Chapter 7

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"What are you doing here?" I stammer.

A tall figure rests on a seat in front of me. "I was just about to ask you the same question, you following me now?"

"No – I – I've been coming here for years and no one has ever – "

"Is that your art everywhere?"

Darcy glances around the room, his long dark hair framing his face like a masterpiece on the gallery walls.

"Yeah I... it's just graffiti I wouldn't call it art."

"It's pretty." His eyes meet mine.

I feel hot. My cheeks are undoubtedly red and I hope it's dark enough that he doesn't notice. "So, what are you doing here?" I say, trying to regain myself.

"It's fine if I'm unwelcome-"

"No I didn't say... you can stay... if you want?" I'm making a fool out of myself. Why does he make me so nervous?

"Can I watch you paint?"

I look away because I know I'm making my bug eye expression. This boy has some nerve. Treating me like a child the first day of school, and now saying he wants to appreciate my art? Does he have split personalities or something?

"Whatever, I guess. I won't tell you what to do," I say, turning to face the wall and taking out my spray cans.

"I wanted to tell you something," he begins.

I pause.

"I didn't ever actually apologise, Jade."

So he does know my name. Did he ask someone about me?

I turn back to briefly look at him. "Apologise – for what?" I say.

"For hurting you."

"I'm fine." Only a small lie. The bruise is half gone and covered in makeup.

There's shuffling behind me, like he's standing up and approaching me. I refuse to look back and instead focus on shaking the spray cans and getting out some chalk so I can sketch more details to my design on the wall.

I imagine him leaning on the frame of the door. Everything is silent except for the rattle of the spray cans. I continue working on the design that I began the other day – an intricately detailed dragon fly.

An hour passes without saying a word to each other. I focus diligently on the project in front of me, but can't get my mind off Darcy's invisible presence. I'm so tempted to turn around just to check if he's still there.

The alarm I set on my phone goes off, signalling the end of break. I sigh, bringing my forearm to my forehead to wipe off the sweat. My hands are covered in black spray paint, so I need to get to a bathroom fast to clean up before class.

I toss the spray cans into my backpack and head towards the door.

"Hey," Darcy says and for a moment I'm shocked that he is still here. He grabs my backpack and pulls me back, just slightly. His eyes reach mine. "I really am sorry. I didn't realise it was you."

"Don't sweat it." I smile. "Maybe I can punch you in the face and we'll call it even."

A smirk creeps onto his lips. "I'm game."

Heat rushes to my cheeks. My whole body feels hot. Why are we standing so close?

I shake my head exasperatedly and roll my eyes, walking off before he can stop me.

.

.

.

After school I meet Perry in the glasshouse. The tall glass walls tower over us, sending afternoon light throughout the glasshouse like a warm honey glow. Plants and flowers overcrowd every surface, except for the water fountain in the centre of the room.

This is Perry's favourite place. She props herself up on the stone bench, journal pages spread out in front of her, pen in hand.

She writes vigorously the niceties of her day. Her nose is slightly scrunched, eyebrows furrowed in concentration. So invested, she barely notices I've come to stand in front of her.

"Perry?!" I say, for the third time.

"Oh, hey, Jimmy, didn't see ya there."

"What you writing about?"

"My book! A very exaggerated retelling of my life, with a little bit of spice."

"Speaking of spice Darcy literally hung out with my all break."

"What?" her big blue eyes double in size.

"He found the train."

"He found the train?"

"He found the train."

"Jimmy, he knows all your secrets!" Perry laughs.

"He asked to stay and watch me paint, is that weird?"

"That's weird, for sure." She chews on her pencil thoughtfully. "Why would he hang out with you?"

"Exactly – hey!" I slap her playfully. My phone alarm rings again. What for this time? Oh fuck... I forgot I have training!

I bid Perry goodbye and sprint to the carpark. How could I be so forgetful?

By the time I make it there, my coach is fuming. Well, as fuming as Mr Takahashi ever gets. He looks disappointed and quietly shakes his head at me. "Always late," he says before skating off.

I skate towards him.

He asks me to kick off on the routine we were working on over the holidays for the district competition. I'm struggling to remember the routine, but I master all the moves effortlessly. Mr Takahashi says it's time to learn a new move. "Quadruple salchow," he says.

"You think I can do it?"

"Yes. Try."

"Ok."

Alyssa and her trainer skate on the other side of the rink. I feel Alyssa's eyes on me. And I know that despite it being my first attempt at the spin, I need to do it right.

I can do a triple salchow, why can't I add an extra one in?

Not to mention, the briefest thought of failure makes me flinch. Makes me ache deep in my bones. A fear forms in the pit of my stomach. A fear so strong, that I never fail.

I skate backwards, feel the tension on the edge, use the momentum to jump high, I spin fast. One, two, three... four.

I land the trick with the briefest wobble. It makes me wince, ever so slightly. But Mr Takahashi looks pleased, and I sigh with relief, not realising I was holding my breath.

"Very good," he says. "Very good, Jade."

Alyssa's coach watches with envy. I know Alyssa hasn't landed her triple yet. He requests she does it. Alyssa starts skating backward, manipulating the tension between her boots and the ice. But her fear isn't as strong as mine, it wasn't embedded into her through years of... torture. Her life doesn't depend on it.

She fails epically, falling dramatically on the ice, just a few meters in front of me.

I skate forward, offering her my hand. She takes it roughly, digging her long fake nails into my skin.

"Everyone falls eventually," she says, death starring me, before skating away with her shoulders pushed back. 

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