[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
wouldn t even see the cars. You d see a necklace of bright
lights strung along the coast beside a body of black water.
And if you went higher than that and kept on going, you
might eventually find the place in the universe where they
decide what happens to people in their lives and they could
tell you why.
But I can t do that. All I can do is decide whether or not to
wind the window down.
I wind it down. And I lean back in my seat. And the air
feels good. And I will take that. Because I am not what
happened to me.
I let myself feel good for no reason. I let joy happen right
there and then, and it s inside me and around me, it s the
lights on the road ahead, the clean black of the night, the
cold air coming through the window. It s like hearing a song
for the first time and being struck by it, haunted by it,
wanting to hunt it down and catch it, because the song
sums up something you didn t know you wanted to say,
giving you chills and goose bumps. But even as you find out
what it s called, and you re thinking you ll download it,
you ve already lost. Because the feeling was right then and
there and it s already fading like a dream.
You just have to see those times for what they are: a
chance to look down at your life. And when you do, you see
it s a skin made up of shiny little moments.
I could keep driving, keep going all the way up to Palm
Beach, or go to the break and listen to the surf. But in the
end I just go home. I m tired.
Hannah s Barina is missing from the carport so I guess
she s out doing her thing. I park up on the footpath, switch
the motor off and dig around in the glove box for my mobile
phone. It s not there so I check through my bag, even though
I don t usually take my mobile in to work in case it gets
nicked. But it s not there, either. I clomp my way down the
side of the house and the sensor light comes on,
highlighting the bamboo that s growing up near the side of
the deck. When I unlock the sliding door to my place, I walk
inside without bothering to take my boots off like I normally
do. I want to find that phone.
Things inside are the usual mess and I start with the
table, moving newspapers and cups and plates around but
seeing no phone. Then I go into the bedroom, chucking the
clothes on the bed onto the floor, and patting down the side
table. It s not there, either.
I look around, frustrated, rubbing my forehead which feels
greasy from work. Don t tell me I ve lost the bloody thing.
Then I clomp back out to the deck, which apart from the
shaft of light spilling out of the sliding door is in darkness
because the sensor light has switched off.
The wet tub. Maybe I left it there after my surf. I bend
down and scrabble around in the tub. Sure enough, there it
is, hidden under the damp towel I forgot to hang out,
keeping company with the bits of old wax, forgotten hair
bands and the sand that lines the bottom.
I turn it on and when I see the message on the screen I
feel a lurch of hope that slams my heart into my rib cage. I
honestly wasn t expecting him to call, even though for some
reason finding that phone seemed really important. He
hasn t called for so long.
I slide down so I m sitting beside the tub and I listen to his
message hunched over, legs pulled up to my chest, elbows
resting on my knees.
Carly, it s me. I wasn t gonna hassle you any more but there s this one thing I
want to say then I ll leave you alone. Mate, you gotta know I just want to say
this because then it s all, you know, been said. So bear with me, all right? I want
you to know that it s not too hard, okay? Or whatever it was that I said. I never
meant that, all right? I dunno why I said that cause I don t think it. Nothing s too
hard. I mean, that s if you want it, too. So & yeah. I ll be back on Monday night.
Same bat time, same bat place. And I would really, really like to see you. If you
want to catch up you know where to find me. Okay, then. I ll leave it with you,
eh? It s Ry well, you know who it is.
Ryan s eyes are grey, but there are bits of gold in them,
too. Sometimes when he looks at me the warmth coming
from them takes me by surprise. I miss him so much.
After a long time I realise I m still holding the phone to my
ear, pressing it there hard enough to hurt, listening to what
is now silence. My eyes are burning and my throat is so
tight that at first it hurts to swallow. When I can breathe, I pull
air into my chest like I m drowning. And when I exhale I get
the most incredible sense of relief.
I cut the line and dial his number. There is silence, then a
clicking noise, and finally the line connects. As his mobile
starts to ring and I wait for him to answer, I lean back
against the wall, looking up at the black night sky.
It d be a perfect night for smoking. The air is cold and still
and the smoke clouds from a cigarette would hang around
for a while like ghosts, before going straight up.
But just breathing is enough.
acknowledgements
Thank you, Jason, for everything the whole way. I am hugely
grateful to my agent Selwa Anthony (and Brian, Linda and
Selena), my publisher Laura Harris and my editor Amy
Thomas, and my wholehearted thanks go to Tony Palmer
and the team at Penguin. Advice and encouragement from
Kennedy Estephan and Peter Lancett helped me
immensely while writing this book. I would also like to thank
the Children s Book Council of Australia (New South
Wales) for their generous support. Rohan Nott filled me in
on the details of mining life, and Dr Anina Rich of the
Macquarie Centre for Cognitive Science, Macquarie
University, generously provided me with background
information on synaesthesia any errors, in interpretation [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
zanotowane.pl doc.pisz.pl pdf.pisz.pl aikidobyd.xlx.pl
wouldn t even see the cars. You d see a necklace of bright
lights strung along the coast beside a body of black water.
