer to the girl. I watched him flinch and his mouth open in shock. Cautiously, he reached out and pulled the hair from her face.

“Dad…what’s wrong?”

Dad pursed his lips and shook his head, as if trying to rid himself of a ridiculous thought.

“Get her some dry clothes.” He instructed.

“From where?”

“Ask Michelle for some of hers.”

I nodded and headed for the stairs. Michelle. I paused.

“How is Michelle?” I asked.

“She’s alright, just pulled the muscles in her back and she’s suffering from a bit of whip lash in her neck. She’ll be fine in about two weeks.”

I exhaled in relief before bounding back up the stairs to their room. I knocked softly on the door in case Michelle was sleeping.

“Come in!” Michelle called.

I entered the room and gaped at the contraption around Michelle’s neck. It was a pink-white coloured foam thing, fastened around her neck with a Velcro strap. Her auburn hair was bunched up around it and she looked rather like a clown with a broken neck.

“Don’t laugh.” She warned, glaring.

“I wasn’t going to,” I said, stifling a snort, “You look…cute.”

“Was there a purpose to this visit, or were you just coming in for some comic relief?”

“A little of both…I need to borrow some of your clothes if you don’t mind.” Michelle raised her eyebrows in question.

“Found a girl on the road…long story, I’ll tell you later but right now I really need some dry clothes for her.”

“Oh, of course, just have a look through that cupboard.”

I came down with the clothes and held them out to dad. He looked from me, to them, to the girl and back to me again.

“What are you giving them to me for?” he asked, bewildered.

“Well I can’t change her.”

Dad and I just stood, staring at the clothing for a few minutes.

“MICHELLE!” we yelled, leaning up the stairs.

I sat in the kitchen with dad, a hot cup of coffee in my hands while Michelle changed the girl. Dad had been staring at me for about ten minutes and, swirling the coffee in its mug, I decided to humour him.

“Yes, dad?”

Dad jumped, looking startled.

“What?”

“You were staring at me.”

“No I wasn’t.” he shrugged and diverted his attention to his fingernails.

Silence.

“Speaking of staring…” I said, taking a casual sip, “You were staring at that girl with a really weird look on your face…I tried to read your thoughts but you were blocking me out…what were you thinking dad?”

Dad cleared his throat, drained the coffee in his cup and cleared his throat again.

“Well?” I probed. Dad shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“That girl…I think she’s from Vanna.”