And if you went higher than that and kept on going, you
might eventually find the place in the universe where they
decide what happens to people in their lives and they could
tell you why.
But I can t do that. All I can do is decide whether or not to
wind the window down.
I wind it down. And I lean back in my seat. And the air
feels good. And I will take that. Because I am not what
happened to me.
I let myself feel good for no reason. I let joy happen right
there and then, and it s inside me and around me, it s the
lights on the road ahead, the clean black of the night, the
cold air coming through the window. It s like hearing a song
for the first time and being struck by it, haunted by it,
wanting to hunt it down and catch it, because the song
sums up something you didn t know you wanted to say,
giving you chills and goose bumps. But even as you find out
what it s called, and you re thinking you ll download it,
you ve already lost. Because the feeling was right then and
there and it s already fading like a dream.
You just have to see those times for what they are: a
chance to look down at your life. And when you do, you see
it s a skin made up of shiny little moments.
I could keep driving, keep going all the way up to Palm
Beach, or go to the break and listen to the surf. But in the
end I just go home. I m tired.
Hannah s Barina is missing from the carport so I guess
she s out doing her thing. I park up on the footpath, switch
the motor off and dig around in the glove box for my mobile
phone. It s not there so I check through my bag, even though
I don t usually take my mobile in to work in case it gets
nicked. But it s not there, either. I clomp my way down the
side of the house and the sensor light comes on,
highlighting the bamboo that s growing up near the side of
the deck. When I unlock the sliding door to my place, I walk
inside without bothering to take my boots off like I normally
do. I want to find that phone.
Things inside are the usual mess and I start with the
table, moving newspapers and cups and plates around but
seeing no phone. Then I go into the bedroom, chucking the
clothes on the bed onto the floor, and patting down the side
table. It s not there, either.
I look around, frustrated, rubbing my forehead which feels
greasy from work. Don t tell me I ve lost the bloody thing.
Then I clomp back out to the deck, which apart from the
shaft of light spilling out of the sliding door is in darkness
because the sensor light has switched off.
The wet tub. Maybe I left it there after my surf. I bend
down and scrabble around in the tub. Sure enough, there it
is, hidden under the damp towel I forgot to hang out,
keeping company with the bits of old wax, forgotten hair
bands and the sand that lines the bottom.
I turn it on and when I see the message on the screen I
feel a lurch of hope that slams my heart into my rib cage. I
honestly wasn t expecting him to call, even though for some
reason finding that phone seemed really important. He
hasn t called for so long.
I slide down so I m sitting beside the tub and I listen to his
message hunched over, legs pulled up to my chest, elbows
resting on my knees.
Carly, it s me. I wasn t gonna hassle you any more but there s this one thing I
want to say then I ll leave you alone. Mate, you gotta know I just want to say
this because then it s all, you know, been said. So bear with me, all right? I want
you to know that it s not too hard, okay? Or whatever it was that I said. I never
meant that, all right? I dunno why I said that cause I don t think it. Nothing s too
hard. I mean, that s if you want it, too. So & yeah. I ll be back on Monday night.
Same bat time, same bat place. And I would really, really like to see you. If you
want to catch up you know where to find me. Okay, then. I ll leave it with you,
eh? It s Ry well, you know who it is.
Ryan s eyes are grey, but there are bits of gold in them,
too. Sometimes when he looks at me the warmth coming
from them takes me by surprise. I miss him so much.
After a long time I realise I m still holding the phone to my
ear, pressing it there hard enough to hurt, listening to what
is now silence. My eyes are burning and my throat is so
tight that at first it hurts to swallow. When I can breathe, I pull
air into my chest like I m drowning. And when I exhale I get
the most incredible sense of relief.
I cut the line and dial his number. There is silence, then a
clicking noise, and finally the line connects. As his mobile
starts to ring and I wait for him to answer, I lean back
against the wall, looking up at the black night sky.
It d be a perfect night for smoking. The air is cold and still
and the smoke clouds from a cigarette would hang around
for a while like ghosts, before going straight up.
But just breathing is enough.
acknowledgements
Thank you, Jason, for everything the whole way. I am hugely
grateful to my agent Selwa Anthony (and Brian, Linda and
Selena), my publisher Laura Harris and my editor Amy
Thomas, and my wholehearted thanks go to Tony Palmer
and the team at Penguin. Advice and encouragement from
Kennedy Estephan and Peter Lancett helped me
immensely while writing this book. I would also like to thank
the Children s Book Council of Australia (New South
Wales) for their generous support. Rohan Nott filled me in
on the details of mining life, and Dr Anina Rich of the
Macquarie Centre for Cognitive Science, Macquarie
University, generously provided me with background
information on synaesthesia any errors, in interpretation [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]